Dragon's Honor

by Natalie Grey

19

  “I’m sorry, but surely you understand that without any collateral….” The broker spread his fingers elegantly, shrugging instead of saying the rest of his sentence.

  Talon ground his teeth. He’d dressed up for this. He’d made himself perfectly presentable, he’d spoken politely, and…

  And he couldn’t use his name, the fact that he was a Dragon, or literally anything else to help him. He wondered how many people had strolled into this banker’s office and promised, promised, that they’d have the money to pay back a loan next week, they just needed an exorbitant amount right now.

  He couldn’t blame the man. It would be bad business for him to give Talon the loan, knowing just what he knew right now.

  Talon had to admit that even if the man knew the full facts, it might not be a good bet. Hello, would you like to lend me money so I can go to war with the head of Alliance Intelligence?

  “Thank you for your time.” Talon held up a hand when the man opened his mouth to speak. “And no one will hear from me what sort of business you’re running here.” It had taken all of Lesedi’s contacts to find a broker who wasn’t on the grid, and Talon felt a sick sense of failure that he hadn’t been able to make it all work.

  He refused to drag Lesedi’s name into this. All he could hope was that by pre-emptively offering to keep the man’s secret, he’d bought enough goodwill that no one would mention him, either.

  He stood and nodded to Loki and Jester to follow him out of the office. They didn’t leave through the lobby, all gleaming marble, pretending to be a higher-class establishment than it truly was. They left through the back hallways, instead, out the door into an alleyway with no cameras.

  Talon stood for a moment, arms crossed, Loki and Jester silent at his shoulders.

  The truth was, he was tired. He’d never been cut off from Alliance resources before. He’d never thought he would have to look over his shoulder, watch his own crew for signs of betrayal.

  All that was left was exhaustion and rage, and he couldn’t stop now. If he failed, he knew with certainty that the resistance on Ymir would fail as well. Never had his mission been more urgent, and never had he had less to work with.

  “What do we do?” Loki asked finally.

  Talon looked over at him and wanted to say he didn’t know, he didn’t have a plan. He looked up at the sky, sleek cabs running overhead to the glittering towers. So much money here, and none of it in his hands.

  “We’ve been thinking about it all wrong,” he said finally. “We’ve been thinking about what we don’t have, treating money like it’s something scarce. We’re in New Arizona. We’re moving with the elite. The amount of money we need isn’t a fraction of what most spend on their wardrobe every year. We’ll find it.”

  In fact, a plan was already taking shape in his head.

  Christian paused outside the door to Ellian’s office. He was very aware of the stares of the man’s two bodyguards, both full of contempt for anyone who wasn’t over 6” and brawny.

  Christian gave them the same look back. They were idiots, people who thought every problem could be solved with a gun or a fist. When the dust settled, he’d be the one still standing. He’d grow old in a penthouse apartment while they scraped together the money for rent after paying their gambling debts.

  Of course, his ideal scenario depended more than a little bit on him convincing Ellian not to kill him right here, today. He’d given a terse, vague update the night before, and Ellian had demanded a full accounting in the morning. Christian had dragged his other tasks out as long as he could, but there was no putting it off any longer.

  When he pushed his way into the room, Ellian was waiting for him, one eyebrow slightly raised, as if he had seen Christian come to the door and hesitate.

  He probably had.

  “I want you to research this man,” Ellian said, before Christian could say anything. He held out a folder and waited for Christian to flip it open. “Cade Williams.”

  The man in the photo had full lips, a cleft chin, and green eyes, and stubble on his chin. A bit rough for Christian’s taste—he still could not stop thinking about the man he’d met the night before—and not, at a cursory scan of the details, at all remarkable.

  Until he read down past the list of busboy and delivery jobs, to the title of Dragon. Christian looked up, frowning.

  “I’ve hired him to be Aryn’s bodyguard,” Ellian said off-handedly. “There’s something about him, but so far I haven’t discovered what it is. I want you to find any weakness—any compromising details.”

