There was a pause before Nicoli continued. “You said that your family has been ruling for many generations?”
“Yes. The High Counsel position is passed down from father to son.”
“So, in the event of your death, your son becomes the new High Counsel?”
“No.” Angel detected bitterness in the High Counsel’s tone. “My son died thirty-four years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Nicoli said. “Then your grandson?”
“No, I don’t currently have a grandson.”
“Then who is your successor?”
No one, Angel thought with satisfaction. Then cocked her head to the side. What had the High Counsel said?
“I have a daughter, though she is very ill right now...”
Angel stopped listening, her mind locked on a single realization. The High Counsel’s daughter was alive! Could it be true?
She tore the plug from her ear and rushed from the bridge. She didn’t bother to tell Yanur what she was doing – he would only try to stop her. She rushed to her cabin and dug through the closet. She needed to get into the palace and find her mother, but dressed as she was, she wouldn't make it three meters from the ship.
Pulling four of Nicoli’s white shirts from the closet, she pulled one over her own shirt. The other three, she tied around her waist to form a rough skirt. From a distance, it might be mistaken for a dress. She had no intention of getting close enough for anyone to know differently. About to leave, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her short dark hair was sure to stand out in a region where nearly everyone was blonde. Taking a towel from the D-U, she wrapped it about her head, turban-style. She took another critical look at her attire. Up close, she looked ridiculous, but it would have to do.
The few guards left to watch the ship stood by the front hatch, so Angel walked to the back and exited through the smaller rear access door. She closed it behind her, but couldn't lock it. Then, she carefully hurried away from the ship and out into the backfields.
Once safely out of sight, she found a tree. She briefly considered waiting for Nicoli to help her, but dismissed the idea. He couldn't know her true identity. It would only complicate matters, but there was no way she was leaving this planet without her mother.
Her mother was alive! After eight years of believing she was dead, Angel wanted nothing more than to race into the palace and find her. That would be playing into her grandfather's hands, though, so she settled herself against the tree to wait.
When darkness fell, she would join the workers as they returned from the fields. Hidden in the crowd, no one would notice her. Once she was safely in the courtyard, it would be easy enough to slip inside the palace.
Chapter 17
Nicoli boarded the Icarus feeling a sense of accomplishment. While the High Counsel obviously found it difficult to believe that his planet was being overtaken by Harvesters, he had nevertheless invited Nicoli and his crew to attend that evening’s banquet, at which time Nicoli could observe all the members of the High Counsel’s staff and household for himself. Later, Nicoli and the High Counsel would meet to compare notes.
Nicoli’s good feeling lasted until he reached the bridge and found Yanur, pacing back and forth.
“Is she with you?” Yanur asked, his voice heavy with concern.
“Who?” Nicoli looked around the bridge as dread settled in the pit of his stomach. “Where’s Angel?”
“Gone.”
“What?” Nicoli stepped forward. There were no signs of a fight on the bridge and Yanur appeared unhurt. “What happened? Were you boarded? Was there an attack?”
Yanur hung his head, shaking it. “No, no. I don’t know what happened. When I left her, she was sitting right here, listening on the comm-link to your conversation with the High Counsel. I went to take a shower and rest for a minute. When I came back to the bridge, she was gone. The front hatch was locked from the inside, but the back access door has been opened.” Yanur wrung his hands together. “If it had been forced open from the outside, the alarms would have sounded.”
“Have you searched the ship for her?”
Yanur nodded.
“Did you see any signs of a struggle? Any blood?” Angel wouldn’t let herself be abducted without putting up a fight. His heart clinched at the thought of Angel being hurt.
“No, nothing. In fact, everything looks the way it always does.”
Nicoli searched the ship himself, looking for signs of a forced entry or struggle. After finding none, he was left to face the only possible conclusion.
Angel had left of her own free will.
She had left him.
Again.
He tried not to think of it in those terms, but somehow, once the thought formed, it wouldn’t be ignored.
He shook himself mentally. He’d better forget about Angel and start focusing on his mission.
“We’ve been invited to dinner. You might want to change into something less casual.”
He left the bridge, intending to prepare for the evening’s activities, but stopped the moment he entered his cabin.
Looking around, he gave a short derisive laugh. The very idea that he could forget Angel was ludicrous. Every time he pulled clothes from the closet, he’d see the image of her wearing his shirt. As he changed into more appropriate attire, his gaze fell on the bed where they'd made love.
The memories assaulted him until he thought he might go mad. When he returned to the bridge, he found no relief; her essence was everywhere, throughout the ship.
Squaring his shoulders, he took his emotions in hand. When Yanur joined him a few moments later, he was focused again on the mission.
“We’ve been invited to dine with the High Counsel tonight, as his honored guests. It’ll give us a chance to study the members of his staff and see if we can discover which ones might be repossessed Harvesters.”
“Can we trust the High Counsel?”
“I don’t think we trust anyone.”
Yanur’s face temporarily brightened. “I finished the anti-toxin pills. Maybe this would be a good time to test them out. Just in case the food is poisoned.”
Nicoli smiled at the older man’s enthusiasm. “Bring them.” Over the years, Yanur had saved his life many times over, with his various medical concoctions and scientific inventions.
