by Ada Harper
The remaining tension Sabine had been holding on to dissipated. Their lips met again and the shuttle jostled just at the right time to make their teeth clack together. Instead of pulling back, Sabine made a little sound and pressed harder, sliding a leg up alongside Lyre’s thigh.
It was sloppy and imperfect and fucking delightful. Sloppy and imperfect were not normally things Sabine allowed herself to be. Even in their past intimacies, it had been a quiet exchange in the dark. A line carefully drawn, empress and supplicant. Lyre had drawn that line herself. But in this moment, Lyre had a burning need to see what Sabine looked like undone with pleasure.
“Maje-ehh—” A dribble of words turned into a cough. Lyre cursed against Sabine’s mouth, which was being much more reluctant to pull away than she’d expected. Slowly, and with an air of annoyance, Sabine leaned back, just enough to turn her head.
Galen filled the doorway with his broad shoulders. The Red Wolf was a hard man to miss, though it appeared he was contemplating melting into the grating. From the shelter of Sabine’s arm, Lyre couldn’t see the expression on Sabine’s face but she could guess well enough from the effect.
“Yes. Brother?” The words were mild, with just enough undertone of murder.
“I am happy to see you and Lyre—ah—well. But should you be really...comporting as such in the hallway?” Galen said lightly.
An arm slid around Lyre’s waist and Sabine’s hand came to stop with a possessive brush at her hip. It alarmed Lyre how much she liked that. Sabine tilted her head, languid and challenging. “Is that really what couldn’t wait?”
Galen’s cheeks were flushed. He scrubbed the back of his head like an admonished pup. It wasn’t fair, really, not after Lyre had caught him disgracing the estate’s every sturdy royal antique with Olivia after their wedding.
“No,” Galen finally managed. “I thought you would like to know that Ameranthe is in sight. And CHARIS sent a note that your summons for Senator Heigi—”
“Yes, good.” Sabine waited until Galen muttered his excuses and ducked out again.
Lyre held up a hand before Sabine could find her lips again. “He’s not wrong. Even if—” And gods, even Lyre couldn’t speak the if that was threatening to happen right now. “Well, you need to be careful.”
Sabine narrowed her gaze, and that glimmer surfaced in her gold eyes again. Like a whisper of leaves as a predator stalked by. “Just as well. Once Maris clears you, attend me in the council chambers. There’s something I want you to see.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When Maris met her at the launch pad with a mask and more Syn destabilizing pads, Lyre didn’t think she’d escape the medical wing until morning. But either Khait’s hack had been more thorough than she thought or the Imperial doctor was acting under orders about acceptable levels of risk, because once Maris ascertained that her worst ills were dehydration from a steady diet of ration bars, that was that. Maris herded her out of the medical wing with a somewhat ominous set of instructions to not strain herself and to see her in the morning.
Lyre tried to not let her imagination wander to what strain she might get up to.
Because this was all an irrational jumble of Lady’s own luck. Lyre should never have survived the crash, but she did. She should never have seen the outside of the Vault bunker, but she did. Sabine should have never desired her presence again, but it seemed she did. And now that Lyre’s secret was out, it was only a matter of time until it reached the ears of the senate so Sabine would have no choice but to distance herself from her traitor.
Sabine was behaving as if she could wish away Lyre’s past. But the forgiveness of Sabine didn’t necessarily mean the forgiveness of the empress, let alone the Empire. She had to be seen as maintaining control. Surely this—whatever this was, the speech to Mother, the stolen bliss in the shuttle, all of it—was Sabine trying to fool herself.
Problem was, Sabine was never a fool.
The chamber was not empty when Lyre slipped through the doors. Half a dozen senators idled in their seats, evidently as in the dark about the summons as Lyre was. More than a few weighing gazes followed her as she crossed the hall and let herself into Sabine’s solarium.
“Holding a party?” Lyre sagged into a handy settee.
“Of a sort.”