  “But….” Christian stared at the pile. This was the man’s bank records, his job history, his family. He could hardly think what else to research. Hell, there was a tab devoted to what sort of foods he ate. “I don’t have the time. I’m working on the weapons deal.”

  “Are you?” Ellian asked blandly. “Because I hear last night you got 35 mercenaries killed, and I can only imagine that was some personal event. Nothing to do with my business, certainly. Nothing that would reflect on me.”

  Christian went still. Ellian was always this way, and Christian always forgot. The man was charming to a fault, and then he struck like a snake without even changing the tone of his voice. It was terrifying.

  “Sir.” He cleared his throat. “I—”

  There was the sound of a phone ringing, and Ellian turned his head lazily to look at it. You’re so insignificant that I won’t even pay attention while you plead for your life.

  Any shreds of self control vanished. Christian’s palms were clammy. “Sir, I will do better. I have leads. I will make sure—”

  “Yes, I’m sure you will.” But oddly, there wasn’t any silk in Ellian’s tone, or any threat. His attention was wholly focused on the screen. “Go.”

  It wasn’t an angry dismissal, just cursory, and Christian seized his opportunity. He had to fight not to let the door bang shut behind him while he left, and only the watchful gaze of the guards stopped him from running away like a child.

  Only in his own office did he allow himself to sink down into a chair and pass a hand over his brow. He was shaking.

  Whatever it was that had saved him, he gave a silent prayer of thanks.

  The Warlord didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Have you stopped the weapons deal?”

  “No.” Ellian spoke the word simply.

  The Warlord fought down a wave of anger. He liked this about Ellian, he reminded himself. Other trading partners bowed and scraped. They spoke of “problems” and “complications” as if they were natural disasters, totally beyond any sort of control. Sometimes, in desperation, they lied. Ellian never resorted to nonsense like that.

  “We’ll need more mercenaries,” he said. He sounded annoyed. “They underestimated what they were dealing with.” He must have sensed the Warlord’s quizzical look, because he added, “Apparently, there are Dragons involved.”

  Surely Rift couldn’t be stupid enough to get involved on his own. Could he? The Warlord frowned behind the mask.

  Still, Ellian should know.

  “The commander’s name is Talon Rift,” he said simply. There was a sudden stillness in Ellian’s face. “You know of him?”

  Ellian cleared his throat. “I … yes. He’s not unknown on New Arizona.”

  “I expect it will serve both our purposes to eliminate him, then.” The Warlord smiled. “I’ll trust you to take care of it.”

  He reached out, and ended the call.

  On the other end of the line, Ellian let out a breath and tried not to slump forward with fear. The Warlord could not know that he’d dealt with Talon Rift. Even an unknowing mistake would be punished.

  He had to be calm. He had to look at the facts.

  Talon Rift was after the Warlord. Talon Rift was the one who was planning to arm the Ymiri resistance.

  He took a moment to consider how stupid it was to try to take on the Warlord with a single Dragon team, and found that the only emotion he could summon, in point of
fact, was a strange sort of admiration.

  Even when Dragons did stupid things, they did them spectacularly.

  Ellian looked out toward the corridor. Would Rift call off the mission to keep Cade Williams alive? He’d arranged for the man’s employ two years after Williams had left the force. That said something. Ellian could simply send a note telling Rift to back off….

  And, likely as not, wind up with a hole in the side of his penthouse and a very painful death. To think that way was to take on the Dragons in combat, and he very much did not want to do that.

  No, if he was going to win this fight, he’d have to win it the way he always did: with business. Let Rift find that there was nowhere in this city to buy so much as a single gun. Let him learn that no one would lend him money to do so.

  Still….

  Ellian opened a channel to Christian. “Cordev.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “However many mercenaries you’re planning to take on the next stage of the operation … double it.”

