They half-shimmied, half-crawled through the ductwork, landing in a wobbly heap on the counterweight. Tesla brought herself up onto all fours and nearly screamed in terror as she came face to face with a golden snake.
Sav’s teeth flashed in a reckless grin. “What took you so long?”
Cerise hit a shaky, but impressive high note, and a few members of the audience clapped. No doubt everyone was wondering why the prince had asked another actress to perform bits of the show they’d just enjoyed. Cerise, however, appeared to be unfazed, bowing deeply to her few admirers. Tesla had to give her credit for staying composed.
The scenery lowered, along with the counterweight, and they all leaped together to land once again on the safety of the catwalk. Even though her sides ached, Tesla kept pace beside Sav, slowing only to descend down the spiral staircase before emerging through the backstage door. With a series of hurried movements, their costumes were discarded into a laundry bin, and they pushed through the stage access door. A throng of people waited on the other side.
“Hey!”
Tesla tensed, expecting to be confronted by a member of security forces, but she breathed a sigh of relief when Daxton came into view along with Cerise and a pair of scowling guards close behind.
His eyebrow raised. “So?”
Sav gave him a high-five, and together they let loose a rowdy whoop.
“Not here,” Jasmeen hissed, her voice low so as not to be overheard by Cerise. “Honestly, what part of secret mission do you not understand?”
“Relax, Meen,” whispered Daxton. He inclined his head in the direction of the actress who was busy checking her makeup in a handheld holomirror. “She doesn’t know anything about what happened.”
“Did you manage to keep an eye on Chen Yao during the opera?” asked Sav.
“Yeah, but the guy didn’t do anything suspicious. He seems clean.”
Blitz adjusted the bag on his shoulders. “We need to check all the files we’ve downloaded, but from the data we managed to see in the commander’s office, there wasn’t much on him there, either. What if we have the wrong guy?”
“It just doesn’t make sense,” Daxton replied. “I heard what he said to the African High-Chancellor.”
Jasmeen lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. “Men make idle threats all the time. I guess this means we’re back to square one.”
Suddenly, Daxton’s head snapped to his left, his body still as stone.
“What’s wrong?” Tesla asked, following his line of sight to find two men standing near the crew exit. They leaned close together in a way that suggested they didn’t wish to be overheard.
Daxton cocked his head to the side, confused. “It’s Doyle. What is he doing here? He mentioned earlier that he needed to go rest.” The balding man accepted a small package wrapped in twine and hastened away before Daxton could call out. The other man ducked through a nearby doorway, quickly disappearing from view.
“Who exactly is Doyle?” asked Tesla. Something about the balding man had been familiar, and she knew she’d seen him before. The details pulled at the corners of her mind, like a drop of water waiting to fall.
“He’s Daxton’s advisor,” said Jasmeen. “But what was he doing with that other person? It seemed... underhanded.”
“He was meeting with a Skinner,” said Tesla. Four heads swiveled in her direction. “Did you see the tattoo on the other man’s neck? He’s a member of Yosef’s gang.”
Daxton stared in disbelief. “That’s impossible. Why would Doyle meet with someone sordid enough to join a gang?”
Though she knew Daxton didn’t think of her that way, the words still made her flinch. She didn’t have an answer. Sending a man upstation was bold, especially for Yosef. And daring to cross the deimark so soon after losing a fight...
The water drop fell. She reached for Daxton’s arm. “I know where I’ve seen him!”
“What do you mean?”
“At the fight,” she explained, her words coming out in a rush. “When the crowd broke out, there was a man who nearly knocked us down. It was Doyle.”
Daxton seemed unconvinced. “Tesla, there are a lot of bald men—”
“It was him,” she insisted. “I remember his eyes. Contacts that lux stand out, even among richies.”
“I trust Tesla’s judgement,” said Sav, and Blitz nodded in agreement.
