The Bastard Prince (Blue Moon Rising Book 3)

by Blair Bancroft

  “Tight timing, Highness, but we can do it.”

  “You will also schedule an emergency meeting of the Hierarchy for nine o’clock. In the captain’s conference room. Invite captains Rybolt and Tegge. K’kadi, you will be there also. And . . .” Kass huffed a breath, her grim look growing even darker. “Lieutenant Sagan, you will see that Liona Dann is taken into custody. Keep her somewhere handy in case we need to call her into the meeting. No need to make her too comfortable.”

  “At once, Highness.” When, with a flip of her fingers, Kass indicated that was all, Sagan strode out the door on a near run. Get the Sorcerer Prime to Blue Moon by nine o’clock? Pok, dimi, and fyd! At times the princess could be as crazy as the captain.

  “My dear Kass, I am so sorry,” Torvik Vaden gushed as he entered the conference room. “I trust the captain will recover.”

  “Thank you,” Kass murmured, graciously accepting the grip of both his hands. “I am told we will know more by morning.” Indicating a chair at the end of the imposing table, she added, “Please be seated.”

  Vaden, obviously pleased by the deference to his position as chairman of the Hierarchy, headed for indicated chair, only to have his footsteps falter as he noted the persons seated on either side of that seat—Captain Alek Rybolt and Captain Jordana Tegge. Recovering quickly, he greeted them with apparent ease before turning to examine the others filling in the seats between him and Kass Rigel. They were all present, every last member of the Hierarchy, his co-conspirators and those who would oppose him to the death. Flanking Kass was another outsider, the miserable boy who seemed destined to cause trouble wherever he went. The human lie detector. Not good. Nor was the presence of the Herc warrior who had taken down his carefully chosen assassin. She was not at the conference table, of course, but standing with her back to the wall. Armed and dangerous.

  Vaden, his face maintaining a diplomatic blank, once again surveyed the table and noticed what his eyes had skipped over the first time. An empty chair beside Kass. Who was missing? Certainly not Rigel. His informants had told him Rigel was still unconscious.

  At the rap of a gavel, instant silence. All eyes turned toward Princess L’ira Faelle Maedan Orlondami, aka Kass Rigel. “I am informed that our last participant is on his way,” she said, “so let us call this meeting to order.” Slowly, she surveyed each person seated at the table, allowing no hint of what she was thinking to show. “As you all know, Tal and I came close to being assassinated this morning. Thanks to my brother”—she nodded toward K’kadi—we both survived. And Colonel Thanos”—Kass turned a regal smile on Alala—“was able to capture the sniper. His interrogation has proved most interesting.”

  How many hearts around the table just froze? Kass wondered. How many here were among the guilty?

  Four.

  Thank you, K’kadi. No more than the names we already know?

  Psyclid traitor here. Others loyal.

  The door opened. Jagan Mondragon stood in the entrance a moment, taking in the scene. Or perhaps he was posing for effect. The dark devil come to claim his own, that was Jagan. But in spite of their checkered past, Kass had never been more glad to see him. He had a ruthlessness she and K’kadi would never have. Tonight she truly needed him.

  Although her empathic gift was slight, Kass could sense the fear that swept the room. Almost no one was comfortable in the presence of the Sorcerer Prime, even the innocent. How M’lani could love . . .

  Not an appropriate thought for the moment.

  “Thank you for coming so quickly, Jagan. We have saved you a seat.” Kass gestured to the chair at her right, the position of honor. “You have been apprised of the situation?”

  “I have.” He looked straight down the table at Torvik Vaden, his lips curling into what could only be called an evil smile.

  A small gasp broke the silence. Ah good, Kass thought, one of the conspirators was beginning to crack. Most likely the Psyclid, who knew it would be impossible to hide his treachery from the Sorcerer Prime.

  “I am told,” Kass said, “that we have traitors among us. Here, at this table.” A few Hierarchy members appeared shocked—Kass made a note to replace them as soon as possible, their obliviousness smacking of complacency, stupidity, or both. Other members nodded, as if they’d suspected as much. Three faces remained rigidly blank, while one showed signs of dissolving into terror. Torvik Vaden, perhaps because of his many years as a diplomat, was among those who appeared perfectly calm.

