by Gwynn White
Axel rocked back on his heels. “I know! But how do you explain this,” he jabbed a finger at the tube, “to someone who learned the word electricity a couple of hours ago?”
Lynx had no answer for that. She pointed at the sconce. “So what does the ice crystal in this do?”
“It, um—” He sucked his lips. “Takes pictures, like paintings, but not really, because they move.” At her dumbfounded expression, he added lamely, “It also listens and plays back what people are saying.”
“And what makes it work? Body heat?”
“No, of course not. These use electricity. The palace has its own coal-driven power station, similar to the technology on a steam train, only this one generates electricity. We would like to use ice crystal, but supplies are scarce—hence the war in Treven. They have the biggest ice crystal deposits in the world.”
Lynx folded her arms. “I always believed I was vaguely intelligent, but this is all beyond me.”
Axel looked stumped for a moment, and then he fumbled in his pocket. “Maybe this will help.” He pulled out a large, black button. “We call these informas. They come in any shape or size but always something commonplace, something that wouldn’t be questioned on a desk or in a pocket.”
Shoulder to shoulder next to her on her cushion, Axel held the button in front of them. A burst of light shot from the top. Unbelievably, he clasped one corner of the beam and pulled it up as if it were a silk scarf. As it opened, a static image of Lynx, her uncle, and Axel, sharpening his weapons in the dining car on the train, blossomed before her.
Lynx gasped, then buried her face in his arm. Breathing deeply, she anchored herself in his clean smell of grass, wind, and wild places—normality—while waiting for her heart to stop pounding. Finally, she looked up, putting a tentative finger forward to touch the picture. It passed straight through.
“It’s just light, Lynxie, projected onto the air molecules.”
Lynx didn’t pretend to understand what that meant. “You said it moved.”
He nodded. “Now you’re ready.”
A finger flick, and the image danced, showing Lynx in secret conversation with Uncle Bear. What was worse—or more amazing, Lynx couldn’t decide—was the clarity with which she heard her doppelganger whisper, “I recently killed a guardsman and prized the jasper out of his face, but it told me nothing.”
If that wasn’t damning enough, her uncle replied, “It’s that kind of stomach which makes you so ideal for this job. You will need to be more subtle in Cian, though. Even admitting to killing guardsmen will earn you a swift execution. So, I will help you spy. Together, we will unravel this secret.”
“Someone I trust translated it for me,” Axel said. “Bear was agreeing to help you spy on us to find out about the gemstones, right? You also admitted to killing a guardsman.”
Lynx made a gagging sound and covered her face with her hands. There had been no more private communication with her uncle since then, but would that matter? She doubted it. At last, she whispered from behind her fingers. “A translator? Who else has seen that?”
“Stefan and I edited it out of the sequence sent to my father.”
She had no idea what that meant.
He pried her hands away from her face. “No one knows, except Stefan, me, and my translator friend, and we intend to keep it that way.”
Lynx closed her eyes, still not wanting to see the reality of this life-threatening gaffe for both her and her uncle. “Why? Why would you do that?”
Axel slid his arm around her shoulder. “We—I—like you.”
She should have shrugged his arm off, but she didn’t have the energy. “Enough to sit back and watch me and my son destroy all that power you were telling me about while we were dancing?”
Axel’s fingers tapped out a rhythm on her upper arm. “That’s never going to happen, Lynx.”
Lynx pulled out of his embrace. “Are you saying you don’t believe in the Dmitri Curse? Or is that you don’t believe I could be the one?”
“Oh, I believe, have no doubt about that.”
She wasn’t sure just what he was admitting to.
Before she could ask, he said, “We all do. Or why else would we have created an army of soldiers who experience no fear when placed in harm’s way?” He touched his ruby. “That’s what the jasper ice crystal does. It interferes with normal brain waves, programming loyalty to the crown and immunity to fear. Moving faster and shooting straight are just side benefits. We even control the high-born. Their green and blue ice crystals show up on a reader in my father’s lair. It tells him the location of every high-born in the palace, at any time, day or night.”
