by Jasmine Walt
“Quite. Some might say it’s a sport played exclusively by crown princes. Still, there are plenty of men among the Fifteen who believe that neither Lukan nor his brother are suitable candidates for the throne. They would happily see you as emperor.”
Axel’s stomach knotted. “That implies that Lukan and Tao’s reprieve is short lived.”
“Except this time, the Fifteen will take care of the messy bits. I have it in good faith that many of them are looking to make a clean sweep of things. They are supremely tired of Mott and his offspring.”
Axel sighed, wishing this whole sordid business was over. He considered mentioning that he would never take Tao’s place on the throne, but he knew his father would brush his objection aside. He leaned forward into his father’s personal space. “I’m going to Treven. Nothing else is more important than that.”
“Not even Lynx?”
Axel took a quick breath—it wouldn’t help if his father knew the depth of his care for her. With a wafer-thin crust of calm hiding his emotions, he asked, “Where is she? In the dungeons, I presume?”
His father’s jaw dropped. “The dungeons? Our future empress? What do you take me for?”
“Do you really want to know?”
A rare smile split his father’s face. “Perhaps not. Now, my son, please see reason and work with me here. If we plan carefully, in the not-too-distant future, the throne will be yours.” He fixed Axel with sharp eyes. “But your game with Lynx—it ends now.”
Axel raised an eyebrow.
“You have what you wanted. You have taken over command in Treven. Now leave Lynx. The only way Mott will go blithely to his death is if she and Lukan show up tomorrow for the wedding.”
Axel grudgingly admitted that his father had a point. Still, he shot back, “Knowing she is safe is hardly interfering.”
His father sucked in an impatient breath and then pulled his informa from his pocket. Quick as a flash, he held it up to Axel’s eyes, blasting his retina with a red beam of light.
“What the hell?” Axel yelled, tossing his chair back in his scramble to get out of the rays.
“Oh, calm down, Axel. It’s the new technology I programmed to control the doors in the lair.” His father stood. “If you’re so worried about the Norin bitch, spend your night searching for her. It’s certainly not the worst thing you could be doing between now and the wedding.”
Axel no longer believed Lynx was in the dungeons, but when he left the room, he still slid open every door, looking for her.
It was fruitless. Finding her in the palace, with its thousand rooms, would be almost impossible, but he had to try. After dismissing the guardsmen in the camera control room, he pulled up a chair at a bank of monitors and started the slow scan of every room in the palace fitted with candle sconces.
His ears pricked when he saw Lukan in conversation with Morass. His cousin held a crossbow and a vial of yellow liquid in his hand. Axel’s blood chilled as he listened to Lukan brief Morass to kill Lynx after the wedding. He buried his face in his hands and tried to breathe as the full implication of Lukan and his father’s scheming hit him.
Needing to move, he leaped up from his seat and started to pace as he considered how to save her. Lynx avoiding the wedding was not an option. That meant he had to come up with another workable plan. The obvious solution was to change the command Lukan had programmed into Morass’s head.
Axel flipped to the ice crystal program on his informa and flicked through lines of coding. Cold fear settled on him when he didn’t recognize the programming. Clearly, it was something new his father had devised.
It’s just code. No different to anything else. Just figure it out.
Face puckered in concentration, he began to unravel the complexities of his father’s mystery. Just when he thought he was making progress, he hit an unfamiliar encryption. Conscious of the passing of time, he systematically worked through it.
Until he met the next encryption, then the next.
Finally, it struck that this was no coincidence. The changes were coming so quickly that his father had to be dueling with him. His heart sank. Was this why his father had let him stay in the lair? To prove that he was in control and that Axel had no choice but to obey him?
Not while Axel drew breath.
But he knew that a battle of attrition, with him thrusting and his father parrying for supremacy of Morass’s brain, was pointless. He could never win on his father’s battleground.
Perhaps the answer was to command one of Stefan’s loyal men to eliminate Morass while the assassin waited in his hiding place during the wedding? Axel rejected that idea. His father would expect Axel to try something like that. It would only expose Stefan and his ice-crystal-immune men to possible scrutiny. Axel couldn’t risk Stefan’s safety like that.
