by Jasmine Walt
Framed in the doorway, Lukan stood, disheveled, still wearing his clothes from the ball.
31
Every muscle quivering with tension from maintaining his nonchalant façade, Axel brushed his teeth as his father sailed out of his apartment. It was only after the door crashed closed that he relaxed. Marginally.
His toothbrush dropped into the porcelain washbasin, and he thumped his forehead against the mirror.
He’d been an idiot not to anticipate the additional monitoring, especially considering his father knew Axel was wooing Lynx as blackmail leverage to force his deployment to Treven.
He grunted with grudging admiration as he spat tooth cleaning powder into the basin. His father knew him better than he liked. It would serve him well to remember that in future. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and ran the conversation with his father back through his head.
Even on closer inspection, Axel knew his reasoning had rung true. His father’s knowledge of his and Lynx’s tryst was of little consequence because information was only useful when one was prepared to act on it. His father wouldn’t do anything that threatened Axel’s standing with Mott.
That didn’t stop worry biting him. Thoughtful, he rubbed the stubble on his chin, barely conscious that he needed a shave. Although Axel had tied his father’s hands, Felix was unlikely to do nothing about Lynx’s knowledge of the Dmitri Curse. The risk would be too great for Chenaya, the Dragon, and the crown. His father would never tolerate an attack on any of them. Remembering that was rule number one when dealing with Felix Avanov. To him, anyone who threatened the establishment, royalty or not, was expendable.
That meant Lynx was in danger.
And it was his fault. That called for an urgent strategy to protect her.
Axel frowned at the mirror, barely conscious of his reflection.
How would telling help her?
It wouldn’t, he decided, so rushing to her apartment was not his priority. Securing her powerful allies was. Allies who would put themselves at risk to protect her if his father moved against her.
He knew just the men for the job.
Small in number, their ranks filled both the high-born and the guardsmen. With his total lack of regard for the “vermin” who served Chenaya, his father—and many of the Chenayan generals—didn’t know that a small percentage of guardsmen didn’t respond to the chips. Axel had never planned on passing that information on. Now, he had even less incentive.
Happily, Axel knew exactly to whom these clear-thinking guardsmen gravitated: the one high-born who effectively balanced loyalty to an Avanov and sympathy with the masses.
Axel reached into his pocket and pulled out his informa. Finger scrolling the air, he pulled up the screen showing the location of every high-born in the palace. A smile played on his lips; he’d been a child when he’d first memorized the serial number of this person’s ice crystal.
Stefan Zarot was in the great hall.
Axel dropped the informa back into his pocket and went to find his closest friend.
Stefan sat at his usual table, eating breakfast, but he was not alone. Malika perched opposite him, regaling him with some story, if her knife and fork waving in the air were anything to go by. If someone cut Mali’s hands off, she would be incapable of speaking. Stefan’s dark eyes were riveted on her as if she were the only other person in the world.
Axel smiled, genuinely pleased. He had done the right thing letting Stefan court Malika. In fact, he should have given his permission the day she started puberty. Although now nineteen, his sister had only had one serious boyfriend—the beau Axel despised. Axel was certain she had dated the creep to annoy him and his father into easing up on some of their protection. Axel had the good grace to admit that he was as bad as his father where his little sister was concerned.
Too bad he was about to break up their party.
Axel sauntered over to join them, sinking onto the bench next to Stefan. “Morning. Hope you both slept well.” He smiled at Mali and gave Stefan a mock hard look.
“Always.” As usual, Stefan’s face was expressionless. His voice dropped. “Need I ask about you?” The word Lynx hung heavy and unspoken in the air.
“Just what do you take me for?” Axel demanded, going for a lighthearted answer.
“Pff!” Malika snorted. “We watched you dancing with her. I swear, I felt the sparks flying off you both from across the room. Even the fire-eaters looked jealous.”
For once in his life, Axel was speechless.
