Look at me, throwing stones.
Given who I’d married, I’d pretty much lost the high road on that one.
I followed Garensche out to the main floor, and immediately regretted it. I’ve never been crazy about how much I stand out in a crowd, even before people started calling me “the Bridge.” The presence of the enormous seer by my side mitigated my nerves around being approached marginally, but I still scanned faces, feeling tense.
I watched trays of champagne float by, tempted, then decided getting drunk wasn’t a luxury I could afford, either.
The room had transformed since I’d left it.
Seers and humans working for the hotel had cleared away or pushed back the table rounds following dinner. The floor’s plush, patterned carpet and polished wood dance floor had been revealed, and the ornate stage looked like something from Paris without the podium and the bright feed lights bearing down on it from all sides.
Surprisingly, most of the press seemed to have stuck around, along with the political types. They’d received strict instructions about not approaching me to seek quotes or attempt interviews other than during the designated question and answer period. They were offered Hallaf instead, a seer I’d recruited to act as my quasi-press secretary.
I suspected she was having a busy night.
A number of reporters lurked by me and Garensche, too.
From the looks in their eyes, I suspected they were trying to think of ways around the ban that wouldn’t get them thrown out out of the hotel. I caught stares from a number of curious government employees, as well.
Servants dressed in white walked around carrying trays, and a buffet table had been set up with colorful appetizers and finger foods that looked like abstract art.
A pair of giant glass sculptures rose like crystal waterfalls, halfway to the high ceilings. Dominating the further end of the room, a wall fountain stretched up several stories, as well, made of a black, glinting stone depicting Vishnu and his serving maids.
Below it stood the bar, where the rest of the reporters stretched out in an uneven line, many of them looking vaguely uncomfortable in their tuxes.
Picking up a smattering of their thoughts and words through the construct, I frowned, suddenly wanting nothing more than for this night to be over.
The next time a tray slid by, I lifted a champagne flute off one side, taking a sip before glancing up at Garensche.
“Just one,” I muttered, to his faint smile.
Even as I did, I caught the eye of a woman reporter who was staring at me unapologetically.
I stiffened, realizing I knew her.
The last time I’d seen her in the flesh, I’d been sitting on a couch in the Oval Office, a collar around my neck and a painted-on sundress barely covering my crotch, or my breasts. Visibly bruised and cut, I’d had to sit there with Terian’s arm around me while she asked questions about my sex life and wanted me to expound on the joys of being an international terrorist. She spent most of the interview flirting with Terian, knowing full well he was likely raping me behind closed doors.
Donna. Her name was Donna.
Looking at her now, I felt my jaw harden painfully––right before I slammed the rest of the champagne in the fancy flute.
So much for moderation.
“Would you like to dance, Bridge Alyson?”
I turned to find Garensche watching me narrowly.
“She’s not worth it,” he breathed, softer.
He took the empty champagne glass out of my fingers, setting it on a tray as a waiter walked by. Then he held out a hand, smiling, the warning still in his eyes.
“Dance with me, Bridge.” His smile grew warmer. “If that dress wasn’t made for dancing, I don’t know what it was made for.” He cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow, then gave a pointed glance to my cleavage. “Although I’m open to suggestions,” he grinned.
Glancing over from where I’d been contemplating another glass of champagne, I gave him a disbelieving look, then laughed.
“Subtle,” I said. “You seers have a pretty loose definition of the word ‘deference.’”
“Oh, I’ll most certainly defer to you, Bridge Alyson. Over and over again, if you’d let me. And quite happily.” At my amused snort, he smiled, holding out his arm more insistently. “Come on. You can dance, can’t you?”
“Sure,” I said. “What the hell. Give them something else to gawk and laugh about.”
“You think a dancing Bridge will amuse them?”
“My actual dancing might,” I said, as I let him lead me out to the polished wood floor.
But I could dance okay.
It was something Mom and I used to do, back when I was trying anything to keep her sober after Dad’s death. I took her to ballroom dancing at the Y for about a year, and both of us got pretty good. My mom was surprisingly graceful––well, to me, at least, her daughter. I don’t suppose it was all that surprising, really. She’d been a ballet dancer when she was young.
Shoving the memory aside when my throat tightened, I took Garensche’s proffered hand, laughing when he pulled me sharply and skillfully to him. He moved with surprising grace for a man his size, and he knew the steps.
Then I remembered. He was a seer.
He probably did this dance a few hundred years ago, when it was the height of modern fashion. Smiling at the thought, I clicked to myself as he steered me sideways, easing me into following his leg before he brought me with him on a turn.
He quirked an eyebrow. “Something is again amusing, Bridge Alyson?”
I shook my head, still smiling. “No. Just… thanks,” I said. “I do feel better.”
He smiled more genuinely. “Dancing is always one cure.”
“What’s the other?” I grinned, knowing the answer.
His smile turned more mischievous.
He stepped longer, forcing me to make a real stride in the heels and the dress, and then pivoted me to the right.
He pulled me closer briefly, then turned with me again––
––when someone else took my hand, sliding smoothly into his place. My whole body stiffened, even before he pulled me tight against him.
