by Gwynn White
“Of course, Your Highness. As you command, Your Highness.” He even sounded detached.
Lukan stepped out of the room, eager to see if Morass would continue to obey. “Turn the lights back on,” he commanded his uncle.
The light flashed on. Morass cried out in pain as it blasted his face, but apart from raising his hands, the man barely moved.
Lukan faced his uncle. “You have somewhere to sit in this foul place, no doubt? And I require an informa.”
“Of course, Crown Prince. This way.” Two steps down, his uncle slid open a door into a guardroom, now deserted. He gestured to a wooden chair. “Not the most lavish accommodation, but it will do.” Felix pulled a button-shaped informa tangled with a bloody handkerchief out of his pocket.
Lukan winced, refusing to touch it. “Program it to the camera watching Morass. I want to see how far his obedience stretches.”
“He will obey until given another command,” his uncle said, opening a visual of Morass kneeling in the light. Sweat poured down his face, arms, and torso, but he hadn’t moved an inch.
Not wanting to view this torture he had commanded, Lukan faced his uncle. “So this is something new you have concocted?”
“Indeed.” His uncle waved his hand. “But then, I am always looking to enhance my systems. It is how I serve the crown—by ensuring we always have new technology to meet any situation, no matter how bizarre.”
Lukan snorted. Being on his father’s hit list was certainly bizarre. Still, something here didn’t make sense. He pointed to the image of Morass. “Then why did he betray you? I am sure it was not in your—or Axel’s—interest for Morass to tell my father about Lynx’s perfidy.”
“No, indeed it was not.” His uncle glowered. “An unfortunate hitch in my programming. The cretin should have been loyal to me.” Bony fingers flicked at the image of Morass. “But a few tweaks, and it should not happen again.”
Lukan’s eyes widened. “Then why is he obeying me if you programmed him to do your will?”
“Because, nephew, I rather suspect that we share the same will.”
So, they had finally reached the point of this discussion. Lukan waited while his uncle steepled his fingers, watching him.
Finally, Count Felix broke the silence. “We both want your father dead.”
“We do?” Lukan asked cautiously.
“Perhaps I presume to speak for you, Highness, but I certainly have no use for an emperor who would use my son for his dirty work.”
Lukan bristled. Even here, in the most basic of familial loyalty, Axel bested him with a father who actually cared for his well-being. It made Lukan hate his cousin—and Mott—all the more.
“It seems my father has few friends of late. What do you propose?”
His uncle pursed his lips. “With a little programming, a tweak here, a tweak there, I believe I can persuade our friend Morass to murder the emperor.”
Judging by Felix’s expectant expression, Lukan guessed he should have been shocked, but he wasn’t. That thought had already lodged in his mind. Although nothing much to look at now, Morass was a guardsman, trained in warfare and weaponry. He could very easily use those skills to kill Mott.
“And who takes the throne?”
A faintly shocked expression darted across his uncle’s face. “Why, you of course, Highness.”
Lukan was tempted to snort again, but he resisted the urge. Did Felix consider him a complete idiot? “I expected you would wish that honor for Axel. How do I know you won’t tweak Morass to kill me, too?”
Felix’s mouth dropped, aghast. Lukan couldn’t decide if it was at the suggestion of Axel on the throne—unlikely—or at the blatant accusation that his uncle would kill him.
“Crown Prince, you malign me. I have spent my entire life serving the crown. Every invention, every device has been aimed at ensuring the safety of the emperor and his sons—you and your brother Tao.”
“Please, save the bleeding heart. Why should I believe that you would put me on the throne and not Axel?”
His uncle pulled his cloak tight around his frail shoulders and dropped his voice. “It pains me to say this, Highness, but Axel has proven himself . . . easily swayed of late. I worry that he will not take guidance well, should he ever ascend to the throne.”
Guidance? Command and control by Felix, more like it.
As much as Lukan doubted his uncle’s integrity, he decided to wait until he had a better idea of what Felix proposed. “‘Easily swayed’? By Norin traitors? Is that what you are implying?”