It was time to move this conversation into gear. He leaned in close and whispered to Stefan, knowing that Malika would hear. It didn’t matter; he trusted Mali explicitly. “My father knows I went to her room last night.”
Stefan’s throat actually bobbed, as if he was having trouble swallowing his fried potato.
“Nothing like that happened,” Axel said grumpily. “But I did tell you that I was going to warn her about . . . stuff.”
Malika’s eyes threatened to explode straight out of her head. “You didn’t! Father will kill you!” She bit her lip and then sighed with relief. “No, he won’t. Like everything, you’ll get away with it. But Ax! How could you take such a risk?”
“He’s in love with her,” Stefan said dryly, as if that explained everything.
Axel brushed the comment away. “Fact is, he heard more than just a chat about stuff.” Axel flashed a self-deprecating smile. “I might have mentioned the reason behind the stuff.”
Now both Malika and Stefan looked at him as if he had . . . had turned into a Norin.
He understood their concern. Still, it irritated him. He knew exactly what they both felt about the monitoring and the ice crystals. Because of their friendship, Stefan was one of very few high-born who knew what his “emerald” was. He and Stefan had spent years trying to figure ways of getting Stefan’s ice crystal off the grid so he could live a more private life. A nonfatal solution had never presented itself.
Axel’s and Malika’s biggest arguments had not been about the high-borns’ ice crystals but rather about his commitment to a military that used mind-manipulated soldiers to control the rest of the population.
He suppressed his irritation. “Whatever my motives, it’s done.” He fixed Stefan with a penetrating stare. “I wouldn’t ask, but she needs protection. The kind only you can rustle up.”
Stefan held his gaze and then nodded. “Axel Avanov, you will be the death of me.”
“I’ll make a speech at your funeral.” Axel grinned, largely to cover up that he didn’t feel good about embroiling Stefan and his men in this disaster of his making.
Stefan grunted. “Leave it to me.” He glanced up at Malika and said to Axel, “You’ve earned this one.”
Axel squeezed his shoulder, letting Stefan know how much he appreciated the offer. And then he strolled out of the hall, keeping calm for the cameras as he made his way to Lynx’s room to warn her.
32
As soon as Lynx awoke, she dressed and went to Kestrel’s door. It was time to tell her sister everything. She cracked it open and peered into the room. “Kestrel? We need to speak.”
There was no reply.
She pushed the door open and stepped into the room. “Kestrel? Are you here?”
Silence.
Lynx bit her lip and then noticed the sun streaming into the room. Kestrel was probably down at breakfast. She considered joining her and decided against it. No conversation would be possible in the great hall. Troubled, she returned to her room.
She sought the offending candle sconce, covered with a blanket. When her father had asked her to discover what she could about the gemstones, neither of them could have imagined that technology like cameras and voice recorders existed.
It was time to tell him what she had learned.
She called to the bland-faced guardsman manning the entrance to the apartment. He was new, not one of her regular watchdogs, and she wondered when he’d arrived at her door. “Corporal, can I trouble you
with request?”
He bowed. “Of course, Highness. How can I assist?”
“I won’t be attending breakfast. Please, can you arrange for food to be sent to me?”
He bowed. “It is done.”
Her father had said she was not to write to him, but it was apparent the Chenayans had no intention of giving her time alone with Uncle Bear. She briefly contemplated slipping out of the palace to call on him at his home but rejected the idea as fast as it formed. With their spy technology, they would catch her before she even reached the wolf enclosure.
The possible consequences made her shiver.
As it was, she anticipated punishment from Mott for thumping Lukan. Her bruised fist itched at the thought. Those consequences made it even more imperative that she communicate with her father, before she vanished into one of Mott’s dungeons.
She pulled out her writing parchment and quills to write a letter to her father. By the time her breakfast arrived, the paragraphs telling him how much she loved and missed him and her family were complete. Now, all that remained was to tell him about ice crystals and informas.
