When the prophecy had first come to light, House Nocturna had disputed it. They’d argued that they would never unite with Meridian, but one day, they’d changed their stance, claiming they’d seen it for themselves and believed it wholeheartedly. After all, Willa was the only hierophant in history to stay so long on the edge of the black holes, to ride the event horizon before she was finally lost. And her every decipherable prophecy had come true. No one pointed out that Nocturna’s backpedaling had come hot on the heels of the other houses’ edict that Meridian and Nocturna would end their war or die.
A union gave everyone the swiftest way to end the conflict. And so their many battles and schemes had been suspended, and the marriage set, but still they had to have these stupid ceremonies: one where the heirs met for the first time, one on their eighteenth birthdays, and now one to formally announce the engagement. It was the galaxy’s most depressing countdown. Now they only had months before they married. Judit had seen the wisdom in all their secret visits. Nothing would be served if the peace hedged on a couple who hated each other. But Noal and Annika got on well, and they’d drawn Judit into their circle. She’d been happy to see Noal develop feelings for Annika, who seemed to have some affection for him, but Judit hadn’t been prepared for the effect Annika had on her.
As the hierophant droned on, Judit’s heart felt like lead. She couldn’t help letting her eyes linger on Annika, to picture herself clasping those long, pale fingers in her own, to be reciting the words to join them together as she stared deep into those dark, wine-colored eyes. At first, she’d thought them brown, but when Annika had come forward to meet her, Judit had realized they were a deep blue, indigo, and since then she’d seen them in every mood from calm, to delight at Noal’s antics, to the one time a petulant Noal made her so angry she’d left early. Her eyes had turned as dark as the fiercest storm on Meridian Prime.
Now she and Noal had reached a relaxed, easy peace. If they didn’t exactly set the galaxy on fire with flames of passion, they were at least good friends. Many marriages didn’t even start with that. But Judit didn’t know how Noal resisted taking Annika in his arms every time he saw her. As far as Judit knew, they’d only shared a few chaste kisses, though they could have done so much more. In Judit’s dreams, she and Annika had done so much more.
In real life…Nothing.
The hierophant clapped, signaling an end to the ceremony and snapping Judit out of her reverie. She cursed herself for not paying attention and stood aside for Noal to return to the Damat. They would pull away from the platform and retreat to another neutral location where Noal and Annika could speak privately, and everyone else would stay here to party. Judit was glad she didn’t have to make chitchat with this crowd. Instead, she’d get to spend time with Annika, with Noal and Feric, too, but it was Annika who mattered. She shouldn’t have been looking forward to it. It was foolish. But now that the thought of speaking with Annika had broached her consciousness, it seemed the only thought that mattered. She needed to see Annika again away from the throng, needed to speak with her if only to exchange pleasantries.
Was this what her future was going to be like? After marriage, she’d continue to be Noal’s guardian, would have to watch him and Annika speak and act and rule as a married couple, would have to be there when they had breakfast and discussed the plans of the day. She’d stand outside the door of their bedchamber when they made love, waiting for them to go to their separate bedrooms with Feric beside her. Oh yes, a wonderful future indeed.
“Stop moping,” Noal said when they were behind closed doors. He shooed the servants out and began changing out of the feathered costume. “Help me with this jacket.”
“I’m not moping.”
“Like a lovesick poet.”
“Shut up.” She tugged too hard, ripping the sleeve.
He laughed and tossed the jacket in the corner. The dark knew how much it cost. “If she wants you like you want her, I won’t stop you, you know that.”
“I’m a member of the Blood, Noal. We are spouses, not side lovers.”
“You are so old-fashioned, Judit. No one thinks like that anymore. It’s anyone, anytime. Ask Cana. By the dark, ask any of them!”
“You’re one to talk. You flirt, and everyone thinks you’ve got a lover behind every piece of furniture, but how many have you truly had?”
He peeled off the feathered eyelashes and muttered something.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Four. I’ve had four. Happy?”
