by Emma Alisyn
Rhina nodded. “Of course! It will be a challenge, and maybe when this is over, if there’s a permanent position . . .”
Bea smiled perfunctorily. “Yes, yes. Do a good job, and we can definitely see about something long-term. The Princes’ don’t waste talent.”
She didn’t return home until late that morning, and maybe it was the stress of the entire evening catching up with her, but the sunlight stung her eyes badly enough they were watering by the time she entered her unit. The blinds were drawn shut, bathing her in blessed darkness.
A rustling in the corner alerted her, and she stopped automatically, until she remembered her houseguest.
“There’s a plate in the oven,” Tyra said. “You didn’t have much food.”
Rhina frowned, eyes adjusting within seconds to the darkness. “You didn’t have to cook.”
“There was literally nothing else to do. I’m a chef, after all.”
True.
Rhina pushed away from the door and entered her bathroom. A quick shower, and she dressed in the flannel pajamas hanging on a hook. They were mostly clean. Hell, Tyra was family, so she supposed she didn’t have to worry about how she smelled.
She relaxed, allowing the glamour to slip away, so when she exited the bathroom she looked like her normal self. Tyra studied her, Rhina doing the courtesy of ignoring her while she grabbed the plate and sat down at the two-seater table to eat.
“You haven’t been home much in the last few years,” her cousin said after a while. Rhina had spent the quiet moments recalling exactly how they were related. “I’d forgotten about you.”
“You were supposed to,” she said.
The Dark Horse needed to keep a low profile within the family as well as without. If the cousins forgot she existed, all the better. Especially since it was hard, with her silver hair and odd eyes and bone structure. Her skin was a perfectly acceptable shade of pearl-gray, and her wings were strong and healthy. She shifted just like everyone else. Despite her facial features and hair coloring, she looked like any other gargoyle female. With a few added abilities.
No one begrudged her the abilities, it was just the mysterious dual bloodline the Mogrens were philosophically opposed to. Their entire platform was based on keeping the line pure, strong. And then her mother went and fell in love with someone unsanctioned. The punishments were that Alexa was never allowed to keep her lover, and Rhina never knew her father. She didn’t even know if her father knew of her existence. It didn’t matter. Whoever he was, if he was alive he must be weak. Why else would you allow someone to take your female away from you? Her mother hadn’t been the one-night stand type.
That she could think of her mother with the awful, gut-wrenching agony was a testament to both the narrow focus of her mission and her ability to block everything else out. Except anger. Except vengeance.
“How did you escape the round up?” Tyra asked.
Her cousin had made some type of casserole, throwing together the canned ingredients and boxed pasta she had in her pantry and managing to make something that tasted good. She scraped the plate, then eyed Tyra.
“Is there more of this?”
The female pointed to the fridge. “The dish is in the fridge. If you go grocery shopping I can make real food. With fresh ingredients.” Tyra grimaced, indignation flashing across her face. “I can guess what it is you do for the family—no, I'm not asking, and don’t tell me. You need to eat properly. Are you still getting the stipend?”
Since the gargoyles didn’t live in their own sovereign countries on this continent—not for centuries—the Ioveanus couldn’t touch Mogren bank accounts, which were quite cleverly situated in human-controlled areas under human laws. The stipend was still being deposited to her account.
Rhina stared at Tyra. “You’re the only adult who’s escaped. When I die, you’ll inherit everything. We need to get you out of the city.”
It was fortunate, too, that Rhina had been the last garling born to their family, or else the nightmare of what to do with children would have been an additional complication. At least Geza had never harmed children.
“Why do you think you’re going to die?”
Rhina opened the fridge and took the casserole dish out. It was her only glass pan. Her culinary skills consisted of throwing raw chicken in the oven, sprinkling salt and chopped vegetables around it, and hoping for the best. Most days, she just ate out. Her bank account reflected the quality of the work she did for the Mogrens, and she wasn’t poor. Her current circumstances were a matter of convenience and cover. She’d put Tyra down as beneficiary to her accounts and make arrangements with her estate planner to ensure her cousin received access to everything.
“I have a final task for the family, and it will probably get me killed,” she said. It was more than she should say. There was a kind of relief in talking about it.
“You work in the tower,” her cousin said slowly. “You make yourself look human. I know you didn’t come to the catacombs just to get me out, you were speaking with Lourden.” Tyra stared at her, and Rhina could almost see wheels turning in her head. “They want you to assassinate Prince Geza, don’t they? I know that's why we were all rounded up. A failed attempt.” Tyra grimaced. No Mogren liked the word ‘failure’.
“If I tell you anything else, you could be implicated,” Rhina said.
“They’re already going to be looking for me, Moghrenna. I’m guilty by association.” She blinked, slumping a little.
“You should get some rest.” The sun forced them all into human form—it was too painful to shift during the day, nearly impossible for some.
“You, too. You’re the one who has to kill a Prince. How would that solve anything? Prince Malin would just take his place, and there is still Princess Surah and her garlings—” Tyra stopped talking abruptly, eyes widening with sudden horror. “Oh. Oh, no. Moghrenna. You can’t.”
