That piqued Jordan’s interest. “What kind of change?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But whatever I decide, the transition will happen under my leadership. I’ve seen the damage a power vacuum can cause.” She shook her head. “Never again.”
“I don’t dispute any of that, Highness,” Markham said. “But the planet has never been ruled by a single monarch before. The other houses believe that’s too much power for one person. If you refuse to restore their holdings, they may form an alliance against us and attack.”
Jordan huffed a dry laugh. “With what? Rocks and sticks from their crumbling palaces? I’d love to see them try.”
“So would I,” Cassia said, because he was right. The war had left the other kingdoms just as broken as hers, but as Marius’s queen, she had access to the Durango coffers, as well as to their weapons. No one would make a move against her. However, she needed to handle the situation with care or she might have multiple rebellions on her hands. Rocks and sticks could win battles if wielded by a large enough group.
“Stall them,” she decided. “Convey my gratitude for the offers of marriage, but tell them my first priority is to stabilize our lands. Once that’s done, I’ll consider each offer carefully and ensure that everyone’s needs are met.”
“But—”
“I’ve made my decision,” she told Markham. “I trust you’ll find a way to convey my request in a manner that placates the nobles.”
He released an audible breath through his nose. “As Her Majesty wishes.”
After Markham strode away, she glanced at Jordan and found him watching her. He didn’t say anything, but a corner of his mouth curved up again.
“Two smiles in one day?” she said. “Careful or you might hurt yourself.”
“I like the way you stood up to him.”
“Excuse me, General,” interrupted a voice through his com-link. “We have a potential security breach.”
Jordan tapped his link. “Where?”
“Outside the planetary shield. There’s a ship approaching with a speed and trajectory that indicates they mean to force entry.”
He muttered a swear. “What class vessel?”
“Looks like a small cargo ship, sir. Permission to engage?”
“Permission granted. I’m on my way.”
When the Banshee reached Eturia’s planetary shield, Kane didn’t try to make contact with anyone on the ground. One look at the scorched landscape told him the Rose army was no longer in control of the security station. His mind flashed to Cassia and then to his mother as a lump of panic lodged in his throat. But he swallowed hard and poised his finger above the Launch button. He couldn’t help either of them until he’d breached the shield.
“Get ready,” he told Renny, who sat beside him in the pilot’s seat. “Whoever’s in charge down there isn’t going to like this.”
Renny tightened his grip on the wheel and gave a tight nod, peering intently through broken glasses held together at the bridge with medical tape. The scars on Renny’s face had lightened to a pale pink, but the rigid set of his jaw said he hadn’t forgotten the Daeva who’d put them there.
None of them had.
With the punch of a button, Kane launched the surge bomb Gage had made for them using an Infinium core, guaranteed to short out any electrical field. The instant the sphere drifted into contact with the shield, its waves of distortion vanished and Renny rocketed the ship into the atmosphere.
“We’re away,” Doran called from the two-man shuttle, and he and Solara detached. The pilothouse control screen lit up to indicate the shuttle veering east toward the Rose palace while the Banshee zoomed toward the Durango lands, where Cassia was probably being held. But they didn’t know for sure, so they’d agreed to cover both bases.
“Copy that,” Renny said. “Be careful and keep your tracking beacon—”
A crackle of static interrupted him, followed by a man’s voice barking through the radio speakers. “Cargo craft, model FD247, identify yourself and land your ship at the following coordinates. If you fail to comply, we will open fire.”
Kane scanned the coordinates and recognized the location as the security base outside the Rose palace. He answered the summons but waved a hand to indicate that Renny should stay on course. “This is the vessel Banshee,” Kane said. “We’re unarmed and en route to deliver cargo in the neighboring kingdom. No aggression is warranted.”
“I repeat,” the man said. “Land your ship at—” He cut off with a loud rustle, as if someone had snatched the microphone away from him. Then a new voice rang through the speakers.