“And Angel?”
He looked over at his friend and knew they both would miss the feisty young woman who had come so abruptly into their lives.
“She’s made her choice.”
* * * * *
Darkness finally came and Angel slipped easily into the throng of workers returning from the fields. If the workers found her attire bizarre, they were either too tired or disinterested to say anything.
She traveled unnoticed into the courtyard and as the group began to disperse, each headed to their separate homes, Angel walked around to the side of the palace. Not many people knew about the garden entrance.
She opened the door and looked into the hallway. She startled a passing servant who gave her a curious look, but quickly moved on. With the rest of the hall empty and quiet, Angel stepped inside. The tiled flooring hadn’t changed much in eight years, but the hall looked different. The artwork on the walls had been changed and the hall itself no longer seemed as big as it had in her youth. These observations were made on an almost subconscious level as Angel focused on finding the correct room.
Keeping a constant vigil lest she be discovered, she turned down first one hallway then another. Would it be the same room, she wondered?
Then suddenly, she turned the corner and there it was. The door stood closed and Angel approached with caution. Would she be there? And if so, would she remember Angel? Worse thoughts crowded in. Would she hate Angel for leaving?
Afraid to find out, she refused to turn around.
She pressed her ear to the door and listened. After a few moments, when she’d heard nothing but silence, she tested the door handle and found it turned easily.
> She opened the door a crack and paused. No alarms sounded, so she pushed it open a little further and walked in. The room appeared empty and disappointment hit her. She had felt certain her mother would be here. She decided to wait, in hopes that her mother would soon return.
Looking around, she saw that the room hadn’t changed. It looked exactly as she remembered and it made her want to cry. The love she’d felt in this room, she’d not felt since she’d left. She walked over to the dresser, picking up each familiar item that sat there, silently greeting them as an old friend.
At first she didn’t see her, the room was dimly lit and despite the warmth of the day, many blankets were piled on the bed.
“You’ve come for me,” a soft familiar voice said. “I knew one day you would.”
Angel whirled around and focused on the woman, now visible beneath a mound of blankets. Though she looked drawn and weak, she was exactly as Angel remembered her every time she closed her eyes. With a small cry of delight, Angel rushed to the woman’s side. “Mother!”
Kneeling beside the bed, Angel wrapped her arms around the frail figure. Tears coursed unnoticed down her cheek as she laid it against her mother’s. “I thought you were dead. I never would have left you…”
“Angel?” A gentle hand at her shoulder pushed her back. Angel looked down into her mother’s face as it studied her own. The voice trembled as she spoke. “Angel, my sweet Angel.” She laid the palm of her hand against Angel’s cheek. “I didn’t mean to kill you. How afraid you must have been when the freighter was attacked. Oh Angel, I’m so sorry.”
What was her mother talking about? “Mother, it’s me, Angel. I’m alive. I’ve come to get you out of here.”
Her mother’s glassy eyes seemed to shift in and out of focus while her lips formed a tremulous smile. “Death is not so bad if it means we are together again.”
Welcoming death, what was this? Her mother was spouting nonsense. She laid a hand against her mother’s forehead and felt the fever. Her mother was suffering from delusions, thinking her daughter was a ghost, sent to retrieve her upon her death.
“Mother, it’s me, Angel. I’m really here. I got off the freighter at Delphi IV. I wasn’t on it when it was attacked.” She stroked her mother’s cheek. “Please believe me.” What illness did her mother have? How serious was it?
Her mother’s eyelids fluttered closed again, a small smile on her lips.
Angel looked around the room. She’d been gone from the ship too long and needed to get back, but there was no way she was leaving without her mother. She had done that once, years ago, and she was not doing it again. When she left Coronado, her mother would be with her. She would just have to carry her,s there was no other option.
Her mother was a dead weight, drifting in and out of consciousness. It felt disrespectful, draping her mother over her shoulder like a sack of vegetables, but there was no other way for Angel to carry her.
Once again, Angel checked the hallway to make sure it was empty before stepping out. Progress was slow and with each step, her burden, and her frustration, grew. She knew she’d never reach the ship.
Which is why, when she finally reached the garden entrance and stepped outside to find a contingent of guards waiting for her, she wasn’t surprised.
“So returns the prodigal child,” one of the guards said, stepping forward. He gave instructions for two of his men to take Angel’s mother and carry her back into the palace.
Angel gave her mother over without a fight, then turned to face the guard. “Hello, Herrod. Still doing his dirty work?”
The guard called Herrod did not rise to her bait. Instead he gave her a knowing smile. “He will be pleased to know you’ve returned.” Another gesture of his hand and two more guards stepped to either side of her. “And you’ve chosen a particularly interesting dress for the occasion.”
Angel felt herself blush. She pulled off the turban and undid the shirts at the waist, letting them all fall to the ground. Then she peeled off the shirt she wore. A woman in men’s clothing would be frowned upon, but she wasn’t interested in respecting their customs. If an opportunity to escape presented itself, she didn’t want to be hampered by the makeshift dress.