Rhina kept her expression completely blank.
“Moghrenna. They can’t ask that of you. It’s one thing to assassinate the ruling Prince. He’s fair game, it comes with the job. Even his brother. But not the Princesses. Unborn garlings. That’s too far, even for us.”
Us being their entire family, which had orchestrated some gruesome events in the history of their kind. They’d been relatively quiet for the last several generations. Biding time, allowing the other highborn, powerful families to become complacent. For the last hundred years, the refrain in the family had been that it was time for Mogrens to rule again. It had been too long.
“I serve,” Rhina said. “Just like you serve.”
“We all took oaths to the Ioveanus, too,” Tyra retorted. “That doesn’t seem to matter. Look, if you are what I think you are, you have a chance to escape. Get away and live a real life. How long does an average Dark Horse live? Half the expectancy of a regular warrior in the family. You should go, Moghrenna. Find your other family. Live life.” Tyra blinked rapidly, looking down at hands clutched tightly in her lap. “Do you think I’m going to hate this chance? I’m Mogren, and I love our family, but we’re not good. I just want to cook, and live my life, and not get embroiled in nasty politics for no reason other than our family heads are bored and think power for the sake of power is a quality of life necessity.”
Rhina had never taken oaths. Part of the reason why her existence had been carefully removed from archives. She could never be prosecuted by the Ioveanus for oathbreaking. She finished her second serving of the casserole and put the dish away. Rhina spent the next few minutes grabbing extra pillows and a set of clean, summer sweats.
“We can’t go back home and get your things, but I’ll set you up with a debit card and you can shop online tonight, get what you need. Don’t worry about credit, I have plenty.”
Tyra blew out a breath. “You can bill the estate if we manage to get out of this.”
“The Ioveanus don’t give ‘get out of jail free’ cards.”
7
She had to get her shit toget
her. Waking this evening, Tyra had confronted her again, pleading and arguing to abandon the task. Rhina wasn’t mad at her—noncombatants were supposed to be squeamish, and the female had probably been terrified while in prison. Wanting to wash her hands of all of it and start fresh. Rhina didn’t blame her.
“Enough,” she’d snapped, rounding on the female. Her glamour wasn’t in place, and she'd dressed in a black pantsuit to match her mood. Her wings snapped open in agitation, her hair crackling from the heat of her cold temper. “I know what my duty is. It’s what he deserves!”
“Prince Geza, maybe!” Tyra had shouted back. “Not the others!”
“Lower your voice,” Rhina hissed.
“What has Geza done to you personally, anyway? We can get out, Rhina.”
“You can, I can’t. Look, no one knows you’re here. Stay put, and lay low. Monitor the news feed. When shit hits the fan, get out.” Rhina exhaled, letting go of her temper. “You’ll have access to my financial accounts. Take the money, run. Buy a new identity. Buy a restaurant. Live your life.”
“You’re younger than I am,” her cousin replied quietly. “Why can’t you live your life? They made you a tool because—”
“Because what?”
Tyra shook her head. “I don’t know anything. Really, I don’t. Just rumors, but no one would even gossip after your mother killed herself.”
The words were like a fresh knife wound. “You wonder why I want Geza dead!”
Tyra’s expression was odd. “What did he have to do with it?”
“What?”
Her cousin stared at her, frowning. “Did they tell you the Ioveanus had something to do with Alexa’s death?”
“Are you telling me he didn’t?” Her comm unit blinked, a terse message from Bea asking her to come in a few minutes early. “Dammit. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
“Wait, Rhina!” Tyra ran a few steps after her. “You’re right, it’s too much to piece together right now. Truth and lies always are. Promise me—don’t do anything until we talk? I’ll try to remember everything I heard. If they sent you to kill Geza and gave you false ammunition . . . doesn’t that change things?”
Rhina gave her one last narrow-eyed look. It might. She’d hated the Ioveanu Prince so long, it might not.
The human-not-quite-human female looked tired. Geza studied her closely. Had she done something to her hair? It was lighter today than yesterday.
“You asked to see me, Prince?” she asked, voice polite but short. She looked at him sideways again, mouth tight. Something was bothering her.
“Yes. You aren’t disturbed by the security incident last night, are you?” he asked, rising from his desk. He walked around to the front and leaned back, folding his arms. He needed a human perspective for this next task, and Bea was busy with more important issues.
He was busy as well, but he refused to let the Morgen’s ruin his pet project, and there was a stack of files still left to go through. He pushed Moghrenna out of his mind. He couldn’t do anything more about her right now. If she was out there, Niko would find her. It weighed on his mind, though. Was there a way he could let her know he was searching for her, that it was safe to turn herself in?
“Bea said you could fill in for her while she attends to more serious matters. I had her working on a small project with me.”
Her flat expression didn’t change. She stood like a soldier, as a matter of fact. Someone trained to remain silent and take orders without asking questions. She should have begun chattering her head off from curiosity, or shown eagerness or shyness at the prospect of working with him directly. But no, this female just stood there, awaiting further instruction from her commanding officer.
“Where did you say you worked prior to here?” he asked.