  Ellian closed the channel and stood, buttoning his jacket. He’d keep an even closer eye on Williams, now that he knew the sort of man Talon Rift was. If he were smart, he would hire another bodyguard

  But he’d seen the way Aryn behaved when the bodyguard was around: the faint awareness, as if she could feel the man’s heat—

  Ellian’s chest tightened, and he swallowed. He was not a fool, no matter how much they thought he was. He was not a fool, and right now, he reminded himself, it was absolutely necessary that Aryn be tempted by Cade Williams.

  20

  One of the things Cade had learned in the Corps was that you could tell a lot about a person from how they ate, and the first thing he noticed about Aryn and Ellian was that they had both grown up poor. No matter how good their manners, both of them ate quickly, not evaluating their food for flavor or texture before starting in. Aryn ate any fruits or vegetables first, meat second, and grains last; sweets other than chocolate, she did not seem to care for. For her, then, it was what she considered luxurious that drove her. Ellian made a point of eating one bite of everything in succession, as if to remind himself that he did not still subsist on rice or sorghum, as many might.

  Many people would claim to have come from poverty, but few in Ellian’s station truly had. It was interesting, Cade thought, that their mannerisms gave them away so clearly. Interesting as well that he now realized he had been looking for lies in both of them.

  Mostly, however, Cade observed the minutiae to avoid focusing on the whole. It had been four agonizing days since he began this job, and every night, he considered tapping on the door of Ellian’s office and quitting. In the wildest fantasies, if that was what they were, he even said the truth: I can’t stop thinking about your wife.

  But even a fool knew that was the best way to wind up dead in an alleyway somewhere and so Cade, therefore, contented himself with working out until he was weak with exhaustion. He’d kept himself fit no matter what the job, doing pushups and pull-ups in his spare moments. A Dragon learned quickly that the ones who trained harder were the ones who had the edge in combat; Talon liked to say that it was what separated them from their enemies, and Cade knew it was true. Even gone, even swearing that he would never fight again, he hadn’t been able to lose the habit. It was a very different thing, indeed, to work out to escape….

  Hatred. He was going with hatred.

  What unsettled him the most was that he was beginning to doubt his own perceptions. At times, he almost thought Aryn was sincere. The faint flashes of sadness in her eyes, the edge of desperation in her self-control, all of it pointed to a woman who was—

  Hiding something. She was hiding something. And that something was that she did not love her husband. Cade reminded himself of the fact at least ten times daily. He had seen enough of her false smiles, seen her close her research tabs abruptly when he walked into the room, that he knew not to trust her.

  So why did he want to, so badly? Why did he want to hold her hands in his, look into those shadowed eyes, and promise her that whatever was saddening her, he would help? Why could he not stop thinking about taking her in his arms, about wiping a tear away from her cheek, about coaxing a true smile from those lips?

  Because she was the best actress money could buy, that was why. And money had bought her. So Cade stood at her shoulder through every interminable minute of seeing her primped and dressed for her appointments, tried not to watch as she swam and ran and fenced, and did anything he could to ignore the fact that the very smell of her made him half-crazed.

  Thinking about it didn’t help.

  He let his eyes unfocus slightly, seeing the scene as Dragon would. It was best to watch that way. Ellian, after all, should be as interesting to him as Aryn. Cade kept wanting to ask Talon how he knew the man.

  The sudden tense silence in the room told him that he’d missed something important.

  “We’ve spoken about this,” Ellian said warningly, and Cade’s attention snapped back to Aryn. What had she said? A quick glance showed the tension between them, and Cade felt a spark of interest. Was she pushing Ellian in order to dizzy him with emotions? If so, now she would retreat.

  But she did not. Though she had gone white in the face, she put down her fork and stood her ground.

  “They’re running out of time,” she said quietly. “He’s getting crueler, year by year. You may not want to hear it, but it’s true. It isn’t stopping.”

  “Nor will it,” Ellian snapped, “until—” He took a deep, slow breath. “Mr. Williams.” His gaze never wavered from Aryn. “Leave us.”