“But why would Doyle lie to me?” said Daxton. “The man is obsessed with his position in society. If he's involved in something sordid it would mean dismissal from his job, and I don't see him as the type of person to put that in jeopardy.”
Tesla’s mind raced. Why indeed? Why would a person of such high position risk being caught doing something that, by the looks of it, seemed like an illegal exchange? What had been in the package? And most of all—what did he have to hide?
Audience members trickled out of the ornate doors of the theater, back to their living quarters. A few feet away stood Daxton's guards, seemingly annoyed that their charge had yet to leave.
Jasmeen pulled Tesla and the others even farther away to ensure they weren't overheard. “Well, there’s one possibility that we haven’t considered," she said, lowering her voice to just above a whisper. “What if Freiter wasn’t trying to warn us about Chen Yao? What if Doyle is the assassin?”
TWENTY-NINE
DAXTON COULDN'T HAVE HEARD Jasmeen clearly. The idea that Doyle was anything other than a loyal servant of the crown was preposterous. Laughable, even. He’d known the advisor since he was a boy. All of his oldest memories involved the man’s disapproving grimace after Daxton and Liam had broken the etiquette Doyle had so diligently worked to instill.
The man was timid to a fault, which made him perfect in his court position. His entire job was to be a pleaser, to smooth ruffled egos and be the hand of hospitality across boundaries. The boldest thing Daxton had ever known Doyle to do was occasionally wear a checkered shirt to official meetings. He was that boring.
There was no way the advisor could be plotting an attack on someone or something aboard the Atlas.
He turned to say as much to the others, but Jasmeen raised her slender hand to silence him. “I know what you’re thinking. But the more I consider Doyle as a suspect, the more the pieces fit together.”
“Well, I disagree,” Daxton insisted. “The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make any sense. Why would he attack anyone? He’s a perfectly happy person, not some raving lunatic.”
“People have secrets. What if there’s a side to him that you don’t know?”
“There isn’t,” Daxton said stubbornly.
Tesla spoke up. “What are the facts? I don’t know the man. It might be good to have an objective view on this.”
Jasmeen began ticking things off on her fingers. “Daxton received a comm from Freiter about the assassin, and suddenly Freiter goes missing.”
“How does that have anything to do with Doyle?” Daxton argued.
Jasmeen gave an exasperated sigh. “Do you honestly think your father doesn’t have Doyle reading every comm you receive, even the private ones? No, stop, I can answer that for you. He absolutely does. It’s standard protocol for someone responsible for keeping you free of scandal.”
Doyle has been reading my private messages? Daxton had enough sense to never send anything incriminating, but still, it was a huge invasion of his privacy. He couldn’t even argue the point with Jasmeen. It was something his father would readily command Doyle to do, and being the meek man he was, Doyle would execute the order without question.
“Any other reason to suspect him?” growled Daxton.
This time it was Blitz who spoke. “Doyle has access to everything. His position gives him the power to go anywhere and get close to anyone he pleases.”
“Look, I hear what you’re saying, but I know him,” Daxton argued. “He’s a man of strict routine and little bravado.”
“I bet you never thought he’d go down to watch Minko’s fights, but h
e was there,” Tesla pointed out. “And you’ve already admitted he lied directly to your face about going to bed tonight.”
Sav rubbed his chin. “Add to that the sketchy meeting with that Skinner, and even I have to admit Doyle is looking pretty guilty.”
Daxton’s protests died on his lips. Doyle had lied about going to bed tonight, and the prince hadn’t even questioned his advisor’s request. And as for being at Minko’s fights and accepting the strange package, what honest, non-criminal explanation could there possibly be?
He pinched the bridge of his nose as a new wave of exhaustion swept over him. “Okay,” he conceded. “We’ll take a look at him. But nothing you’ve said explains the why of it all. I just don’t see the motive. Yao seemed a likely suspect, especially given his threats against the African High Chancellor. But why would Doyle want to assassinate a member of the Red Council?”
