The Queen's Advantage

by Jessie Mihalik

  After we’d seen everything, I returned to the first bedroom with a balcony. The furniture was sleek and minimalist, made from what appeared to be dark, real wood. The walls were a hazy blue, nearly white, and the contrast made the room feel light and airy.

  “Luka, why don’t you show Ms. Weber the security features of the suite?” Valentin asked.

  A wealth of nonverbal communication passed between them before Luka finally cocked his head at Imogen and grunted at her to follow.

  She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t understand caveman. You’ll have to use your words.”

  If Luka was annoyed, I couldn’t tell. He did expressionless better than anyone I’d ever met. “Ms. Weber, I kindly request the pleasure of your company,” he said in a perfect, clipped upper-class accent, “while I show you how to prevent your principal from being murdered while you sleep.”

  His voice was as deep as I remembered, but that was not his native accent. Or it was, and what I’d heard before hadn’t been. Either way, it was interesting.

  If he’d been trying to insult Imogen, he’d failed spectacularly. She ignored the implied insult and laughed. “Touché, Mr. Fox. And call me Imogen.”

  Luka just swept an arm toward the door, his expression lightly mocking. After looking to me and receiving a nod, she proceeded him from the room, an impish smile hovering about her lips. I silently wished her luck.

  After they left, I moved closer to the window and glanced longingly at the balcony door. The floor-to-ceiling window offered a beautiful view of the gardens below, but the view would be even better from outside. Unfortunately, standing outside this soon after an attack would be unwise.

  I was all too aware that, counterintuitively, the best time to strike sometimes came directly after a failed attempt. The target would be lulled into a false sense of safety because of all of the heightened security and make a stupid choice. If you could get past that security—which was often far easier than it should be—you had a clear shot at the target.

  Taking Valentin out of the safety of the palace to inspect the folly would be one of those stupid choices, but I highly doubted I’d be able to talk him into staying while I went alone. We’d have to be extra careful.

  Valentin came up beside me and stared at the garden. “Do you like the room?” he asked quietly.

  I glanced at him, struck again by how handsome he was, starkly profiled against the bright wall. “It’s lovely. Far more than I needed, but beautiful.”

  He turned to me and caught my hand, then slowly drew me close. When I came willingly, he enclosed me in a loose embrace. I laid my head on his shoulder—the shoulder that wasn’t covered in medals. I touched a finger to the cool gold of an onyx-inlaid cross. I had no idea what it meant, but it seemed sad somehow, like it represented loss and heartbreak, rather than bravery and honor.

  “I missed you,” Valentin whispered into my hair.

  “We talked nearly every day,” I protested with a laugh. Then, softly, I admitted, “But I missed you, too.”

  “During the attack, all I could think about was how close you came to being hurt. I don’t want you to get hurt helping me—once was enough. I think you should stick to an actual diplomatic visit.”

  I straightened and stepped back so I could see his face. “First of all, I was hurt in Arx because Commander Adams decided to attack. He would’ve attacked whether or not you were there, so you don’t get to take responsibility for my injury. If not for your troops, it could’ve gone much worse.”

  The fact that we had needed rescue still galled a little. Ari had increased our defenses since the attack, but even so, we wouldn’t be a match for a fleet of Quint warships.

  “But—” Valentin started to protest.

  I cut him off. “Second, I promised you help, and I intend to keep that promise. I knew it would be dangerous. I personally conned one or more of your advisors out of five million credits. They aren’t going to let that go, even if my visit remains diplomatic.”

  In fact, I was somewhat surprised that they hadn’t taken out a kill contract on me yet. Maybe they were hoping I was here to finish the job. Or maybe they knew I’d be an easier target here than in Arx.

  Valentin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think it would work, but you can’t blame me for trying,” he said with a rueful grin. “I know you can take care of yourself. Hell, you busted me out of captivity. But I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you were hurt again while trying to help me.” He met my eyes, his voice low. “You’re important to me.”