She pushed her dirty breakfast plate away and sighed at the almost impossible task. Even if she managed to explain this incomprehensible technology, she still needed to get the letter past Felix’s censorship. For that, she needed allies. People who didn’t support the Chenayan Dragon, people who would be willing to see it safely to Norin.
But where to find those like-minded souls was the big challenge.
Axel seemed an obvious choice, but any help from him came with strings attached. Tempting ones that made it unspeakably hard to fulfill her oath to marry Lukan. Best to avoid Axel.
Stefan Zarot had impressed her, but she didn’t know him well enough to trust him with something like this.
That left Tao. Was it possible Mott’s youngest son could be the man sought?
A knock sounded on the door. It had to be the summons from Mott about her and Lukan’s fight.
Fear, visceral and unexpected, chilled her to her core. Regardless of her best efforts to control herself, she trembled as she stood to meet her fate. Lynx opened her mouth to command the person to enter when the door flew open.
Axel stood on the threshold.
Despite rejecting him, her heart skipped a beat, both with relief at her reprieve and at the sight of him enticingly dressed in a casual faded blue shirt and black trousers. She cleared her throat. “What do you want? I told you last night that we’re done.”
He made no move to enter the room. “We’ve got to talk. Breakfast is as good a place as any.” His eyes focused meaningfully on the candle sconce.
She guessed her blanket didn’t stop the hateful thing recording their voices. The idea sent a shiver down her spine.
“I have a prior engagement.” She pointed to the parchment and quill, and her dirty breakfast plate on her dressing table. “My family will be anxious to know how Kestrel and I are doing.”
Axel frowned but still didn’t step into her room. “Your letter writing can wait. This is more important.”
Struck by the gravitas of his tone, Lynx frowned back, wondering what had affected his usual banter. She longed to ask, but she had already taken too many risks with Axel. As much as it hurt, it was time to sever her ties with him.
“Thanks, but no. If you don’t mind, close the door after you.” Lynx sat down, picked up her quill, dipped it into her ink pot, and made a show of writing on her parchment.
Axel swore. Loudly. She risked peeking at him from behind a curtain of hair.
He tapped the doorjamb with his fist, opened his mouth, seemed to change his mind, and then blurted out, “Suit yourself. But I think you’ll regret not coming with me.”
She raised her head to face him. “You are one arrogant bastard, Axel.”
He shook his head, then pointed to the sconce. “Remember, Princess, there are always plenty more where those came from. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Without waiting for a reply, he strode away.
She flung down her quill and strode to her balcony. The memory of Mott’s threats to mount her parents’ heads on pikes in the courtyard below didn’t make for pleasant or peaceful viewing. She paced back to her letter and was about to continue writing when yet another knock sounded. Trying to calm herself, she stood up and stomped to the door.
“It’s like a marketplace here today.” Lynx wrenched the door open and snapped, “Yes, I’m here. Not gone anywhere. Can’t go anywhere. Even if I wanted to.”
The new corporal stepped back in obvious surprise.
“So this is it?” she asked. “Can I at least gather my cloak? I guess Chenayan dungeons are cold, droughty places.”
He cleared his throat and held out a golden tray, on which rested a hen-sized, blue-and-gold egg. He bowed before setting his offering on her table. Then, to Lynx’s astonishment, he smiled at her. “Sorry to disappoint you, Your Highness, but perhaps you will get a chance to visit the dungeons another day.”
He’s teasing me! Genuinely joking with me! It was positively refreshing. Lynx choked out a laugh. “As you say, Corporal. Maybe another day.”
She waited for him to leave before picking up the curious egg. Made from gold-plated enamel, it was encrusted with sapphires and diamonds—or ice crystals made to look like gemstones, her cynical side decided. The top was hinged like a lid.
She cracked it open, not knowing what to expect—gold yolk or velvet lining perhaps—but certainly not the ray of brilliant white light that blasted out at her. It looked identical to the beam from Axel’s informa. She tugged on the corner the way she’d seen Axel do. Her breathing hitched as an image of Emperor Mott’s face appeared before her.
