by Ada Harper
Nothing had been good. It struck Galen that he’d been doing nothing but making a series of failures since turning his back on Olivia in the throne room. The hurt and anger seemed like a distant foolishness now. He wondered if he’d live long enough to apologize for it now. He sighed and noted the furrow in Lyre’s brow. She had something else, and he really wished she’d give him a status report like a normal soldier for once. “What?”
“Appel got the comms rigged back together from the crash salvage.” Lyre made a vague motion. “They’re jamming, so most of its a hash, but we’re picking up a little. Chatter from that side makes it sound like we’re the sideshow. Something is underway in Ameranthe.”
It wasn’t a hard leap to make. “They’re trying for a coup.”
And they’d just gone and left the estate lightly defended. Sabine had insisted they needed a large military display, sending her brother and her spymaster and their best troops out in a show of confidence. She’d said she’d be fine. If Ameranthe was threatened with attack, they’d have plenty of time to call the neighboring districts with loyal ruling families for aid. And they’d have the shield.
Gods, Galen hoped they still had the shield.
“No choice about it then.” Lyre clucked her tongue, casting a disgruntled glance to the blasted rubble behind them. The worry that crossed her face was well hidden, but Galen knew to look for it. “Damn, I really was looking forward to payback for this one.”
Galen’s mind was already flying ahead, estimating the time it would take. It wouldn’t be easy, traveling with this many wounded soldiers, slipping across the no-man’s-land and then through lines of a surrounding force. Galen had no doubts that Lyre and her people could find a way, but it would be a risk that would cost the lives of more than a couple of their men.
Galen felt upended, torn. They would go back to Ameranthe. Every instinct in him surged to go back, turn away from the enemies here and guarantee the safety of his family. A loud, urgent pull in his chest wouldn’t be quiet until he saw Olivia safe. And Sabine, of course, but Olivia...
If they turned away from this fight, Olivia wouldn’t be safe. No one would. Even if they routed the trouble at the estate—and Galen felt certain there was trouble there now—it was obvious from this ambush that there were two prongs to this conspiracy. People within Sabine’s court, and people within Olivia’s own country. Leaving here would mean war. Turning toward one would allow the other to slip away. As long as either were a threat, Sabine’s throne would be at risk.
And Olivia wouldn’t be free.
It shouldn’t have been his first thought when contemplating war, but it was there anyway, with a sharp edge. He worried about his sister, but he hurt over Olivia. An Olivia who wasn’t free, who couldn’t jump and wheel and fly, an Olivia kept behind thick walls and shadowed fears...it felt deeply wrong. Even if she wasn’t his, if she didn’t choose him...freedom was Olivia’s natural environment. Forget safety; Olivia embraced danger. But freedom was different. If the country devolved into a long, drawn-out civil war for the throne, the Empire would become just as much a cage as the Syndicate, even if it was a gilded one.
It felt like a cruel barter. A secure throne or a free horizon. A country of innocent civilians or a single Syndicate woman.
“It’ll be tough to break through. Even if we do, they’ll pursue.” Galen found himself not sure whether it was a hope or a fear. If they dragged the fight with them, they might get another chance.
“Maybe.” Lyre shrugged, already cleaning her gun. “They could pincer us against whatever they’re throwing at Ameranthe. But scouts can move quiet. And there’s enough of them out there I am betting they’ll just send enough to ensure we run into their trap and hold back the rest for a counterattack.”
He turned his face to the blasted crater again. The heat that drifted off scorched his cheeks. They’d leveled a city to trap him here, not expecting the proficiency of Lyre’s scouts. Even after that ambush had failed, they’d not unleashed the obvious firepower they had on their location. Instead they’d lingered. They’d hemmed them in, surrounded on all sides by a no-man’s-land.
The conclusion was obvious: they were hoping to take the empress’s brother alive. If he escaped, there was no reason for them to stay out in the open. They’d fade back into the woodwork to eat the Empire from the inside. Their enemies were here, right now, because Galen was here.