To Daxton’s surprise, even the usually vocal Jasmeen didn’t have an answer. The girl merely shrugged, the look on her face just as puzzled as the rest of the group.
“It’s worth pointing out,” Tesla began carefully, her soft eyes gleaming in the hallway lights, “the package was the right size to be a compact weapon, most likely an energy pistol. If we’re going to start watching Doyle, we need to assume he’s now armed.”
Sav ran a hand through his hair. “Shit. Tesla’s right. This might change the game.”
“Until we know for sure, no one engages him,” Daxton instructed. “Not until we have more evidence.”
“Why not just arrest him now?” demanded Jasmeen, waving a hand in exasperation. “By the time we have something on him it could be too late! You were so ready to take down Chen Yao, but now that it might be Doyle you’re going soft. I don’t get it.”
“I am not going soft. Arresting my own advisor is different from detaining an ambassador. If Doyle is guilty and the press finds out, the monarchy will look as though we’ve been harboring a terrorist. It would nullify every treaty and agreement we’ve spent the last week signing, not to mention make the royal family look unstable and weak to anyone unfriendly to the First World Union. The Restoration wouldn’t hesitate to exploit any weakness if they thought we were crumbling from the inside.”
“Daxton has a point,” Blitz agreed. “Hacking the Titan Network gave us security videos of every camera onboard the Atlas. With my facial recognition filters, it should be easy enough to scan through the data and track Doyle’s whereabouts for his entire stay aboard the station. I think you and Tesla should go through the files, while Jasmeen and Sav keep an eye on him. We should make sure he’s not plotting something as we speak.”
Daxton nodded, ignoring the flush of heat in his chest as he thought of being alone with Tesla. “And what will you do?”
“I’m going try to hacking his HDP. I think it would be useful to see what sort of messages he’s been sending and receiving. If he is the threat Freiter warned us about, it may help us identify his motives.”
“And what part do I play in all this?” asked a saccharine voice from behind the group. Daxton turned to find Cerise standing, hands on her hips, a look of veiled interest in her eyes. How much did she hear?
“I think you’ve shared enough of your talents for one evening,” Jasmeen said with a forced smile.
Cerise’s lashes fluttered. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, but I do know that Daxton needed my help tonight. Urgently. Which makes me believe that something about your little scheme fell through. Tell me, Jasmeen, how does it feel to know that I saved the day?”
Jasmeen took a menacing step closer to the actress, but Daxton stepped between the two girls. Cerise was right—she had helped. True, he still found her impossible and haughty, but maybe there was a part of the actress that wasn’t completely terrible, though her current bragging wouldn’t win her any fans, least of all Jasmeen.
“Thank you, Cerise,” said Blitz, easing the tension. “I mean it. What you did tonight was pretty cool.”
Cerise smoothed her gown, seemingly uncertain about how to react to the compliment. “I’m not the witch you all think I am.”
Jasmeen guffawed. “That remains to be seen.”
“Meen, enough,” Daxton warned, but she was already walking away, pulling Sav close behind. “Eyes open,” he called after them both. “No unnecessary risks until we know more.”
“You still haven’t told me what you want me to do,” Cerise murmured next to his ear, sliding her thin arms around his waist.
Daxton cringed and looked at Tesla, who suddenly seemed fascinated with a spot on the ceiling. The actress inched her lips closer to his own, and he turned at the last second, causing her to awkwardly land the kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Er—you said you have people who pick up on gossip,” he faltered. “Maybe you could see if you’ve heard anything about a threat on board?”
Cerise slid a sideways glance toward Tesla. “And you two are just going to run off together on some secret mission?” She detached herself from his side, pressing her face to within inches of Tesla’s, her finger raised in warning. “If I so much as hear of you trying anything with him...”
Before Daxton could voice his protest, Tesla raised her hands. “He’s all yours, Ms. Rienne.”
