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“An understatement the likes of which I’ve never heard before,” I mutter, glancing toward my wife.
“I’m not usually in the business of keeping live quarries, so we’ll need to discuss what to do with him,” Darra says.
“I recall telling you to kill him painfully,” I say.
“I have all the time in the world to do that, but I’m giving you the choice of his fate. There are a number of interesting options. And maybe your queen would like to taste the retribution for herself? Had you considered that?”
Frankie must feel the burning of my gaze on her because she turns her head to smile at me when she catches my eye from across the rooftop. But when she sees my expression, her smile drops and cuts off whatever words she was speaking to the other human. And then both the females are looking at us, distracted from their reunion.
Would she want that? To take pleasure in the death of the one who hurt her?
“Does your mate know about the captive in your cargo hold, or is that another secret you’ve kept from her?” I ask.
“She’s incredibly nosy,” he sniffs, as the humans head our way with questions in their eyes. “So she found him immediately.”
“What’s going on?” Frankie demands. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I struggled to form words, and Darra is quick to take over.
“Your mate put me to the task of finding a Zaledian male named Gerunde.”
“You mean the weirdo in your basement?” Ilay says.
“Not a basement,” Darra replies quickly.
I tense, waiting for Frankie to become upset that I’ve hidden this from her or perhaps hate that I’ve done it at all in the first place.
“Oh,” is all she says, her mouth forming a grim line.
“Francesca,” I say softly. “Do you have any desire to exact revenge on him by your own hand? Say the word, and I’ll arrange it.”
“I never want to look at that person ever again,” she tells me. “Not even for that. So, no, I don’t have that desire. He can die or he can rot in prison for all I care.”
“The prisons in Alliance territory are too comfortable a fate for him,” I say. “If you don’t wish to kill him yourself, then Darra will handle it.”
She nods, color draining from her skin. “Good.”
“I thought you might like to know about the other people who’ve been looking for him,” Darra says, producing a chip from one of his many pockets. “He owes a great deal of money to some powerful people. At one time, they were willing to see how it played out since he was increasing his influence and capital at an alarming rate. But now that he’s on the run from the law and all his projects have been axed… Well, let’s just say their patience is running thin.”
“None of this matters, because he’s a walking pile of ashes,” I declare. “They’ll have to extort what is owed them from a dead body for all I care.”
“You don’t want to consider claiming whatever his pursuers might be offering for him? They want him alive, apparently. Whether it’s money or favors, it could do us some good.”
“Who?” Francesca asks, brows drawn together in curiosity.
“Mak has met them before. A pair of Zaledian lords that control much of the black-market trade that runs in and out of the Rathe System. When they find ambitious dealers that they think will profit them in the future, they offer status and capital to enrich their businesses. But if you fail to pay them their dues, the punishment is worse than death.”
“Zaledians?” Her curiosity is piqued. “How influential are they?”
“I don’t need dirty money from Zaledian thugs to build this city,” I say. “We’ve done enough deals with criminals to last me a lifetime, and getting entangled with them is the last thing I need.”
“One of them is distantly related to the royal family, and the other one owns a mining planet and married an Azza princess or something like that,” Darra informs her, ignoring my commentary.
“Mak!” she exclaims. “Don’t you see this could be the leverage we need to keep the Heir in our hands? Do these people you’re talking about have enough influence to hush any claims that The Rightful Heir should be returned to the Zaledians?”
Darra shrugs. “Only one way to find out. I could arrange a meeting with them and float the deal.”
Frankie grasps my forearm, thrilled, but I can’t say I share the sentiment.