Lynx’s body tensed, and her eyes narrowed, as they always did when calculating how best to take down an enemy. “How do you plan to stop me from passing this information on to my father? Is this when you slit my throat?”
“What?” Axel spluttered. “You think I’ve shown you all this so I can hurt you?”
Lynx wished she believed him, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Her fingers felt for the heavy brass candlestick next to her. But would she have time to get in a killing blow if Axel was enhanced to move faster?
And then what? Stuck in the Avanov palace in the middle of the Heartland, there was no escape. How would she ever explain Axel’s demise to the emperor?
She had her answers to the gemstones, but what good were they? Whichever way she looked, death seemed to stare back at her.
“Answer me, Lynx.” Axel sounded aggrieved. “Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”
“Then how do you intend to stop me from using this information to destroy your empire?”
“You’re very confident you’re the chosen one.”
Lynx shrugged, unwilling to admit he echoed her doubts. “You haven’t answered my question.”
Axel’s face softened. “The answer is straightforward, Lynx. I’ve already told you—you’re wasted on Lukan.”
Lynx clicked her tongue. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”
“It means I want you, and I suspect you want me, too.” He looked at her hand resting on the candlestick. “That is, when you’re not scheming to beat my brains out.”
She didn’t move her hand away. In fact, the urge to hit him was stronger than ever. “And how does your girlfriend feel about that?”
Axel sat back with a start. “My girlfriend?” The wicked smile invaded his face. “You find me conveniently between lovers.”
“Are you saying you don’t have a girlfriend?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Then who was the girl with the dark hair?” Lynx snapped, angry with herself for even caring.
Axel’s hand trailed to his tussled hair. “Could you be more specific? Last time I looked, just about everyone in Chenaya had hair in different shades of dark.”
“The one you were dancing with,” Lynx snapped.
Understanding dawned in Axel’s eyes, and he smiled. “Now, about that friend you’re looking for. I have the perfect candidate. Her name is Malika, and she’d make you a great friend.”
Lynx narrowed her eyes, blasting him with her coldest expression—the one Clay always joked would stop the wind blowing.
Axel brushed her face with his hand. “Oh, lighten up, Princess. Malika’s my sister, and she wants to help you settle in here.”
“Your sister?” Lynx swallowed a gulp of humiliation. “Come on, Axel. I’ve two brothers whom I love, but I don’t spend the night dancing with them at parties.”
Lynx’s stomach knotted with longing for Clay and Wolf. Clay would be doing his final preparations for his egg raid. What did that matter now if Mott killed them all?
“It wasn’t the whole night. It was only part of it. The rest I spent watching you.” When she looked unconvinced, Axel added, “My sister has just come out of a nasty relationship. I’m now steering her in the direction of Stefan. I’d appreciate it if you also brought your influence to bear. Malika will
listen to you.”
The conversation had gone a long way from plotting to kill Axel. Bemused, Lynx asked, “Why would she listen to me? I’m the enemy.”
“Not everyone divides the world into friend and foe, Lynx. Some of us just judge as we find. My sister thinks you have amazing taste in clothing.” He brushed her bare knee, sending a shiver of want through her. “And I told her you’re special. To me.” He paused, his face devoid of his usual jeer. “I’d like us to become lovers.”
A cloud of butterflies swooped through her stomach. She quelled them with a glare, partly for him for suggesting something so radical—when he knew her parents’ lives were at stake—and partly for herself for craving him so much.
Still, that didn’t stop her from releasing the candlestick and putting her hand in her lap. “We haven’t solved the basic problem here, Axel.”
“Yes, we have.” Axel leaned in and brushed Lynx’s lips with his.
A small moan escaped her before she stopped it. He slid his hand around her neck and kissed her again. His mouth was firm, warm, and demanding. Instead of pushing him away, her traitorous lips parted, allowing his tongue to slide into her mouth.
He tasted sweet . . . and hungry, for her.
