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Good. Still, he didn’t dare relax.
As they’d left Casus’s shop, Selan had returned most of his nanobot functions to his control, which said a great deal about how much danger she thought she was in.
“You know,” Rance said aloud, “I’d find it a lot easier to protect you if I knew what I was protecting you from.”
Selan shot him a cool look, one hand riding the hilt of her sword. “Not here. Once we get to the ship, I’ll brief you.”
“Yes, mistress.”
She lifted a brow, no doubt detecting the edge of sarcasm in his voice. He hid a wince, half expecting her to give him a nanobot jolt for his impertinence. Instead she went back to scanning the surrounding crowd, tension visible in the set of her slim shoulders. She may be paranoid, but at least she’s not a bitch.
It might have been easier if she were.
Still, bitch or not, nanos or no, he had to escape. He had a traitor to kill, and he needed to warn Kuarc Lorezo about the mole in his organization. God knew how much damage the spy had done to the Rebellion.
Rance frowned in worry at the thought. He’d known Kuarc for years and considered him a friend. Though an aristo, he’d sworn to abolish slavery once he became emperor. Which was why Conlan Shipping had been providing his rebels with weaponry and armor for the past ten years.
It was damned sure Kuarc would make a better ruler than his drunken excuse for a sister. As far as Rance could tell, the only thing Zarifa Lorezo had going for her was that she was legitimate while her brother wasn’t. Yet the man they called the Bastard was far more honorable.
So if Rance had to hurt Selan to escape, there really was no choice. Friendship, honor, and his own thirst for revenge gave him no alternative.
On the other hand, I could always seduce her… The thought came from out of nowhere, with the particular ring of something that had been percolating in the back of his mind for a while. Rance blinked, then narrowed his eyes in interest.
Seduction had always been an effortless skill for him. Women were fascinated by shifters, who had a reputation for animal sexuality and inhuman endurance.
Unfortunately, though sex came easily, romance was a bit more difficult. An arms-smuggling run to the Empire might be profitable for Rance, his company, and his crew, but it also meant months away from home. More than one of his partners had fallen in love with someone else by the time he returned.
Still, Rance knew women, and he knew Selan wanted him every bit as much as he did her. He could get her into bed, romance her, make her care about him. With a little patience, he might even be able to convince her to let him go.
And if that didn’t work, he could always get ruthless.
Gerik Natalo stalked into his father’s privy chamber, the heels of his boots clicking on the gleaming gemstone tiles.
He found the regent crouched over his royal compdesk like a heron hunting in the shallows of a swamp, long nose pointed downward, narrow face fiercely intent as he stared at screens of data.
Umar Natalo was almost as tall as Gerik himself but weighed a good fifty kilos less, his skin stretched taut over bone and sinew. The shoulders of his black velvet coat were padded in a vain attempt to make him look as if he had some meat on his frame. Black lace spilled around his narrow hands, and a ruby gleamed like a pool of blood on his intricate black cravat. The dark, rich clothing only called attention to his pale skin, making him look rather like a vampire from some ancient myth. Which, knowing Umar, was probably his intention.
The regent didn’t even look up when Gerik came to attention before his battleship of a desk. Gerik wasn’t surprised. His father had yet to forgive him for letting Zarifa slip through his fingers.
Well, he’d find her eventually, and she’d pay dearly for humiliating him. They didn’t call Gerik the Regent’s Fist for nothing.
Waiting for Umar to deign to notice him, Gerik drummed the fingers of his right hand on the hilt of his sword and let his eyes drift around the richly appointed room. It barely missed gaudy with its gilded furniture, red upholstery, and golden statues of naked slaves. Umar’s common blood had a way of showing in a certain lack of taste.
r /> It was fortunate Gerik’s mother was a member of the royal line. Not only did she compensate for his father’s multitude of sins, her ancestry made Gerik an acceptable candidate for Zarifa’s hand. At least in the eyes of the nobility.
Zarifa was another matter. The ice bitch hated him—and it was mutual.
“She has been found.”
Gerik jolted. “Zarifa?”
His father lifted a coal-black brow under hair styled in an elaborate tumble of black curls. “Is there another fugitive who has escaped you?”
Stung, he glowered. “I’m not the only one she escaped, Father. Have you discovered how she managed to break your control?”
Umar’s icy gaze narrowed. “It seems you were right. She has gotten her hands on an Imperial Combat nanosystem.”
He’d suspected as much from the way she’d fought, so different from every previous time she’d tried to stand against him. “Have you found out where she got it?”