“I'm from a temp staffing agency, Highness. I've worked at many places.”
“That's a non-answer. Where did you work prior?”
She began rattling off a list of boring, corporate-entity type jobs. Desk work. He listened with half an ear, mind already wandering to the files on his desk. He was likely seeing shadows were there were none. A result of too much of Niko’s suspicious company. He reacted to a mere change of breathing as a possible assassination attempt.
“Fine, fine,” he said, interrupting her. “Come here, and what we discuss doesn’t leave this office.”
“I don't gossip.”
“Is something wrong?” he demanded and waved a hand. “Shouldn’t you be more pleased to work with your Prince?”
“The distinction is an honor, Sire.”
Geza stiffened. See! There, she’d done it again. That was a gargoyle response. She hadn't denied that he was her Prince, and her wording was that of a female trained in court-level courtesies. He wasn’t imaging things. Could it be because she was a groupie and simply kept herself abreast of gargoyle, specifically Ioveanu, culture and events?
He opened the first file on his desk and handed it to her. It was the picture and profile sheet of one of his female guards.
“I want to match her. She’s single, financially solvent, educated, and of a good family. She applied for my beta matchmaking program and was approved, and now we must find her a husband.”
Rhina stared at him, the file almost dangling from her slack hand. “You want me to do what?”
“Go through my database of male candidates—it’s short, right now, because we’re a startup—and pull at least twenty options.”
“Don't you have an algorithm to do this?”
Bea, damn her, had asked the exact same thing when he’d first brought it to her. Weren’t females supposed to be interested in the romance of matchmaking?
“I prefer the personal touch. It's what will set us apart. Other agencies use supercomputers, we use heart and intuition.”
“Heart.” Her lip curled a little. “Ioveanu heart.”
Geza’s eyes narrowed. “Ioveanus have heart.” And once again, proof of how the reputation of his family harmed his current interests . . . why had Moghrenna never come to him? He’d offered his protection once. She could have come to him after Alexa’s death. He’d been commanded to stay away, had finally accepted that was the best course of action, but if she had come to him he could have helped her.
Where the hell was she?
“Yes, sir. Of course.” She blinked rapidly, and suddenly the blank expression was replaced with something warmer, more hesitant. More . . . human.
His instincts were alerted, mind snapping out of the past into the present. Lie. Lie. Lie. Why was she lying?
“You can work in here, I don’t want the other staff to see the files.” He pointed to a smaller desk in the corner. “I have matters to attend, I’ll be back in a while.”
Geza went to Niko. “Pull her employee file and verify her background check. There’s something odd about that female.”
“Woman,” Niko said absently, eyes narrowed in thought as he scrolled through his device. “I've got it. I’ll verify the information myself and report back.”
Geza hesitated. “There’s something else. Is there a way to broadcast a message that someone in particular might see, and understand it, but no one else would?”
“I don’t get it.”
“I want Moghrenna to turn herself in,” Geza snapped. “I want her to know that if she does, she’ll be safe.”
“If she’s the assassin?”
“I’ll deal with that then.”
Niko stared at him. “Why?”
“None of your business. Just figure out a way for me to get a message across.”
The head of security was quiet a moment. “Wherever she is, she’ll be watching the trial. That would be the best time.”
“Fine. Arrange it. Regarding Rhina, start with her home address. Send someone to snoop around.”
Irritation flashed over Niko’s face before it settled back into a warrior’s stoicism. “Yes, Sire. Thank you for your assistance.”
Everyone was sarcastic
today. Geza took a step back, executed a florid bow, and left Niko’s office.
He soon returned to plague her. Rhina closed yet another file folder with an aggravated snap. These kinds of matters weren’t her expertise. She was supposed to be an event planner, not a matchmaker.
“What's wrong?” the Prince asked, eyes half-lidded as he looked up from his desk. He was busy writing a letter of some kind, with actual pen and paper.
She’d observed Lavinia and of course, Lourden, from time to time. She was aware ruling was really just a person stuck in an office going over reports and communications and delegating tasks. Ruling wasn’t glamorous. To watch him actually attend to the same minutae her family heads had, instead of observing him partying or whoring was unexpected. She supposed even the playboy prince had to put his ass in a chair and work a few hours a day if he didn’t want to lose his head to disgruntled nobles.
“I’m not the best person to do this kind of thing,” she said. “Where is Bea?”
“With Malin and Nikolau,” he replied, short, then rose from the desk and approached. “What’s the issue? You’re female, aren’t you?” He tapped a long, black-nailed talon on the stack of file folders. “Pick out the males you think this female would like.”
“They’re ridiculous. This one . . . look. In the hobbies section, it says he likes birds. Birds.” She looked up at him, disgusted. “What am I supposed to do with that? The female enjoys flights to the beach and kittens. Does that mean bird male is a match for her?”
His lips twitched. “When you dated, would you have found that interesting?”
“I don’t date.” Rhina scolded. Date. As if. Dating was for normal females.
Geza returned her scowl. “Do you breathe? How can you not date? Never mind. Hmm. Think about it from your father or brother’s point of view. What would he think about this male?”
“I don’t have a father, or a brother.”