It brought her to her senses, and she jerked away. “This is crazy. I’m marrying Lukan . . . in . . . in too few days to mention.”
Axel rested his forehead on hers. “I like you. You like me.” He grazed a kiss across her lips. “I want you. You want me. What’s so crazy about that?”
“I made my father an oath,” Lynx croaked, “that I would marry Lukan in exchange for letting my brother raid again. I’ve told you before, I don’t break my word.”
Axel frowned. He had no clue of what she was talking about, but then, how could he? He wouldn’t have known about Clay’s failed raid.
She added something he would appreciate, “And what about Lukan and Mott?”
“Leave my uncle and cousin to me. I promise, when I’ve finished, Lukan won’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”
“He doesn’t want to touch me now,” Lynx pointed out. “And that’s a serious problem.”
Axel burst into laughter. “Oh, he wants you. The lust is destroying him. But the Dmitri Curse probably looms large in his world. The idea of his wife bearing a son who could kill him must put him off his stride.” Axel’s voice hardened. “But I’m working on him. He’s so weak, it doesn’t take much to manipulate him.”
After seeing Lukan and Axel together, Lynx didn’t doubt his words. “And Mott? What about him?”
“More difficult,” Axel conceded. “But I have some ideas.” He ran his fingers over her mouth. “Just trust me, Lynx, and it will all work out.”
“What about my oath to my father?” His fingers fluttered against her mouth as she spoke.
“Things have changed. Surely pragmatism is also part of the Norin code?” Finger still brushing her mouth, he cocked his head to the side, studying her with a quizzical eye.
She pulled her face away from his mind-shattering caresses. “You don’t understand. It would take more than pragmatism to change an oath. We live and die by honor, Axel, and nothing destroys one’s honor quicker than breaking an oath. I don’t think I would survive it.”
“You Norin certainly know how to make life difficult for yourselves.”
Lynx shoved his arm. “It makes us good people. Unlike you Chenayans.” When he grinned at her, she added seriously, “And what’s more, I’ve already told you, Mott has threatened to kill my family. What about that?”
Axel took her face in both hands. “If I told you the troops stationed at Tanamre were redeployed moments after our train departed, would that help?”
A wave of relief flooded her. But then doubts assailed. Could she believe the man who had ordered his guardsmen to attack her tribe? Lynx gnawed her lip, staring into his eyes, trying to read his soul.
It seemed like a closed book.
Then again, he had shared the secret of the ice crystals with her, and he’d shown her the images of herself and Uncle Bear on the train. That had to mean something.
But there were still too many unanswered questions.
As if reaching out to a wild animal, she touched the ruby next to his eye. He didn’t even blink as her fingers probed the stone. “Tell me what this does.”
“Absolutely nothing. It denotes rank and looks pretty. That’s all.”
“No superhuman hearing? No ability to move like lightning?”
Axel shook his head. “And no loss of a healthy sense of self-preservation, either. We Avanovs are too smart to inflict our own devices upon ourselves.” He took her wrist, pulled her hand up to his face, and kissed each of her fingers, making her squirm with want. “I struggled to hear you and Bear talking on the train. I suspected it was dynamite, though, so I kept the footage until it was translated. The sound came through perfectly.” He gave her a wry smile. “You were sitting right next to a wall sconce.”
Of course she was. No doubt he’d planned that, too. Still, what he said about his ruby made sense. What didn’t was why she was attracted to him when he supported an empire that used such horrific methods to suppress its subjects.
Lynx cleared her throat and asked her final question. “So when will someone be installing my ice crystal leash? Or trying to, I should say.”
“Never. You’re too old. The device must be inserted within the first five years of life, or it tends to malfunction.”
“And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Lynx asked, pushing as much sarcasm as possible into her tone. It struck her that she sounded just like Axel. She cleared her throat. “I suppose that’s why the priestesses also work as midwives and nurses?”
