by K. B. Wagers
Both Trackers winced at my sharp words. I was trampling over every social convention possible—asking questions, being callous about my sisters’ deaths when all I really wanted was to scream out my agonized grief to the stars. I buried that desire as deep as it could go. Better that they thought I was a cold, heartless bitch rather than a grieving sister. Better for my chances of getting out of this mess with at least some of myself intact.
“Highness, your sisters have gone to temple.” Starzin’s voice was low and filled with pain. “You are the heir. It is vital you return home.”
His words slammed into me, burning like the ten thousand volts of a Solarian Conglomerate police Taser.
“What?” I gasped for breath. “No. Cire had a daughter, I saw her on the news. Atmikha is heir, not me.” My older sister’s only daughter should inherit the throne.
“Princess Atmikha was killed in the same explosion as her mother.”
The air rushed out of my lungs. Added grief for a niece I’d never known. One more log on the pyre set to burn my freedom to ashes. The hope I’d had of getting out of this mess was lost in that instant, and I couldn’t do anything but stare at Emmory in abject shock.
“Damn it, Emmory!”
At his partner’s sharp curse, Emmory looked away from me. I shoved my grief down with the rest of it and took the opportunity to glance around quickly for a weapon. There was a heavy metal bottle—probably water—on the bedside table. I inched toward it.
“She deserves to know, Zin,” he replied.
Zin shook his head, his eyes a little wild. It was too blunt a discussion about the dead. Talking about them could drag their souls back to their bodies, trap them here. Only a priest was supposed to speak of how they died and their names shouldn’t have been mentioned at all.
But Emmory had already started it, and I was twenty years absent from our social conventions and not in the mood to play the games required. I didn’t believe saying their names would do anything to my sisters. They were dead and gone.
Just like Portis.
I swallowed back the tears and fixed my eyes on Emmory. My niece and both my sisters dead added up to something ugly going on at home. Whatever my feelings for my mother and homeland were, my sisters had meant the world to me. It had killed me to leave them. Killed me even more to cut off all contact when I’d decided to disappear. I’d known the minute I chose to go with Hao that if anyone had heard me talking to my sisters and discovered who I was, they’d have killed me, or worse, tried to ransom me back to my mother. “How did Pace die?” My question hung, ragged, on the recycled air.
“Highness, it’s not for us to speak of how your sisters went to temple. You will need to speak with the priest.” Zin tried again to gain some control over the situation.
I wasn’t about to let it go so I ignored him and pinned Emmory with a fierce glare.
Portis had always told me I could kill a man with one look from my hazel eyes. According to him, they flared with green when I was angry, brighter than a dying star. He’d always had an overdramatic bent.
Emmory was as cool and calm as could be in the face of my determination, his face an expressionless mask.
“How did Pace die?” I repeated.
“Ebolenza, Highness.”
This time it was as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room. I stumbled back against the wall, sliding down to the floor when my knees gave out and refused to support my weight. Images of my sweet little sister dying the kind of vicious, blood-soaked death ebolenza caused made bile burn my throat. At least Cire and Ami had gone quick, but Pace…
There were only three people in the whole universe I’d wish that kind of death on—and not even my mother was on the list.
Certainly not Pace.
Ebolenza wasn’t a naturally occurring disease. It was biowarfare at its worst, and that my sister had died of it meant only one thing. Someone had killed her, too.
I snapped my eyes open just before Zin touched me and slapped his hand away. It felt even more stupid and petty when I spotted the confused hurt flickering in his eyes, but I stomped on those emotions as hard as I could. I couldn’t afford to let these people see any weakness. As Po-Sin had always said: Show no fear. Not to friends, nor enemies, and certainly not to strangers.
The thought of my old gunrunner boss was enough to push me upright. I’d run guns for the most feared Cheng Gang Lord in the universe. I’d earned my keep, earned my own ship, and earned my reputation. All on my own. I wasn’t going to be welcomed home with open arms, and that worked fine for me. I could think of a thousand places I’d rather go than back into that gilded cage.