His voice rang out clear and sharp as if he were in the room with her. “Princess Lynx of Norin, your behavior disappoints. I told you to bed my son, but instead you played with my nephew. As much as you relish Axel’s kisses, he cannot give me a grandson. His talents lie in other areas, such as leading the raid on Norin to bring me your parents’ heads. You may have forgotten my threat, but I have not. If you do not present me with blood-stained sheets the morning after your wedding to my son, Axel will leave Cian for Norin. You can expect your parents’ heads soon thereafter.”
Lynx dropped the egg as if it were a viper. Her stomach cramped, doubling her over with pain.
Then anger took over. Had Axel betrayed her?
33
Felix was struck by how pale and exhausted the handsome crown prince looked. That changed when Lukan saw the image of Axel and Lynx kissing.
Face infused with red, the crown prince hissed, “So it’s true. Morass was waiting outside my apartment for me. He told me Axel and Lynx spent last night talking about the Dmitri Curse and that Axel kissed her.” His fists clenched—an unusual action from Felix’s wimpish nephew. Perhaps Thurban’s voice was finally goading Lukan into manhood? “I came here to find out if he was lying.”
From his nephew’s tone, it was obvious Lukan regarded the kiss as the greatest sin, not Axel’s breach of security nor the threat of the Dmitri Curse renegade.
But Felix didn’t have time to worry about those details now. Morass’s betrayal, again, was troublesome in the extreme. Felix was using the obsequious cretin to test an improvement to his ice crystal programming, but clearly, his tweaks had failed.
Yet another thing to rectify after this meeting.
“Yes, it’s true, Lukan.” Mott half-rose to his feet and then slumped back down. “And Axel’s indiscretion is all thanks to you.”
“Thanks to me?” Lukan shouted as his hand lashed out toward the image. “How am I responsible for that?”
Eyes calculating, Felix pursed his lips and settled back, hopefully to watch an argument fomented through the skillful use of Thurban’s voice in Lukan’s and Mott’s heads.
Mott didn’t disappoint.
“Lynx rejects your advances, so what do you do? Like the coward you are, you desert her at a ball.�
� Mott thumped his fist so hard on the desk, the legs groaned. “When the hell are you going to learn that if all conquests were easy, we could halve our army and spend the savings on chenna?”
“I am not responsible for what Axel does.” Lukan lurched over and wiped the desk clean with a sweep of his hand, sending Felix’s informa, his goblets, and his crystal decanter to shatter against the office wall.
Felix clenched his teeth behind a tight scowl as blood-red chenna sprayed over his precious painting of Axel, handsome in full military uniform. It dripped down onto his cream-colored silk carpet.
A small sacrifice to pay for the potential final showdown between father and son.
Since Thurban had invaded Lukan’s head, his nephew’s rigid control had begun to falter. The same couldn’t be said for Raklus. From his troubled expression, he wished to be anywhere but here.
Mott gripped the desk with both hands and tossed it over. Felix and Raklus jumped back, sending their chairs toppling.
In the chaos, Lukan scooped up the dagger. He hesitated, looking at it askance, and the knife teetered in his hand. Then his nephew’s face hardened, and he slipped the knife behind his wrist.
Felix melted into a smile.
Mott thrust his chin into Lukan’s face, shouting, “Even with the title of Crown Prince of All Chenaya and the Conquered Territories, you failed to command enough presence to keep a hormonal girl at your side for one night. One night! And you think to rule my empire after my death?”
Wiping spit off his cheeks, Lukan snarled, “Lynx is not some hormonal girl. She’s . . . she’s—”
Felix leaned forward expectantly, but his nephew hesitated and didn’t finish his sentence. Not that it mattered. The moment Felix got a chance, he would lock himself away in the chamber where he kept his most prized invention—the device that enabled him to discern Lukan’s thoughts.
“Man up, boy,” Mott bellowed. “Lynx is nothing but a Norin troublemaker riding the back of a mythical curse.”