by Emma Alisyn
Because she knew she could take him to the ground and give him a hell of a lot of pain if she wanted, she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. But there was no way she was going to let him get away with this final insult.
“You lost, Ben. What did you used to tell me? ‘Get over it’. ‘Deal with it’. ‘Do whatever you need to do to accept that this is what’s happening whether you like it or not’. I don’t care.” Her voice dropped to a growl. She’d been around enough warriors she could, with near perfection, imitate the set of shoulders, the expression on their faces when about to pounce with a snarl.
Ben backed up several steps.
“Don’t think about ever trying to physically intimidate me again,” Bea said. “I guarantee you won’t like the outcome.”
This time when she moved around him, he didn’t try to stop her. In fact, he shrank back as if he thought she was going to make good on her promise to kick his ass right then. Allowing herself a small grin, Bea tossed her hair over her shoulder and exited the courtroom. Now that she knew she had the law on her side, she was going to wash her hands of Ben and all his drama for good. She had more important things to focus her time, energy, and attention on.
Dealing with Ben behind her, Bea was free to spend all her energy on Niko. They continued to date, and he guarded her several nights a week, leaving when she rose in the morning. He was kind and attentive despite the increasingly tense and sometimes curt manner. But she knew he was distracted, and felt the best thing she could do for him was to not demand more than he was capable of giving. She was fortunate, really, and her life was full. She might want more of his emotional attention focused on her, but Stacia’s wise words echoed in her head. This was the life of a warrior’s wife, especially a warrior who was a royal guard.
Her desk comm unit beeped just as she was about to leave work. Bea grimaced, but glanced at the ID and relaxed, accepting the incoming. "Surah."
"Is security with you?" the Princess asked, voice sharp.
The usual relaxed, slightly sardonic set of her shoulders was gone. She stood in her lab, expression grim. "I just sent Blake on a break, I'm about to leave," Bea said.
Surah cursed. "Look, lock down the office and stay there, I'm paging security."
"What's wrong?"
"Geza made a political move against the Mogrens. They're threatening to retaliate, and your name was on the list of potential targets. We're supposed to think it's just a warning, but they're fucking snakes and don’t follow the rules of honorable warfare."
Bea's breath caught, but she exerted calm over herself. Surah was a scientist, and unemotional—except when it came to her family—on a good day. She wouldn’t be worried over nothing.
“The lockdown can be overridden," Bea said, even as she moved to her terminal and gave the commands. "Shouldn’t I leave? If I’m a target, they'll know my schedule." Niko's training over the last several days had been more than just physical hand-to-hand fighting. He'd sat her and Veda down and taught them rudimentary tactics. How skirmishes were fought, both politically and in the sky with weapons. He wanted her to learn to think like a warrior.
She was thinking.
It was night, so the gargoyles would be at full strength. She couldn’t use the advantage of sunlight against them. But she was a sitting duck if she stayed here.
"Niko said if I was ever threatened, to keep moving," Bea said. “And call him." That was her best defense because a moving target was harder to nab.
Bea heard the sound of Surah's teeth grinding. The princess swore again. "Damnit. I can’t get ahold of Malin, so I’m on my own. Give me a minute, I have rogue people in the field."
The connection paused and Bea took advantage of the time to attempt to contact Blake. his comm didn’t respond...but that wasn’t all that unusual. She'd told him to sign off for a few. Prince Malin had them all on alert, but they'd been through alerts before. His unit could just be off.
Surah resumed their connection. "I can't contact security. Bea, get out of there. I’ve given flight orders to everyone on the list. Switch this communication to your personal unit and stay on the line. Go somewhere public, don’t go home."
Bea obeyed, moving fast. Niko had gone through a flight scenario with her. One scenario if she were threatened from her home, one from her job. They were scheduled to discuss various other contingencies, but even though he could teach all night, she had a job and a child and had to cut their latest session off.
She took the elevator to the lobby, moving quickly but not fast enough to draw attention. She had to assume security was compromised and enemies were either on the premises or enroute.