Scrambling to my feet, I spread my hands wide and gave the Trackers my best gunrunner smile. “So someone murdered my sisters and my niece. Tried to kill me, too, from the looks of it, unless I’m to believe this little mutiny was coincidental. Now Mother wants me to come home like a dutiful daughter. For what? So they can get a second crack at me? I’m not sure I want to go home and put my life on the line. What has the empire ever done for me?”
My diatribe shocked both men into silence—at least on the surface. I was willing to lay ten credits down they were having a heated conversation over the communication lines provided by their smati.
I moved casually to the bedside table and grabbed the bottle. Emmory stiffened, so I shot him a grin over my shoulder.
“Easy, Tracker, just thirsty.” Ignoring the cup, I drank straight from the bottle. Cool water, tinny with the familiar taste of onboard recycling, flowed over my tongue, erasing the lingering bitterness of the sleeping drug. I dropped my arm to my side, two fingers looped loosely around the neck of the bottle.
I didn’t know how I was going to get out of here. As the Trackers talked, I spun several scenarios and dismissed them all. At this point I didn’t particularly want to kill either of them, whatever I’d threatened back on Sophie. They were just doing their job.
I could go home, find out who killed my sisters. That thought appealed to the anger in my gut. Revenge would be exacted for this—one way or another. However, I didn’t have to go to the palace for that. In fact, it would be easier if I weren’t trapped by protocol and the endless cowshit of royal requirements. I didn’t want to see my mother, and I really didn’t want to be the heir to the gods-damned throne of the Indranan Empire.
Discarding the idea of a frontal attack, I took another drink from the bottle and set it back down on the table. Crossing my arms over my chest, I leaned back against the wall and favored Emmory with a smile I hoped hid my frantic indecision.
“Look, Emmy—” His mouth tightened fractionally at the nickname and I was glad to see I could do something to needle that stone exterior. “I’ll give you my word. I’ll go see Mother, have a little talk with her. But I need clothes, and I’d much rather travel on my own ship.”
“We have clothes for you, Highness,” he replied, and an uncomfortable look scuttled across his sharply planed face.
“I want my clothes, Tracker, and my ship.”
“There are clothes in the wardrobe for you.” He gestured behind me. “I’m afraid your ship has been removed from the equation.”
“What?” An icy fist drove into my chest. “What did you do to Sophie?”
Emmory shot Zin a sidelong glance before looking at the ceiling. “Several charges on the reactor. I saw to it myself. Your ship is space dust.”
“You blew up my ship?” Somehow I kept my voice even. I fisted my hands, blunt nails cutting into the skin. “The moment’s over, Tracker.”
The warning surprised me. I should have just taken my much-needed advantage and struck, damn my oath to blazes. Gods, how easily I slid back into the social bindings of the empire. My hatred of them couldn’t overcome the conditioning. If we’d been anywhere else, I would have struck without warning.
Both men put their hands on their guns, nasty-looking Hessian 45s with a stun function worse than the SC models. For my part, I wished I hadn’t put dow
n my only weapon.
“Highness, it was necessary to remove proof of your crime,” Zin explained.
Necessary. Not even back on planet locked in the confines of the palace yet and I was already sick to death of hearing that word. My things all gone. My Sophie gone. My—
“Wait, what? What crime? My gods-damned crew tried to kill me. I defended myself. What do you care if I killed a bunch of gunrunners?”
An inscrutable look I almost thought was pain flashed over Emmory’s face. “Portis was ITS, Highness. He was there to protect you—sworn to do so with his life. He wouldn’t have tried to kill you. He was trying to bring you home, nothing more.”
My laughter shocked them. “Portis was ITS. Emphasis on the was. They kicked him out.”
“Lies are easier to believe when they’re based on truth,” Zin replied softly. “Portis’s records reflected a banishment from service, Highness, but it was all for show. He was undercover, recruited by your BodyGuards and Director Britlen. It was necessary. The easiest way to keep you safe.”
