His face looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead he stepped past her, taking a seat next to a high-tech console. “I was afraid that plugging Blitz’s hackchip into a public dataport might trigger an alarm against the Titan Network. The ship has her own system, though, so we should be able to look at it without security forces swooping in. The upload will take a couple minutes, but then we’ll be able to see if your trip to the commander’s office was worth the risk.”
The silence stretched out between them. Not an uncomfortable, heavy sort of quiet, but a warm hush that felt more familiar than foreign.
“You know,” Tesla began with a small smile, “when I found out you were the Prime Heir, I expected you to be stuffy and insufferable. I had a lifetime of bias in my heart about everything I thought someone like you would be.” She shook her head. “I was so wrong.”
“Who in their right mind wants to trade their freedom for a throne?”
“I’m sure a lot of people would jump at the chance.” Tesla saw the way his mouth tightened at her words. She leaned backward against the bulkhead and cocked her head to the side. “But not you. I don’t think you want to rule the world.”
“Liam was always the one to take it seriously. Always responsible, working to make a difference. He saw the crown as an opportunity for change.”
“And you? How do you see it?”
Daxton blew his breath out slowly. “A noose.”
He was owned, she realized, in the same way that Minko held a contract over her head, only Daxton’s indenture came with a priceless headpiece and the expectation that his life was not his own. He belonged to the people, and the government, and the world—to everyone but himself. When they’d first met, Tesla had envied him, but now she felt a confusing mix of empathy and pity.
She wanted to reassure him that he would make a good ruler, that he would bear the burden with honor and dignity, but instead she found herself asking, “How did Liam die?”
Daxton’s hands gave a brief tremble, and his eyes flashed with a darkness that passed so quickly Tesla wondered if she’d seen it at all. “I made a mistake,” he said quietly. “A stupid mistake.”
The pieces clicked together in her mind. “Freiter took the fall for something you did, didn’t he? That’s why you feel you owe him so much.”
Daxton hesitated, the grief still fresh on his features, before saying, “It was at the academy—I think I’ve already told you that much—and we were tasked with a technical exercise. It was my final test before graduation, and Liam came to be part of it. He was always so supportive of my dreams to be a pilot, because he knew how much I loved wearing the uniform and belonging to something outside of the royal family. That day, I was responsible for planning a mission and implementing the flight plan. Freiter was my navigator, and Liam stowed away in the cargo hold before takeoff. I didn’t know he was on board. He wanted to see me in action and be there to surprise me when the mission crew doused me with champagne after the landing.”
Tesla could read Daxton’s regret written on every line of his body; his shoulders slumped forward, and the muscles in his jaw flexed as he tried to keep himself from shattering completely. How many nights had she spent feeling the same terrible sorrow after losing her father? How many nights had she shared his grief, feeling as if she were alone in her pain? Before she realized it, she reached out, wrapping her fingers around his. He responded automatically, their hands intertwining as though it were the most natural thing in the stars.
“I’d been drinking the night before,” Daxton admitted, his voice splintering. “Freiter and Sav had taken me out to celebrate early, while we were all still together. We knew everything would change after graduation.” He paused, and Tesla squeezed his hand. “I didn’t have that many, and I felt fine enough the next day, but the ship got away from me during a tight curve. I couldn’t regain control and we all went down. The starcraft ended up in a heap of twisted metal and flames. Freiter got me out, at great risk to his own safety, then ran back into the wreckage. That’s when I realized Liam had been stowed away. By the time we found his body... he was already dead. The academy launched an investigation, a full-scale judicial inquiry, and Freiter took the fall. Said it had been a navigation error on his part.”
Tesla felt her heart breaking for Daxton, for Freiter, and for the loss of Liam. That was why Daxton trusted Freiter so absolutely. His guilt had context now, though she wanted to tell him it hadn’t been his fault. The words rang hollow in her own mind, and she knew it wasn’t what Daxton wanted to hear, so instead she ran her thumb across his palm in what she hoped was a comforting way, wishing she’d never brought it up at all. “I didn’t know,” she murmured, fumbling for the right words. “Daxton, I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t know how Jasmeen looks at me every day. Not when I can barely look at myself.”
