by Ada Harper
“Let me guess, this is your lost pet?” Olivia said once she could be sure her voice wouldn’t betray her.
“Quillian wolves aren’t pets.” Galen dug his fingers into the wolf’s velvety ears, drawing a pleased rumble from the beast. His face lit up again. “Blue hell, it’s good to see you, girl. Where have you been? I thought we lost you.”
“Probably because she had enough sense to go looking for help before taking off across half the wilderness.” The lazy voice startled both Olivia and Galen, but not the wolf. A woman sauntered out of the shadow of the trees, flanked by three soldiers in wolf-head insignia. “Unlike some idiots.”
“Liar,” Galen said and Olivia drew her gun.
Eyes like burning coals set on Olivia, picking over her in a glance. The genta woman gave a knowing smile, white teeth against rich skin that practically hid her in the shadows. Gentle features softened a round face, and a halo of curly hair gave her an air of commonplace innocence. Which immediately made her dangerous in Olivia’s book. “Looks like you picked up a stray while you were at it. Where did you find a Syndicate alley cat in the Caeweld?”
Olivia smiled razors. “Please, do give me a reason to shoot you.”
“Aww, look at that, she’s just a cute little bit, isn’t she.” Her voice turned mocking. “What’s your name, kitten?”
Oh, bad arm or not she would not miss from this range. Olivia raised the pistol’s sight but Galen’s hand was soft over her arm. “These aren’t rebels. It’s the missing scouts. That’s Liar.” It took a moment for Olivia’s ears to play back and resolve that to a name. Ah, Lyre. The intelligence officer and scouts missing from Galen’s dead troops.
Olivia lowered her arm hesitantly. She didn’t, however, holster her gun. The heights of the soldiers flanking them told her it was another altus and two gentas, well-armed and fresh, and they all looked at her like she was a novelty. Olivia was aware her truce with Galen didn’t extend to all of the Empire. Galen caught her eyes, nodding a reassurance before stepping forward and clapping hands with Lyre.
“This is Olivia, a Whisper from the Syndicate and the only reason I’m not rotting under a root right now.” Galen’s introduction seemed to satisfy most of the scout’s interests, though Lyre’s full lips twitched as her gaze picked over Olivia head to foot. Galen drew her attention when he shifted, straightening into what Olivia could only assume was military mode. He crossed his arms and seemed to grow another impossible couple inches. “I expected to run across you a week ago. What happened?”
“A civil war happened, that’s what.” Lyre seemed to not have a military mode per se, but a flick of her hand sent the scouts back into the bush. Securing their surroundings, maybe. Olivia had to resist the urge to run. The sudden appearance of strangers felt more like a noose tightening than relief. Galen was one thing, but the appearance of four Imperials meant she was suddenly wildly outnumbered. Her nerves wanted her to run; she should run. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to focus on Lyre’s explanation.
“This has gone beyond more than a coup attempt. Whoever is behind this has been a long time planning. You weren’t the only regiment wiped out, and we’ve lost half the border towns between here and the Vas Heu coast. It’s turned the whole Caeweld into a free-for-all. Comms are down everywhere and you can’t take two steps in this place without tripping over a moon-eyed rebel or gold-digging merc.”
Galen snorted. “We’ve noticed.”
“Yes, well. Her Highness has made retrieving you a priority but I should know better than to try to track a de Corvus who doesn’t want to be found in these woods.” Lyre gave a wry smile. “Zahira seemed to be leading us somewhere, but it sped up things considerably when we got to the tower and found your signal. We trailed you from there. Nice bit of work getting through the jammers, and the body count was tidy.”
“I can’t take all the credit for getting out of that one in one piece.” Galen’s eyes flicked momentarily to Olivia. Then he drew a breath and she could feel his tension winding up the muscle in his shoulders, tightening his jaw, minute movements she told herself she was only aware of now after two weeks together. He steeled himself for his next question. “Ameranthe and Chrysanthine City?”
