by Lauren Dane
“I expect you’ll be getting a one-on-one briefing with Wilhelm about all we’re gathering now. Your new position will deem higher clearance. You’ll be liaising with some of the other Corps branches, coordinating the special teams. I’ll leave the details up to him; you know how much he’ll enjoy drawing it all out for the drama.”
Daniel nodded his assent and then jolted when the chimes on the office door rang.
Roman sighed, not without affection. “I believe your sister has realized you’re here.”
“It’s really difficult for her, being so shy and all.” Daniel opened the door, and she all but tumbled into his body, so he caught her up, carefully, and kissed the top of her head.
“I can’t believe you came to see him before you came to see me.” Her face had a roundness it hadn’t before. Pregnancy suited her. Happiness suited her.
“Pressing business. And it’s now out of the way, so I can be with you.” He took her hand. “Roman said you weren’t feeling well?”
“Pressing business, my pregnant ass. You two were being furtive.” She snorted. She led him into the room she’d converted into an intimate family area. Mercy, the house manager, a woman who was like a member of the family, rushed in, clucked at the sight of Abbie being up, ordered her to sit and headed back out to retrieve refreshments.
“My beauty. You believe anything not directly involving you is furtive. We were working. And now we aren’t,” Roman said, dropping a kiss to his wife’s temple.
The way she was with Roman told Daniel they were a forever match. She teased him, played with him, treated him like her mate, her man, instead of a figurehead. In doing so, she risked herself, risked exposing her soft side, knowing Roman would never use it to hurt her.
Mercy brought in a rolling cart laden with food and drink. She unceremoniously pushed Roman’s feet from the low table while putting a pillow behind Abbie’s back.
“She’s nicer to you than she is me,” Roman groused.
Abbie winked at Roman. “It’s my sparkling personality. Or she has a love for nauseated, grumpy women who make gagging noises.”
Mercy laughed as she left the room.
Daniel winced. “Sorry about that. Is it that bad? Can I help?”
“It’s common. I’m not the only woman who’s ever felt this way. It should pass as I get further along. Mercy helps. Mai, too, of course. I’m taken care of. You look handsome.” She eyed him carefully. “But not handsome enough to get away with being gone a whole week without coming to see me.”
He rolled his eyes and ate the food laid out for them. Of course Abbie accused him of inhaling it, but he did chew after all. A man had to eat to stay strong.
“Sorry about that. How dare I do my job when my sister is here in this palace and might have needed a back rub.”
“I totally agree, Daniel.” Abbie winked at him.
“Tell me what you’re doing these days. Not a lady of leisure, never for you.” Daniel wished it were otherwise sometimes, but Abbie was driven and committed, full of passion, and he couldn’t really imagine her any other way.
“Oh you know, agitating Roman’s cronies and enemies, too. Making all the Ranked listen to me. This amuses me, of course, which is a bonus. Nothing better than watching some of these tight-arsed old bastards have to politely listen to the rabble.” She laughed, utterly delighted. “We’re working hard, my little group. When I’m not doing that, I’m here, lolling around, having people serve me food and drink while I objectify Roman. Good times.”
Roman’s surprised laugh made Abbie’s eyes brighten, and their connection strengthened, heated. It embarrassed Daniel even as he envied it, wanted it for himself, wanted a woman to look at him like he was the best thing ever.
“I saw the raised beds you made for Mai’s kitchen garden. Very nice work.”
He nearly blushed. “She needed them. I had the raw materials and the time.”
“You gave her a way to garden again without overtaxing herself. It was a lovely gift, Daniel.” Abbie watched him as she ate. “It’s okay, you know, to be nice to your mother.”
“Does that mean I can throw our father out a window?”
“Ha! No.” Roman interrupted. “If my father gets to bully me and act like a right grumpy old pain in my behind, yours gets to live. Though I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t imagined him with my fist planted in his mouth.”
Daniel laughed this time. “My father or yours?”
“Both.” Roman shrugged and grabbed a sandwich off the tray.
By the time he left, Abbie’s spirits were high, and she was surrounded by people who loved her. That left him content. His other sister was newly married and happy, their mother was healthy and her business thriving and his flighty little brother had become an important man in politics. He had no real fear for himself. He’d accepted the vagaries of his job long ago. But he wanted those people he loved to be safe from harm. Knowing they were happy made it an easier task to leave them behind.
The sky was clear, stars fiery in the distance. His mind flitted briefly to those last moments with Saul. Not to the death. Not that it was ordered. Not that it was done. No, to the location, to the whys of Saul Kerrigan’s presence in Asphodel.
He shifted course, heading to work.
Chapter 2
Esta hurried down the long hallway, hoping not to be noticed. She’d been at it long enough to have mastered the art, and a member of her husband’s family long enough to fear failure. She’d been in the kitchens, overseeing the details for the meal her husband had ordered for twenty guests, when she’d heard something that’d made her uneasy.
One of the pantry girls had said something about making sure to have enough wine on hand for the toasts. When the gossiping had started, the word betrothal had come up a few times as conjecture.