He grinned at her and then said, “To answer your first question—ideally, no. Malfunctions result in the elimination of the subject. And to your second question, yes, that is a primary function of the priestesses. To insert ice crystals into the faces of qualifying toddlers. Their moonstone shockers are there to subdue any mother who might complain.”
Lynx choked back a gag. “You know what’s the best thing that could happen to this empire, Axel?”
“Let me guess . . . the Dmitri Curse comes true, and you and your son kick all our arses to hell?”
“That day can’t come soon enough.” Lynx stood and stalked to the door. “Thank you. It has been a most informative evening. And, as for your offer to be my lover . . . never in a million years.” She opened the door and waved imperiously for him to leave.
With no sign of offense, Axel laughed as he gathered his things together. When he reached the door, he slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her as if she had been his forever—and would be for an eternity to come.
“You cocky Avanov,” Lynx gasped, pulling away from him.
He released her, laughing. “That’s just the start, my Lynxie.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Once clear of Lynx and the ballroom, Lukan tore through the gardens until he reached a side door into the palace. Thanks to the ball, few people traversed the passages and hallways tonight. This route led him to another of his favorite hiding places—his observatory in one of the turrets.
He took the narrow, winding stairs at a rush, arriving at a heavy wooden door at the top. He pressed a knot in the wood, and a tiny reader scanned his thumb. The door opened and then closed behind him. His massive telescope, centered in the expansive space, gleamed in the moonlight. Unable to risk electric lights in this domed observatory, the only other illumination came from candles on sticks he had to light himself; an added benefit was freedom from Felix’s cameras.
Hands pressed to his knees, Lukan paused to slow his galloping heart. Then, he stood and kicked the wall with his boot. It dislodged a chunk of plaster. He kicked it again and again. His jaw still ached from Lynx’s punch and would probably be bruised in the morning. A sign shouting his humiliation to the whole palace. He pulled up short as his toes began to ache, too.
Di
dn’t she realize the honor it was to marry him? He was heir to the most powerful empire the world had ever known.
But then, he reminded himself, Lynx was a Norin, perhaps the woman destined to initiate the destruction of him and his empire. As much as he hated to admit it, her hostility added credence to his vision—and not the part where the lightning defeated her son.
What to do about it was the fateful question.
Would he survive his father’s rage if he rejected her? Or would that become moot if he married her, and she gave birth to a traitor?
His eyes rested on his telescope. Lynx’s angry words came back to him: A Norin will never worship a dragon.
Hands shaking, he rasped his flint, igniting a taper he used to light a candle. He picked up the holder and walked to a wall-mounted chart of the heavens, drawn in his careful script with ink mixed by his own hand. He had been plotting the constellations on that board for years. This map, an enigma to the few people he’d shown it to, spoke to him in the way charts depicting troop deployments probably did to Axel. Yet again, Lukan lamented that if he wanted his empire to flourish, it was maps of conquests that mattered.
His hand drifted to the dots representing Nicholas the Light-Bearer, the constellation blazoned on the flag Lynx’s son had unfurled in his vision. It stood to the west of the Dragon and, if his observations and arithmetic did not fail him, inched across the sky to replace that constellation in the northern point.
A disconcerting notion.
He sank down onto the floor and rested his head on his knees, desperate for all this to be over. All he wanted was to be free to marry whomever he wanted. Was that too much to ask?
But he knew that was never going to happen.
His stomach grumbled, and he remembered his plate of food, forgotten in the reception room. It wasn’t the first time in his life he’d become so engrossed in something he’d neglected a meal, although it was usually a book and not a girl that was to be blamed. He had a remedy on hand.
His steps echoed on the stone floor as he made his way to a small cupboard next to his desk. He pulled out a battered biscuit tin, stolen from the palace kitchens when he was a child. Once a week, he refilled it with his favorite treat—baked date and walnut balls. A strange combination, he admitted, but they were a reminder of how far across the climatic zones his empire stretched. The empire he longed to rule. He grabbed a handful, dumped them on top of the cupboard, and bent to stow the tin. When he looked up, the confectionary had vanished.