“Still stand.” Lyre ignored the well of the relief in Galen’s eyes. “The militias might have won out here, but Sabine has hold of the nine districts, even Weiss and Vhepence are getting in line. And her communication adviser is doing a grand job of making the losses on the border look like a summer exercise while we scurry about doing the real work. You should see the holos. The senate is engaged in its usual games. She’s holding a demo, even. Knowing our Sabs, she’ll use your return to make a royal spectacle of it.”
Olivia squinted with the effort of following the foreign names and cities she’d only heard in passing in primary school history holos. Ameranthe, the royal throne, and Chrysanthine, the capital city of the Empire, made the Syndicate news feeds often enough, as did Empress Sabine, but she was still trying to dredge up the structure of Imperial politics when Lyre snapped a bow and knocked the world out from underneath her. “It’s good to see you not dead, your Grace.”
Grace.
“What?” All attention was back on Olivia again.
Galen shifted, his expression uncomfortable. Lyre swiftly took in the situation and a delighted grin bloomed on her face. “Yes. I suppose we should all be in your debt, Syndicate kitten, for keeping the Red Wolf safe.”
The Red Wolf. That was another name that made it onto the Syndicate news feeds. But the Red Wolf was the brother of the empress. That couldn’t be Galen. The Red Wolf was the strategic blood-hungry warrior of the Quillian Empire, an altus who’d earned his common moniker after the last battle the Syndicate and Empire had dared on their border. The Syndicate had greater technology with their pulse ships but the Red Wolf had taken his inferior Empire forces and routed ships from the sky with a cunning...
Cunning. Cunning and optimism against impossible odds. Oh, gods, that was Galen.
“But the empress—You...said your family name was Corvus,” Olivia nearly croaked. No, she wasn’t that ignorant. The Quillian Empress’s name was most definitely not Corvus. The news feeds always used something annoyingly fancy and Quillian. Roucheux or... Rock-fancypants? Something.
Galen cleared his throat, not quite looking her in the eyes. “Corvus is our family name. Imperial ruling families take on a legacy name when they are crowned.”
Olivia had been dragging the enemy’s royal heir through the mud for weeks. Tied him up. Mocked him. Shoved him. She’d tazed royalty. Fed him Syn ration bars, which had to be a war crime in a civilized world. She felt a groundswell of horror.
“Good thing he found an ally. The empress would have had our heads if he’d gotten himself killed,” Lyre continued. And then, because something must have been exposed in Olivia’s expression, Lyre leaned into her space. “And if we’d found out you laid a hand on a member of the royal family, well. What a mess. There’d be investigations, a public trial...do you know what the penalty is for assaulting the crown?”
“That’s not going to be necessary.” Galen interposed his bulk in front of Olivia. “Olivia is a witness who may have information vital to our efforts against the conspirators. Consider her under the crown’s protection.” Olivia couldn’t see his expression. Only how his shoulders rose when he added: “Consider her under my protection.”
For the first time since she’d appeared, Lyre acted surprised. Her eyes widened a fraction before flicking back to Olivia’s face. “Well now, isn’t that interesting. The empress will be intrigued to hear—”
“Like hell I am.” Olivia refused to be either interesting or under anyone’s protection, crown or otherwise. And she was most definitely not getting involved with the whole bloody Empire. “I’m getting back to the Syndicate. I’m not going anywhere with you doglords.”
Lyre narrowed her eyes as if co
ntemplating how best to squish annoying bugs. Galen cleared his throat. “We’ll be escorting Olivia safely to Syndicate territory in exchange for information.”
“Well then, perhaps our acquaintance will be short. The border’s only a day’s slog from here. We’ve got a shuttle concealed in the old Boreal estate, actually—militia are giving it a wide berth for obvious reasons.” Lyre waited until Galen nodded his assent before turning away and pitching a low whistle to the trees.
Evidently that decision had not required her input. Things were speeding out of her control. Olivia bit down on unease. She was surrounded by Empire soldiers. She had no idea where the Boreal estate was or what “obvious reasons” were, but she had little choice but to follow Galen’s lead at the moment. To trust Galen. She’d found herself doing that often enough, but right now, it wasn’t comforting.
