Gambit

by Kim Knox

  Kynon closed his eyes and gripped the arms of the throne until his fingers grew bloodless. Something pulsed through the air, the taste of it sharp and sour on her tongue, with the strange hint of fennel. It wasn’t reaching for her.

  She lurched forward, but the guard’s meaty hand dug into her cracked bone and she let out a cry. Daned pulled his hand free of his guard’s grip. In a blur of movement, Daned had his arm twisted up his back until the shoulder joint gave way with an audible pop. The guard howled and dropped to his knees. Weapons whined around the room with the promise of obliterating him.

  Chae fought the pain in her shoulder. He would not die. He was hers. She wrenched herself free and stumbled toward him.

  Daned gripped her good hand, his touch bursting heat under her skin, changing her fear to relief. He glared at Kynon. “I won’t obey you. Chae Beyon is my empress.” He growled the words, his voice dry and hard. “Stop now, Kynon, or I will kill you.”

  The emperor’s lips twisted into a thin smile, but he said nothing.

  The scent of fennel thickened, cloying the back of her throat and Daned’s fingers tightened through hers. The dark pulse somehow surrounded him, pushing, sinking into his flesh. He groaned, his body shaking. She wanted to hold him, protect him from the push of evil, but her left arm was almost useless and pain seared her mind. But she had to try. She pushed their joined hands to his chest, the fast thud of his heart beating against her fingers.

  “Daned!”

  His gaze snapped to her and her stomach turned over. A liquid black film coated his eyes, growing and spreading, spilling through his veins in a dark web, killing who he was. His fingers continued to squeeze hers, adding pain to pain.

  She gritted her teeth and stabbed her thoughts at his closed mind. “You said I was supposed to trust you. You don’t belong to this fucked-up prince. You’re mine!”

  For a moment, he closed his eyes and she thought she had him, that she’d broken through to who he was. The relief was a warm rush and her knees almost gave way. Hers. He was hers…

  Kynon gave a sour laugh that jerked her attention to him. Shit. Stupid move. She had to focus only on Daned, will him to fight the insane emperor’s command. Damn it, she was such a fuckup.

  “Daned…”

  But he shoved her to her knees and the only man she had ever trusted, the only one she’d ever loved, stared down at her with murder in his eyes. He had become the Host.

  Chapter Twelve

  Grief hollowed her chest. Fuck, this was not how her first day as empress was going to end. She would not lose her throne. She would not lose her bloody hoard of black crystal. And she would not lose Daned. Not today. Screw her luck.

  “You want to hunt me, tear my clothes and fuck me.” Chae stabbed the thoughts at him, desperate to break through the barriers of his mind. She stared up at him, willing herself to ignore the spidering of oil through his veins that stained his skin. Somewhere in there, he was still Daned Traern. She fought to soften her thoughts, to push the pain of her broken collarbone and his harsh grip on her fingers from her mind. “Imagine it. Imagine us. You promised me. It’s your kink, Daned. Tell this prince to go fuck himself. He’s spoiling our fun.”

  His lips parted and the gleam in his all-black gaze changed, shifted. Chae’s stomach turned over. The hint of wickedness shining in his eyes didn’t promise that he was breaking from Kynon’s hold. More like he planned to twist the darkness of the Host to sate his corrupted sexual need.

  And damn it, that did not turn her on.

  “It does. I can…feel it.” Daned’s thoughts stroked over hers, dark, almost alien to the man she knew. A shiver ran under her skin, delicious, terrifying. “Let it sink through your flesh. Consume you. The Host is nothing to fear.”

  She let him pull her up. He wasn’t killing her, which was a good thing right then. The shuffle of boots, weapons rubbing against armor, harsh breaths and the sharp stink of fennel pricked at her senses, trying to pull her attention away from Daned. But she didn’t let them. She met his endless alien gaze and let out a short breath of air as his thumb brushed her lip.

  “You’re mine. Not his.”

  A smile lifted his lush mouth and he tilted his head. His lips ghosted hers with a stranger’s touch. “I am…Host.”

  “I’ll wrap you in gold. Then we see who owns you.”