There was always another plan . . . Axel tossed his informa down and hoicked his feet onto the table. Too radical to consider seriously, he tried to push the idea away. It refused to budge. Sweat beading on his upper lip, he prayed to all the gods he didn’t believe in that he would not be required to use it.
But it was the only current option. Axel grunted, knowing it was the hugest, riskiest toss of the dice he had ever made.
His father and Lukan had left him no choice but to step in front of Lynx’s quarrel.
Axel grimaced and then brushed his fear aside. He didn’t plan on dying. His ceremonial armor—a black leather brigandine emblazoned with a red-and-gold Dragon—would offer some protection against the quarrel, and King Thorn had an antidote to the poison. The Norin were a mere three days away by airship. Twenty-four years of overprotectiveness convinced Axel that his father would have him on the first available airship out of Cian. Lynx would be afforded no such courtesy if Morass targeted her.
If Lynx knew, she’d never let him risk his life for her. She could know nothing of his plan, but she would surely use her influence with her father to save his life. That influence would give her power—and amnesty from his father’s scheming. His father would never target Lynx while she held the key to Axel’s safety.
It was the only solution he could see to the calamity his father and Lukan planned. Face set in a mask of determination, Axel set off to enlist Stefan’s help.
40
Lynx heard the key rattle in the lock on her cell door. With no windows, she had no idea what time it was. Sleep had been elusive, due to a combination of claustrophobia and despair, which she knew her wedding day would do little to dispel. Her beloved Axel would have to stand by and watch her marry his cousin. Every fiber in her body berated her for causing him pain, but honor had to be served.
Winds, please let him understand. And forgive me for hurting him.
With one oath almost fulfilled, she needed to meet with Uncle Bear to plot a strategy to complete her second oath—telling her father about the ice crystals. Regardless of the Chenayans, she would find time today at the wedding to speak with him. It would take her mind off her own sorrow at losing Axel.
The door opened, and she stood to face her visitor, expecting to see Mother Saskia.
Lynx raised her eyebrows as Lady Tatiana stepped into the room. Over her arm hung a golden dress. She held it out to Lynx.
“Let’s get you into this.”
“Let’s?” Lynx folded her arms. No matter what Tao had said about Tatiana, Lynx had no intention of letting this stranger know she mourned the loss of the love of her life. “My mother taught me to tie my shoe laces when I was a child. I haven’t needed help with dressing since then.”
Tatiana’s piercing dark eyes settled on Lynx. “The emperor is right. You are a wild one.”
“The emperor? He sent you?”
“He thinks you need help—with the length of your skirt.”
Lynx snorted. “So much for our deal.”
“What deal would that be, Highness?”
“That I could wear my knee-length dresses with a bustle as long as I seduced his son,” Lynx said icily. Mott’s ex-
mistress was the last person in the world with whom Lynx would want to spend her last morning as a single woman. Even Mother Saskia would have been preferable to this.
Lady Tatiana’s perfectly penciled-in eyebrow rose. “And have you seduced his son?”
Lynx’s cheeks warmed. “I hardly think I need discuss that with you.”
Laughter rattled in Lady Tatiana’s throat. “Have no fear, Princess Lynx, sex between the two of you is assured—given how our crown prince’s tongue hangs out every time he looks at you. A boiled goldfish has more sense that he does. And looks less gormless.”
Lynx scowled, both at her own childish blush and at Tatiana’s crass directness. Not to mention her veiled insult. “I suppose you’ll be checking our bed sheets, ready to report to the emperor when the boiled goldfish and I finally do the deed?”
Tatiana’s smile reminded Lynx of an old lioness, tired but not to be trifled with. She held out a corset and bustle. “Your dress.”
Lynx frowned, considering her course. Should she do what Uncle Bear would suggest and wear the long dress to keep the peace? Or should she risk defying the emperor and refusing?
Perhaps tired of holding the garments, Tatiana dropped the garment on the bed and glided over to an icon of the Dragon, the only adornment in the stark room. She studied it as if was the most fascinating piece of artwork in the world.