“Liv.” Galen’s voice was soft, pitched just over her shoulder. Zahira was at his side, two sets of eyes watching her with an eerily similar look of concern. His shoulders were still tense, but he had shrunk out of military mode and was merely... Galen. Or she’d thought he was.
“The Red. Fucking. Wolf.” Olivia enunciated every capitalization.
“I’m sorry. But you have to agree it wouldn’t have been wise to tell you when we first met. What would you have done with the empress’s brother? Galen de Roucheux, the bloody Red Wolf of the Empire?”
Olivia’s mouth twisted. “Sold him to the Syn for a literal king’s ransom and retired. Bought a penthouse. With my cat.”
“So instead Galen de Corvus got to live and enjoy your company.” A hopeful smile tugged at the corner of Galen’s lips. “And then...well, perhaps I was enjoying being de Corvus too much, I’ll admit.”
It wasn’t that simple, they both knew it. But the way he looked at her, like she was something worth holding, sent a thrill across Olivia’s skin. That look, the quiet thing in his eyes, was something she didn’t want to give up either. She would have to eventually. In less than a day when she finally crossed the border for home. She could be angry with him then. But not now. She pursed her lips, weighing that before she reluctantly joined him by the path. Zahira met her, bumping her hand for a scritch. “The thing with the eyes was a new trick.”
“Ah.” Galen colored slightly and rubbed his neck. They slowly began walking toward where Lyre and her scouts waited. “As I said, Quillian wolves are more than just pets. It’s a basic version of the compatibility I described. We are able to...sense things, in close proximity. To a certain extent.”
“Huh.” Olivia hummed and contemplated just what had other countries’ scientific communities gotten up to while the Syn had invested heavily in pulse tech. “You don’t howl at the moon, do you?”
She sensed more than heard the rumble of amusement in Galen’s chest. “Only on very special occasions.”
Chapter Nine
“Whisper assignments are not meted in person. As I said. Three times already.” Olivia smiled thinly. “Perhaps I should use smaller words.”
This was going about as well as Galen had expected.
He’d had a plan for this. To reach the border with Olivia and talk honestly, understand the wider machinations that had put her in the cross fire, carefully admit his position and offer his assistance and, if only for a moment, understand the woman who had sweat, bled, and struggled to survive with him for the past fortnight. A quiet moment of understanding. That was now a distant dream. They took over Boreal Manor’s least-used drawing room for the debrief while the scouts prepared outside. So now Olivia and Lyre were glaring at each other through a haze of stirred dust in a war zone of drop cloths and settees.
Well, Olivia was glaring. Lyre looked like she was enjoying it. The Empire’s spymaster never looked less than satisfied by nature, and even a civil war and a sharp-tongued Syndicate assassin couldn’t throw that off. She sprawled back on her hands, playing idly with some exposed fringe. “Maybe you’re right. I really am a slow listener. Never was very smart. No fancy learning like you get in the Syndicate. So why don’t you tell me your story again, kitten. From the top.”
Galen had sat next to Olivia on the opposite lounge, so he could clearly hear the rather colorful new introduction she was muttering for that story. Lyre probably could hear it, too, which meant she was winning and really, Galen suddenly missed the mercenaries. He rubbed his hand over his face. “Perhaps Olivia can just share what she has stored on her pulseband.”
Lyre’s gaze brightened. “Oh? Kitten’s been holding out on us?”
“Kitten values her privacy and didn’t think it was any of your business.” The look Olivia gave him would have flayed lesser men.
The debrief went quickly after that. Lyre pulled material from the band that would require more investigation, but eventually was satisfied they had all the information the Whisper’s involvement could provide. A knock at the door brought in Bowen, reporting to Lyre on the scout activities before he turned and offered a salute to Galen and a tentative smile to Olivia.
Galen was unsurprised to feel her tense and the arm closest to him ease unconsciously to her empty holster. To Galen’s eyes, it was impossible to dislike Bowen. Though a few years younger than him, Bowen and Galen had spent summers together since they were old enough to walk. Even as an adult, Bowen was tall but built more like a gangly puppy than a proper soldier. Altus genetics might have given him the build for fighting, but his quiet instincts and empathy made him a better spy. Wheatfluff hair and dolorous gray eyes only underlined his careful temperament.
