Musketeer Space

by Tansy Rayner Roberts

  Dana blinked very slowly at him, and then smiled. “Must be my natural charm winning you over. Or you have a thing for sarcastic people.”

  That made him laugh. It was a bitter sound, his laugh. “You’re more right than you know. Do you want to come to dinner with me one night soon?”

  “Sooner rather than later,” Dana replied. “I’m not sure when we’re shipping out, but it won’t be long.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “The Siege of Truth?”

  “I’m just driving the truck so I’ll probably be the last to know.” Dana pinched her lips together. “Why invite me to dinner? If it’s to insult me further, I already have friends who do that.”

  Milord gave her a wicked smile that didn’t fit his baffled political expert persona at all. “I want to make someone else jealous.”

  Dana glared at him. “That is so unflattering I can’t even tell you.” Was he messing with her now? The sudden thought that he might want to make the Marquise jealous with Dana burst into her head and then it was all she could do not to crack up laughing. “Yes, fine. I have no shame when it comes to someone else buying dinner.”

  “Excellent,” Milord said, and leaned in to brush his mouth against her cheek. “This is going to be interesting,” he promised.

  This close, his presence was overwhelming. How embarrassing was it that she was this attracted to someone who had probably kidnapped the man she had been hoping to have an affair with?

  The sooner Dana was sent off to war, the better. She shouldn’t be allowed out in public on her own.

  36

  Sexting the Enemy

  “They look like teardrops,” Planchet observed at one point.

  “Nothing so innocent,” Athos replied.

  No matter where you went on Paris Satellite, the vid-feeds were there to remind you about the Siege of Truth Space.

  The Sun-kissed ships were grey-silver streaks of metal – ‘teardrop’ was an accurate enough description for the shape of them, but it did not come close to conveying the lethal force within their shells. The first wave of Cardinal’s Sabres and Royal Musketeers had reached Truth Space already, positioning themselves around and between the silent Sun-kissed fleet.

  No shots had been fired. No diplomatic exchange had been made. To the extreme frustration of those Sabres and Musketeers left out of the first wave, there was no word yet as to when reinforcements would be called to the front.

  “The first war with the Sun-kissed started when we broke ranks and shot first,” Porthos said. “I’m not surprised that the Regence is holding back, this time around.”

  “She can’t seriously think we can make peace with those monsters,” Athos said with a chill to his voice.

  “But wouldn’t it be nice if we could?” Aramis sighed.

  Dana had heard similar conversations among her friends every day for the last week, and they were still no closer to being sent to war.

  What she had been doing, in the week since the party on the Matagot, was dating Vaniel de Winter.

  One dinner, she had thought, maybe with drinks and dancing afterwards. Getting close to him made a lot of sense, to investigate whether he was the one responsible for the kidnapping of Conrad Su.

  Also, it took Dana’s mind off the whole going to war thing, not to mention the infrequent, unsatisying subspace communications she had managed to exchange with her family on the beleaguered Gascon Station.

  Somehow, one dinner had turned into another, and another. The location was always based on where the Marquise de Wardes was dining, with friends or political allies or on one occasion a very attractive and muscular young man whose dinner suit had no sleeves.

  Dana flirted half-heartedly with Milord at these dinners, but flirted with far greater enthusiasm with him via clamshell, still pretending to be the Marquise.

  Milord enjoyed the game so much that he had not tried to speak with the Marquise in person again. Instead, he made conversation with Dana at the restaurant, coldly “ignored” the Marquise in public (who needed no prompting to likewise ignore him) and then spent hours afterwards typing flirtatious banter at the woman he believed to be her.

  Dana was dating Milord twice over. It was exhausting, but exhilarating as well, to be skirting the edge of danger.

  He was dangerous. She had to keep reminding herself that he was dangerous, because he was also clever and witty and occasionally so awkward that she wanted to mock him or kiss him, possibly both at the same time.