“What do you mean?”
He pressed the hackchip into the monitor, and they waited for the files to load. “Because,” he said softly, “she and Liam were engaged.”
“Jasmeen was going to be the next Grand Imperatoress?”
“My father and mother had no idea. Liam was going to announce it after my graduation. He didn’t want to take the attention away from me and spoil my moment.”
Jasmeen was in love with the former Prime Heir? Tesla had a hard time picturing the hardened girl standing in a white dress next to a groom, tattoo flashing as a crown rested in her sleek hair. Or maybe her abrasiveness had grown as a result of losing the man she loved. Tesla felt the knot in her chest tighten. So much pain. Liam’s death had changed more than one future, that much was clear. Freiter had been discharged, Jasmeen was alone, and Daxton was now the reluctant heir to Earth’s greatest power.
On a grander scale, Liam’s death had actually changed the world.
“Is that why Jasmeen dislikes Cerise so much? Pink Beauty isn’t exactly subtle about her lust for a tiara.”
Daxton laughed, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. “That may be part of it, but I think Jasmeen doesn’t like Cerise because of the person Cerise chooses to be. She’s not the... easiest to be around.”
Her hand was still in Daxton’s, and now it was he who traced lines on the inside of her palm. She shuddered, her body remembering Kiyo’s searching fingers against her stomach and the way his touch had brought bile to her throat. She willed herself not to pull away—not let his betrayal ruin this moment. Daxton was different. Where Kiyo had tried to take a piece of her for himself, Daxton’s caress was gentle and giving.
Something about the glow from the consoles and the warmth of his skin made her whisper, “Then why marry her at all?”
Daxton’s eyes fell into shadow as he lowered his head. “Cerise knows I killed Liam, and she’s threatened to go to the press. My uncle was declared illegitimate by the Red Council—born out of wedlock before my grandparents married. I’m the last of the LaRose line.” He splayed his hands helplessly. “When a reigning regent dies, the Red Council and all the ambassadors have to officially recognize a new Grand Imperator. Usually it’s just a formality, since there has always been a Prime Heir who assumes the throne. But if the world finds out what happened to Liam, the Restoration—and the ambassadors who do not fully align with the monarchy—will challenge the Red Council in order to call their own representative into power. They could start a new royal line... or end the monarchy entirely.”
“But it was an accident. Surely the public wouldn’t blame you—”
Daxton shook his head. “The monarchy isn’t as strong as we pretend—the poor are riddled with poverty and hunger, while the rich enjoy life’s spoils. I’ll be the first to admit the system has its flaws, which I plan to address when I wear the crown. I don’t agree with my father’s methods, but I also know that without the monarchy we’ll fracture back into a thousand nations ruled by a thousand tyrants, each looking out for their own interests. I have to marry Cerise to keep a hundred years of peace intact.”
Tesl
a let the weight of his words sink in. She couldn’t imagine how difficult that level of responsibility must be to carry alone.
“The Restoration would love to see the monarchy become a dusty chapter in the history holotexts,” Daxton continued. “If there was ever real, verifiable evidence that I killed my brother, a case could be made that I’m a usurper, and the First World Union could dissolve into civil war between those who support the crown and those who want to see the royal family turned out from the London palace.”
“Even so, what happened with Liam wasn’t your fault,” Tesla insisted. “Surely we can convince people of your innocence.”
Daxton gave her a bone-weary smile. “Not everyone is as compassionate as the beautiful Tesla Petrov.”
Her heart beat erratically within her chest, and the air left her lungs. She swallowed before asking the one question to which she needed the answer. “If things were different,” she said, barely able to form the words, “do you think I could have made you happy?”
His eyes lifted to meet hers, and Tesla was surprised to see a burning desire behind his pain. “I would number the stars if it meant that I could be with you.”