  Warmth and longing swirled through my system. I’d always been better at action than words, so I stood on tiptoe and brushed my lips across his, a fleeting caress that sent electric tingles skating along my nerves. His eyes darkened.

  “You’re important to me, too,” I assured him quietly. “That’s why I’m here. Who wants you dead, Valentin? Your half-brother Nikolas thinks you stole his crown. Is he working with your advisors or on his own? The Quint Confederacy would certainly like to see you dead. Who else?”

  “That about sums it up: my brother, an unknown number of my advisors, and part of Quint. I don’t know if they are working independently, together, or both. The note my advisors sent you came from the main administration building, but from one of the public terminals in the cafe. The surveillance logs were purged. Whoever they are, they are not stupid.”

  “I agree. I pulled all of the records I could on my own, but I couldn’t get to any financial data. From what I’ve seen, there are lots of potentially shady deals happening, but that seems to be business as usual. Your advisors are all being very careful.”

  “Can you get financial data?”

  “I can get anything for the right price, but a narrow search is better—and cheaper—than a wide one. I hoped to winnow the field before I called in the experts, especially because there is the minor risk of a double-cross. I trust the people I’ve worked with, but sometimes that trust gets broken.” As evidenced by my former security specialist Jax.

  Valentin looked thoughtful, but nodded his agreement.

  While he was in such an agreeable mood, I broached my next concern. “I think you should stay here while I go check the folly. I can slip out unseen and be back before anyone realizes I’m gone.”

  “No.” The denial was as hard as granite, with about as much give.

  Imogen peeked into the room before I could figure out a persuasive enough argument to change his mind. “Is this the room you decided on?” she asked. When I nodded, she carried my first trunk of clothes inside. She glanced around, as if checking that no enemies had spawned from the ceiling before retreating for the second one.

  “I think that means our time is up,” Valentin said, deliberately changing the subject.

  I let the argument go, for now. “I think you’re right. And I know you don’t like discussing the traitors, but I need all the information I can get if I’m going to help you.”

  “After dinner,” he promised.

  “Okay. Let me get changed, and then we’ll go check the folly.” He turned to leave, but I stopped him. “Wait, what’s this medal for?” I asked, touching the black and gold cross.

  His mouth flattened into a hard line. “Surviving,” he said shortly. “I will wait for you in the living room.” He bowed and left without another word.

  I traded my flowing blouse for a stretchy, closer-fitting top and my heeled boots for military boots. With the slacks, I still looked presentable, but then I ruined the look by putting the holster on over my shirt.

  The gun might raise some eyebrows, but the advantage of being royalty meant that most people wouldn’t question a sovereign’s weird eccentricities. Of course, that only worked if the person realized I was royalty—of a sort—which was questionable.

  I slipped a knife into the sheath in my boot, then joined the others. In the living room, Imogen chattered at Luka. She wasn’t normally a chatterbox, so she must be trying to annoy him. And judging from the tens
ion in his jaw, it was working.

  Valentin stood near the window, looking out, his gaze distant. He turned to me when I approached. “I apologize for being short with you,” he said softly.

  I waved him off. “I’m sorry I dredged up bad memories.”

  “The Onyx Cross is awarded for extraordinary gallantry and heroism in battle,” he said, his voice bitter. “Years ago, Father sent me to drive back the Quint Confederacy forces on Sag4. We didn’t need the planet, had no settlers there, but he didn’t want Quint to get a foothold. I went despite my reservations.”

  When he paused and didn’t continue, I ventured, “It didn’t go well?”

  A laugh grated out of him. “It did not go well. I went in with a battalion. Five hundred soldiers. We should’ve outnumbered them five to one. Instead, we walked into a trap. They blew our ships out of the sky and my people were slaughtered. We took their command center and called for help, but by the time help arrived, I barely had a platoon left. Those men and women fought harder than anything I’ve ever seen, but Father only awarded the medal to me. I wear it for them.”