Even before I heard his voice.
“You don’t mind, do you, brother?” he said to Garensche.
My heart caught in my throat.
Craning my neck, I caught Garensche’s gaze. Even if I hadn’t already known who held me, the other seer’s eyes told me more than I needed. A leaner arm tightened around me, long fingers caressing the bare skin of my lower back, most of which lay exposed by the dress. He pressed deeper into me and I sucked in a breath.
Reluctantly, I looked up.
Pale, crystal-like eyes met mine in a face I knew so well it shocked me.
He hadn’t even bothered to come in disguise.
I could only stare up at him, seeing the scrutiny in his expression, the faint smile on his narrow mouth. His glass-like eyes didn’t mirror the smile. Neither did the fingers that tightened on my back. He looked impossibly tall to me suddenly, although I knew I’d grown more than an inch since the last time I’d seen him in the flesh.
Despite the angular face, he’d filled out since I’d last seen him, too. In fact, I’d never seen his shoulders so broad, nor his chest so large. I hadn’t even seen him like this in images I remembered of him from the Barrier.
He looked like he’d been lifting weights. A lot of them.
I looked back at Garensche, feeling oddly helpless.
It hit me then. I was afraid for him.
Not Garensche––Revik.
“Don’t be, love,” he murmured. Pain slivered through his light. I felt it worsen as my concern for him sank in. He was already growing hard where he pressed against me. His fingers caressed my back. “You know me. I came prepared.”
Feeling me stiffen, he clutched me tighter.
“Don’t worry. I would never put you in danger, dearest.”
His lips brushed my temple, but his eyes
continued to stare out over the ballroom––where I had no doubt a larger commotion was already brewing. It occurred to me I should be able to hear it from the Barrier, but with Revik holding me so close, all I could feel was him.
I still couldn’t manage to make myself speak.
My feet followed his, however––moving with an ease that unnerved me more for how natural it felt. It struck me that if someone had told me a year ago that he could dance, I might not have believed them. At the very least, I would have found the idea funny.
It didn’t seem funny to me now.
His feet moved more smoothly than Garensche’s, but somehow with more weight behind his steps as he leaned into me. That same grace I remembered from watching him fight hand-to-hand remained with him as he steered me across the pale wood floor.
I felt the purpose there, too.
He was taking me out of there.
I glanced around as the thought hit me. His feet were steering us to back to where the Persian carpet started up again, on the side nearest to the arched hallway leading to the main part of the hotel.
Even after I realized that much, I still found myself mirroring his steps, seemingly from another part of my mind. I felt him reacting to my nearness, his hands growing warmer, holding me tighter as he brought me with him to the edge of the wooden floor.
I felt other elements of his intent, where he wanted to take me.
I also felt him watching me minutely, studying my face with those crystal-like eyes.
I was still trying to speak, to form words––
When Balidor appeared at my elbow.
He stood on the edge of the carpet, between the two of us and the open hallway. I felt more than saw the others with him: Chandre, Garensche again, Dorje, Cass, and that Wvercian I always saw with Cass these days, Baguen.
I stared up at Revik, then looked at Balidor.
I couldn’t see it, but I felt the gun. An organic, I knew it coiled around Balidor’s wrist, out of sight, pressed against Revik’s side.
“Let her go.” Balidor spoke quietly, between clenched teeth. “Now. Back away from her, Dehgoies, and we’ll let you leave in peace.”
Revik took his eyes off me. He smiled at the Adhipan leader, but his eyes flashed with a coldness that made me flinch.
“I’d like to have a private word with my wife,” he said. “Do you mind?”
“That’s not going to happen,” Balidor said. “Step back. I mean it.”
Revik’s eyes narrowed, then flickered upwards, as if scanning the balconies above the main floor. “You really think this is a good idea, Balidor?” he said, soft. “Taking me on in here… in front of all these people? When you have absolutely no idea what I’ve brought with me?”
He paused, his eyes shifting back to the older seer.
“…Or whether I might crack your spine in half, for trying to thwart an attempt at some much-needed quality time with my wife?”
Balidor didn’t flinch. Not visibly anyway.
“Let her go,” he said. “You’ve made your point. We have four on you now. How many of us do you think you can take down simultaneously?”
Revik’s gaze grew colder still. “More than you might think. And I haven’t come close to making ‘my point’ yet, Balidor.” He yanked me tighter against him, so that I lost even more of my breath. He glanced at my face. “Gods. I sincerely hope you aren’t fucking this prick.”
His gaze leveled on Balidor’s, growing colder still.
“You aren’t,” he said to me, softer, without taking his eyes off the other male. “…Fucking him. Are you, wife?”
“Revik,” I breathed. “Please. What are you doing?”
“I want to talk to you,” he said, his focus still on Balidor. “I want to talk to you alone. Tell your guard dogs to go away. Would you, love?”
“I told you,” Balidor said. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Allie?” Revik said. “I’d really rather not break the promise I made to myself. About not killing any of your friends.”
When I stared up, he didn’t return my gaze.