For the third fucking time all the oxygen fled my lungs, faster than an open airlock in a vacuum. That’s why General Saito hadn’t argued with me, hadn’t sent Trackers after me. They’d had someone watching me all along. My Primary BodyGuard had sent Portis after me?
My brain pulled up the introductions I’d let slide by earlier. “Tresk. You said Emmory Tresk.”
I whipped my gaze from Zin to Emmory and back again, my mouth hanging open. They were lying to me; they had to be. Otherwise—
Oh, bugger me. My whole life had been a lie.
“Portis was my brother, Your Highness. He accepted a request for assistance from your Ekam and sacrificed a promising career to babysit you. He died so a spoiled princess could run away from her duty.” The derision and fury in Emmory’s reply were improper, but I couldn’t get past my whole foundation sliding out from underneath me like quicksand.
“Holy cowshit.” I spat the curse at them, grasping at my anger for protection from the grief. “Whatever Portis was doing there, he certainly wasn’t protecting me. Of course, we can’t prove any of it, can we? I can’t remember what happened and your Farian conveniently erased the evidence!”
There’d been a furrow cut into my hip from poorly aimed laser fire, and I was pretty sure Portis had broken a rib or two when he’d tackled me.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d even say he was trying to kill me.”
Emmory crossed the room so swiftly, I didn’t have time to react. He grabbed me by the throat and slammed me into the wall. I was so stunned by the assault that I didn’t retaliate.
I could almost see the reflection of my own hazel eyes in the glossy darkness of his.
“You will not speak a word of it, Highness. I won’t allow you to dishonor Portis’s memory with lies.” He was deadly serious, and full of fury, but his voice was as calm as if we were discussing the weather.
“Emmory!” Zin grabbed Emmory from behind, breaking his hold on me and spinning him around before I could come up with a reply. He pressed his forehead to Emmory’s, speaking to him in a low voice. Emmory replied back, his voice a growl, but he didn’t resist his partner’s restraint.
As I got my breath back, I tilted my head to the side and watched them curiously. I couldn’t quite tell if they were sleeping together or not, but it was fairly common practice among Trackers who weren’t related. It was obvious these two had been together for a long time. They’d know each other’s movements, each other’s thoughts, and could anticipate their reactions. It was the kind of relationship Portis and I had—or close to it anyway.
Zin finished with whatever he’d had to say and turned on me. “Your Highness, please forgive Emmory.”
I could only gape in shock at Zin when he folded his hands together and bowed low. His anxious, almost desperate apology tumbled into the air as if I were the Mother Destroyer Herself.
“Emmory’s family has endured years of believing Portis a traitor. Now they have the chance to know he was a hero. If you claim Portis tried to kill you, it will ruin everything he worked for, desecrate everything he gave up.” Zin dropped to a knee in front of me and held out his hands palms up. “Please do not take offense at his behavior.”
When he moved, I caught sight of Emmory staring at me. The look on his face was a decent mix of fear and anger. The fear wasn’t even for himself, though I could have him flayed alive for assaulting me, it was the fear that Portis’s name would be stained and forever reviled.
A sick stab of pain speared me in the gut as I realized just what was going on. Zin meant every word and was terrified that Emmory had crossed the line with me.
He had crossed the line, but I wasn’t some prissy noblewoman who saw a man punished for stepping out of line. The fact that he’d struck me, not once but several times, wasn’t even an issue as far as I was concerned. Someone else could make an issue of it if they chose.
What intrigued me was Emmory’s temper and his loyalty to his family. It was a failing I could possibly use later. Right now, I had to address Zin’s concerns.
I had my pride, but it wasn’t worth a man’s life.
Walking around Zin, I stopped toe to toe with Emmory and studied him for a moment.
“The next time you grab me,” I said, “be prepared. Because I will make you pay for it.”
“Highness.” There might have been a flicker of respect in his eyes, or I might have been deluding myself.