A piece tilted on Galen’s mental game board. Then another. Until he found a possible solution that hurt almost as much as the problem.
“Lyre.” Galen scanned the scouts, mentally tallying the remaining soldiers, already forming a list. “How many wounded do we have?”
“Thirteen. Most with mobile injuries, but it’s gonna be a bitch to transport over long—” Lyre stopped, tilting her head like she heard something. “That’s suicide, your Grace.”
“I haven’t even told you my plan yet.”
“You don’t need to. I’ve seen that look.” Lyre shook her head. “Mad impulse doesn’t suit you, Galen. You look like kitten before she leaped off a bridge.”
The memory sent a warm, comforting flare through his chest, almost dulling the ache that followed. Galen smiled. “Good. My life was sadly empty of mad leaps of faith before I met Olivia.”
“She’s better at surviving ’em, I’ll give her that.” Lyre pursed her lips, a seriousness peeking through her crooked expression. “Ameranthe won’t hold under a prolonged siege without assistance, you are surely aware of that.”
“Ameranthe won’t fall. And, if our scouts are as quick and quiet as you promise—” Galen felt the dust sift through his fist, locking his gaze on the shadow-inked horizon. “We can end the war here, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Olivia secured Virgil and made sure all his guards were, in fact, dead, before sending the all-clear to Maris. It didn’t take long for the doctor to arrive, trailed by a handful of armed caricaes and a wolf. She took one look at Sabine’s state and went into action. If she looked ready to murder as she administered the lockbot anecdote, Olivia pretended not to see. “Get her stable then get that damn shield up. I’ll clear out the residence before we get overrun again.”
It didn’t take long to check out the rest of the rooms in the empress’s suite. Virgil and his goons hadn’t had a chance to ransack much, but the door to the final room at the back was curiously closed and locked. Olivia spent thirty seconds studying the foreign keypad before shrugging and shooting the faceplate off. Syn hotwire technique.
The doors swung open. “Oh, for fuck’s sakes. Figures you would survive.”
“Good to see you, too, sweetling.” Alais looked wan as Kieran helped release her arm and leg cuffs. She picked herself up off the floor gingerly. “It’s been dull with only him for company.”
A low growl formed in Zahira’s throat behind her. Of the dozens of genta staff and handful of altus guards and nobles, Virgil had seen only a handful as important enough to spare during the takeover. A faint snore came from the orange lump. Duke Ambrose was also bound, but less bruised than Alais. Drugged. Which robbed Olivia of blaming this all on him, as much as she wanted to. She shook her head and turned back to Alais. “Why’d he save you?”
“Largest aetheric crystal mines in the ten districts, remember? I make a pretty ransom.” Alais’s voice aimed for dry but simply came off as exhausted. “The personal grudge probably helped, too.”
Olivia made no move to help her up. “You’re like a cockroach. You could have at least struggled.”
“Ah, not when I had a surprise in a box I didn’t want them to find.” Alais smiled. Her lip was split. “You were my secret weapon.”
“Your secret weapon just about left your ass, so let’s not have you make the plans from now on.” Olivia noted how Alais favored a leg and frowned. Well, Kieran knew to handle Ambrose and the others. Olivia holstered her gun and
offered a hand.
Alais stiffened with surprise before relaxing. Olivia managed to not collapse under the extra weight. They hobbled down the hall. “Such care. Is this because I brought you curry?”
“This is because you were luckier than most nobles were today. We both were,” Olivia muttered. And she had Alais to thank for that. Knew Alais had thought she was saving her. She knew that. She just wasn’t sure she was ready to forgive. “Besides, we are going to talk about the shit you pulled.”
“Ah. The scruffing?” Alais managed the feat of sounding both teasing and apologetic.
Olivia gritted her teeth. “It was assault. Not chivalrous, not heroic. Do that again without my consent and I’ll have a wraicath eat you.”
Olivia said it simply, which was serious enough to make Alais pause before she turned teasing again. “You’re queen of the beasts now?”
She’d earned an elbow in the ribs for that. “Let’s go and see if the shields are up.”