"Surah, I'm putting you on hold to call Niko," Bea said.
"He isn't answering his line."
"I have a private connection."
Surah's eyes narrowed. The female paced back and forth in her lab. Bea glanced at her comm then back up, scanning her surroundings. She couldn’t get through to Niko even on the private line.
"What about Prince Malin?" Bea asked.
Surah was silent.
She inhaled, continued to walk, doing her best to insert herself in groups of other pedestrians. It would make snatching her from the air harder because an assailant would have to separate her from the others first. There was an indoor food court several blocks away that would be busy this time of night. It catered to professionals in the area, doing a brisk lunchtime traffic and then catching the after-work crowd. She’d parked herself at the bar of a particularly busy Italian establishment, call Ben to let him know she'd be late, and stay put until help arrived.
"I contacted the human couple I use for discrete assignments," Surah said. "They look like a pair of skaters, but ignore that. Where will you be?" Bea gave her the name and location of the restaurant. "Alright, good. Stay put. I'll have them bring you to my house. We have more security even than the tower. Where's Aeezah?"
"With her father."
Surah frowned. "She should be safe enough there . . . damn. I don’t trust the Mogrens. I'll have her brought here as well."
"Ben is going to have a fit."
"Does it matter?"
"Yes, Surah, it matters."
The princess grimaced. "Fine. You and my people will detour, and you can get her."
Bea stayed on the connection until she reached the restaurant and took a seat, then signed off. Her everyday comm unit could handle up to three lines at a time, and she wanted to keep them open in case Niko and Ben or Prince Malin needed to reach her.
She ordered a glass of wine and an appetizer just so she wouldn’t look odd sitting there, and was glad she'd worn one of her dressier work outfits. It looked like she was waiting on an after-work drink date, so she blended in. If anyone hassled her, especially gargoyles, the other patrons would remember. And maybe step in.
“Almost Friday," a man said, sliding onto the stool next to her.
Bea nodded, glancing over. Middle height, nondescript. Multiracial human. He placed a briefcase next to the stool, and unbuttoned the top buttons of his dress shirt. The tie was already gone. "Yup. Can't wait."
"Bea Desoto, right?"
18
She stilled, hand twitching. There was an energy blade strapped to her thigh. She'd made a slit in the pocket of her skirt—of most of her skirts—so she could slide her hand in and grip the handle. A piece of exorbitantly expensive tech one of Prince Malin's companies was developing, when she pushed the release button, a 'blade' made of charged atoms would form. But because it was keyed to her . . . whatever energy signature only Surah understood that stuff . . . it was impossible for her to accidentally stab herself. It would shut off if it came within a millimeter of her skin. She'd protested carrying around a piece of weaponry that was both experimental, and evidently worth more than her yearly salary, but Prince Malin hadn’t blinked.
"I work on level four," he said. "New recruit."
She relaxed. Made sense. All new employees were given an orientation which include one page d
ossiers on all of Malin's top staff, plus job duties, contact numbers and pictures. That way if she ever had to give someone an instruction she hadn't personally met before, they would know who she was.
Bea sipped her wine. "Congrats on the new job. I hope you'll like it."
"Seems like a stable company to work for. I researched Malin Ioveanu before applying, and . . . "
She listened with half of an ear while he launched into a monologue, making appropriate noises here and there. She didn’t really mind, since he provide the perfect cover.
"Hey, Bea! What's doin'?"
She turned on her stool at the youthful, female voice calling out her name. A young woman strode through the crowd, artfully ripped black jeans and tank top a bland foil to expertly spiked, electric blue hair. The male at her side was tall, shoulders hunched as if he were used to either tall jokes or bumping his head on thresholds. His hands were in the pockets of baggy cargoes.
Surah had said skater . . . but these two looked barely old enough to drink. "Umm . . . hey. What's up?"
"SuSu said the party’s at her place. You're coming right?"