Heart pounding as she considered the consequences of this decision, Lynx fingered the lacy gold corset. In one quick movement, she wriggled out of her sleep-creased dress and tossed it on the floor. Then she grabbed the golden wedding gown and pulled it over her head. The silk settled around her as if the dress had been made for her.
It hadn’t. At least a dozen Norin brides had worn it before her. Some Chenayan seamstress had labored to ensure it fit her perfectly. Lynx slid her hands down the luxurious skirt, aware of the fabric bunching at her feet. She had an oath to fulfill and if tripping over a long skirt smoothed that process, then she would not fight it. Hands fumbling at her back made her jump.
Lady Tatiana’s fingers expertly tugged at the ties lacing the dress closed. She half-coughed, half-snorted. “Tall, thin, and not a natural curve in sight, and yet you still have men gagging after you.” She gave an especially hard tug on the ties, almost choking the breath out of Lynx. “How is that possible?”
The last thing Lynx wanted was to discuss her attributes, such as they were, so she pulled away. Tatiana laughed, a croaky sound, and Lynx wondered what Mott’s ex-mistress thought of her decision to wear the traditional dress. She turned to face her, trying to read her expression. Tatiana’s thoughts were hidden behind a haughty sneer.
It was time to get rid of her.
Lynx pulled herself up tall and said firmly, “I am quite capable of doing my own hair.”
Another snort. “If you call that mess of a bun you’ve been sporting ‘capable,’ then yes, I suppose you are. If, however, you wish to look like an empress, then allow me to help you. After all, Highness, the boiled goldfish is not the only person you need to impress today.”
Lynx sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, Tatiana was right. Not only did she need to seduce Lukan if she was ever to fulfill the Dmitri Curse, but she also had to beguile the rest of the high-born if she was to make any allies here.
That didn’t mean she had to be gracious about it. “Fine,” she snapped, and plunked herself down onto the bed to await Lady Tatiana’s ministrations.
Within minutes, Tatiana had rustled up a box of make-up and an array of hairbrushes, hot tongs warming in a brazier, and handfuls of clips. Lynx closed her eyes and allowed herself to be primped. An hour later, Tatiana declared her ready and held up a mirror up to Lynx’s face. Lynx gasped, hardly recognizing herself.
“On your feet, Highness,” Tatiana said, stepping back.
Lynx teetered up on the high heels Tatiana insisted she wear. “Winds! How am I supposed to walk in these?”
“Carefully, unless you want to confirm in everyone’s minds that you are nothing but a jumped-up low-born.”
Lynx glared at her. “The word you are looking for is Norin. And there is nothing elevating about marrying into the Avanov family. Despite your lack of aversion to spreading your legs for the head.”
Instead of looking offended, as Lynx hoped, Tatiana smiled, the only real smile Lynx had yet seen on the woman. “Come, Highness, save the act. We both know you’d rather be out on the plains, dressed in leather, hunting down ostrich poachers.”
Lynx shrugged, acknowledging the truth.
“But, instead, here you are.” A hand brushed Lynx’s dress as if Tatiana were wiping out imaginary creases. “A toy for a spoiled man. So wrong on so many levels. But, sadly, given time, Highness, and you’ll be spreading your legs, too. Just like the rest of us.”
Lynx was about to comment that she would never be like the rest of them, but Mott’s ex-lover was already at the door.
“Maybe spreading my legs for Lukan is my plan,” Lynx said to her back, knowing she had not come off victor in this meeting. Still, she couldn’t resist adding, “Our bed sheets? For when the day comes?”
Tatiana didn’t look back at her. “Will be taken care of.” She swept out of the room in a shimmer of gemstones and silk.
41
For the first time in his life, Lukan was early. He straightened his crown in the mirror on the wall of the antechamber where he waited for Lynx, Tao, and Kestrel. A magnificent dragon with ruby red eyes, the crown suited his face perfectly.
He sighed. Today, he was getting married. Against his will.