* * *
A flush of static-charged air rushed goose bumps up her neck as they made it to the main area, answering the question for them. Sabine was propped at the corner of the couch, poised as if manning a senate meeting instead of hiding her own bloodstains in the white upholstery. Maris had cleaned up the worst signs of it, but a thick medical patch covered Sabine’s right eye. Her left eye was clear, at least. She looked over them as Olivia deposited Alais on an opposite chair. “Any problems?”
“Just Ambrose, drugged and ugly. I had Kieran move him to a spare room.”
Olivia glanced to the corner. Virgil had been bound and gagged, but he didn’t blink at his brother’s name. Considering Ambrose’s state, she doubted they had collaborated on this coup attempt, but it was worth being cautious. Getting straight answers was someone else’s problem.
Sabine gestured to the aetheric glass on the coffee table. It was a map. “The shield and house systems are under proper authority again. I want you to take whomever you think is fit to fight and take back my home.”
Olivia leaned over and noted the faint red dots across the map, indicating hostiles. The residence and caricae wing were tight clusters of green. They had the numbers, but Olivia only trusted a handful of them to not shoot their own foot off.
She turned back to Sabine. “I thought I was being shipped back to the Syndicate.”
“If you think you can make it, you’re welcome to try of course.” Sabine gestured and the map pulled back to the land surrounding Ameranthe. Olivia’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Red, a wave of red, swept toward them from the south. The information seemed crude, but Olivia could pick out clusters of what had to be personnel shuttles and small fighter planes They’d already landed several squads that’d begun to fan through the approach.
Olivia’s toes itched, an impulse to get out ahead of what would surely be a massacre. But—“The shield. Galen said it’s unbreachable.”
“My brother is occasionally overly optimistic when he’s trying to impress a mate,” Sabine said grimly. “It will take time, but a force that size, unopposed...the shield will fail.”
Sabine pronounced the fall of her throne with the same regret you’d use for bringing the wrong wine to a party. She had to be in crippling pain after the havoc the lockbots had wrecked on her muscles, but she was steady. It was impressive and painfully reminded Olivia of Galen. “How long do we have?”
Sabine deferred to Primya, who cleared her throat. “They’re an hour out. After they start in earnest, it’ll depend on what they’ve brought. Six hours? Maybe?”
“If they get in, it’ll be a rout.” Alais spoke up. Maris had finished with her knee, leaving it supported with a brace. Alais leaned forward and scrutinized the map with an intensity that reminded Olivia that every altus of the noble families had at least one tour of Imperial military service. It was hard to fit the idea of a soldier over Olivia’s perception of the carefree social outcast. Alais shook her head. “An altus, a genta ruler, and a gaggle of caricaes? There’s no way—”
“Strategy can wait until after our current enemies are no longer a threat.” Sabine’s eyes snapped to Olivia. “Unless you can’t put down a few more altus mercenaries.”
Hunting flustered guns-for-hire as they stumbled around in an unfamiliar labyrinth like Ameranthe? Olivia could do that in her sleep. It sounded more productive than staring her impending doom in the face. She nodded. “I’ve got a gun and a wolf, why not? Give me Kieran and—”
“Me,” Alais interrupted. “I’m going.”
Olivia paused, giving Alais’s knee a long, significant look. She didn’t flinch. Well, it wasn’t as if they wouldn’t all be fighting for their lives if that shield came down. “Fine. Kieran, Alais, and... Valka.” The chubby red-haired woman had seemed unusually comfortable with the handcannon Maris had handed her. “We’ll get your throne back, at least temporarily. What are you going to do?”
The aetheric slate tapped onto the table with a precise click. When Sabine smiled, it was thin and unsettling, a revealed garrote. “Maris and I are going to have a chat with Virgil.”
* * *
The true trouble wasn’t the hostiles, it was the preserve beasts. It was all they could do to herd the creatures—using Alais as unhappy altus bait—outside again. By the time they returned, the residence had been converted into a flimsy kind of headquarters in their absence. Primya looked up from the slate where she monitored the shield and nodded to the back hall. Alais accompanied her down the hall and they found Sabine holding a strange kind of court in the bathroom.
