Wolfe, Annabel - Secrets of a Reckless Princess [The Starlight Chronicles 4] (Siren Publishing PolyAmour)

by Annabel Wolfe

  “I will.” Marc knew his mother well enough to imagine his father was telling the truth and his recent alliance to Jayla, while negotiated in part by their respective governments and not a surprise, still was no doubt an adjustment as his mother became not the only female in his life.

  The screen flashed dark and next to him in a chair, his long legs crossed at the ankle, Damon sat quietly, just looking at the blank screen. Marc waited, cognizant they didn’t process information the same way, which was one of reasons he’d always thought Damon Le Clerc would be a valuable partner.

  “I think we are dealing with more than we see,” Damon said eventually, his brow furrowed.

  Marc had actually come to the same conclusion. “Tell me why.”

  “The purpose of this is unclear to me.” Damon shifted in his seat, his face drawn into a dark frown.

  “I agree.” Marc turned away from the monitors, his gaze narrowed on the male across from him. “While they’ve set up the detonations, we’ve much too easily circumvented their purpose.”

  “If it was their purpose.”

  “Exactly.”

  They looked at each other across the small space of the personal conference room, both moody and introspective. “There were casualties on Mega 3,” Marc pointed out.

  “But only because they didn’t take the threat seriously and check their security systems.”

  It was true. The governor of the colony hadn’t acted on the advice coming from the Federation. “What we need to ask ourselves,” Marc said slowly, thinking out loud, “is what purpose could there be in distracting us with these explosive devices and causing a general elevated level of security?”

  “Maybe we need to find out how the alert was generated in the first place.”

  “My father told me it came from an undisclosed source to one of the members of the Universal Council.”

  “Do they normally allow unsubstantiated information to cause a galaxy-wide alarm?”

  Le Clerc had a point, but then again, they were talking about a member of the Universal Council. “He wouldn’t say who informed him, but let’s keep in mind, it proved to be true.”

  “I have to admit I find it interesting.”

  “I have to admit I find it disturbing.”

  They exchanged glances again. Marc said slowly, “Maybe you should test out your underground contacts.”

  “Maybe I should,” Damon agreed grimly.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Let me help you.”

  Ellesandra turned around and swept up her long hair, letting out a long sigh as gentle fingers brushed her nape when the male behind her unfastened her tunic. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve mentioned you work too hard, haven’t I?” His voice was amused.

  “Considering you work the exact same amount of hours as I do, I don’t believe you have room to talk, Raphael.” As queen, her days were long. As her advisor, his were just as grueling. Her tunic slipped off her shoulders and she turned around to face him, her breasts already heavy as languid desire seeped into her body, despite her fatigue. “Let’s admit we both work too hard and leave it there, shall we?”

  “As always, we are in accord.” Raphael Le Clerc’s eyes were heavy-lidded, his tone soft. “But you cannot stop me from worrying about you, Elle.”

  In his own way, he was as intense as his handsome son. They were different, yes. Where Damon was passionate and vocal, his father was charismatic and calm, but underneath there was a similar sense of purpose and intellect. They looked alike too, dark and almost brooding, with that singular flash when they were angry. Raphael also had it when he was aroused.

  Ellesandra hoped to see that flash very soon. Clad only in her filmy undergarments, she stepped free of her tunic and walked across her bedroom, the inner sanctum one she only let the staff enter when she was absent. The rich carpet was soft against her bare feet.

  Her private apartments were off limits with the exception, of course, of Raphael. Not that she thought of him as part of her staff. He was, of course, but so much, much more. He was like no one else in her life. A lover. A brilliant policymaker…and most of all, a friend. They could talk with each other frankly, and that was a singular joy in her life.

  She said with asperity, “It works both ways. I also worry about you, and especially now. Weren’t you just targeted in a terrorist attack?”

  “So they told me.” He watched her, easing out of his uniform. He’d worn full dress military today. Technically, he held the rank of general, but he hadn’t served in a combat unit in two decades. He was also unlike most soldiers she’d met, which had been something she’d noticed—and been drawn to—the day she’d met him.

  It had been a memorable encounter. Her husband had died only three months before and she mourned his loss deeply, but she was still female and noticed the tall, dark-haired male who had entered the palace antechamber and requested an interview. For the sake of his young son, Raphael had petitioned, since Damon had just lost his mother, he wanted a position close to home. The application had been for a supervisory position with the palace guard. She had liked his quiet dignity and keen intellect and ended up giving him something a little more challenging that still allowed him to keep track of his wayward son by putting him into a tactical advisory position.

  The attraction grew into something more as their grief eased and years passed. At first there had been unmistakable passion, both of them feeling the same guilt over it, which changed into a sense of rightness—of an acknowledgment that those they had loved were gone but they were still vibrant and alive—and then between them grew a true communion of both common purpose and companionship.