  He paused. And something flickered and broke open. Memories of her, of the slow slide of her fingers on his skin, the heat of her mouth, flowed over her and she tasted herself and shared the sudden fire of his arousal. Emotions flowed from the breach, wrapping his need, his love around her. Shit. It wasn’t the Host. She could sense him, sense Daned, not the thing he’d become.

  “Daned?”

  Everything happened at once. She became sharply aware of the beating seconds, slipping into the moment as easily as she melted into her ship.

  Bright flashes of sensation shot over her. Odgar surged to his feet, a roar breaking from him, and he barreled into the throne. Kynon cried out, ripping his hands from the arms of the throne. Corryn and four of his guards swarmed forward, tight with anger. Three stood motionless, trapped in panic. Five let their guns slide from lax hands to clatter to the stone floor. Two of them dropped to their knees. And Daned pulled back from her, fading streaks of black in his eyes. Horror swamped him.

  Reality snapped back over her as hard as breaking out of a rift lock. She lurched toward the throne, cradling her elbow with her other hand, pain biting with every breath. Odgar struggled with Kynon, the skinny prince lashing sharp blows against the wounded, heavier man. Corryn and his guards waded in, crowding the throne. Shit. She wanted them away from the black crystal, not piled on it in a mash of legs, arms and torsos, slick with blood and sweat.

  The whine and clunk of an Ar-20 behind her shot fear down her spine. She froze and could only watch as Corryn, half-sprawled over his guards, burst into a billion fragments.

  “Move away from the throne. Now.”

  She jerked her head back and stared at Daned. His professional mask pushed hard against his face, but the spill of oil through his veins had faded and she could see him in his gaze.

  “Majesty.” He nodded and flexed his fingers around the weapon pressed into his shoulder. “I have this on narrow beam.” He pressed a series of controls. “Now, I haven’t.” The men on the throne stilled. The guards moved first, stepping back, their arms raised. “Put your weapons on the ground.”

  Kynon shoved at Odgar, the larger man still straining to trap him. “I have control—”

  In a blur of movement, Daned surged forward. He slammed the gun butt into the side of Kynon’s head. There was sharp crack and the man’s head twisted unnaturally. Blood leaked under his skin and from the corners of his eyes and mouth. Daned leaned over the dead man. “I said I’d kill you.”

  Odgar struggled back and Daned yanked the dead man from the throne. He waved his arm to the empty block of crystal. “Majesty.”

  Chae willed herself to move forward, to keep her steps measured and calm. Already the air around her fizzed with life and energy and it fed into her flesh. With all the dignity she could grab on to, she sank down onto her throne. Her mind reached out, unsure, fearful. “Are you there?”

  “Majesty.”

  The warm thrum of the sunder-seld in her thoughts broke a soft cry from her. Relief flooded her and she fell back against the hard stone. She hissed as pain burst over her shoulder. “What happened?”

  “Relax against the crystal, Majesty. Let me heal you first.”

  Heat surrounded her, the warming scent of cloves slipping deep into her lungs. Her body went limp and she was grateful that stabs of pain simply faded back to nothing. “I’m not in pain. Tell me.”

  Daned watched her as he removed the cuffs from Odgar. His eyes narrowed. “Majesty?”

  “The sunder-seld is fixing my shoulder. I’m fine.”

  Daned gave a quick nod and cracked the metal cuffs free from the prince. His mind was dark,
protected by heavy shutters. Chae held back a sigh. Guilt stabbed at him. She didn’t have to share telepathy to realize that.

  “Well?” She poked a thought at the sunder-seld. “I’m waiting.”

  There was silence for a several heartbeats. “At a moment of change, a prince can grab the throne as Kynon Drew did. He was different, changed—as you were—and he risked the idea that the throne could be controlled by whomever sat on it. He was correct.”

  “Is that what happened?”

  “I had to reconfigure my structure when you took Daned and made permanence. Such a time opens me up to the control of others and I must allow their dominion. I was especially vulnerable as no ruler has ever followed the path of permanence before.”

  “Great. It was all my fault.” She rolled her shoulder experimentally and met only a slight twinge. “And no one else can take the throne? You’re…not still in flux?”