That was her cue. Bea slid off the stool, turning briefly to say goodbye to the man at her side. "Hey, good luck with the new job."
He smiled, lifting his wineglass as he glanced curiously at her two new companions. "Yeah, thanks. Maybe I'll see you in the commissary sometime."
"Maybe." She lifted a hand in farewell and walked away with her new bodyguards.
"You armed?" the woman asked as they left the restaurant.
“I have a . . . ” she hesitated, then whispered the model.
The man glanced at her, whistling low. "Perks of the job, huh? You must be pretty important."
She opened her mouth to demur, but closed it. Cause, yes, she was pretty important, darn it.
They made casual conversation, but Bea watched them as they watched everyone else. The woman kept her eyes trained on the street, while the man kept his gaze trained on the sky. One walked slightly in front of her, the other slightly behind, close enough to either shield her or whisk her out of the way at a split second's notice. But, to anyone else they'd just look like a trio of after-workers.
"We're gonna take public transport," the woman said, voice low. "Dossier on the Mogrens says they still want to keep a respectable face to the human public. Less likely to attack with other humans around."
"With vid recording around,” the man added, succinct.
"What are your names?" Bea asked.
"I'm Ruskia, this is Jake."
Those names didn't sound like their real names. Bea shrugged. "Surah told you we have to pick up my daughter?"
"Yeah. Let’s make this fast. Sub or air?" Ruskia asked Jake.
"Fuck. Sub. Slower, but gargoyles and air."
"True that."
The trip was uneventful, so much so that Bea's guard began to relax. She didn’t think Surah had been overreacting, but she knew Prince Malin and his wife—and Niko—all erred very far on the side of caution. Not quiet to the point of overkill, but enough. It made sense. They were royals. Every threat they'd ever experienced would have been taken seriously and dealt with firmly.
"Fucking residential blocks," Ruskia muttered when they exited the subway.
"We can take a taxi," Bea said. She understood immediately that they didn’t like the idea of walking even a few blocks out in the open to get to Ben's house.
Jake scanned the skies. “The wait would be too long. Can you fast walk? Where are all the goddamn trees? No fucking cover, man.”
“Come on,” Ruskia said. “Step lively.”
They set out at a fast, near jogging pace. Not enough to look more than if they were just late to an appointment. Not that anyone was watching. At this time of evening, a few cars were pulling into driveways late, a few aerial transports descending into backyard landing pads, but most people were already in their houses getting ready for the next cycle of work.
“No moon,” Ruskia muttered.
“We’re almost there,” Bea said. “I doubt anyone would attack this close to Ben’s house.”
A whoosh of air and a strange, leathery crinkle warned her she was wrong. Something thin but heavy fell over her, tripping Bea and sending her sprawling to the ground.
“Jake!” Ruskia yelled.
Bea concentrated on getting out of the net as the two humans dove low to the ground, drawing out weapons that flashed streams of light. A shadow dove, trying to swipe at Bea as she threw herself to the side. She dug the experimental weapon out of her side pocket and pressed the button, sending a cutting flash of charged energy into the rope that bound her. It slid through like butter and she scrambled out of the trap, throwing herself back to the ground onto the flat of her back.
She mimicked her bodyguards, who continued to aim calmly at the enemy gargoyles, preventing from being carried away or knocked over by virtue of the fact they were flat on the ground.
Veda called it ‘playing possum’. Niko called it ‘Thinking Of England’. He thoguht he was funny.
“Backup,” she heard Jake say, probably speaking into a wrist unit. He continued to give stats, cool and professional.
Two gargoyles landed, wings snapping closed. Jake and Ruskia flipped to their feet, and Bea scrambled to follow.
“Don’t run,” Ruskia said. “They’ll just take to sky again and follow you.”
They formed a triumvirate, turning backs to each other, and the real fight began.
Bea realized, vaguely because there wasn’t time to do much but avoid the worst of the blows and try not to get in the way, that whoever had sent the two males to grab her, they hadn’t expected her to be with companions.