“And how many will you have after marriage?”
He gave her a dark look in the mirror and began wiping off the elaborate makeup.
“My guess is none,” she said, “because deep down, you were taught by the same grandmother as me, and she gave you the same talks, and you took them in the same way.”
“Oh, shut up. You’re worse than a poet. And we don’t know what the head of Nocturna taught Annika. She could have a fleet of lovers lined up, and I wouldn’t care.”
She knew he would, but she didn’t push it. She cared, and he did, too.
Chapter Two
Annika had hoped her glances at Judit had gone unnoticed, but as she reached her quarters in the middle of her ship, her grandmother said, “First form,” and Annika knew she’d been discovered.
“Yes, Ama.”
She stripped quickly, and Ama did the same, both of them donning training jumpsuits kept in Annika’s quarters for these very exercises. Their attendants fled, all but Feric, who stationed himself in front of the door, hands linked in front of his massive chest, eyes staring at nothing while seeing everything.
Annika stood by her grandmother’s side and let her body fall into familiar rhythms, old patterns, limbs flowing from one exercise to the next. She didn’t risk a look at her grandmother, but she didn’t sense the usual wave of disapproval. Maybe she hadn’t noticed the glances after all. Maybe she just didn’t want Annika getting distracted by the wedding announcement.
As if she could. She liked Noal; she really did. If circumstances were different, he could have been a good friend, maybe even an acceptable spouse for political reasons. They could have been amicable to each other while seeking physical love from outsiders. Even carrying on their lineage wouldn’t demand sex. Science could do everything for them.
She wished he’d been an unlikable stooge. That would have made taking over his mind and eventually killing him so much easier. And if Judit was as terrible as the rest of her family, Annika might not have hesitated at all.
But Judit… Annika nearly closed her eyes at the memory of Judit’s shoulders, her muscular arms. She wore her uniform tight so it wouldn’t hamper her movements, and it clung to her hips, her breasts, her legs. Annika was strong, but she kept her form wiry to disguise her true strength; Judit had no such restrictions. Annika couldn’t count the number of times she’d gotten lost in fantasies of Judit’s arms around her, lifting her. She’d imagine them entwined in the sheets of her bed, laughing and wrestling. Whoever ended up on top depended on her mood at the time, but Judit was the only woman with whom Annika ever imagined relinquishing control.
“Spar,” Ama said.
Annika fought the urge to sigh. Of course her grandmother had noticed her distraction. Maybe her grandmother had noticed a bloom in her cheeks or a quickening of her pulse. Still, Annika kept her face serene as they took fighting stances. No one outside of Nocturna knew that upper members of the Blood were masters of hand-to-hand combat. Most assumed they were as blunt and violent as Meridian; they’d spent wealth and effort to appear so, but they liked to solve problems more subtly. Why bother with snipers when a well-placed jab to the right nerve cluster did the trick? No need for bombs when a slow-working poison got the job done. Unlike Meridian, Nocturna blustered only for show.
Ama’s hand shot for Annika’s throat, and she knocked it down, launching her own kick. Ama ducked, her foot arching out almost delicately, but her aim was set to take off Annika’s nose
. Annika threw herself to the side, rolling and coming up gracefully to find her grandmother still coming for her.
On it went, strikes, feints, dodges, and blocks. They circled the room, hands in front of their bodies with only a gentle curve of the fingers so they were a step away from fists, open palms, or straightened hands. After Noal had outlived his usefulness, Annika would kill him with one of these techniques, and he would never see it coming. She would disguise it as a fall, a rival assassination if she had to, and all the evidence would be doctored so she would appear far away at the time, irrefutably alibied.
“Enough,” Ama said, straightening.
Annika followed suit but remained on guard. Her grandmother had tricked her before.
Ama’s lip quirked up as she eyed Annika’s stance. “Have you perfected the worm?”