  Thanks to Athos and Grimaud’s exciting project of ‘let’s build a ship from random parts because life isn’t difficult enough’, Dana and the others spent much of their downtime scavenging the junk field and the shipyards, or hanging out in the maintenance workshop where the Pistachio was taking her final shape.

  When asked, they referred to it as ‘helping.’

  Today, Dana was lying full length on a welding bench, flirting via text message. So basically acting like she was fifteen.

  She had quite enjoyed replying to:

  What are you wearing?

  with:

  A welding mask and steel capped boots.

  Though it had required quite a lot of explaining afterwards as to why the Marquise de Wardes might have worn such an outfit. It was amazing how far the phrase ‘diplomatic tour of the city’ got you.

  Dana had teased him with:

  A fashion thing, you wouldn’t understand

  before shifting into a description of lingerie and where exactly she would like him to put his hands someday.

  “Sexting your boyfriend again?” Porthos asked. Like Dana, she was ‘helping’ with Athos’ new ship by staying well away from the newly painted hull or any of the other essential jobs. Everyone knew that Porthos was prepared to accidentally break things in order to not be asked to perform certain tasks, and so Athos had not even tried.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” said Dana, barely looking up from the clamshell where her conversation was about five minutes away from cybersex. “I have a mission.”

  “Still not clear on how you’re planning to rescue one fellow by hooking up with another,” said Athos, climbing out of the Pistachio specifically to move Porthos further away from the tail fin of his new ship, which was about to have a new tattoo printed on to it by sonic wave. “Is this a ‘kids today’ situation?”

  “Everything involving dating ever is a ‘kids today’ situation for you, Athos,” said Aramis, who had taken charge of the sonic wave, programming in the design for the spray. “No one wants your romantic advice.”

  “I give excellent romantic advice,” said Athos, sounding hurt.

  “All you ever tell me is that love is for idiots, pretty people aren’t to be trusted, and I should stop flirting with obvious villains,” volunteered Dana.

  Athos tilted his head slightly at her. “Those are extremely wise words which all sound like things I might have said. What’s your point?”

  “So this is fun,” said Dana, ignoring his question. “But it’s late enough in the day that we’re probably not going to be summoned to the Siege of Truth, and I have a date tonight.”

  “Wear something pretty,” said Porthos.

  “Dance like it’s your last night alive,” said Aramis.

  “Don’t sleep with a man just because you think he might have kidnapped your boyfriend,” said Athos.

  “I’m going to take your recommendations under consideration!” Dana said loudly, and left before they could say anything else.

  Tonight’s date was not technically with Milord de Winter.

  Actually it wasn’t at all with Milord de Winter.

  Dana had been visiting the Matagot a lot this week, meeting with Vaniel before their dinner dates, as well as taking tea with Bee and her appalling New Aristocrat friends. Every visit, every excuse, was for a single purpose: continuing the illusion that Dana D’Artagnan had an innocent but genuine crush on the Valour Minister of the Interior.

  And every time she stepped on board the ship, ther
e was Kitty Columbina.

  This was the part that Dana felt slightly bad about, but only slightly, because Kitty did work for a criminal mastermind.

  Kitty flirted with Dana, quite a lot. And Dana had been flirting back.

  So this evening, with Milord and his sister-in-law off at some Palace shindig (which did not, thank goodness, include the Marquise de Wardes as an invited guest, otherwise the jig would be up), Dana visited the Matagot specifically to spend time with Kitty.

  Kitty was fascinating. She was bubbly and warm and sarcastic, all qualities that Dana admired. Tonight, Kitty wore earrings shaped like strawberries, and a mini dress with flying ponies printed on it.

  She also hated her boss.

  It wasn’t obvious at first, not with all the smiling and the banter and the public politeness. But Dana had discovered by process of elimination that the best way to make Kitty smile was to say something disparaging or sarcastic or downright mean about Milord de Winter.

  This was useful, it had to be useful, but Dana didn’t really want to think about useful right this second, because that was going to make her feel guilty about the fact that she was kissing her way down Kitty’s neck, making her giggle with the teasing trace of her fingertips.