Panic that her husband had finally chosen one of his monsters to marry Carina had jolted her into action.
So she found herself heading toward his receiving offices to try to speak with him on the issue. It would most likely do no good this time. She’d held him back before, but with the passing of each year and the ever increasing stupidity in her husband’s choices and behaviors toward the Federation, he was listening to reason less and less. And he needed their daughter as a bargaining chip to keep his men in line more and more.
Her heart pounded so hard she felt faint and needed to slow down her pace. And thank the gods she had, because her husband stood in the hallway, just around the corner, speaking to some of his top people. Esta wanted to avoid an audience. Ciro could be nicer when he was alone.
She ducked back, fitting herself into one of the nooks holding the tapestries that lined the walls.
Hartley Alem, one of Ciro’s ministers, spoke, “I think we’ve got enough liberiam to move forward with tests now.”
“We haven’t had the time to clear the area completely yet. Give me a week more. The station is near a very heavily populated area.” Esta wasn’t sure who that was, but it sounded like one of the new so-called science ministers Ciro had had hanging around him of late.
“More cattle where that came from. The Imperium is crawling with people. One of them is just as good as another to mop up and clean.” Alem. Esta curled her lip.
A throat cleared. “I was thinking more that witnesses would be a bad thing. Until we gather the rest of the materials we need, the lab should be able to act without being monitored overmuch.”
What in the name of the gods above and below was her husband doing now?
“The longer we delay, the longer our justice will be denied,” Alem argued.
“Hartley, do calm down. We’ll get our results, and you can keep your program going in the meantime. Caine, do continue to move the populace away, but slowly and quietly for now. You have your week.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“We have an audience to take. Let’s get that done. Guard! Send for my daughter. Tell her I wish to see her in my audience chambers before the hour is up.�
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They moved away, their speech fading as they did. Esta needed to move and move quickly.
She peeked out from her spot and then around the corner. No one was there, so she hurried down the hall and stepped into the private offices her husband worked from. Or pretended to work from while the others destroyed their ’Verses one by one, all for greed.
He had a personal assistant, but she was gone. Not surprising, considering her only job was to service him and look pretty. Better her than Esta.
She used the keypad to enter his space and closed the door. Fear kept her skin clammy, but realization that she had to act and act now kept her from bolting out of the room. Too bad Ciro didn’t have a personal assistant who could service him and keep him organized.
His desk was a mess of data chips and files, of discs and tossed-aside reports. She grabbed several of them, including one that bore Alem’s insignia. Esta wasn’t sure what she’d find, but she couldn’t take it all, and there wasn’t time to use his reader, so she took the discs with the highest color rating for security clearance and one with the science ministry’s stamp.
No one saw her leave. The halls were empty until she got closer to the living quarters and areas the public were allowed into. Not that anyone paid her any mind; she was the first wife, tossed aside after her sons had failed to rise to power.
They thought she didn’t know. Or worse, that she did know and cared. She didn’t care because he left her alone. She’d never had any misconceptions that he loved her. She did her duty, a duty she was born to, and bore his children. For duty and then, as she began to raise those children, for love.
It was love that kept her moving toward her personal quarters where she could secret the things she’d stolen. And love, still, for her people, that would lead her to do whatever needed doing with the information she’d found.
Despite the summons she’d received from her father, Carina stared out the windows of her bedroom, looking down the long, steep line of the rampart and into the courtyard below. The late afternoon suns sent warmth over her face, even through the darkened glass. A warmth she didn’t feel inside. Inside she was cold. Always cold, alert, scheming, listening and keeping her mask firmly in place. The penalty for slipping was something she kept close to her heart every moment of every day.
Not many people were outside at this point of the day. The heat drove them into the shade of the arches and into the buildings. They’d congregate in the cafés and taverns until the first sunset and the heat wore away. The local taverns were raucous, filled with noise and laughter and the sharp scent of the spices used for the mulled wine. She’d always wanted to spend some time in one, but the closest she got was observing from across a square or through the plasglass.
Over the years, she’d observed life far more often than she’d lived it. Observing was her one guilty pleasure.
A muted sort of yearning stole over her, as it always did, as she continued to stare at the scene below, wondering how they felt, if any of them felt normal or whole.
What she wanted so much was the space in her life when she didn’t have to pretend. Exhaustion at keeping up a false identity every waking moment had taken over her life in ways she hated but couldn’t seem to stop. She searched her memories and realized she couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t constantly fear for her life.
She exhaled hard. It did no good to be morose, and she didn’t have the luxury of it, anyway. Feeling sorry for herself never made a difference; it never made anything better. In truth, her life was far better than most; she needed to remember that.
Taking a deep breath, she sipped a glass of juice and continued to watch the scene below and mull over the changes. Earlier she’d been out, returning from the room where she taught sums to some of the local children. She stopped at a stall, one of her favorites where the couple brought in freshly farmed gourds and purri fruit. Today, though, it had been bread. Her farmer couple had been gone, and they all pretended not to notice the difference. That she went along with it had slashed through her heart. Every time something like that happened and no one spoke of it, it eroded their society even more. She was just as guilty as anyone else, and it stuck to her like filth she could not rinse away.