Annika shuddered. She might not have to kill Noal. Given time, the worm might do it for her. “As much as it will let me.”
Ama frowned, and Annika knew what she was thinking. It didn’t matter how good a fighter she was or how irrefutable her alibi. The Meridians would never stop watching her. They would always suspect. So before she could kill anyone and take firm control over their new, joined house, she would have to separate Noal from his family. No seductive charms would do that, but with the worm, he’d do it himself.
“Do you need more mental discipline exercises?” Ama asked. “Time is short.”
“I know, Ama.” She crossed to a disguised section of bulkhead. There was no keypad, no DNA or retinal scanner. There was only one way to open it. She schooled her thoughts into the proper pattern, and when the scanning device detected the right brain waves, an invisible door swung open.
Swimming in a jar of cerebral spinal fluid swam the greatest, newest piece of biotech Nocturna had ever produced. They were good at poisons, at DNA-specific weapons, but so far, Meridian had found a way to counter everything they made. But no one suspected this. It was tiny, too small to make a noticeable hole once it had entered Noal’s ear canal, then burrowed into the brain. Coated in a skin of Noal’s own DNA, no scanner would detect it. And inside, the greatest achievement of Nocturna technology: an organic nanobot. A tiny computer made of biological matter that, like the scanner in the hatch, responded to her thought patterns alone. She could command it to restructure Noal’s brain slowly, changing him in ways no doctor or scientist would be able to find even with the deepest scans.
Chilling. She’d never liked it, didn’t want to use it, but she had to prove she could. She commanded the worm to float to the top of its container, and it obeyed. Ama still frowned. Annika wished the frown was because her grandmother also didn’t care for the plan, but no. Ama thought she couldn’t do what was necessary. And true, she didn’t want to, but if Ama doubted her too much, someone else would be found. Even at this late stage, if Annika couldn’t be replaced, they’d find someone to join her retinue who could get close enough to use the worm.
Then Annika wouldn’t even be part of the plan, but she’d still have to watch. That thought scared her more than having to commit the act herself. At least then she could make sure Noal never suffered.
Judit, though…Annika’s family would insist she die, even after Annika pulled her and Noal apart.
Ama sighed. “I know you like the boy.”
Annika smiled. Her secret crush on Judit might be intact.
“And his guardian.”
Or not. Annika kept her smile in place and shut the door to the worm’s chamber. “I can do what’s necessary.”
“Sacrifice is always necessary. Do you think I liked killing your grandfather?”
A closely guarded secret. Most Nocturna Blood relationships were built on the trading of such secrets, and many nonblood suffered because of it. Annika’s own mother had fled before it had happened to her. She’d been declared an exile afterward, but Annika often wondered if she’d gotten out so the family wouldn’t kill her, even if it meant abandoning her daughter.
“Grandfather seemed like a good man.” She remembered liking his smile.
“Good at being a member of this family,” Ama said, “but we needed a high-level death to pin on House Donata.”
Annika nodded, wondering if her grandmother had ever loved her good grandfather. Maybe she had. Maybe willing to kill was as strong as their love could be. But as many times as she’d imagined killing Noal, Annika had never imagined the same for Judit. In every fantasy fight, they ended up in bed together instead.
“Oh, just have her and get her out of your system,” Ama said as she stalked to the door. Feric moved out of her way before following, letting the door shut behind him and leaving Annika alone.
She wished they’d already had each other, but whether it would make things easier or more difficult she didn’t know. All the times she’d flirted with Judit, Judit seemed embarrassed even though Annika could tell their desires were the same. Judit was bound by some cultural norms within her own house, and she didn’t take sex lightly.
To the detriment of them both.
While her ship traveled toward the rendezvous with Judit’s ship, Annika tried to put such thoughts out of her mind. Most times, her mental discipline was on point, but something about Judit always made it…muddy. Best then if Judit did die, maybe, as long as it was someone else who killed her.