  “I am now stable. All power and security has been returned to normal.”

  “Good to know.”

  Odgar rubbed his hands together, flexing his arms, before he tugged the block from his mouth. “Majesty.” He turned her thoughts from the chair and Daned. “We need to create more princes.”

  “And the work of state is never done.” She let out a heavy breath, the lifting of her chest bringing no pain. She redirected a question to the sunder-seld. “Do you pick them?”

  “I have implanted candidates’ names in the guards. They know who to bring before the throne.”

  She waved her good hand at the guards. “The sunder-seld has told you who to get. So go get them.” She hadn’t missed the startled looks on the men’s faces. It wasn’t every day a chair invaded their minds, obviously. As one, they saluted and clanked away. The throne room doors slammed behind them with a hollow boom. “And now we’re alone.”

  She thought about sitting forward, but didn’t want to disturb the magic working in her bones and flesh. She was still faced with the same problem. She had to sleep with the nine princes to allow the chair to makes its choice. She ignored the sour twist in her gut. Hell, it was just screwing. And screwing she’d done. A lot.

  Admittedly, she’d always bought her men…but before her obsession with flesh-pets began, she’d fucked real people. A wry smile tugged at her mouth. Runners, customs men, security officers. She’d played hard in her youth and they’d been far from the perfection of a flesh-pet. Far from Daned’s perfection.

  Chae pressed her lips together and her attempt to build a wall of indifference crumbled. She dug her fingertips into the crystal and welcomed the dull pain. She was bound to him with links stronger than Igasho gold. She’d been an idiot for sleeping with him before the ceremony. Insane.

  But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t risk the throne. She would not see the Host consume Daned. Not again. Her gaze slid over him. He stood beside Odgar, a statue of lean, hard muscle, even with his conservative suit ripped and bloodied. Tension and guilt still gripped him. She would deal with that…after.

  “Odgar, there’s an antechamber reserved for our—” words failed her, “—duty. Has it been cleaned, prepared, whatever you do?”

  Odgar blinked. “Yes, Majesty.”

  “Good enough.” She wanted the matter of who fathered her child out of the way.

  Chae pushed herself forward on the throne. Her body moved with ease. She rotated and flexed her left arm. All healed. Right. No more excuses. Still, her hands curled into fists and she fought the very real urge to leap and run.

  Thrums of black crystal rattled her teeth, and golden light cutting through the windows reached for her throne and made her pause. Hidden tech caught it and refracted the sunlight, aiming it…and it bathed her with sudden warmth. She pulled in a hot breath, the scent of cloves sharp in the air.

  “I am following your wish to complete the ceremony, Majesty.” The sunder-seld’s calm thoughts touched hers, holding no hint of what had happened in the throne room just a short time before.

  “I don’t understand you. Men died here. You almost lost millennia of peace to the Host…and you’re just…” She gritted her teeth, refusing to get into a fight with a lump of rock.

  “The last rays of the sun will touch the throne and the light will fracture and fall on the princes—”

  “Fine. Right. Obviously, moving on.”

  The throb of the crystal increased in the air, working its way under her flesh and into her bones. And with it, the light changed and in the brightness there shone different shades and shadows, tracing over Odgar and Daned. Chae blinked, but the mirage didn’t change. “Is this what you see?”

  “The play of light shows their interaction, their compatibility with you. Emperors and empresses have followed this tradition since the time of the Founders.”

  Chae’s thoughts rebelled against the mention of tradition. Even as she knew she had to embrace it. “Why? What does the crystal in our blood get from having a prince? I understand about the princes as barriers to the Host. But the breeding? Why the fuck does a piece of rock care about politics?” Her spine straightened and she let the anger flow over her. She stopped it. The decision was already made. The searing fall of golden light over Daned reminded her she was doing it for him. But an answer would be good. “Well?”

  “It is how it has always been done.”

  Chae blinked. “Nobody’s questioned it?”

  “Yes, but they bowed to the years of tradition, to the power of the princes—”

  “And if I’d said no?”