  “Maybe?” She lifted her brows as she turned by the bed. “You yourself told me—”

  “Yes.” Raphael stalked toward her, in this arena his glittering gaze predatory. “Yes, they targeted me. I’m glad, for had it been you…if anything ever happened to you, I…”

  His opinion on the matter was stifled by his mouth coming down to cover hers and she responded with fervor, curving her arm around his neck, allowing him to lower her to the bed. Later, after the touching and low sighs and erotic pleasure of sexual joining, they lay together in mutual accord, and Ellesandra murmured drowsily, “Damon and Jayla…”

  “…have always belonged together.” He finished her sentence and kissed her temple.

  “I know.” She added, “I like Marc Kartel.”

  “Males who can share females without trouble are just as much partners as in the male/female relationship. I think my son has finally met his match. Kartel recognizes his brilliance but also has the ability to rein him in. I think were it anyone else, Damon would be too possessive, but Kartel can hold his own. I couldn’t ask for more.”

  “Nor could I for my daughter,” she admitted.

  “The three of them seem perfect for each other.”

  “I’m happy for her.”

  “I am also happy for my son. He has wanted her for so long. I would guess, if asked, he could not recall a time he didn’t love Jayla.”

  “I think I could say the same for her about him.”

  Raphael’s arms were safe, secure, and she drifted, close to sleep, before he whispered, “I know how they feel, Elle.”

  “So do I,” she murmured in response.

  * * * *

  Kale’s face was grim but a flicker of amusement crossed it as he sat down opposite and without preamble said, “I’ve never had a security meeting in a common bar area before with one of the members of the Ruling Council. Trust you to be the first, Damon. Do you think your new colleagues would approve?”

  “I didn’t ask. We both know convention has never been my strong suit. Want a drink?” Damon pointed at his own half-full glass. He’d been waiting the better part of an hour but wasn’t surprised. The whole planet was on top alert, and as head of security for the palace, Kale had his hands full. No doubt the reason Damon had even gotten a response to his request was his new position.

&
nbsp; The male across the table shook his head and ran his hand over his face. “I’d love one if you want the truth, but I am not sure when we’ll be done with all the detonation sweeps. I’d better abstain.”

  The room was crowded, but the usual boisterous atmosphere was absent, and instead the conversations around them low and hushed. The long bar held various bottles of different kinds of liquors and other beverages as well, and both patrons and servers either sat or moved quietly. The establishment was dimly lit but both Kale and Damon had been recognized and there was no doubt they were being watched with a great deal of curiosity.

  “I won’t keep you long.” Damon paused and then said bluntly, “I just have a few questions.”

  The man in charge of palace security narrowed his eyes. “Go ahead.”

  “Obviously security was breached here somehow.”

  “Am I being blamed?” Kale stiffened, his mouth settling into a narrow line. “Damon, you know better. Your father knows better. I run one of the tightest security forces in the Federation.”

  “Exactly.” Damon leaned back, took a sip from his glass, and then deliberately set it down. “It isn’t just here either, Kale. Minoa was compromised, Mega 3 actually had casualties, and two other colonies have found explosives.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” The response was bitter.

  “You aren’t being blamed. I’m just wondering how they—this terrorist cell—managed it.”

  “I’ve been wondering the same thing, but quite frankly, I haven’t had a lot of time to analyze how. Explosive devices might still be out there and my energy is focused on how to find them. You know your father’s scan was supposed to set off the one we located.”

  “I know.” The two words were grim, clipped, and behind them there was a wealth of emotion he didn’t show. He and his father were at odds often enough, but Damon loved his only parent and the thought of losing him sparked a particular depth of emotion that was almost surprising. It wasn’t that he didn’t know he loved his father, but the threat was more devastating than he realized. “Don’t you find it interesting we don’t know what they want?”

  The queen’s chief security officer looked bland. “I am not always told everything. Her majesty and the Ruling Council expect me to guard the palace no matter the nature of the threat.”

  Exactly the kind of mentality that was a hindrance, not a help. Damon shook his head in disgust. “That’s damned counterproductive.”

  Kale took a moment but then muttered, “I’ve always thought so.”

  “What have you done differently?”

  His companion gazed at him with sharpened attention. “In response to the threat?”

  “Precisely.”

  “I’ve pulled all the men in I can, with the help of some of the Royal Troops normally deployed on other parts of the planet, to keep a perimeter of the grounds. I doubled the inside guard as well.”

  That was about what Damon expected to hear. He nodded. “What, in consequence of all this, was left with less security?”

  It was obvious Kale followed him. Slowly, he said, “Just about everything, I suppose. We have a finite amount of resources, of course. I can’t conjure extra guards out of thin air.”

  Damon had been brooding over this ever since his conversation with Marc. “There’s more to this than meets the eye, Kale.”

  “Like what?”

  “Good question. I’m trying to figure out what they’re after.” Damon rubbed one finger along the condensation on his glass. “Help me out here. Let’s say you wanted to divert the attention of the most prosperous planets and your goal wasn’t really to assassinate anyone but just have a threat significant enough colonies like Anasta would divert their manpower to one place. What would you hit?”

  “That’s one hell of a question.” Kale leveled a stare his way. “We have museums with irreplaceable historical objects, ammunition centers, technology and intelligence banks…how could I possibly speculate on someone else’s political agenda?”

  Damon changed tactic. “Tell me about Nathan Lettrick.”