Annika’s nature rebelled against the thought. Better to destroy all the art in creation, for all music to fall silent. They were silly, romantic thoughts, but there they were. She and Judit were going to have to resolve their attraction someday, in some fashion. That, or Judit was going to forsake her role as guardian and leave Annika and Noal to each other. That would hurt, but maybe then they could move on.
Or she and Judit could become lovers and stay lovers after the marriage. She pictured them eking out some kind of life together in between the parties and trade negotiations. Maybe they could bribe a nonblood scientist to mingle their genetic material and make them a child of their own, and after the scientist disappeared, no one would know who the child really was.
But Judit would notice as Noal grew stranger and stranger, losing his mind until he had to turn all the day-to-day running of the house over to Annika. Judit would want doctors, and not those House Nocturna would provide. And if she discovered the worm, she’d know her house had been betrayed, and then any life they’d built would come crashing down around them.
And Annika didn’t think for one second that she could abandon the plan, claim she’d do it, then leave Noal alone so they could rule their joined house in peaceful coexistence. Nocturna wouldn’t stand for that. They’d formulate another plan, remove Annika if they had to, and she was certain Meridian wasn’t going to be sitting on their thumbs. They had to be planning something, too, the only question was what.
As her ship docked at a small, neutral asteroid station, Annika schooled her face into its pleasant mask and forced herself to walk easily into the lushly appointed sitting room. Noal looked much more relaxed in a blousy, multihued shirt that gaped open at the chest, though his trousers were still so tight, she could have drawn him naked. He hugged her as always, and she gave him a bright smile that she only had to fake because her thoughts were so dark.
Then she made herself look at Judit, still in her military uniform. She had a sudden flash of the only time she’d seen her out of it. They’d all shared this location overnight, and Annika had thought it would be the first time she and Noal had sex, but he’d declined, probably under orders to wait for the nuptials. Something had happened to the air reclamators in the middle of the night, and everyone had spilled into the sitting room in a panic. Judit had been wearing a soft dark shirt that hung to her knees and gaped open at the shoulders, showing her collarbones. Her silver hair had been wild, disheveled, and Annika thought she looked absolutely delicious.
Annika had envied her in that moment. Every item of clothing she wore was carefully chosen to invoke a response in the viewer, even the diaphanous nightgown she’d worn that night.
She’d never owned something simple or comfortable. She would have given quite a bit to wear Judit’s nightshirt. She’d considered stealing it but didn’t like the questions that would bring up. Her grandmother would only have found and destroyed it anyway.
Now Judit gave her a nod, and Annika nearly laughed. Judit prided herself on the way she could school her face, but her body spoke volumes. Her jaw was tight; her shoulders were far too stiff, telegraphing that she was trying to keep calm to keep her mind from wandering. Annika was nearly overcome with the urge to kiss her just to see if she’d politely push away or melt into the embrace. Maybe she’d stiffen like a statue, and Annika would have to feel her desire by the heat that flooded her body or the way she did everything she could not to wrap her arms around Annika’s shoulders. An interesting question however she asked it.
“All ready for the wedding?” Noal asked.
“To be put on display like a stuffed pigeon? Can’t wait.”
He laughed. Judit smiled, some of the stiffness going out of her tall frame. She always took a while to warm up.
Noal chattered for a few moments, mostly about clothing and decorations, two of his passions. No matter what else she had to change about him, she’d leave his passions alone. She thought the afternoon would simply be another visit until she excused herself to go to the washroom, and as she was washing her hands before emerging, Judit stepped inside.
Annika froze, taken by surprise for one of the few times in her adult life. Heat started in her belly and spread low as she wondered if Judit was finally giving in to the impulses they were both feeling.
But Judit’s eyes widened. “I’m…I’m sorry. Noal said…” Her mouth tightened, her face becoming grim. “He said he needed something, and when the door wasn’t locked—”
“You thought I’d already emerged?” And there she’d been hoping that stoic Judit had finally cracked.
House of Fate Page 2