When she looked back at Herrod, he smiled. It wasn’t a friendly smile. It was the kind of smile that made her wish she had on more clothes – or better yet, was carrying an assault cannon. He seemed pleased with her discomfort and moved closer so he could speak to her without the other guards hearing.
“An’jel, you have grown into a beautiful woman.” He walked slowly around her, letting her feel his eyes roam over her body. He stopped behind her, close enough that his breath brushed against her hair when he spoke. “Unfortunate hair color, but I suppose it'll grow out. Tell me,” he whispered, “are you still a virgin?”
Angel whipped about to face him, barely controlled fury in her eyes. “Stay away from me, Herrod.”
Putting a finger to the side of his chin in an imitation of deep thought - Angel was sure he was incapable of the real thing - he studied her. “I think after all these years, you’re not a virgin anymore. Maybe you’re married.” He made a show of looking around. “But I don’t see a husband, do you? No husband. No virginity. I guess that makes you a whore, doesn’t it, An’jel?”
Angel ignored his taunt, turning to face him as he circled her, because she didn’t trust him.
“Are you a whore, An’jel?” He made the word sound as filthy as he could. “Will you beg men in the streets, offer them your body in exchange for a crumb of food? Sleep with them just to have the warmth of a real bed?” He stopped walking. “Perhaps I should find out what sweets you have to offer a man. If I find you pleasing, I’ll keep you for myself.” He reached out his hand as if to touch her face.
“Touch me and you’re a dead man,” Angel said, pleased that she managed to keep her tone so even, despite the rapid beating of her heart.
His hand stopped midair, then fell to his side as he laughed. “Am I supposed to be afraid of you?”
“No.” Angel smiled. “You’re supposed to be afraid of him, because if he finds out you raped me and took my virginity, he’ll kill you.”
Herrod’s laughter stopped and the smile faded to a face gone red with anger. “If I take your virginity, then I can claim the right to be your husband. And as such, I will be the next High Counsel.”
Angel’s laughter was genuine. “Do you really envision yourself to be his choice for successor? He’d probably have you killed before dinner – a minor inconvenience.”
“I think not. I am the only male blood relation the High Counsel has left.” Herrod countered between clinched teeth.
“Your mother was a whore your father experimented with to prove he was a man. But he was weak and killed himself after the High Counsel found him in his lover’s bed. His male lover. And you think the High Counsel will openly claim you as blood? You’re not even good enough to be his advisor; you’re a security guard.”
She’d pushed him too far and didn’t duck fast enough to avoid the blow to her face when it came. She fell back, stunned, eyes watering. But she lifted her head to face him. She’d gotten to him, broke his control. He’d lost and she’d won - and she wanted him to know.
The other guards pressed closer and Angel knew that if he came at her again, there would be dissension in the ranks. They reported to Herrod, but they feared the High Counsel.
Herrod stared at the guards and for a moment, she wondered what he would do.
“Bring her,” he ordered, giving her a look that promised more between them.
“Where are you taking me?” She dared to ask as he walked off, not knowing what answer she hoped to hear. Either he didn’t hear, or didn’t care to tell her.
He disappeared around a corner and Angel had no choice in whether she followed or not as the guards tightened their hold on her arms and led her forward.
* * * * *
Nicoli and Yanur were ushered into the main banquet roo
m of the palace. A long table stood along the far wall, topped with food and drink. Men in formal Coronadian dress stood around, visiting with one another. Nicoli let his gaze travel across the room, and though he didn’t expect to see Angel, he was nevertheless disappointed when the only women present were servants.
“Colonel Romanof, I’m glad you could make it.” The High Counsel stepped from the crowd, extending his hand in greeting. Behind him, two men stood patiently attentive. They wore ceremonial dress similar to the outfit worn by the High Counsel, with tunics made of obviously high quality fabric and adorned with the House of Scyphor emblem, a large black bird in flight. Below the tunics, fitted slacks were tucked into boots and warring blades were strapped about their hips. Nicoli was struck with the thought that though the outfits seemed ceremonial, they were well suited for easy movement, or fighting, if need be.
“High Counsel.” Nicoli began, pausing when the old man wagged a reprimanding finger in the air. “Gil’rhen,” he quickly amended. “Thank you for inviting us on such short notice. It is an honor to be here.”
“I would like to introduce you to two of my advisors.” The High Counsel gestured to the men standing beside him. “This is Rianol D’Wintre and Pualson Metters.”
Nicoli exchanged handshakes with the two men, studying each closely as he did. Both were near his own age, and as typical Coronadians, both tall, blond and with a warrior's physique.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” D’Wintre said. His ready smile was smooth and easy. “I’ve heard much about you.” His manner seemed genuine.
The other one, Pualson, seemed less comfortable, but still extended his hand in greeting. “A pleasure, Colonel.”
“Thank you.” Nicoli politely acknowledged their words. “And allow me to introduce Yanur Snellen, crew member and good friend.”
Yanur shook hands with all three men and they exchanged a few words of greeting.
“Didn’t you say you had two members to your crew?” The High Counsel asked, looking around the room, presumably for the errant crewmember.
Too Close to the Sun (The Sun 1) Page 19