  “We are gathered here,” Kass continued, “to begin an investigation into whether or not personal ambition was behind today’s assassination attempt, or are the traitors working for the emperor.”

  “You can’t be serious,” one of the Hierarchy protested. “None of us would do such a thing.”

  “I would dearly love to think so,” Kass returned, “but unfortunately, there is no doubt. The bomb aboard Pegasus made it clear there are spies and traitors among us. The plot came all too close to succeeding. Subsequent investigations revealed the source of the problem, and we were about to expose our enemies when an informant turned on us and revealed our plans, which in turn provoked a preemptive strike—today’s assassination attempt.”

  Other than several members of the Hierarchy shifting in their seats, the silence was profound.

  “I have asked the Sorcerer Prime to attend this meeting not only for his support, in case any of our betrayers should presume to fight”—Kass fixed her gaze on each of the suspects, one by one—“but because I am going to ask him to take on the burden of what to do with the guilty. And the burden of their interrogation,” she added with ominous emphasis.

  “No!” Two of the traitors shouted in near unison. Vaden, however, merely leaned back in his chair, looking bored.

  “Delightful,” Jagan murmured. And smiled.

  “Darroch paid us,” one the men said on a rush. “I mean, it’s not like you ever had any chance of winning. We want to live, go back home . . .” His voice trailed away as he plunged his head into his hands.

  “It wasn’t just the money,” the sole female among the suspects said. “Liona never let up. She hated you, Highness, hated the captain. She would have followed anyone who would do you harm. I guess . . . well, I guess I felt sorry for her. I’ve been dumped a time or two myself. And yes, the money was good, and I was tired of being stuck on some terraformed moon on the back end of nowhere.”

  The Psyclid traitor turned the full force of a hate-filled gaze on the Sorcerer Prime. “The money was good, but I wanted Rigel, the fydding Reg. And the Orlondamis, always so smug and self-righteous—thinking they know what’s best. Getting us all killed. And you, the great Jagan Mondragon, the pinnacle of achievement waved in front of every—”

  “Enough!” Kass snapped. “May your shame consume you.”

  She took a deep breath, slowly, deliberately refocused her gaze on Torvik Vaden. “And you?” she asked. “What is your explanation?”

  Alek and Jordana, poised on either side, also pinned him with their steady gazes. There were loud gasps from members who had not yet figured it out.

  The Chairman of the Hierarchy shook his head, his chin-length white hair shining under the overhead lights like a nimbus of innocence. “You are such a fool, Princess. You and your starry-eyed captain. Two privileged children playing at war. The emperor has enough fire power to turn the entire Psyclid system to ash. I only hope I live long enough to see him do it.”

  “Jagan,” Kass said, “I leave it up to you whether or not you wish to grant Daman Vaden his wish to live. You will also relieve us of the presence of Liona Dann.”

  “I’m sure I can think of something suitable,” Jagan purred. “Life has been too dull since we threw the Regs out.”

  “My apologies for contaminating Psyclid soil with these dregs,” Kass murmured, before turning toward the person who had remained surprisingly quiet on her left. “K’kadi, do you have anything to add?”

  A raised platform appeared above the table. Five no
oses. Obviously, he was including one for Liona Dann.

  “K’kadi!” Kass cried, her voice echoing over the shocked reactions exploding around the table.

  Suggestion. The illusion winked out.

  “K’kadi apologizes,” Kass said. “That was his opinion, not a prognostication.” She turned to Alala. “Colonel Thanos, please ask the guards to take the prisoners into custody.”

  As the guilty were being hustled toward the door, Kass’s handheld vibrated. The message brought a rush of tears to her eyes. “Wait!” she cried. Feet jarred to a halt. Guards, prisoners, the two captains, Alala, and every remaining member of the Hierarchy turned to face her. “I am happy to tell you that Tal is conscious and is expected to recover with nothing worse than a headache for a day or two.” Ignoring the general sighs of relief, the jubilant smiles, Kass stared straight at Torvik Vaden. “You failed. You will continue to fail. You are done.”