  If Dana was a good person, then she wouldn’t have decided ahead of time to kiss Kitty. It would have been an accident when their friendly flirtation shifted into the slide of soft mouths together, and the shivery feeling of leaning so far into another person that you could share each other’s heat.

  Dana D’Artagnan was not a good person. She was a Musketeer at heart, and Musketeer didn’t always mean good. She had a man to rescue (if it was still possible). She had helped a lot of people, since first setting foot on Paris Satellite. Why couldn’t she rescue Conrad Su, one last time?

  She was going to be summoned to war any day now. Dana was running out of time, and the fastest way to figure out what Milord was hiding might well be via Kitty’s knickers.

  An assistant who hated her boss was a traitor waiting to happen. Dana needed to earn her trust fast, and this, she had convinced herself, was the best way to do it.

  It didn’t hurt that Kitty was really good at kissing. She arched back against her desk, scattering tiny plush animals in all directions. “What was that you were saying before we got distracted?” she laughed.

  Dana leaned in, kissing her nose and then her cheek, their eyelashes fluttering together. “I forget. I like your office.”

  “Milord’s is nicer,” breathed Kitty, one hand squeezing Dana’s upper arm. “Wow, you’re strong. All those muscles.”

  “I work out. Why is his office nicer?”

  “Because he’s the boss, he has more money than anyone needs, and he has the best couch in the known universe.”

  Dana grinned wickedly at that. “A couch, you say?”

  Kitty squealed as Dana picked her up and carried her into the office, which was conveniently unlocked. She had made her decision. If she was going to fail at this mission, if there was a chance maybe she wouldn’t find Conrad, or he was dead already, and it was all Milord’s fault…

  If that true, then eating out a hot girl on the bastard’s couch was the least she could do.

  “KITTY!” called a voice from the outer office some time later. Dana and Kitty stared at each other in dishevelled shock.

  “He’s back early!” Kitty gasped.

  They weren’t entirely naked, but there are several items of clothing that had to be reclaimed or adjusted before Kitty looked even slightly respectable, and even then, there was a wildness about her hair and a sleepy well-fucked expression on her face that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  Hopefully Milord wasn’t observant about these things. For a professional spy.

  “I’ll keep him out there,” Kitty whispered, straightening her clothes one last time, while Dana hid behind the couch, pulling her boots on as she did so. On impulse, she reached up and gave Kitty a last heated kiss, just to make her blush.

  “What the hell are you doing in there?” snapped Milord, sounding irritable as Kitty burst out through the doorway.

  “Sorting out those meeting notes for tomorrow, like you asked me to, even though I haven’t had a night off in three weeks and some of us don’t get invited to gallivant around Palaces, eating caviar sandwiches and goosing Duchesses or whatever.” Kitty managed to sound bored, sarcastic and casual all at once. Dana wanted to applaud her.

  “It’s not as much fun as it sounds,” said Milord.

  “Whatever. Next time, bring me back a plate of gold-plated cupcakes.” There was a sound as Kitty smacked him in the chest with a tablet. “Here, all the prep work is done. You’re welcome. Get an early night or go chase after one of your smart ladyfriends. I’m going to watch the holo-soaps in your office, because you’ve got the biggest wall screen.”

  “It’s your respectful attitude, Kitty, that’s what I appreciate most about you,” Milord drawled. Obviously he enjoyed a lack of respect in his employees. It was one of many odd facts that Dana had mentally filed about him.

  “Oh, sorry. I’m going to take full advantage of your giant wall screen, if that’s okay with you, sir.” There was a pause, as Milord looked over the work Kitty had handed him. “No hot date tonight?” she asked archly.

  “Not for me,” said Milord. “I did bump into the Marquise de Wardes at the Palace dinner –”

  Dana held her breath, wondering if the two had spoken to each other and figured out about the stray clamshell.

  “Oh, your adorable political crush,” Kitty laughed. “The way you mix work and pleasure is so screwed up, it’s almost artistic.”