Cerise is jealous. The realization should have amused Daxton, but instead, Tesla’s tone of defeat cauterized his heart. He and the actress would be engaged by this time tomorrow, so none of this would matter for long. He needed to push Tesla from his mind right now. Or maybe after tonight. He could enjoy the last few hours of her company as friends, at least.
Cerise stomped off, and Daxton watched her go with no small amount of relief. She’d gotten on the stage for him without an explanation, and he wondered if it was because it had been a chance for her to be the center of attention, or because she’d actually wanted to help. Either way, the others would have certainly been arrested were it not for her distraction. But why does she have to be so miserable most of the time?
Cademore gave an obvious cough and Daxton sighed in response. He’d forgotten about the uniformed nannies standing ten feet away. “We need to go to the flight deck,” he instructed the lieutenants.
Gifford sputtered, his hands fidgeting nervously against his crisply ironed pants. “But, that’s not a-authorized, Your Highness. We were instructed to escort you back to your room after the opera.”
“And you will.” Daxton clapped the man on his shoulder, his smile breaking into a grin. “Just think of this as a slight detour.”
THIRTY
THE EERIE, ABSOLUTE SILENCE of the flight deck felt jarring after the chaos of the opera. Tesla had expected there to be workers or security guards tending to the diplomatic starcraft at all hours, but the cavernous space was empty of personnel; only a few Sec-Bots rolled along the perimeter, far enough away that Daxton seemed unfazed by their presence.
At the edge of the landing zone, the floor seemed to end abruptly, dropping off into a field of stars. Tesla knew from her training that an invisible force field protected them from being blown out into the cosmos, but the illusion of nothingness made the view of Earth feel dangerous and dizzying. Despite the spectacular panorama, it was the ship itself which stole Tesla’s breath. It was the S24 Nighthawk, Daxton had explained, that would take her from the Atlas and down to Earth. She couldn’t remember anything looking so beautiful.
Daxton entered a code into a panel next to a hatch, and the door shuddered slightly before gliding smoothly aside. “Wait here,” he commanded the officers.
The guard, Cademore, muttered to herself before flanking the door. Gifford stood beside the ship’s other entrance.
Tesla looked at Daxton in surprise as he offered his hand. Her fingers seemed so small compared to his as he helped her climb a small ladder and enter the starcraft.
The ship was just as beautiful on the inside, and Tesla marveled at the exquisite engineering. Her father would have loved all the attention to detail. Unlike the simulator in whi
ch she had conducted most of her flight training, there were no exposed wires poking through the instruments or outdated equipment hanging from the walls. This starcraft was the epitome of harmony and interconnection—everything the Atlas was not.
“Through there,” Daxton said, pointing toward an archway leading to the cockpit.
She followed his directions and soon found herself greeted by a sea of controls, toggles, and switches. “I can’t believe I’m standing in a Nighthawk. This is unreal.”
“Do you like it?”
“Are you serious?” she said with a laugh. “It’s incredible!”
"I’m glad you like it... because it’s yours.”
Tesla’s hands froze against a nearby star map. “What? How can that be?”
Daxton lifted his shoulders. “Since I’m no longer allowed to fly, it seems a waste to not let her stretch her wings. I want her to go to someone who will truly appreciate her. Before you can argue—” he said, holding up a hand to stop her protests, “—I’ve already transferred the registration to your name. Call it a housewarming gift for your new life.”
“You can’t just give me an entire starcraft.”
“Why not?” he said with a grin. “Being the future Grand Imperator has to come with some perks. Otherwise, who would ever take the job?” His features suddenly became serious. "What I want most is for you to find where you can feel comfortable enough to be yourself. I know you don't believe you belong upstation, but I also know the Gulch doesn't feel like home—not truly, anyway. You and I both exist at the whim of someone else. If one of us can be free, I want it to be you.”
Tesla traced her fingers along the back of the pilot’s seat. This was hers. Could it even be possible? “Thank you,” she whispered. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
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