  Vaden glared right back. It didn’t take an empath to feel his defiance. Kass got the gist of his silent message almost as clearly as K’kadi’s voice. Something between Just wait and Fyd you! With an imperious wave of her hand, she sent the prisoners on their way before turning to those who remained.

  “Captains, members of the Hierarchy, thank you for your support. This has been a trying day, and I’m sure you are all anxious to get out of here and digest all that’s happened. So good-night. Again, my thanks. We will let you know when there is any further news.

  “Jagan,” Kass added, “if you’d be good enough to give me a few minutes . . .” The room emptied as if by magic, though Kass didn’t miss the fact that Alek exited with Jordana, K’kadi with Alala. One pairing seemed inevitable, the other still odd enough to defy description.

  Chapter 18

  “Jagan.” Kass turned a beaming smile on her former fiancé. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

  “Strange but true.” Kass could swear she caught a glimpse of pink staining the tips of the ears peeking out of the sorcerer’s mane of long black hair. “Fatherhood is something I never considered. Too busy with everything else, I suppose. Yet the concept grows on me. Terrifies me,” he admitted more softly. “Raising a boy like me? Worse yet, a girl like me and like M’lani, perhaps with her gift of Destruction . . .”

  “You will recall that is why I ran off to the Space Academy.”

  “You ran off to the Space Academy because you wanted adventure, not just to get away from me.”

  “True.” Kass heaved a sigh. “A perfect example of Be careful what you wish for.”

  “You wouldn’t trade a moment of it.”

  “Believe me, there are four years I’d gladly give away, particularly the moment I heard Tal was dead.”

  “Sorry,” Jagan said, actually sounding sincere. “When we were children, this is a future none of us foresaw.”

  Kass looked down the length of the empty table, down the length of the years she’d known Jagan Mondragon. The man she was supposed to marry. The man chosen to rule Psyclid at her side. The man she had abandoned for Captain Talryn Rigel. “I envy you, you know. I am positively green with jealousy that M’lani is to become a mother before me.”

  Jagan’s bark of laughter echoed through the room. “Fizzet, Kass! There’s irony for you. You wouldn’t have a baby with me, but you’re jealous when your sister does.”

  Kass buried her face in her hands. “You are so right. I’m claiming no affinity for logic.” After dismissing the subject with a short huff, she announced, “Time to change the subject. We both know you can get rid of the prisoners without Ryal finding out, but . . .” Kass grimaced. “I brought you here to scare them, not execute them.”

  “They’re dangerous. Spies as well as assassins.”

  “Their communications can’t be all that good. The Regs didn’t know about Pegasus’s mission.”

  Jagan nodded. “Are they back yet?”

  “No. And I won’t rest easy until I know Pegasus is docked above Blue Moon.” Kass steepled her fingers in front of her face. “We were so confident—a quick in and out of Reg space, that’s all we intended. And then . . . We nearly died, Jagan. All of us. I’m still not sure how K’kadi and I managed to get us down. And trusting Darroch to believe Dagg’s story . . . Every day I feel the fear. Will they make it back? Or have we thrown away one of our greatest assets on a recce mission? Did Kamal go straight to Darroch and—”

  “Kamal? The fydding Governor-General Kamal knew you were there?”

  “The Kamal who warned us about the battlegroup aimed at Psyclid?” Kass shot back.

  “Goddess, Kass! He’s a von Baalen. If Kamal saw you, you and Tal might as well have danced down Titan’s main street and right up the palace steps!”

  “We’re here. We’re alive.”

  “By the skin of your teeth!”

  Kass dropped her head. “Let us agree to disagree. It certainly won’t be the first time. I’m anxious to get back to the hospital, anxious to be rid of the prisoners, and you’re anxious to get back to M’lani.” She looked up, took his hands in hers, while offering the knowing smile that could only pass between two people who had been challenging each other since childhood. “Thank you, Jagan. And please make an effort not to be tempted to space the lot of them on the way home. Papa wouldn’t like it.”