“Kane!” Cassia’s familiar screech lifted Kane’s heart in tandem with his lips. “I’m fine, you idiot son of a two-assed mule! You just blew my shield to hell! I’ll have your hide for this!”
Kane and Renny turned to each other and shared a look of pure joy, right before they broke into rib-shaking laughter. It’d been so long since Kane had laughed that his muscles seemed to have forgotten the act. He didn’t mind the stomach cramps. It was the most glorious pain he’d ever felt.
“My skin’s all yours,” he told her. “You can use me like a blanket to keep you warm at night. Isn’t that the root of all your fantasies?”
She didn’t respond to his teasing, but he knew her well enough to picture her standing in the com center, her tiny body rigid with rage and her cheeks flushed crimson. The mental image thrilled him. Her combustive temper meant she was safe. That was all he needed to make his spirit soar.
His feet barely touched the ground when he and Renny descended the Banshee’s cargo ramp, never mind the squadron of armed Booters waiting for him. Kane gave them a jaunty wave and practically bounced on his heels all the way to the security station. He found Doran and Solara inside, sitting on a bench and handcuffed to each other. They must’ve heard Cassia’s voice on the radio transmission, because they glanced up at him and grinned.
“Looks like we’re in trouble with the princess,” Doran said.
Kane wanted to return their smiles, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Doran and Solara had robbed him. While they’d returned to Renny on Vega, he’d spent two groggy days in the underground compound before his memory had returned, and that was two days he could’ve used to track Cassia. He knew he’d forgive his friends eventually, but today wasn’t that day.
He gestured at Doran’s wrist. “More like your dream just came true. Now you have a legit reason for never leaving her side.”
“Hey,” Solara objected, but then the synchronized click of a dozen boots sounded from the other end of the hall, and they turned to find another squadron approaching, wearing uniforms Kane recognized as belonging to the royal guard.
The guards came to a halt in the lobby and parted to reveal Cassia, who was dressed like royalty from the waist up and a soldier from the hips down, in a red satin tunic above black leggings and knee-high boots that matched those of her men. Kane’s heart leaped at the sight of her…until he scanned her face and his insides sank to the floor.
Oh, Cassy, he mouthed.
The furious girl from his imagination was gone, replaced by a shadow version of herself with sunken cheeks, hollowed from weight loss, and weary, bloodshot eyes that told him she hadn’t slept well in days, maybe weeks.
She had survived, but at a terrible cost.
He could only imagine the things the Daeva had done to her. A fresh surge of guilt erupted within his ribs. He should’ve listened to his instincts on Vega and stayed with her instead of running away like an injured dog…and then letting another girl lick his wounds. He’d failed Cassia in the worst possible way, because he hadn’t simply been absent when she’d needed him; he’d pushed her out of his mind.
Did she hate him as much as he hated himself?
Glancing at her, it was hard to tell. Her gaze sparked when it met his, and for an instant he thought he saw a hint of a smile, but he blinked once and it was gone. She kept
looking down and fidgeting with her hands as though she couldn’t decide what to do. He wanted to close the distance between them and gather her in a hug, but something in her expression warned him not to. He didn’t deserve to touch her anyway.
Finally, he told her, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s my fault. I should’ve sent word to you sooner.” She nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “We’ll have the grid up and running again soon.”
“I’m not talking about the shield.”
Her cheeks colored.
“Are you okay?” he said, and immediately cursed himself for asking such an idiotic question. Of course she wasn’t okay. “What happened? Did Marius let you go?”
She answered with a dry laugh, then lifted her right hand to reveal a scab bisecting the pad of her index finger. “No. I gave him what he wanted.” A tiny smirk played on her lips. “Or what he thought he wanted. I’m sure he’s regretting that decision now.”
It took a moment for Kane to absorb the meaning. He’d been away from Eturia for so long he’d forgotten the royal custom of joining bloodlines. Then realization hit with the force of ten solar flares and nearly knocked him off his feet.