Block, guard, retreat, shuffling down the sidewalk more and more. The pair was leading her away from Ben’s house and toward a busier intersection.
Jake cursed, pain in his voice, but they kept moving. A strange cry on the wind, like the sound of a feral sky monster. The two assailants backed away, turning towards the sound, wings outstretched as they prepared to take flight.
“Finally,” Ruskia muttered. “Goddamn cavalry. Retreat.”
“How do you know?” Bea asked.
“It’s Prince Malin’s war cry.”
They turned and ran as a second cry, and then a third joined the first.
“Get to cover,” Jake said, grabbing her arm. They found a copse of bushes and threw her inside, then planted themselves in front of her.
“Isn’t the house safer?” Bea asked.
“You want a target near your kid?”
No, of course not.
It was dark and hard for her to make out faces even with the subtle glow of sun-powered hover lamps. But she knew Niko’s shoulders anywhere, could almost smell the scent of his rage. And the tall, lean, and eminently cool form of Malin, a sword suddenly in his hand.
The fight was over quickly after that and two of the gargoyles broke away as the third stood guard over the . . . bodies. She recognized Kausar, and made a mental note to thank him later. And deliberately thought all kinds of mundane things to avoid looking at the figures prone in the street. A sword flashed, and the sound of bones and leather accompanied Kausar’s foot as he kicked wings away from the assailants.
She flinched anyway. “It is justice,” Niko said, voice savage. “Don’t pity them. They’re lucky Malin is soft, and lets them live.”
“My wife is a doctor,” the Prince said. “I respect her vows to do no harm whenever possible.”
“And what about your duty to protect Bea?” Niko snarled.
Malin faced him, cool-eyed. “I’ve not forsworn myself, I think. Do you say otherwise?”
She placed her hand on Niko’s chest. “I’m fine, Niko. Everything is fine. Maybe we should . . . calm down. Before we say things.”
He glared at her, then sighed, swiping her hand off his chest and squeezing it. She winced, but said nothing. Obviously he needed the comfort.
“Get Aeezah, we go to Malin
’s.”
She told her daughter it was a sleepover, not wanting to alarm her child.
“It will be fine,” Surah said when Bea joined her for an evening glass of wine. “Geza is working to root out the Mogrens left who are fermenting the rebellion. You’ll be able to go home soon.”
“It isn’t like your home is a box.”
Surah smiled a little at Bea’s dry tone. “No, but I know you love your home.”
“Bea?” Niko entered the study, expression severe. “Surah, did you even examine her or are you two just gossiping and eating cookies?”
“You sound like Arthur,” Surah said, sipping her wine.
It stopped him short. Bea watched, fascinated, as he swallowed words. “My apologies.”
Surah inclined her head. “I know you and my brothers are stressed. But this is what you train for, so handle it.”
Niko approached, taking Bea’s hands. “Are you hurt?”
His voice was much kinder. She smiled up at him as his fingers flexed around hers. He wouldn’t hug or kiss her in public—he was affectionate in private, of course, but never in public.
“I’m fine.”
“You must be tired. I’ll tuck you in.”
They both ignored Surah’s snort. “I think that would be nice,” Bea said.
“I guess I can’t tell you to get a room, since you have a suite,” the Princess called out as they left the room.
“She thinks she’s funny,” Niko said as they walked through the hallways. But his voice was wry, rather than irritated.
Bea glanced up at him. “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?”
“You were pretty shaken earlier.”
He stopped for a moment, staring down at her. “Female, you’re the one who was attacked. The only thing I’ve shaken is droplets of my enemy’s blood off my blade.”
Bea didn’t roll her eyes, because he took himself so seriously. But she squeezed his hand and smiled. As they neared the suite Surah had shown her to earlier, it was as if her body was already two giant, mental leaps ahead. Her breasts tingled, and she licked her lips, trying to cover the sudden shiver of need running through her body by striding into the middle of the room.