Sabine’s baths were enormous. Virgil was tied to a chair in the middle of the marble floor, not looking too worse for wear. Olivia attributed that restraint to Maris’s presence. The doctor perched on the counter, chomping away at her cigar as if she was back at the yarn circle. Ambrose’s presence surprised her. He was still cuffed, sitting in the corner like a scolded boy. He seemed withered from the oily snake she’d met at dinner. Olivia took a small amount of glee noting how his hairpiece hung limp and askew.
Sabine sat next to a small vanity. Perfumes and bottles had been replaced with small firearms. She nodded as Olivia entered. “Well?”
“All clear. I’ll add it to your bill.” Olivia approached, not liking how Virgil’s dark eyes tracked her. She was glad they’d gagged him again. She didn’t want to hear any more out of the monster’s mouth. “Do we know what his friends outside are planning yet?”
“Enough to piece together.” She passed the nearest slate over.
Olivia scanned over it grimly before passing it to Alais. She didn’t have military experience, but those numbers were obvious to anyone. “Our comms? Call back your forces.”
“We’re sending out messages. And I’m assuming they’re blocking them. He...” Sabine made a gesture at Virgil, as you’d flick filth off a finger. “He had our frequency chart.”
That made the plan obvious then. “We have to get out of here before that shield goes down.”
“There is no exit. They’ve set up a perimeter.”
“But surely the Imperial ruling family would have back doors, escape plans...”
The Imperials around her stiffened. Sabine’s lips thinned. “You aren’t familiar with Imperial history so I won’t take offense at that. No, there’s no back doors at Ameranthe. Even if there were, I wouldn’t use it. This is the heart, and I’m not leaving it for vultures.”
She looked pale, terrified even, if Olivia was getting better at reading the subtle way the empress had, but she looked like she meant it. Olivia ground her teeth, frustration rising. “You’re going to sentence your people to death or worse—and trust me, it’ll be worse for the caricaes here—because of your pride?”
“Seeing as there’s no exit, my pride is unimportant. But if we evacuate everyone to the secure parts of the residences, I can negotiate a concession�
�”
“No.” Alais crossed her arms. Behind her, Maris mirrored the disgusted gesture. “And you do know Imperial history so I will take offense if you continue that train of thought.”
Imperial history seemed incredibly suicidal and stupid, right now. Olivia couldn’t say she thought much of it, but since Syn history included eugenics she didn’t have room to talk. She caught Virgil’s eyes again, still creepy and intense the way it picked her over. A horrible thought sank her stomach.
They’d moved on to discussing defensive plans. Olivia gnawed on her lip until she couldn’t ignore it anymore. “There’s something else we could trade. For the safety of the caricaes at least.”
“How do you mean?” Maris looked suspicious.
“He’s working with someone. We can assume someone from the Syndicate, given his hired help and the direction those reinforcements are coming from. A faction from the Syndicate assisting to overthrow a foreign government is something above my pay grade, but he—” it seemed by mutual consent they’d decided Virgil didn’t deserve his name anymore “—said something when he thought I was scruffed. His Syndicate contact wants me alive.”
“No,” Alais breathed, but Olivia pushed on.
“It makes a little sense. If his partner is affiliated at all with the Whispers, that explains me.” Her voice was shaking. She gripped her elbows. “I don’t know if they’ll go for it, but you might be able to at least trade me to let the rest of the caricaes go.”
“There will be no trades.” Sabine was studying her hands. She raised her eyes and had a queer look about her. Softer, sad. “We will make a stand. In the throne room.”
Olivia felt at a loss. “But—”
“You and Alais, consider yourselves knighted. We need to get started on preparations.” Sabine turned and made to sweep out of the room. “Someone toss the traitors into the basement confinement.”
Instead of a martyr she’d been made a knight. There was no sane way to respond to that, so she didn’t. Olivia turned toward Virgil and Ambrose. “I’ll take the shit to the cells.”