But he was the only altus in Lyre’s scouting group, and Olivia’s eyes tracked him like he was a powder keg. He softly explained that since Galen would be conferring with Lyre, he’d be happy to escort Olivia to her quarters and give her a tour on the way. An offer Olivia’s scowl expressed all intention of declining until he mentioned the baths.
“You have running water?” Olivia breathed like he’d promised her the waters of life.
“Yes?” Bowen’s head ducked between his shoulders like he wasn’t sure whether he was about to be scolded or not. “The estate’s abandoned but we were able to turn on the facilities for our short time here so... I mean, we only found a couple towels and wash cloths, nothing but the military-issue soap—but the water’s hot.”
At the mention of soap and hot water Olivia leaned forward on the couch. She caught herself, frowning at Bowen before sending a skeptical unspoken question to Galen. He’s one of yours? Galen nodded slowly. Olivia finally stood, satchel in hand. “After you, Lieutenant.”
Bowen sent a startled look over her head, but Galen waved him on. Trust Olivia to overcome any prejudice for the chance to get clean. Heaven help the army that stood between Olivia and a hot bath.
“You’re smiling,” Lyre said once the door closed behind them.
So he was. Galen turned back to his spymaster. “Is that a problem?”
“Yes. It usually means I’m about to have more work.” Lyre regarded him through lidded eyes. “That one’s going to want to leave now. Don’t know how you kept her this long.”
Abruptly, Galen’s good mood faded. “That was our deal.”
Lyre’s fingers tapped a soft rhythm on the table. “Deals can be renegotiated.”
Galen sighed. “Lyre.”
“She could have more information useful for the Empire, is all I’m saying. Kitty-cat like that, she’d run of course, but we could hold her—”
“And still lose the best part of her.” It was a mutter, but Lyre heard it anyway. One dark brow inched up. He sighed, feeling guilty for even thinking it. It’d been a while since information was all he wanted from Olivia. He fished for something else to study on the tablet between them. “No. It’s off the table.”
“As the Red Wolf commands.” Lyre eyed the data in Bowen’s report before flipping it over so Galen could see. “Frankly, we’ve got bigger things to worry
about. But you can see as plain as I do: kitten is walking into a trap.”
Galen skimmed over the report, alarm rising. “I will...speak with her.”
* * *
It took time to go over the reports. It didn’t surprise him that Lyre’d eventually found a way through the jammers and had a tidal wave of developments, rumors, and intrigue he’d missed while on the run in the Caeweld wilds. The picture was both better and worse than he’d thought. Sabine was popular enough that she held the loyalty of most of the populace, and many towns were quietly locking their doors when militias arrived. But that minor victory was offset by the extent of the conspirators’ preparations and resources. Even Lyre had to admit to being surprised. A noble had to be behind it, if not more than one. Which meant Sabine might be hosting the traitor in her very senate right now. His sister could hold her own, but they needed to root out the heart of the threat as soon as possible.
But the immediate concern was Vhelasea. The militias had beat them to the border town. Fatigues, shuttles, and gunmetal trucks crawled all over the streets. None of them bearing the wolf-head crest of the Empire. Lyre’s scouts had infiltrated as close as they dared, and said the border crossing was functional but being processed under new management. Someone was watching the border closely.
He took a moment to wash up before winding his way up to the manor’s top floor. Lyre had placed Olivia in a room that backed up to the fallow fields and gave a clear view of the border town. In the distance, he could just make out the faint, sterile twinkle of the Syndicate capital. He suspected that was what held Olivia’s attention when he found her at the window.
The lights in the room had been abandoned in order to better see the horizon. Only the small quavering light of a portable lantern warmed her back, wrapping soft shadows around her. The room smelled clean but heavy with the fragrant humidity of bathing soaps. Her hair was still wet from her bath, twisted over one shoulder like heavy flax waves. Galen didn’t fail to notice it still habitually covered her neck. She’d replaced her ragged Syndicate layers with a fresh change of scouting surplus, slacks and shirt of Empire make. Her old clothes were gone, but the sight of his borrowed coat preserved and folded over a chair moved him.