He reached for her, and this time she didn’t hesitate or retreat—didn’t hold any atom of herself back from his embrace. Daxton stood to meet her, pulling her softly against his chest. His thumbs brushed her mouth as if every starmap existed in braille upon the curves of her lips. He kissed her, softly at first, then deeper, with the same fierce hunger Tesla shared.
“I can’t give you anything,” he whispered. “Tesla, I'm—”
She placed a finger against his lips. “For tonight, this is enough.” Tesla kissed him again, taking control this time, guiding him back into the seat as she slid into his lap. Her hand traced up his back, brushing against the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, and she pressed her lips to him again, tasting the moment when he relaxed against her. His arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her even deeper into the embrace.
They were interrupted as the monitor buzzed to life, and Daxton was the first to break away, reluctantly turning to focus on the stream of video feeds scrolling across the console’s screen. Tesla stood and took a seat in the adjacent chair, her heart thudding heavily as the moment passed. Her mind tried to focus on the data as Daxton typed the algorithm for Blitz’s facial recognition software. The hackchip responded, narrowing the security files until only clips of Doyle remained.
“Everything seems normal enough,” he said, gesturing to a video which showed Doyle greeting reporters outside one of the negotiation chambers. A quick scan of the next clip showed more of the same.
“Wait,” said Tesla, her hand landing on his sleeve. “There. I know that corridor. It’s below the deimark, near Yosef’s territory.” She pulled up the feed in question, and they watched as Doyle paced anxiously, a cap pulled low over his face. The advisor momentarily glanced toward a camera, causing Blitz’s program to confirm his identity.
“It’s him,” Daxton conceded. “But what is he doing?”
Another figure entered the screen, a woman, and it was Tesla’s turn to be confused. “That’s Naamah.”
“The person who attacked you outside the elevator?”
She nodded once and watched as Daxton’s hands turned to white-knuckled fists. The video blurred for a second and quickly returned to focus. They watched as the advisor handed Naamah a small box. She lifted the ornate lid, sending slivers of light glinting off the items inside.
“Are those gemstones?” Tesla asked in disbelief. “That’s a small fortune!”
“That box is from my mother’s dressing room,” growled Daxton, pounding a fist against the ship’s dashboard. “He’s selling my mother’s jewels to criminals.”
“It’s obvious he’s lying to you, and if Yosef is involved...”
“Then he could be the person Freiter tried to warn us about.”
Tesla’s fingers were already dancing across her wristcomm. “Jasmeen, Sav—can you guys hear me?”
“Go ahead,” they replied in unison.
Daxton inclined his head toward the device. “Looks like you were right. We found something against Doyle. Have him placed into custody and detain him until I get there.”
“That’s just it, Dax,” Sav said, his voice thick with apprehension, “We can’t find him anywhere.”
THIRTY-ONE
THEY RAN, CADEMORE AND GIFFORD panting behind them, until they reached Level Two’s diplomatic suites. Jasmeen paced the hallway while Sav exchanged comms back and forth with Blitz, who was busy hacking a dataport to scan through live security feeds from around the station.
Daxton was grateful for the exertion; it helped hide his flushed face and unsteady breath after the moment he’d had with Tesla. He’d admitted something to her tonight that he hadn’t truly realized until he’d seen the look on her face and heard the vulnerability in her voice. What he felt for her wasn’t just admiration... it was deeper, complex, and unlike anything he’d ever experienced. As she stood beside him, he did his best to ignore the slight hitch in her breathing that so closely matched his own.
“Have you found him?” she asked the others.
Sav shook his head. “We’ve traced him leaving the opera hall up and into a lift, but both the cameras inside as well as the tracking chip that logs each of the elevator’s stops were both disabled, so we have no way of knowing what happened or what level he’s on now. If he’s planning something, he has the element of surprise.”
Daxton’s fists clenched. “But if Doyle is attacking the Atlas and has the ability to manipulate the video feeds, why hasn’t he made his move already?”