  He went from five hundred soldiers to less than thirty thanks to bad information. That was a heavy burden to bear, especially when he was then awarded a medal of heroism to really rub salt into the wound.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. The words were hardly adequate, but they were all I had.

  “Thank you,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Are you ready to go see the attack site?”

  “Did you capture any of the attackers?”

  “Two,” Valentin said. “They’re in medical, and I’ve got trusted soldiers watching them while the docs try to patch them up.”

  “Any idea who they are?” I asked. A whole mercenary squad might work on a single kill contract if the bounty was high enough, but even then, they were usually far subtler than an open attack.

  “The two we caught are not in any condition to talk. Neither has any identifying marks or documents, and facial recognition didn’t turn up anything. We’re searching for when they arrived. I’ve also got people trying to recover any surveillance video from the area.”

  “Who has the ability to disable the cameras?”

  “The palace grounds are monitored and patrolled in shifts by three platoons of elite Kos soldiers. The Imperial Guard is responsible for everything inside the palace and my personal safety. Someone high enough in either organization could have disabled the cameras.”

  The military advisor, Oskar Krystopa, had already expressed his displeasure at my presence. He had been around since Valentin’s father was emperor. He would’ve watched Nikolas grow up and had presumably made plans for when Nikolas became emperor. He had plenty of reason to want Valentin’s brother on the throne rather than Valentin. I made a mental note to look at him more closely.

  Myra Shah was the Imperial Guard advisor. She appeared the cleanest of the advisors, but perhaps that was just a careful front. Sometimes betrayal came from the most unexpected direction. “We need to question whoever was in charge today. After we visit the folly.”

  Valentin’s mouth flattened into a hard line, but he nodded.

  “Could Quint be behind it?” I asked. The attack felt like a military strike and not a kill contract strike—unless the merc squad was freshly out of the military and hadn’t updated their strategy.

  “They could be,” Valentin said. “I’m not ruling anything out, but I’m not going to start flinging accusations without proof, either. I’ve spent months opening communications with Quint Chairwoman Daniella Soteras, and an unfounded allegation could undo all of the progress I’ve made. Hopefully we’ll know more after we question one of the men we caught.”

  I filed away the tidbit about talks with the Quint Confederacy’s chairwoman. Soteras was in her early thirties and had been in control for a few years. She was rumored to be ruthless, but I held out hope that opening communication meant a peace treaty was possible in the future. “What about the rest of the attackers?”

  “Escaped,” Valentin said with a grimace.

  “In that case, I really think you should stay in the palace today,” I said. “The attackers have proven they can breach your defenses and get away. Going out is an unnecessary risk for you. It will be easier for me to slip out alone.”

  “And what if they were targeting you?”

  “Then they shouldn’t have missed the first time.”

  Valentin rolled his eyes, but a reluctant grin tipped up the corner of his mouth. While I’d been serious, sort of, I’d also been trying to wipe the sadness from his expression. Mission accomplished.

  “How about a plan that ends with neither of us being shot?” he asked.

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” When he just stared at me with a raised eyebrow, I relented. “Fine. What’s your plan, then?”

  “How important is it for you to see the attack site?”

  “It’s important. It’s worth the risk for me, but less so for you.” Valentin’s mouth flattened into a stubborn line, so I didn’t press the point. I continued, “I want a look at the sight lines at the very least. Can you see the spaceport from the folly, or did someone tip them off that we were on the move?”

  “You can’t see the spaceport,” he said.

  “Did your advisors take the same route?”

  “No, they should’ve returned directly. I took you the long way to show off the gardens.”

  “Is that your usual route for visiting dignitaries?”

  “Not usually, no.” He anticipated where I was going. “Someone knew about my route in time to set up an ambush. It wasn’t announced, but it wasn’t exactly a secret, either. Probably a dozen or more people had access.”