  “Lettrick? There’s an interesting segue if I’ve ever heard one. He works for me. He’s nothing but a service tech who oversees the portal maintenance.”

  “To you he’s nothing but a technician.” Damon trusted Kale or he wouldn’t be having this conversation, and since he couldn’t be sure he was right anyway, he needed help. “But he came from Minoa recently, didn’t he? And I could swear you mentioned you hired him because he’d worked for several other colonies. Was Mega 3 one by chance?”

  “I don’t remember…but I can check since this seems important to you and I have never known you to take any issue at half measure. Damon, damn it, care to tell me why you are asking?”

  “His brother is a militant member of a sect I know of. They’ve made contact with me before.”

  “Why am I not surprised they’d reach out to you. Is there some reason I am only learning of this now?”

  It was difficult to not sound defensive, but Damon kept his voice even. “I’m not an advocate for any of the radical groups out there, Kale, and you know it. My work is based on scientific economic principles. Unfortunately, when those principles clash with politics, sometimes the wrong people get involved. I’ve been trying to raise awareness, not tempers. Had I heard of an actual threat, you would have been informed. Do you think I would ever risk harm to Anasta?”

  After a moment, Kale conceded, “No. If for no other reason than the princess is here.”

  There were many more reasons than that, but he was right, Damon would never allow harm to come to Jayla. “I’ve tried to tell everyone who would listen I am not interested in destruction, but preservation. The means to reform isn’t breaking the old laws but making new ones. Can I be allowed to find irony in that neither side wants to listen to that?”

  “I’m not interested in you at the moment, Damon. I want to hear about Lettrick.” Kale leaned back and blew out a breath. “That information about his brother didn’t come out in his profile.”

  Apparently he wasn’t allowed to find the irony. That was fine…Damon had known all along his switch from subversive to authority figure would take some time. Kale would never speak to any other member of the Ruling Council that way. “It doesn’t mean he’s aligned with them, but considering what’s happened so far, it might bear looking into before he leaves the planet.”

  “I’ll do it.” Kale rose, lines of fatigue by his mouth. “You know, you have the most questionable of methods in gaining them, but you do have friends. Congratulations on the appointment. Had you asked me just a few days ago, I would have predicted you’d be in that cell for a long time.”

  I agree. How quickly life can change, Damon thought, slowly finishing his drink as he watched the head of security stalk away, imagining Jayla even now waiting for him with her silken pale hair and emerald eyes. And that wasn’t just it either. She was beautiful, but also spirited and independent, and though she’d aligned herself with Kartel for life, she’d also taken care to include him.

  Because she loved him. He knew it as well as he knew he loved her and there was nothing he was more certain of in his life than his feelings for Jayla.

  As for Lettrick, who knew if the connection had any significance…but Damon also had a few other avenues to pursue.

  Chapter Twelve

  Marc watched his life partner pace and he finally said with gentle remonstration, “Jayla, he’ll be fine. All he was doing was pursuing a few questions. I offered to go along but he’s probably right, my presence would only make his contacts wary. My face is too well-known.”

  “Maybe so, but I know him better than you do.” She turned around, her hands propped militantly on her slender hips.

  “Yes.” He smiled. “You do.”

  A faint pink touched her cheeks. “I mean I know how reckless he can be. Are you sure he should—”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Maybe one day she would worry over him the same way. Ma
rc shoved himself to his feet. “The entire planet is on lock down. Le Clerc will be fine. Only a fool would threaten him.”

  “You have no idea how idiotic he can be,” she muttered. “Oh, I know he is intelligent almost to a fault, which always gets him in trouble, but he is also impulsive and that is his real downfall.”

  It was probably true, but it was also only good sense that Damon not drag along the new consort to the princess if he wanted to dig up any information. Marc was experienced enough to know that his high profile was likely to send any potential informants running. On the other hand, Le Clerc was—if not one of the militant anarchists—a person that those that distrusted authority might still talk to despite his recent appointment. His persona as a folk hero gained him entrance to places where Marc knew he couldn’t go.

  “I know he can be idiotic,” he argued, admiring the way the soft lighting gave her hair deep gold highlights. “He was incarcerated when I got here, remember?”

  “I remember.” His wife smiled in a rueful curve of her soft mouth. “I kissed him on purpose to make a point to my mother.”

  He’d wondered about that, the timing much too convenient.

  “It looked to me like he didn’t mind in the least.” Marc laughed softly, holding her gaze. “Not that I blame him. For two very different males we do think along the same lines in some ways. You would be an example.”

  Wearing a soft tunic in a light blue color, her hair loose, she looked very young, and also very desirable. Marc couldn’t do anything at the moment to help Damon in his quest for information, but he could ease her anxiety—or at the least distract her from it.

  “Spoken like a true S-species male,” she said tartly.

  “I am an S-species male,” he said mildly.

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “I’m glad I’ve made an impression. Look, Jayla, it’s getting late,” he said persuasively, “and while I know you are worried, pacing the floor doesn’t do him any good.”

  “It is getting late,” she burst out, her emerald eyes flashing. “And I’m worried and I loathe the feeling and if he was here now, I’d—”