“Get out of here,” I snarled. “Both of you get out of here before—” I chopped off the threat. If I gave voice to my fury, I’d have to follow through, and though I was angry, I didn’t like my odds in a fight against these men. At least not right now.
Zin looked like he wanted to say something, but he dipped his head and turned for the door. Emmory gave a little half bow, never taking his eyes off me as he backed toward the door.
“We’ll be floating into warp soon. It will take us about a day to return home, Highness,” he said and the door slid shut behind him.
2
I dropped, shaking, onto the bed and stared at my hands as I fought to contain my grief and anger. The ship probably had surveillance and I didn’t doubt my hosts were going to keep a close eye on me. Don’t show them anything, Hail. Don’t give them anything to use against you.
Portis—dead. Cire—dead. Pace—dead.
I couldn’t stop the pain from running rampant through me. Or the gleeful little voice in the back of my head reminding me the worst thing of all.
You have to go home.
The mere thought of it made my throat close up. I’d stood up to pirate ships and police, walked unarmed into Zhou-owned houses and back out again without a scratch on me. I was feared on more planets than I could easily name.
I had been beaten up, bashed around, nearly killed more times than I could count; but the thought of seeing my gods-damned mother had me almost in tears.
You’ve got to get your shit together, Hail.
Opening my eyes, I stared down at the scarred surface of my left arm. A pale line marred the dark skin. I’d gotten a wire wrapped around my forearm during a bank job on Marrakesh, the last one we’d done for Po-Sin before he let us go our own way. The wire had almost snapped the bone before Portis cut me loose.
There’d been panic in his green eyes, the emotion lacing his voice as he’d gathered me against his chest and gotten us both out of the mess before the authorities showed. We’d managed to get to a body shop and most of the damage had been repaired, just leaving that single winding scar.
Shaking the memory loose and cursing Portis, I linked my fingers together and stretched my arms above my head.
Once upon a time my skin had been several shades lighter—more like the teakwood trees that grew on Pashati. It was darker now, but still not as dark as Pace’s, whose rare golden hair had stood out against skin almost as black as Emmory’s.
My baby sister. A second shard of heated metal sliced my heart. I’d grie
ved for her and Cire once when I left, but it had felt more like me dying than them. Now I grappled with the idea that my sisters were dead and it was impossible to wrap my head around.
And Portis—not a banished, thieving misfit. The thought was equally unbelievable. Except—
I swore viciously. Except for his unwillingness to talk about his past, for the sneaking suspicion I’d always had that there was something important he wasn’t telling me when I’d catch him looking at me strangely.
You mean like the fact that he was Imperial Tactical Squad? The voice in my head was sharp with derision, and I flinched away from it straight into a shattered memory.
“Baby, stay down. Just stay down, okay?” Portis’s voice was breathy with pain.
Gunfire cut off my reply, shredding our shelter. Portis dove to the side and I rolled after him into the questionable cover of a stack of priceless weavings we were supposed to be taking to the Solarian Conglomerate.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“There’s no time to explain. Just keep your head down.”
“You’re not getting off this ship alive, Tresk. Neither of you.”
Memz’s voice echoed out of the darkness, and the sudden cold look on Portis’s face froze my blood.
I rubbed my hands over my face. I couldn’t figure out why my memory was in such tatters. Had I been drugged? These bits and pieces floating back were less than useful. There was little about it I could trust. Why would Portis try to kill me? To steal the ship? None of it made sense.
It had been our ship. He’d had half a stake in it, was entitled to as large a share of the profits as I was. He hadn’t even cared half the time if he got paid—claimed he was doing it for the fun.
Now I knew why he didn’t need the money. He’d been on the empire’s payroll all along.
We’d fought. What pieces I could pull from my brain, glimmering like little glass splinters, told me that my scattered memory of gunfire and punches was real. His death rattle apology wasn’t enough to make me think for a second that Emmory was right and Portis was trying to bring me home.