Something inside her was broken. The fissures had widened, and she wondered what it might be like to feel whole, tried to remember if she ever had, and failed.
The soft chimes at her outer doors rang as someone entered the suite. Carina looked up and caught sight of her mother standing in the doorway, small and fragile, wringing her hands.
Looks were deceiving. Esta Fardelle had survived marriage to a man like Ciro since the tender age of fourteen standard years. She’d managed to stay alive, managed to stay one step ahead of a brute like Carina’s father because she was good at acting a part, something she’d drilled into Carina from a very early age. Because of her mother, she was alive and loved. That was something important, and she would do well not to forget it.
“Carina, your father sent for you some time ago; you can’t delay much longer.” She paused. “Darling, be mindful today.” Those last three words put Carina on alert. What was her father up to?
Foreboding riding her, Carina stood and smoothed down the gown she’d been laced into just minutes before. She surveyed her hair, pale as moonlight, same as her mother’s, making sure the curls hung just so. Her eyes, dark brown like her father’s, looked back, appearing as listless as she felt. That wouldn’t do. She pinched her cheeks and took a deep breath as she pulled the Carina Fardelle her father knew around her like armor. She shoved her thoughts far away and let a petulant smirk mark her lips. The woman looking back this time was arrogant, confident, spoiled and bred to be a pretty ornament.
She was always mindful, of course. But there’d been a level of activity within the walls that’d nettled her of late. People around who weren’t usually around. That pig Hartley Alem and his people visited far more often. Something was happening, and she didn’t know what. Given her father’s insane behavior of late, it couldn’t be anything good, though.
“Let’s go then.” She swept past her mother and out into the hall. Two of her father’s finest—meaning cruelest and most loyal—soldiers escorted her everywhere, ostensibly to protect her. Carina spent most of her life making sure they felt that way instead of suspecting her. Her father would never fully trust anyone, but as long as he didn’t look on her with too much suspicion, she would remain safe. People disappeared in her world all the time: the couple running the fruit stand, a neighbor you just never heard from again, a teacher who suddenly quit with no notice and left her belongings in her flat, a maid or cook. Her grandmother. One day they were there, the next they were gone. For as long as she could remember, the fear of waking up and being disappeared had lived inside her.
They walked silently down the long hall toward the rooms her father held his audiences in. More of a throne room, but that was a quibble anyway. Imperial ’Verses held him like a king, and that was just how he liked it. Not that they’d dare any other way. The sense of duty had been replaced by fear of standing out, of drawing attention and ending up in a cell somewhere. He ruled because everyone was afraid to call him out. That kind of rule never lasted.
The plasglass held back the heat of the twin suns and also protected against rockets and other incendiary devices should any attackers actually make it close enough to the inner sanctum of the complex where the Fardelles lived and worked. The insulation they provided kept the interior cool but still let in enough light to gleam over the black floors, casting the reflection of crest after crest, generation after generation of Fardelles who held the position of Supreme Commander of the Imperial Universes.
At one time in her life, she’d been proud of that. Been proud to be part of something as important as building the Imperial ’Verses and protecting its people. And then she’d begun to learn more than just what her tutors were allowed to teach. Her older brother Vincenz had left, run away from his life here, and
by some accounts was somewhere in Federation Territory. His portrait had been excised from all public places, his name, his very existence erased. And then her younger brother had died after being stricken by a sudden illness that had ravaged him, leaving him dead in only four standard hours.
Her mother had struggled to hold herself together, but part of her had never been the same. She had just faded, more by the day until the vibrant woman Carina had grown up with was now a pale shadow.
None of them had been the same.
It was then that she’d begun to find bits and pieces of information from the outside. Vid clips and audio reports from the Federation government. Every few days, sometimes once a month, or nothing for long periods and then four things in one day. She’d soaked it all in and had shared with her mother, who had confessed her own divided loyalties.
She became hungry for more, for the truth of it all, even as it had cut to the bone. Sought out as much information as she could as safely as she could. The world beyond their borders flooded in, and she’d been moved, shattered, grief-stricken and then remade into someone else. Someone stronger. She wanted to take over after her father died or gave up the seat at the head of the table. Wanted to right his wrongs. She was a Fardelle who believed in duty, honor and loyalty. But he had no plans to leave any time soon, and she wouldn’t be allowed to lead, anyway.
The bare fact was, she was female, and that made her unfit to rule. By virtue of her birth, she’d been deemed useless in all ways but as wife and mother.
Her brother would because he was male and she was not. Not the older brother who should rightfully lead, not her long gone Petrus who’d only been a small child when he’d died. No, the brother who had only recently learned to walk and was many years from long pants. The boy who was the child between her father and his recently appointed second wife, a woman younger than Carina who’d been chosen after she provided a male heir.