Felix’s face clenched. “I have a solution for that, too. Tomorrow, at the wedding, when Morass eliminates your father, he can kill that Norin bitch, too.”
“Lynx!” A chill flushed through Lukan. “H-how do you think Axel will react if we murder his love?”
“‘Love’?” Felix scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Crown Prince. My son, it turns out, is a consummate actor. Trust me, he feels no more love for the bitch than you do. He’s merely using her to get to me.”
If Felix didn’t believe Axel loved Lynx, then it was possible he knew nothing about Dmitri’s appearance. The dead seer had been very clear about the love between Axel and Lynx.
Or he was lying.
Lukan rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, filing that information away for later study. But in the meantime, he could not be complacent—he had no desire to be flayed. His skin and muscles trembled at the very thought.
The only solution was to add Axel’s name to Morass’s hit list.
Lukan huffed a breath. Felix would never agree to his son’s death. But somewhere, there was a solution. He just had to find it. “Your idea has potential. How do you propose we proceed?”
“Simple, really. You are to command Morass to shoot two quarrels: one at your father’s heart and one at Lynx’s.” A gash of a smile split Felix’s face. “I have something special in mind for the Norin rebel.” He pulled a glass vial filled with an iridescent yellow substance from his pocket and held it up to Lukan. “I’ve finally gotten my hands on the poison the Norin use with such devastating effect against our troops. I was going to use it for another project I had in mind, but this is altogether more pressing.”
Lukan gasped. “How?”
“My operatives waylaid a Norin savage on his return trip from Tanamre after the princesses were dropped off.” Felix was positively gloating.
Lukan shook his head, still not quite understanding. As part of Norin fealty to their king, a raider would sooner shoot himself with the debilitating, slow killing poison than let it fall into a guardsman’s hands.
“The savage never even saw my guardsmen coming.” His uncle gave a rare chuckle. “We—and the vultures—have benefited from his lack of foresight.”
The guardsmen had killed a raider and left his corpse to bake in the sun? Lukan shivered.
Felix showed no reaction. “I propose filling Lynx’s quarrel with this poison. Fitting, is it not, that one of Thorn’s raiders should die a slow, painful death from their own poison?”
Lukan swallowed, wondering how Axel would react to Lynx dying in agony. Not well, to be sure. He pushed the thought aside. His father had left him no choice but to do what Felix suggested.
Unless . . .
Lukan cocked his head to the side, so deep in thought he barely saw his uncle watching him.
Unless he did what Dmitri asked and told the high-born about their gemstones. Was Dmitri’s plan a possible way out of this mess? Perhaps it was the only way out. Lukan closed his eyes, wishing he were in his archives, where he would have made a careful list of pros and cons.
But he wasn’t in his archives. He was here in the dungeons, torturing an innocent man with white-hot light, while Felix shuffled around, waiting for answers.
His thoughts began to tumble through his mind. How would it change things if he left here now and announced to the high-born that their gemstones were frauds? Would they revolt? That seemed likely. Would that insurrection give him tim
e to breach the lair to disengage the ice crystals?
And what about Felix’s new program on the door—the eye thing? Without the reader being programmed to his eye, could he get in? He glanced up at Felix, waiting patiently for him. Would he have to remove his uncle’s head and use his eyes? Would that even work? His stomach turned at the thought. Perhaps Axel would take care of that detail.
Lukan shook his head, knowing that would never happen. Morass, then. He could be commanded to kill Felix. Lukan glanced at the informa. Morass had collapsed face-first onto the floor where Lukan had instructed him to stay.
And then another, even more horrifying thought struck.
Lukan felt the blood rush from his face. His uncle would never let him leave here alive without securing an agreement. He licked his lips. Even if he attempted to kill Felix now, it would probably do no good. Lukan glanced around the room, looking for booby traps.
Even though he saw nothing obvious, he wasn’t fooled. Felix was too canny, too devious not to consider that option. Something would shoot out to impale him if he made a threatening move.