  The sunder-seld grew silent again and Chae waited with her heart in her throat. Saying no could be a political disaster, she knew that. The Ladaian princes were different. The piecemeal crap the chair had pushed into her head screamed it at her. Unlike the castes, she lost some of her command over them when she was not sitting on one of the sunder-seld’s thrones. Their freedom from her control could mean war between the Houses if they were not…handled well.

  “Majesty?” Odgar broke into her thoughts. He straightened and pain and tiredness pulled on his heavy frame. “Tradition has it that the touch of the sunder-seld must light a crystal in my hand.”

  His rich, almost syrup-thick voice ran goose bumps over her skin, and she held down a deeper shiver. She would’ve regretted his death and was grateful to him for tackling Kynon. That did not mean she wanted to get naked with him. “Well, yes. Did none of the other imperial people leave you with the knowledge that they can see what the chair does?”

  He paused and a touch of doubt flared over his mind. “No.”

  “I can, you shone with gold flecks. You’re first. Lucky you.”

  “No.” Daned flexed his hands around the weapon he still held. “This is not going ahead.”

  Chae closed her eyes, ignoring the burst of joy, and bit down on the words she wanted to fling at him. “I will not risk the throne.” Her thoughts reached out for him. “Daned, I will not risk you.” She pushed herself up, expecting some final burst of pain and found none. A wry smile pulled at her mouth. “And it is tradition.”

  Chae strode across the throne room, her boots echoing. She blanked her thoughts, ignoring the men behind her. She had to do this. There was something worse than sleeping with nine skanky princes.

  She stopped at a blank stretch of wall. Overlapping memories worked through her thoughts and she saw too many hands reach out and find the hidden doorplate. Beyond it her memories were an empty hole. Chae willed her tight fist to uncurl and she pressed her palm to the cool wall. Light burst in sharp rays around her fingers, the rock and threading black crystal groaned and, with the scrap of stone against stone, the wall parted before her.

  Soft light touched a wide bed set in the center of a small circular room. Bastards. It was an exact replica of the one in the imperial suite, even down to the sheets. She made herself cross into the room, the scent of cloves suddenly heavy. Her gaze flicked over the curve of the ceiling. It was a natural hollow formed in the black crystal and untouched by the Ladaians. Her boot stubbed on
an outcrop of jagged rock and she winced. Even down to the floor.

  Igasho gold sat in loose strings on a small wooden table to the side of the bed. Chae picked her way toward it. She traced her fingers over the fine strands and it tingled and writhed under her touch. Scooping it up, she let the gleaming stuff fall over her palm. Its siren call pushed into her blood. Inactivated, it was clean, alive with the promise of delicious sex. Chae doubted it would have the same freshness when Odgar wore it.

  Her heart twisted and the familiar sick feeling rose up from her belly. Stupid permanence. But it wasn’t just that. Nerves deepened the feeling of nausea. She loved Daned and hell, this was betrayal.

  In a natural alcove was a small washing area. Chae gratefully splashed clean water on her face, neck and hair, rinsing and cleaning away the stink of the dead men on her skin. She straightened. She had to go through with it. Sucking in a steadying breath, she picked up the Igasho gold strings and churned over words like “duty” and “sacrifice”—words Daned lived by—and turned to find Odgar and Daned standing in the open doorway. “Daned…”

  “You formed a permanent bond with me.”

  “And with the chair.” She waved a hand at Odgar, the prince trying not to make it obvious that he was using the frame of the doors to support him. “He’s here. I want to get it over with.” Her gaze darted over the prince. The plain knee-length black tunic he wore caught the glistening patches across his shoulders and chest. The color hid the blood. The tunic clung to the lean muscles of his chest, stomach and thighs. He was handsome in a brutal way…but everything about him was just wrong in too many ways for her to explain to herself. The main one being he was not Daned. “He probably feels the same.”

  Odgar opened his mouth but she didn’t let him speak.

  “Sit down before you fall down, Odgar.”

  He closed the distance to the bed and let out a soft groan as he sank into the deep mattress. A muscle in Daned’s jaw jumped and dark anger pushed out from him. He took a step forward into the room and the wall scraped shut behind him.