Sabine was being enigmatic on purpose. Lyre refused to be baited into asking what that meant. Instead, she inspected Sabine’s dress. She’d changed since they’d landed. Instead of the tailored tactical suit—tac-suit? That was a word now, definitely—Sabine wore a formal gown the color of night. Political battle armor, outrageous in ways only Imperial fashion could be.
But upon consideration that wasn’t what caught Lyre’s attention. “You didn’t get a replacement.”
Sabine made a dismissive motion. “Maris offered but...this is who I recognize in the mirror now.” She turned and tilted her head. “You don’t approve?”
Lyre considered. The light hit the menacing glitter in Sabine’s dress and reflected up, creating a shimmer on her cheeks that was not unlike water. Without the prosthesis her right eye was in shadow, but a glimmer of smoky white caught the light and then was gone. Like a predator in deep waters. A seductive glance.
Lyre shivered but not from fear. And then she was grinning. “Hell, Sabs, I’ve always loved watching you work.”
Sabine made a pleased noise and ran an assessing eye over herself in the mirror. “I expect you to pay attention to this then.”
“You don’t want me to come with you?”
Sabine left the mirror and made her way to the outside passage, but first gestured to another door, which lead to the private cloister. The council room conferences were traditionally considered private, no drones or recording devices allowed, but that had never stopped the royal families of the past. A small gallery, above the chambers, where royal aides and family members could observe the goings-on without being seen.
“I want you to watch me,” Sabine said simply, and closed the chamber door.
* * *
Although the cloister was above and to the side of the council chambers, a clever work of acoustics ensured Lyre could hear everything, right down to the click of porcelain on wood as Sabine sat down at the table.
The doors opened and Senator Heigi slid in like a curse. She looked disgruntled at the wait, but a calculated smile righted into place when she saw the empress at the table with tea. “An honor of an invite, Your Grace.”
Sabine’s smile didn’t become an ounce more authentic. “Please have a seat, Senator.”
Heigi sat as Sabine waved for tea to be poured. Too close and friendly to not raise Lyre’s hackles. That posturing, grasping, vile—
“I presume the Liar is recovering well?” Heigi asked.
“You mean Ser Lyre, my intelligence advisor,” Sabine corrected.
“Of course,” Heigi demurred. “My mistake. A natural one. How quickly Ser Lyre’s reputation has increased. To think just a week ago she was a mere traitor. Will our advisor be recovered to attend the naming?”
Naming. Lyre frowned. Nothing was more unsettling than not knowing something before the senators did. But Sabine appeared to understand the question.
“Perhaps,” she said. “The oaths of fealty beforehand do drone on but one can’t fight tradition. Will I see you and your delightful son there?”
After a moment, Heigi cleared her throat, smile pinched. “We wouldn’t miss it. The crown has our support.”
Sabine’s smile didn’t grow, precisely, but it eased into something natural for a moment. And when Heigi rose from the table, tea yet untouched, Sabine sat back with a satisfied air and waved to have the table set again.
And then the scene repeated, over and over again. Fresh tea was brought. A snarling senator brought in. Smiles were unsheathed. And time and time again, Sabine drew some kind of statement of support out of
each major rival House in the senate. And all of them inquired about Lyre.
It didn’t take Lyre’s clockwork mind long to turn on that. Her breath stuck in her throat and her fists clenched at her sides. Fighting the impulse to lurch into the chambers and stop this foolishness.
* * *
The easy part of the negotiation was over. Sabine took a moment to steady her nerves before opening the door back to her sitting room. She found Lyre by the mirrored screen, an unreadable reflection like a ghost on the panel. Lyre’s head snapped around as Sabine entered, but her expression didn’t morph into anything recognizable. Certainly not happiness as Sabine had hoped.
“Well?” Sabine prompted.
“What have you done?”
Lyre sounded hollow, raw in a way that Sabine couldn’t understand but advised caution. “I’ve brought the senate Houses in line. All the Houses that matter, at least.” She tried not to sound annoyed, but she felt she was explaining the obvious. “It took some negotiation, but I’ve guaranteed the good behavior of the senate regarding your spotted history.”