Lukan suddenly understood what Dmitri had meant about the complications that came with prevarication. Had Dmitri foreseen this? Sweat trickled down his back. He had no choice but to appear to be in cahoots with Felix’s scheme—at least until he was out the door, and the sooner that happened, the better.
Struggling to steady his nerves, Lukan nodded. “Let’s break the news to Morass. I have no doubt my father is in one of the gambling rooms. Of Lynx’s whereabouts, I’m not so sure.” He stepped toward the door, but his uncle grabbed his arm.
“Highness, timing is everything. Your father is on his guard tonight.” Felix flicked through the programs on the informa, alighting on an image of Mott playing dice in the Green Room with some of the men from the Fifteen. He was surrounded by guardsmen.
Lukan sighed. No one with a crossbow—or any weapon—could get close to the emperor tonight. It made the risk of telling the high-born about their stones that much greater.
His uncle’s voice broke his train of thought. “Allay his fears by agreeing to marry Lynx. Then, tomorrow, after the wedding ceremony, Morass can let fly his quarrels.”
Lukan frowned, and then his face cleared. Tomorrow, all the high-born would be assembled in the great hall for the wedding. It would be an ideal time to break the news to them, before Morass could harm Lynx. He heaved a sigh of relief. Wrong reaction. But his uncle didn’t seem to notice.
Lukan cleared his throat. “You can explain those details to Morass when you brief him.” He turned to leave, then paused and pointed at his uncle’s informa. “I will see myself out. Program my eye to your door scanner.”
Felix slipped his informa into his pocket and pulled out his filthy handkerchief again. After a show of nose and mouth wiping, he said, “That is not possible, Highness. At the moment, Morass obeys you. As you know, I have had trouble changing the commands on the ice crystal, and thus, he has already betrayed me, twice. I would hate for it to happen for a third time, particularly with a command as important as this one.”
Lukan couldn’t stop his head from shaking. So this was it: the moment he was expected to pledge his soul by becoming complicit in regicide. He glared at Felix, but his objection was pointless.
Wishing he could lock himself away in his archives forever, he took the vial of poison and the crossbow his uncle held out to him and made his way to Morass.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Axel strode through the palace toward Lynx’s apartment. How could Lukan be so stubborn? Did he not see that assassinating Mott was the only workable solution to their problem?
Axel swiped his hand against a statue of some long-forgotten emperor, wishing it were Lukan’s face he was hitting. His cousin was a weak-willed coward. For years, Axel had tried to persuade Lukan to stand up to his father. Again and again, he had explained the psyche of a bully, hoping it would help his cousin understand—and manage—Mott. But Lukan had given no heed to his counsel, preferring instead to let him or Tao take his punishments for him.
Now Lukan would die for that failure.
Axel took the stairs to Lynx’s apartment two at a time. It surprised him to see no sentries at the top of landing. Stefan had changed the roster this morning, putting two of his men here to guard Lynx. Why had his father withdrawn them? He sped up, jogging to the doorway of the sitting room Lynx and her sister shared.
The sound of raised voices pulled him up short.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Tao and Kestrel sat together on the sofas, deep in conversation. If anything had happened to Lynx, Tao, at least, would not just be sitting around. Lynx had to be in her bed chamber, giving her sister the chance to speak with her betrothed. Kestrel’s angry voice reached him. Torn between his need to barge in to join Lynx and his respect for Tao’s privacy, he hesitated at the door.
“I needed you today, Tao,” Kestrel shrilled, “and you weren’t there for me. Do you have any idea how terrible it was in that maze? I got punched—punched!—by some girl who wanted my bracelets, even though I saw them first.”
Axel decided to slip past them to find Lynx. He had just entered the room, when Kestrel said, “Do you mind? I’m having a private conversation here.”
Axel held up his hands. “Sorry. Just looking for Lynx.” He smiled at the purple bruising around her right eye. His eyes dropped to her wrist. Yes, a pair of golden bracelets. He wondered what damage her opponent now sported if Kestrel had won the trophy.
“This is too much,” Kestrel insisted. “Can’t you hear that I am talking to Tao? Just leave.”