  I resisted the urge to rub my forehead, barely. “You have a price on your head, Valentin. You need to be more careful.”

  His expression hardened and I caught a glimpse of the cunning warrior who lurked under the effortless charm, sarcastic wit, and polite manners. “I am not as easy to kill as they are hoping,” he said.

  He was right. He’d been under constant threat for at least a year and yet he still lived. Perhaps one day he’d trust me enough to confide how he’d managed it. I waited a beat, but he didn’t elaborate. “Well, let’s go test the gods of luck, then, shall we?”

  Chapter Four

  Despite Valentin’s apparent lack of concern for his personal safety, a squad of nine soldiers decked out in full Kos combat armor—visors open—awaited us in the hangar. They snapped to attention as we approached. Valentin saluted the dark-haired woman in front. “At ease, Sergeant Major.”

  She dropped into a rest pose with a smile. “Heard about this afternoon. Glad to see you’re still kicking, sir,” she said.

  “You might be the only one, Sakimoto,” Valentin said. He waved me forward. “This is Queen Samara Rani and her guard, Imogen Weber. I want you to keep an eye on them today. Samara, this is Sergeant Major Natalie Sakimoto. She’ll keep you safe.”

  At first glance, I put her age in the late twenties because her face was unlined and her hair was solid black. But when I met her eyes, I revised my guess up by a decade. She had the quiet confidence that came with time and experience. She was pretty, with a wide face that narrowed to a delicate chin. She had a compact, muscular frame and lightly tanned skin.

  She bowed. “Queen Rani, Ms. Weber, it’s nice to meet you both.”

  I held out my hand for a handshake. After a brief hesitation, she took it. Her handshake was firm without being overbearing. I liked her already.

  “Nice to meet you, Sergeant Major,” I said. “I don’t stand on ceremony. Call me Samara.”

  She grinned at me. “Samara, feel free to call me Natalie or Sakimoto, whichever you prefer. Have you worn combat armor before?”

  I knew combat armor was safer, but I felt blind and deaf with it on. “Do you have a helmet and vest I can use instead? And if you have a scoped plasma rifle, I’ll take one of those, too. Preferably a Remy MK9 if you hav
e one.”

  Her eyebrows crept up her forehead. “You want a specialty sniper rifle?” she asked.

  “If you have one,” I agreed mildly. “If not, I’ll take any decent long-range rifle with a scope.”

  Natalie looked to Valentin, and he nodded his permission without asking a single question as to why I needed a sniper rifle. The man was entirely too trusting.

  “I’ll have to pull one from the armory,” Natalie said. “It’ll take ten minutes. Let’s get everyone suited up while we wait.”

  I accepted an incoming neural link from Imogen. What are you up to? she asked without looking at me.

  Just covering the bases, I replied. Might be nothing.

  In the end, Imogen talked me into wearing a full set of prototype armor, though I kept my visor open. The armor had the built-in active camouflage ability that had allowed the Quint soldiers attacking Arx to appear invisible. If we were attacked at the folly, being able to disappear into thin air would be a decided advantage.

  We took two armored troop transports. They had vid screens instead of windows, complete with thermal imaging overlays. The software was smart enough to fade the colors of expected background temperatures and only highlight abnormalities.

  Such as the person-shaped red blob we were currently passing. The video showed a patch of empty grass, but the thermal image was another story.

  I pointed it out to Natalie. She said, “One of ours. You’ll see more as we get closer.”

  “How do you know they’re yours?”

  She tapped her closed visor. “My soldiers’ locations are tagged on my display. And I’m the one who sent him there. The transport software also knows he’s friendly. Jordan, turn off your transponder for a ten count.”

  A few seconds later, a warning sounded and a red box appeared around the soldier on the display until he reengaged his transponder. Interesting technology and far superior to anything we had in Arx, but it seemed like it would be fairly easy to override.