I knew the look in his eyes, though, recognized it from the boy who’d once held the more dangerous parts of his mind in a different body. Sliding a hand lower, I caressed his thigh deliberately through the tuxedo pants he wore. His eyes closed. Pain wafted off him.
Turning, he looked at me.
His eyes didn’t soften exactly, but something in them de-charged as I watched.
I looked at Balidor. “It’s all right,” I said. “He won’t hurt me.”
“Allie, no!” Balidor growled. “Absolutely not!”
“I’ll be all right.” I glanced up at Revik. “Won’t I?”
He pressed against me again. “I can’t promise no marks at all, love.” His focus returned to the Adhipan leader. “But nothing permanent.”
“Allie!” Balidor waited for me to turn. “Hurting you might not be his plan. He might intend to leave here with you.”
Revik shook his head, once. “Not until she asks me.” His eyes closed again, briefly. “And she will ask me,” he said, softer, nuzzling my face. “One of these days. Won’t you, Allie?”
Swallowing, I looked only at Balidor.
“It’s all right,” I said, quieter. “Please. Don’t do this. Not here.”
“Allie, if he takes you—”
“He won’t.”
Balidor looked at him, then at me. I could see it on his face; he didn’t believe Revik for a second. For that matter, I wasn’t sure I did, but I couldn’t deal with the thought of a gunfight breaking out here, with all these people and a few dozen in the press.
I knew Revik.
He wouldn’t have come without at least a few contingencies in place. He wouldn’t have walked out onto that ballroom floor without a very clear idea of how he would walk off––or what he would do if Balidor refused to back down. I knew this about him.
Despite everything else, that wouldn’t have changed.
Looking at Balidor, I saw him read some part of this off my eyes or my light.
“Please,” I repeated. “Just let me go with him. I’ll come back.”
“Here,” Revik said. Pulling a gun out of his jacket, he flipped it neatly in his hand, passing it to me, handle first. “I’ll let her have this, if it eases your mind, Balidor. She’ll call if she needs more. Fair?” He bent down, kissing my throat, putting enough light in his tongue that my vision slanted.
“Now fuck off,” he murmured, looking at Balidor again.
Balidor didn’t move. I continued to watch him, worried about what he might do.
The Adhipan leader’s worry seemed equally focused on me.
“Allie,” he murmured. His gray eyes were on mine. “Please… don’t. For the love of the gods, don’t. Even if he doesn’t take you.”
“‘Allie?’” Revik said, mimicking the other seer’s voice as he raised his head. “‘Allie, please…?’” Humor stood out in his words, but I heard the hardness underneath. “I have to say, brother Balidor… could you be a little less informal with my wife? At least when I’m standing right here?”
I tugged on his hand. “Revik. Let’s just go.”
He glanced at me again.
Gripping my hand tighter, he took a step to the side, pulling me with him as he began to walk around Balidor and Garensche, giving a short nod to Dorje as he passed. He winked at Cass when we reached her and Baguen, favoring her with a narrow smile.
“I like the tat,” he said, nodding to her upper arm as we passed.
Cass glanced down at the blue and white sword and sun on her arm, my husband’s mark, visible above the lines of her red, strapless dress. I saw her struggle with a reply as he chuckled, guiding me in front of him as he walked us towards the hall. She watched him walk by, her mouth pursed, her eyes openly conflicted.
I saw that look on her face, and feared it almost.
I knew she and Revik had been close from the Terian thing.
I
also knew she spent most of her time with seers that Revik was likely already halfway on the road to recruiting.
But I couldn’t think about that right now, either.
He wove us through the remnants of the crowd between the dance floor and the entrance to the rest of the hotel. I saw faces watching us, but none of them were human apart from Cass. Not a single person in the human media gave us so much as a glance, which told me either he was pushing them himself, or someone on my side or his was doing it for him.
I glimpsed us in the giant hallway mirror as we left the ballroom.
My throat closed when I saw him leading me by the hand in a tux, me following in a jade green dress that looked like something out of a period movie, but for the low back with the single glittering strap across the middle.
It took me another moment to realize what bothered me so much about the image.
It was how I’d once imagined we might look together, someday.
The thought caught in my throat.
Then I purposefully blanked my mind.
3
DIFFERENCES
HE KNEW WHERE he was taking me.
He didn’t hesitate as he led me through the main hallway, then down a side corridor. At the end I found myself unsurprised at the sight of a service elevator. He led me inside and hit a button without looking at my face.
His fingers still clutched mine tightly, however. I felt reactions in his light, a sparking vibration that bled through my fingers.
He wasn’t nervous, exactly, but his anticipation vibrated my skin.
I felt the boy there, too, and it occurred to me that parts of him might have more at stake in this than others. I had no idea how well he’d integrated the different parts of himself by then, or how the collection of them viewed me. I had no idea who I was dealing with at all really, or how they might flow and interchange.
He only spoke to me once.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Feigran?” he said, apropos of nothing.
It took me a few beats to comprehend the question.
“Feigran?” I said.
“Yes.” His pale eyes met mine. “Have you seen him, Allie?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“You’re sure?”
Sword Page 3