  “I live for your amusement.”

  “Did she swoon into your arms after all that sexting?”

  “She pretended not to know me. It’s a very special connection that we share. These notes are adequate, thank you.”

  “A compliment? You must be in a good mood. If it’s not the Marquise de Wardes putting that smile on your face, what is it?”

  “Let’s just say, the Cardinal and I have come to an understanding.”

  Kitty gave a squawk at that. “You’re not sleeping with her, are you?”

  “Mind out of the gutter!”

  “She’s a bit old, and I wouldn’t have thought she was your type. Then again, I wouldn’t have thought Little Miss D’Artagnan was your type, and you’ve been wining and dining her all week.”

  Dana froze at the mention of her name. What was Kitty up to? Was this a trap?

  “You’re such a gossip,” said Milord, sounding almost fond.

  “There isn’t much to do around here since I have to work the same stupid hours as my boss and that means I don’t get a life…”

  “You know perfectly well that I’m not romancing D’Artagnan for the fun of it.”

  “I guessed as much,” said Kitty, with half a yawn as if this wasn’t massively important information. “Keeping an eye on her for the Cardinal?”

  “I’d rather have her within line of sight if she’s going to pull another stunt like that business with the diamond studs, yes.”

  Dana almost stopped breathing. Milord knew? He knew she was the one who had foiled the plot with the diamonds. Did that mean that the Cardinal knew too? How much trouble was she in here?

  “Her Eminence wants that mess hushed up, doesn’t she?” chimed in Kitty now. “So embarrassing for her.”

  “For all of us,” Milord said sharply. “Believe me, if it wasn’t for the Cardinal insisting we not move against her, I would have had my revenge against that D’Artagnan child already.”

  “Instead of dating her.” Kitty laughed, sounding utterly relaxed. Dana had never heard anyone lie so comfortably – it was impressive and kind of scary.

  “There are many ways to enact vengeance,” said Milord. “The Cardinal needed me to take the tailor out of the equation – and if that works as a punishment for D’Artagnan as well, it’s a bonus.”

  Rage burned throug
h Dana. She wanted to burst through the doors and punch Milord in the face. But Kitty had given her this gift, and she did not want to waste it. She waited and listened, anger settling cool and deep in her stomach.

  “Go to bed, sir,” Kitty said now, all brisk like a medic. “Go on, get out of here. I bet you haven’t slept in days, stupid man.”

  “There’s that respect again, Kitty. It shines out of your pores like sunshine and rainbows.”

  “I want to watch my stories, and I don’t want to have to peel you out of bed in the morning. You don’t pay me enough for that. Speaking of which -”

  “No, Kitty, no pay raise,” Milord said, and he did actually sound tired. “It’s all going to be worth it, you’ll see.”

  “Yes, yes, nefarious plots, we love it when a plan comes together, whatever. Go away and be unconscious for a while.”

  There was a shuffling sound, then a doors opening and closing. Dana stretched her legs out, leaning against the wall of Milord’s office.

  Finally Kitty came back in, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the sort of thing you were after, I suppose.” All business now.

  Dana stood up, feeling awkward and grateful. “Kitty, I don’t know what to say.”

  The assistant frowned at her. “People always think I’m stupid. Because of the hair and the bling and the attitude. But it’s actually pretty hard to fool me.”

  “Why?” Dana blurted out. “Why all this tonight, if you knew–”

  “That you were only spending time with me to get the dirt on Milord?” Kitty shrugged a shoulder, giving Dana a tiny smile. “You’re hot. And I wanted you. I’m not stupid. I work for someone who is basically evil, but pays really well. I’m not ditching him or this job. The occasional rebellion is how I sleep at nights.”

  Dana leaned in and kissed her, meaning it entirely. Kitty kissed her back, but only for a moment before she pulled away. “Get out. I think there might actually be some torture devices along with the treadmills and Pilates machines in that gym of his. You don’t want to get caught here.”