  “No.” The protective instinct flared to life so suddenly that Cade had no opportunity to stop himself from speaking.

  At this, at last, Ellian looked at him.

  “I beg your pardon?” His voice was soft. Too soft.

  Cade resisted the urge to swallow. He could see Aryn staring at him, her mouth open, but he could not look at her. It would be too big a signal, and if there was hope in her eyes—

  “No, I beg your pardon.” He ducked his head to Ellian. “I’m afraid I’ve been fending off what I’m sure were well-meaning attempts by society ladies to bring your wife to unsafe locations. I spoke automatically. Forgive me.”

  Ellian watched him for a beat, eyes searching Cade’s face.

  “It’s no trouble,” he said finally. His voice was mild. “You may go.”

  The urge to say no again was so strong that Cade only barely held it in check. This time, however, he had been ready, his jaw clenched tightly to prevent any word from escaping. He nodded once and went to the door.

  Unwisely, he looked back. Aryn was staring at him, and the plea in her eyes was unmistakable.

  Don’t leave me. She was terrified.

  “Mr. Williams?” Ellian’s voice.

  “Of course.” Cade let himself out of the door without a second look and leaned against it, shaking. What had just happened? What had he seen?

  And why in hell had he left her?

  “Sir?”

  The voice made him jump, and he swore softly. The man standing behind him was one of Ellian’s menservants, as clean-shaven and unremarkable as any of them. Michael, Cade thought. Or perhaps this one was Matthew. All of them seemed to have names starting with M. It must be hell for bookkeeping. This one was handing out a silver tray with a flute of something to drink.

  “Would you like a refreshment?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” But Cade paused before taking the flute. “You don’t have to treat me like this, you know.”

  “Like what, sir?”

  “Like…” Cade gestured back into the dining room, his stomach twisting at the thought of what was going on in there. Every room in this place was soundproofed, and his instincts raged for him to haul the door open and get Aryn out. “Like one of them.”

  To his surprise, the servant smiled.

  “We’re glad you’re here,” he said simply.

  Cade blinked, unsure of
how to respond to this. He took a sip of the water instead; Ellian had given strict orders that Cade was not to drink anything other than water or stimulants while guarding Aryn.

  Aryn, who was alone with Ellian. Cade cast another look over his shoulder.

  “You’re very much like her,” the servant said.

  “What?” Cade looked back sharply, and the man’s face turned wary. “What did you say?”

  “I said, you and Aryn are very alike.” The man smiled. “We are glad she has you to watch her. She…” His voice dropped, low enough that Cade knew he was trying not to be heard on Ellian’s surveillance systems. “She needs someone kind,” the man said, almost defiantly.

  “Why?” Cade asked.

  “Because she’s alone,” the servant said softly. “And she’s afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  The servant didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

  “She’s…” Cade felt his voice trail off. The litany was beginning in his head again. She’s here for his money. If she doesn’t want it, she can leave.

  “She’s very kind,” the servant told him.

  “No.”

  “She is.” The man did not back down. “They say you can take the measure of someone by how they treat people of a lower station, and she’s kind to us. Ask Emala if you don’t believe me.” He opened his mouth to say something more, but Cade shook his head suddenly, urgently. The faint tremor in the floor had caught his attention, and when he waved his hand, the servant almost ran.

  A moment later, the door opened to reveal Ellian.

  “Mr. Williams, would you accompany my wife back to her rooms?”

  Cade nodded, and a moment later, found Aryn half in his arms as Ellian guided her out the door and shut it behind her.

  She almost did not seem to notice Cade at all. Her face was still pale, and tension vibrated through her body. In the end, he guided her with his hand in the small of her back, stooping slightly to stay close to her smaller frame. There was no heat between them now, nothing but her unseeing eyes; she moved like an automaton. When they reached her rooms, her hand went out automatically to the door handle.