“You married him?”
He wasn’t sure if he’d asked the question out loud. The choking sensation in his chest felt like the time he’d accidentally inhaled a sip of Crystalline. His lungs had burned and refused to draw air until he’d coughed himself raw. He felt that way now, like he needed to cough in order to breathe.
“A few days ago,” she said. “He’s honeymooning in a jail cell down the hall.”
A few days. That was nearly how long Kane had spent dazed and useless in the underground compound. He should’ve tried harder, reached her sooner. After all the years she’d spent running from Marius, she’d had to marry him anyway. She’d had to stand in the temple and kiss him…and then do a lot more than kissing after the ceremony ended.
No. He couldn’t think about that.
Instead, he peered into the eyes of his closest friend, wishing more than anything he could rewind time. “I should have been here.” He knew he’d spoken aloud, because he heard the subtle shift of his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Cassy.”
As soon as he spoke her name, the guard standing beside her went rigid and growled, “You will address your queen as Her Royal Colonial Highness.”
Kane blinked at the man and noticed he was a Booter, not a royal guard, and a high-ranking one if the colorful bars tacked to his shoulders were any indication. He seemed young, no more than twenty-five, but with an arrogant, dour attitude that made Kane want to rebreak his crooked nose.
Cassia waved him off. “It’s fine. These are friends, and we’re not in public.”
“Wait a minute,” Kane said as the Booter’s words finally sank in. He wrenched his gaze back to Cassia. “Queen?” Did that mean her parents had died during the war? Panic gripped him. He still didn’t know if his own mother had survived the bombings.
“Yes.” She lifted her chin with pride, and in doing so, she gave him a glimpse of the girl he remembered. “My parents flew off world when the war began and never came back. Can you believe that?”
He could, easily. He’d watched Cassia’s parents abuse and neglect her for so long it seemed fitting that they would neglect the colony, too. But he didn’t want to discuss them, not until he knew his mother was safe.
“My mom,” he began, and trailed off to read Cassia’s reaction. When her lips parted in the classic look of having forgotten something important, he knew she hadn’t tried contacting his mother. “It’s all right,” he assured her before she could apologize. “I’ll find her. Are you okay if I…” Leave again? He let his gaze ask the question.
Nodding, she reached out as if to touch him but quickly pulled back her hand and folded both arms across her chest. “Of course. Go. We’ll talk later.”
The city was a virtual wasteland, with half its inhabitants living in a tent camp near the farmers’ market, but not even war could stop the rumor mill from churning. The allure of fresh gossip was more indestructible than any breed of cockroach known to man. No matter how far down life knocked a community, they could always take pleasure in the scandals of others.
That was universal.
According to rumor, a guard at the security station who’d witnessed Kane’s reunion with Cassia had told the story to a friend. That friend, who was in charge of distributing rations outside the palace gates, had told the butcher’s wife, who, in turn, told her prayer group. From there, the story spread like a fever, passed from one eager mouth to the next in excited whispers. Kane Arric is back, the queen’s ex-lover. She didn’t seem happy to see him. I heard he only came home so he could join the rebellion.
None of it was true—not the “lover” part and certainly not his interest in overthrowing the crown—but news of his return helped him find his mother. When he’d landed the Banshee’s shuttle at his childhood home and found it abandoned, a stranger scavenging nearby had recognized Kane and mentioned that his mother was living at a farmhouse on the outskirts of town. After thanking the man, Kane flew to the farm, where his mother greeted him in a flurry of hugs and tears.
An hour had passed, and he still hadn’t let go of her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he said for the tenth time. “I wanted to, but I was afraid the Daeva might find you.”
She patted his cheek. “You’re safe. That’s all I care about.”