Regardless of what Dmitri had said about the sanctity of human choice, Lukan had been a tile right from the start—a mere piece on the strategy board to be manipulated by his father and his uncle. Squandered even, if it suited their game plan.
Well, today, all that would change.
The moment his father lay dead at his feet, he would deliver a damning speech to the high-born. Lukan smiled with grim satisfaction; in a stroke of genius, he had briefed Morass to hold back after shooting his father until the speech had been given. Even Felix had seemed happy with that arrangement.
So, if all went according to plan, Felix’s cretin wouldn’t have to let fly his second quarrel. Lynx would walk free. His smile turned to a grimace. What he would do with her after that remained a mystery.
The rasp of boots on the flagstones reached him. He recognized the gait before he saw the wearer.
Axel.
Lukan’s usual anger at his cousin flared, but he stifled it. The minute his speech started, he would need Axel like never before. He fixed a smile as Axel entered the room. It was wiped away by the gasp that escaped his lips. “You look . . . terrible. Exhausted. Like you haven’t slept.”
Axel grunted, and Lukan wondered if his cousin would deign to reply. Then, with an astuteness Lukan bemoaned, Axel drawled, “You look like hell, too. Even your diamond has lost its sparkle.”
Lukan probed his stone. It brought his mission to break the news to the high-born to the fore. He felt his face pale—even more than it probably already was.
He changed the subject. “You have the rings?”
His cousin had the honor of being ring-bearer for both him and Tao. Axel pulled four gold bands, each slightly different, out of a pocket and tossed them into the air, catching them expertly. He dropped them back into his pocket and fixed Lukan with a sharp stare. “So, Morass?”
Lukan’s heart skipped a couple of beats.
Felix had told Axel about their plans. Of course he had. But did that include Felix’s scheme to murder Lynx? An icy chill surged through Lukan. He studied Axel’s face for any clue that his cousin suspected she could be in danger. As usual, Axel’s sardonic expression gave nothing away. Lukan briefly considered taking Axel into his confidence but rejected the idea. The fewer people who knew what he planned, the better.
Instead, he would use cleverness to elicit answers. “I wanted Lynx to accompany me to dinner last night
, but I . . . couldn’t find her. She wasn’t with you, was she?”
Axel turned flinty eyes on him. “As if I’d tell you.”
Lukan snorted. He had his answer. The Axel he knew and hated would have no problem gloating if Lynx had spent the night with him.
A low hiss of voices had him—and Axel—turning toward the doorway. Tao, holding Kestrel’s arm, followed by Lynx, stepped into the room.
“I met them in the hallway,” Tao explained, but Lukan hardly heard him.
Like steel to a magnet, his eyes locked onto Lynx. Shimmering like liquid gold, she glided slowly across the room. Folds of fabric stretched out behind her like golden lava. Her silky blond hair tumbled in gentle waves, softening her face. But it was her eyes that struck him. Rimmed with kohl, he could see forever in their crystal depths. Someone had worked hard to ensure that she looked every inch an empress.
Just as well because today we will both ascend to the throne.
He found his tongue and was about to speak when Axel stepped up to greet her. Lukan scowled as she smiled up at Axel, her face soulful with emotion.
Speaking softly, she said, “Honor. You understand that, don’t you?”
Axel nodded. “It’s what I love about you.” He gestured to Lynx’s wedding gown. “Go with Malika and Stefan. Afterward.”
Offended by Axel’s declaration, Lukan elbowed past his cousin to claim his bride. “If you and Axel are quite finished, perhaps we can get on with the day? It would not do to keep our subjects waiting.”
“Since when have you cared about keeping people waiting?” Tao murmured.
For the first time since Tao and Kestrel appeared, Lukan looked at his brother and his betrothed. Lukan couldn’t resist a small smile of relief. For once, Kestrel’s eyes weren’t locked on him. As used to being admired by women as he was, Kestrel’s attentions had been almost unnerving; he empathized with the voles her namesake hunted. Today, the princess’s rapacious eyes were fixed on Lynx’s gown, far more spectacular than her own silver dress.