“My spotted history.” Lyre threw up her hands. “When everyone knows I was a traitor—”
“What everyone knows is you were a double agent, a true loyalist to the Empire. Who saw the corruption of her birth nation and could not act against her conscience. An excellent intelligence asset, cultivated at the highest levels of confidence, in order to act in the Empire’s best interests. A patriot whose morals—”
“Morals!” Lyre snorted. “First time anyone’s accused me of that.”
“You’re wrong,” Sabine said. “You’ve never failed me. You’ve protected me, protected my empire, and saved the lives of me and my family a hundred times. And if anyone ignores what comes out of your mouth for one moment, they’d realize you’ve never acted in your own interest. You’re one of the truest people I’ve ever met.”
Lyre drew a breath, a nervous rattle, not followed up by any words immediately. Her dark eyes were wide. It made her look heartbreakingly young, for just a moment. She licked her lips once before saying, a bit subdued, “What did you give up to make this happen?”
“I don’t—”
“There’s always a cost, Sabs. Don’t.”
Sabine shrugged. “You heard the senators. It was nothing I couldn’t afford.”
“Your credit, your reputation—”
“Can take the hit.” Sabine raised her chin. “As you’ve no doubt ascertained, this means you’re cleared of suspicion, as far as the Empire is concerned. You can remain as spymaster, or follow another course. Whatever you want. Provided you’re not about to tell me another dark secret. You were a Syn holo-dancer, perhaps?”
The corner of Lyre’s lip twitched. “Is that what I do in that imagination of yours, Highness? Filthy. No. Would you believe I never learned to dance. I wasn’t supposed to get this far.” A troubled thought came at the heels of that, and Lyre’s smile thinned to her normal air of suspicion. “They mentioned an announcement. Honest, now, Sabs. What’d this cost you?”
“I said I can afford it.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Sabine pretended to be annoyed at the question. She wasn’t. The next part of the plan didn’t work without telling her anyway. “I’ve agreed to expand the royal House.”
Lyre’s face contorted. “Expand—marriage?”
Sabine held up a hand. “No, as much as some Houses hope it turns out that way. You know as well as I do that the senate has been clamoring for me to name an heir practically since the moment I touched the throne. You know I don’t want to do that until I or Galen make family plans.”
“And lord knows the duchess isn’t in a hurry. Gods be praised.”
Sabine had to nod. “The senate is insistent I made some step in that direction. Gods-spit if they force me to do it. But I have agreed to take on a scion of the House.”
“Scion...” Lyre narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t that a formal gesture Houses usually only do to bring a betrothed in to the business before marriage?”
“Yes. Thus why Senator Heigi was all but salivating at the prospect. They assume whomever I take on as scion I fancy enough to consider. Or that they’ll have access to wear me down over time. No House worth their torque will pass up a chance at the throne.”
Lyre shrugged. “Let them drool all they want. You’ll rule until your hair falls out, and I’ll deal with anyone who tries to cause that prematurely.”
“I will take that as a request to stay on board.”
“I serve at Your Majesty’s pleasure.” Lyre took her hand, eyes bright with a devious promise. The other hand traced a clever route down to her cleavage. “All your pleasures, if you like. You said I’m yours, after all. Use me, let me touch you. I want to feel you again, Sabs. The whole senate can think you’re taken with this scion but I could be the one to take—”
“No,” Sabine breathed, because otherwise she would break.
Lyre’s smile fell in increments, as if she wasn’t quite sure she’d heard right. The hand clasping Sabine’s twitched then dropped away. “We—I thought...”
Lyre, her brilliant, snarky, confident Lyre, trailed off. Her voice uncertain, and Sabine’s heart ached. But she had to do this, had to do this to win the bigger picture. And Lyre was so worth that. She clenched her teeth together until she could be sure of the foundation of her own voice.