“Dax,” said Jasmeen, “it’s obvious. Doyle probably went down to Tesla’s fight in order to get a weapon, but the riot interrupted his plans. Now he has one, courtesy of the Skinner, and now he’s making his move. We have to act. Fast.”
“But why now? It’s almost midnight. What could he hope to accomplish with all of Kyrartine’s extra Sec-Bots roaming the corridors? Guards are patrolling the diplomatic suites. He’d have to be mad to try something at this hour.”
“Of course he’s mental! Is there such thing as a sane terrorist? I think we have to acknowledge that Doyle is dangerous. The timing seems suspicious—you hold diplomatic negotiations about going to war and then suddenly Doyle buys a pulse blaster from a drug lord? What if someone is upset at how the negotiations turned out and hired Doyle to assassinate the African High Chancellor and change the vote?”
Daxton remained unconvinced. “If Doyle wanted to kill Imani Nwuto, he’s had plenty of time alone with her to do so. So why wait until after the night of the opera—until the Centennial of the Crown is almost over—to act?”
“What if Doyle doesn’t want to do things quietly?” All eyes turned to Tesla, who stood near a small column topped with a flower arrangement of peonies and weeping greens. “What if the whole point of this is to make a statement?”
Jasmeen chewed on the idea, then said, “The only big event left in the festivities is tonight’s ball, but it would be a suicide mission. The minute there’s any sign of a threat, the protocol is to go into lockdown. No one would be able to get on or off the station without the Grand Imperator or Kyrartine personally clearing them. There would be no escape for Doyle. If he wanted his assassination to be a grand public statement, he must know that he’d never leave the Atlas alive.”
“Maybe that’s been his plan all along,” said Blitz. “If one calculates the number of witnesses and paparazzi, the ball seems an ideal venue for someone hoping to disrupt the balance of the world.”
Daxton blanched. “My engagement,” he murmured. “The announcement is to be broadcasted live, followed by a congratulatory speech from Imani Nwotu. Doyle could use the moment to execute his target for the whole world to see.”
“Dax,” said Sav, a warning in his voice. “We sent a servant to wake your uncle. As head of royal security, he needs to know that Doyle is missing.” He hesit
ated just a moment before adding, “Your father is on his way as well.”
“You told my father without asking me first?”
“No,” Jasmeen said, raising her chin. “I told him.”
“But you know how he’ll react! He’s going to stop us from catching Doyle. Why didn’t you let me decide what to do? We finally know who Freiter was trying to warn us about. We’ve done more to protect this station than anyone. The situation is under control.”
“Is it, Dax?” Jasmeen shouted. “Because I don’t have any bloody idea where Doyle could be, Blitz can’t find him, and if he kills his target, it could send the entire Earth into a war the likes of which we haven’t seen for a hundred years. It seems to me that we most certainly do not have this handled.”
“And how do you think my father will help us?” Daxton bellowed at her. “He hasn’t taken this seriously from the start!”
“You’re my friend,” she said, her tone begging him to listen. “But I swore to you I would protect you on board the Atlas. Until we know more, this situation is dangerous. What would you have me do? Watch someone be assassinated because you can’t swallow your pride and ask for help now that we’re out of time? You accuse Tesla of being stubborn, but you’re even worse!”
Daxton dared a look at Tesla, who flinched at Jasmeen’s words. “Don’t bring her into this.”
“She brought herself into this the minute she agreed to your half-baked plan in the first place. Stop being a fool!”
He balled his hands into fists, his voice becoming colder than the icy blackness of space showing through a nearby porthole. “I am the Prime Heir of the First World Union,” he snapped, “and you will address me as such.”
Even as he said the words, he regretted them. Jasmeen recoiled, her eyes steeling against him. “I did what Liam would have done.”
He opened his mouth to apologize, but was interrupted by the arrival of his uncle, dressed in his uniform, and his bedraggled father, whose rumpled appearance matched his brewing distemper.
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