Tao pulled a face at Axel and mouthed, “Sorry,”
Axel shrugged and stepped back into the passageway. Loath to move too far from Lynx, he leaned his elbow on the windowsill and stared out into the night. He heard Tao sigh.
“Look, I’ve already told you, I’m really sorry you got hit. But I did try to warn—”
“Tao,” Kestrel interrupted sharply. “Are you going to spend our whole marriage chasing after my sister?”
Reluctant eavesdropper though he was, Axel frowned. Every time he’d spotted Tao and Kestrel at the ball, her eyes had been fixed on Lukan.
“That’s not fair.” Tao sounded aggrieved, as if he, too, were aware of Kestrel’s double standard. “Lynx and I are friends, nothing more.”
“That’s nonsense! My sister would rather walk barefoot over burning coals than make friends with a Chenayan. So why did you insist on running after her? I asked you to stay with me after I finally escaped that hideous maze.”
“You’re wrong about Lynx. I know a friend when I meet one, so I couldn’t just leave it when she disappeared. That’s not what friends do.”
“It is a maze, and you didn’t chase after me, even though I’m supposed to be your betrothed.”
“You went through the archway so fast, I knew it would be pointless to follow. I would never have found you.” Another sigh from Tao. “And I wouldn’t have had to if you had stayed with me as I asked.”
Axel rolled his eyes, feeling nothing but pity for Tao. Marriage to Kestrel wasn’t going to be fun. Tao’s pain was almost enough to console him regarding his own situation. Almost, but not quite. He tapped his fingers on the windowsill, wishing they would finish this argument so he could get to Lynx.
Kestrel’s voice droned on. “All I wanted was to have some fun. You could have shared the moment with me.”
“The maze isn’t a moment I want to share with anyone. But I get that you’re cross, and I’m sorry if you feel I neglected you.” Tao’s voice had a tone of finality to it.
Axel straightened up and was about to walk back to the room when his cousin added in a sharper voice, “Now I need an apology and a change of behavior from you.”
Axel stopped.
Tao said, “I want you to spend less time staring at my brother.”
The couch springs squeaked as if someone had stood. “So I’m not allowed to acknowledge the
Crown Prince of All Chenaya and the Conquered Territories?”
Another creak of furniture, and Tao said, “Acknowledgement is one thing. Stalking is quite something else.”
“Really, Tao, listen to yourself. I honestly don’t know how you can accuse me of something as ridiculous as that. I haven’t spoken one word to your brother since I got here.” A guilty laugh followed. Then Kestrel said, “Perhaps we both need to work on . . . things.”
“I would appreciate that.”
Kestrel cleared her throat, then said, “Maybe our . . . first kiss would help.”
Spare me! Axel slumped against the wall and buried his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes. Thankfully, the sounds of kissing were brief, painfully so for a man and woman standing on the brink of wedlock.
Tao’s voice rang out. “I’m starving. Let’s track down dinner.”
“But my black eye—”
“You’re going to be my wife. No one will dare say anything,” Tao interrupted, heading toward the door.
Axel intercepted Tao, who held Kestrel’s arm. Tao gave him a strained smile.
“You’re still here?” Kestrel demanded.
“Like I said, I’m looking for Lynx.” He smiled at Tao and, guessing he was stirring the pot, asked, “Have you seen her?”
Kestrel shot Tao a warning look, grabbed Tao’s hand, and started dragging him toward the doorway.
Axel strode over to Lynx’s door and, without bothering to knock, opened it a crack. “Hey, you here? I have news. Of a kind.”
There was no answer, so he pushed the door open wide.
The room was deserted.
The first jolts of fear bit into him. He loped to the bathroom and banged on the door. When no one replied, he pushed that door open, too, and faced another empty room. That left her dressing room. A quick search revealed it was empty, with everything in its place.
He stood still, thinking. If Lynx had been wearing a gemstone, he could have traced her on his informa. Without that, finding her would require a visit to his father’s lair to trawl through all the palace cameras—a task that would take hours.