  Raising both Kass’s hands to his lips, Jagan kissed her knuckles. “Are you sure, sure, sure?”

  “Alas, yes. Just stash them some place safe. Some place as far from communication with the outside world as possible.”

  “Done, but I’d rather give them to T’kal’s pack.”

  “Don’t tempt me!”

  As the Sorcerer Prime and the former Princess Royal exited the conference room, side by side, Jagan’s lips curled in a derisive smile. At himself. How long had it taken him to admit that M’lani suited him better than Kass? That he had prized Kass for her position as Princess Royal and because his pride had been hurt when she rejected him.

  And how disgusted he’d been when told he must marry the younger sister . . . and give up B’aela. But now? Now the idiot Sorcerer Prime had not only fallen in love his wife but was to become a father.

  If only they were at the point where he could see his way to a happy ending that wasn’t subject to the whim of an emperor bent on conquering the entire sector. His mind teased by the ironies of the last few years of his life, Jagan climbed to his room in the tower. Tomorrow, home. M’lani, Psyclid, and a future more murky than they’d hoped.

  Alala deigned to allow K’kadi to keep pace with her as they walked down the long corridor outside the conference room. Impossible to remain angry with him when she’d seen him save the lives of the leaders of the rebellion. He was still very odd, but . . .

  Drink?

  Alala’s steps faltered. Fists clenched, she glared at the Psyclid freak who dared intrude his voice into her mind.

  But your opinion of him has mellowed.

  Not far enough for a drink. And, besides, did people like K’kadi Amund actually have drinks with women?

  Stupid question. There were no others like K’kadi.

  Alala forced herself to meet his gaze and found she was gazing into the eyes of a man, not a boy. How had he grown so much—in both height and maturity—since they’d met that night nearly a year and a half ago? K’kadi was still strange—uncomfortably so—but no longer terrifying. She even suspected he was an innocent, clueless with women. Not surprising. Because of who he was and because of his unique gifts, he had lived an abnormally sheltered life. No wonder he had never been allowed to grow up. Until the rebellion changed all that.

  He’s young and male, a dangerous combination, her common sense warned.

  He’s a hero. Brother of the ruler of Blue Moon. And he’d been ignoring her lately. A situation she could not like.

  “Not in your room,” Alala said, her tone just short of its former hostility.

  K’kadi laughed. Or at least his face crinkled up, and an odd sound rang in her head. Ta
verna.

  “Oh. Very well.” Clearly, she was better at resisting his advances than being gracious. Even if she was beginning to see him more as a puzzle to be solved than as someone weird and threatening.

  They did not have far to go. Revel’s, a popular haven for all the residents of Veranelle, was but a block outside the castle walls. As they wound their way to a vacant table near the back, every eye followed their progress. Even Alala could feel it. Nimbat! Everyone knew their past—what a juicy story it must have made. All those times she’d stormed into the captain’s office demanding he do something about her stalker. All the times she’d called K’kadi a monster. The private tears she’d shed because no one seemed to sympathize with her terror. K’kadi Amund was a sorcerer, a character out of nightmarish tales told to Herc children to keep them in line. He was unnatural, a beast. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he sprouted horns and a tail.

  Yet here she was, sitting down with him, watching him order (via pointing at the menu) the famous and very expensive blue wine, lunelle. Watching the Psyclid waitress fawn all over him. He was their very own prince, after all. Born and raised on Blue Moon. The residents didn’t need to know about any heroic acts to love him.

  Only a hard-headed Herc would think him a monstrosity. Something to be feared.

  Alala stared at the pale blue wine inside the stemmed crystal. Nim! When people went to a taverna, they were supposed to talk as well as drink. A problem, no doubt about it. Particularly when she had so little experience with men in a social situation. Nor was she known for her ability to craft words softer or more intimate than military commands. In fact, the few times she had participated in social interaction outside of group celebrations of a victory, a birthday, or an engagement, she had been awkward, uneasy, and close to panic. Even if the man-child had truly grown up . . . even if he could talk, she would have no idea what to say to him.

  She should have paid closer attention to all the things her mother tried to teach her.