“I want you. I want your laughter and your cruelty. I want your cold and your passion. I want all of you. I want this bond you and I have to grow so deep, so intertwined between us that you can’t even take a breath without breathing my name. If anyone is the liar here it’s often been me so let me be absolutely clear on this: I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. What’s more I believe I am hopelessly in love with you, spymaster, and if I don’t have you then I believe I’ll never take any partner at all, let alone a mate.”
Lyre looked overwhelmed. “You have to—the Empire—”
“I will not settle.” Sabine tightened her grip on Lyre’s hand. “I will not be bartered. I will not be awarded or earned. No one earns me. But above all there’s one thing I will not be, and that’s yet another of the Liar’s secrets.”
“I don’t understand—no, Sabs, I really don’t—what are you asking?”
Fear, horrible fear, rose up and clotted in Sabine’s throat. It was the same fear she’d felt seeing Lyre disappear to nothing but a distant dot on a doomed launch bay. The fear of losing any hope for a future forever. But she needed—she needed a future, not more convenient lies.
“In two days we’re holding a gala. I’ll announce my choice of scion to be welcomed into the royal House. All the senate will be there, vying for their young sparkling eligibles to impress me. To earn me. To be worthy. To claim me.”
“Sabine...”
“I want it to be you, Lyre. I want it to be you. But life on the throne is very different from life behind it and I won’t force that on you. I’m done with secrets, and I’m done with demanding what I want. If you want me, if you want the life that comes with me, then step out of the shadows. Show the entire senate the Lyre I already know. Come for me.”
“You’re mad.” There was a tremor in Lyre’s jaw. Whether from anger or defeat, Sabine couldn’t tell. And the fear grew. Lyre shook her head. “I’m just a spy. Point me at a puzzle, give me a target, command me, sure. But—this isn’t fair. This is an ultimatum.”
“No. It’s a choice,” Sabine said. “I’m not trying to force your hand, love. But I know we can’t go on as we began. Make your choice and I’ll make mine. This isn’t an ultimatum. And it’s not an order, though it would be simpler if it was. This is just a question: what do you want, love? What do you really want?”
* * *
Lyre had toppled dictators. Planned battles. Tracked wayward royals across the deep forest. Made mad runs across no
man’s lands while waiting to feel the kiss of death on the back of her neck. She’d been trained to understand and account for the unreliable machinations of scheming minds.
She’d never quite learned to account for Sabine.
Her chest hurt, that tug-tug-tug of a bond under strain. Of Sabine distraught. But she’d felt that since she’d left her apartments. Lyre wasn’t quite sure if it was a relief or not, knowing Sabs was just as lost as her. Gods knew neither of them would ever show it.
She found Olivia and Galen on the training grounds, looping through the air like a couple of loons. Once she’d waved them down, Lyre cleared her throat. “I may need your help.” The words tasted sour in her mouth, and the way Olivia’s eyes positively lit up made Lyre stifle a groan. Olivia’s mockery was a price she’d pay. For Sabine. “More precisely, Galen’s help,” Lyre corrected before Olivia could pick a taunt. She turned and pinned a look at Galen. “I need you to make me a noble.”
The royal siblings were obviously hewed from the same line. He was like an unfinished version of Sabine. Rougher at the edges and softer in all the places Sabine was singing steel. It made Lyre’s throat tighten to look at him. Galen just blinked and paused in the middle of checking his aethercloak rig. “I...excuse me?”
“If I want to ask for Sabine, being her bondmate will be a right that even the senate can’t argue with. But I can’t claim a bond with Sabine as I am. Even if Sabs has declared I’m not a traitor anymore, I’m a spy and foreign born and not well liked,” Lyre said. “You grew up in these circles, these Houses. You know what they respect. So I need you to make me that.”
Before the crown came calling, Lyre had spent her teen years running around with Sabine and Galen. He was like Lyre imagined having a brother would be—protective, kind, annoying—even if Sabine had never felt like merely a sister. So it made it slightly easier to ask Galen for help, even if it left a vulnerable distaste in Lyre’s mouth.