While they sat side by side at a rustic kitchen table, he smoothed a thumb over the back of her hand. It was the only part of her that had aged. Her once-clear skin was now covered in dark spots and a road map of bluish veins. Those small changes, along with the dirt stains beneath her nails and a slight trembling of her fingers, hinted that she hadn’t simply lived on this farm. She’d worked on it, too. He figured she’d lost her job as a dressmaker in the palace—luxuries were always the first casualty of war—but he didn’t like her doing manual labor.
“Are they good to you here?” he whispered, nodding toward the middle-aged farmer scrubbing root vegetables in the sink. The man housed a lot of transients under his roof, most of them women who slept six to a room on blanket pallets. The farmer kept glancing over his shoulder as if to check on her, like she needed protection from her own son. Kane scowled and scooted his chair to block the man’s view. “Be honest. If you don’t feel safe, I’ll move you into the palace.”
“The palace,” she spat as if it were a dirty word. “They turned me out the morning after you left.”
“Before the war?”
Instead of answering, his mother paused to let him figure it out.
“Oh.” He hung his head. “Because it was your dastardly son who ran away with the princess and ruined her for all other men.”
“It worked out for the best,” she said, and used a kerchief to blot her dewy cheeks. “I’m happy here, and they need me. I like making a difference. I network with other farms to trade food for labor. I place orphans in safe homes. I even created a medicine swap.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“It’s about survival now. We need food and shelter more than we need dresses.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” he told her. “If it makes any difference, the rumors aren’t true. We left because Cassia was in trouble.”
“That’s why she left,” his mom said with a knowing smile. “But it’s not the reason you followed her, Doodlebug.”
He whipped his gaze over both shoulders to ensure no one except the farmer was within earshot. If his nickname made it back to the crew, he’d never hear the end of it. “Mom,” he whispered, drawing out the word. “You can’t call me that anymore.”
She gave him a watery sort of grin that tugged at his heart. “All little boys grow up and leave home, but for a mother, nothing changes. You’ll always be my Doodlebug.”
He squeezed her hand and looked down at her fingers. Was it his imagination, or were they trem
bling harder than before? He was about to brush it off as nerves when she blotted her cheeks again. That was the second time she’d grown sweaty, but the kitchen didn’t feel hot. If anything, he could use a sweater.
“Are you all right?” he asked while inspecting her complexion. Her color seemed fine, the same shade as his with a rosy undertone in her cheeks. “You look jittery.”
She flapped a dismissive hand. “We finally got a ration of coffee this morning. I haven’t had any since the war began. There’s too much giddyup in my blood. That’s all.”
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
Before she could answer, someone knocked on the kitchen window. He glanced at the back porch, where a young Booter waved at him through the glass. Kane didn’t recognize the soldier at first, but then the boy pulled off his hat, revealing an enormous pair of ears that lifted when he smiled.
“Badger!” Kane called.
He crossed to the back door and greeted his friend with a one-armed hug that was more of a mutual slapping of backs. The guy’s real name was Norton, but even in his stately military uniform, he was the same goofy kid who used to ditch class and flush sonic bombs down the toilets in the boys’ room.
“You’re a Booter?” Kane asked. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
Badger brushed the dust from his sleeves. “Hey, the ladies love a guy in uniform. Plus I get first dibs on rations.” He tipped his hat at Kane’s mom. “Isn’t that right, ma’am?”
“It’s true,” she said. “Thanks again for the coffee.” The affection in her eyes indicated Badger was a regular here. Kane made a mental note to thank his friend for checking in on her.
“Hey,” Badger said to him. “Is there someplace quiet we can talk?”
The farmer was obviously eavesdropping, because he’d been washing the same potato for five minutes. He wiped both hands on his pants and thumbed at the kitchen table. “You two can stay here. Rena and I have to tend to the hatchlings.”
Kane frowned. He didn’t like the farmer calling his mom by her first name, and he especially didn’t like the man settling a hand on her lower back when they walked into the backyard. Leaning out the open doorway, he squinted at them until they disappeared inside the barn. Something was up with those two.
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