Conspiracy

Chapter 19

Akstyr removed his nose from the navigation cabin window and sat back in the chair. Books was walking out of the crumbled tunnel entrance with the others. That was good, Akstyr supposed, though apprehension stirred anew in him when he saw Amaranthe and Sicarius. Books would tell them what Akstyr’s role had been in this mess. Amaranthe would forgive him, he figured, but Sicarius? After all the times he’d thought about betraying Sicarius for that bounty, it’d be pitiful if confiding in his mother was what earned Akstyr a throwing knife in the back.

But he ought to be safe for the moment. He’d memorized the schematics and dissected one of the tiny metal balls from the shaman’s box. If the emperor was truly implanted with one of the spheres, the team would need him to help with the operation. That meant Sicarius couldn’t kill him. Akstyr grimaced. Until five seconds after the surgery.

Light winked somewhere outside, and Akstyr lurched to his feet. He was supposed to be keeping watch, not simply sitting around. He and Books had followed the black craft out of the mountains at a distance, though they couldn’t have kept up if they’d tried. For all of its size, that thing skimmed through the air effortlessly. From miles back, they’d watched it shoot narrow white beams into the top of the cliff, caving in the tunnel. The craft had loitered, its red searchlight probing the rubble, for a long time before drifting south along the railway. Books had waited longer than Akstyr thought they should before flying close to the destroyed train tunnel. Once there, they’d shouted for survivors and tried to pull rubble away but had had no luck. Books had been in the process of calculating how to use blasting sticks on the blocked entrance when the explosion had come from within.

Akstyr scoured the horizon, searching for the light he’d seen out of the corner of his eye. Dawn might only be an hour or two off, but it was still dark outside. It didn’t take him long to find the light. A small, blue circle pulsed on and off on top of the cliff. Something the black craft had left behind on accident? Or on purpose?

Akstyr closed his eyes and stretched his mind in that direction, but once again he did not sense anything otherworldly about the device. “Can’t be good, whatever it is.”

He jumped to his feet, and, reminded of his wound with a stabbing pang, hobbled toward the door, intending to warn the others. He almost crashed into Sicarius, who was striding into the navigation cabin ahead of Books and Amaranthe.

“Uh,” Akstyr said eloquently.

The icy stare Sicarius leveled at him made Akstyr stumble back, wound forgotten. The man was always icy, but there was an extra edge to his glare today. Had Books already spoken to him?

When Amaranthe came in, she patted Akstyr on the shoulder. “Keeping us afloat?” She waved at the controls, then noticed him favoring his leg, and added, “And keeping yourself alive?”

“Yes.” Until Sicarius gets me alone, Akstyr thought. He pointed toward the glowing object on the cliff. “I was going to tell you about-”

“I see it,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe leaned on the console and peered outside. “What is it?”

“I could only guess.”

“That’s permitted, you know,” Amaranthe said. “Especially considering there’s more knowledge behind your guesses than the rest of us have put together.”

Books huffed at that comment. Akstyr caught his eye, pointed to Sicarius’s back, and signed, Did you tell them? About… He tapped his chest.

Books opened his mouth, but Akstyr stopped him with a shushing wave, then wriggled his fingers.

Not yet, but I told Amaranthe there was something she’d have to know. I can’t keep this a secret. It threatens the group.

I know, Akstyr signed, but please don’t tell her when he’s around.

He pointed to Sicarius only to realize Sicarius’s head had rotated in his direction. Akstyr gulped. If he’d seen all of the signs…

“My guess,” Sicarius said, “would be that it’s a monitoring device.”

Amaranthe tore her gaze from the blinking light. “Monitoring… us? The cave-in? To see if we make it out?”

“Yes.”

“And would it then be able to send that information back to the enemy craft?”

“Yes,” Sicarius said.

Books raised a finger. “How do you know what it’s capable of? Akstyr says it’s not magical, and even if it is-”

“We’ll do explanations later,” Amaranthe said.

“We need to get this craft moving,” Sicarius said. “The emperor’s destination is Sunders City.”

“Can’t you even tell me if-”

“Now.” Some of Sicarius’s icy glare hit Books.

Books quailed under it and slunk to the controls. “Very well.”

Sicarius and Amaranthe headed back down the corridor, and Akstyr overheard her asking, “Our craft won’t be anywhere near as fast as theirs, will it?” and Sicarius responding, “No,” before their conversation was too far away to hear.

“So good to have him back,” Books muttered.

“I’ll say.”

“Wait,” came Amaranthe’s voice from the corridor.

Akstyr winced in anticipation of more trouble when she hustled back in, dragging Sicarius behind her.

“Were you able to get through to the shaman’s workshop?” Amaranthe asked. “Did you find anything?”

“Yes,” Akstyr blurted, relieved to have a chance to remind that he could help with the implant. He hustled down the corridor to the cabin he’d claimed for himself, grabbed the box and the schematic, and rejoined the others. “These are the implants. I’ve studied them. With some help, I think I could remove one.”

“Oh!” Amaranthe startled Akstyr by grabbing him by the shoulders and kissing him on the cheek. “That’s more than I dared hope for. Wonderful.”

Books cleared his throat. “ I helped retrieve them.”

Amaranthe stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek too. For a moment, Akstyr thought she might try the same move on Sicarius-he was standing there, face utterly expressionless as usual-but she merely smiled at him and said, “The emperor will want to know about this.”

“Likely,” Sicarius said and walked out.

Akstyr doubted if he cared a whit if the emperor’s neck exploded or not.

“Akstyr,” Amaranthe said, “gather whatever materials you think we might need to remove the device and… I assume the surgery will be dangerous?”

“Oh, hugely dangerous. To him and me and anyone in the room.” Akstyr tapped the box. “These things can jump like crickets.”

“Grab a couple of hours of sleep then. I want you rested. In the meantime, I’ll be busy convincing the emperor to trust you with his life.”

Amaranthe walked out, and Akstyr watched her go in silence. When he’d been studying the spheres, he’d been focused on figuring out how they worked-and how to make them not work. Only now, at the mention of lives, did he realize the enormity of the responsibility in his lap. He’d have to perform, or at least help perform, surgery on the emperor over all of Turgonia. What if he messed up and Sespian died?

Amaranthe strode down the corridor toward the suite they had assigned Sespian. She was relieved that Akstyr and Books had found the devices and had a plan of action, but she worried her skills of persuasion might not be up to convincing the emperor to undergo the surgery. He had no reason to trust Akstyr with his life.

Maldynado and Yara’s voices drifted up from the cargo area. Maybe Amaranthe and Sicarius could snatch a moment to talk to Sespian alone, though they probably didn’t have time for big revelations. That blinking light worried her.

Before she reached the suite, a door to one of the smaller cabins opened. Sicarius stood on the threshold.

“A moment.” He stepped back, gesturing for Amaranthe to step past him and go inside.

Not certain what concern he might voice, Amaranthe tried to find a clue in his eyes, but, as always, he gave away nothing. As she walked into the cabin, she tried not to feel like a student being taken aside by a teacher for a lecture on her failings. Things were going as well as could be expected, and they had a potential solution to Sespian’s most pressing problem. Sicarius ought to be pleased.

No lanterns burned in the room, and Amaranthe had only a glimpse of two empty bunks before Sicarius shut the door. Blackness swallowed them.

“If this is going to be a private admonishment, I wouldn’t mind a light,” Amaranthe said. “I need to see your face so I can know when my attempts at levity have crossed from amusing you to irking you.” Not that his face ever gave away much, but sometimes she could decipher his mood through the degrees of hardness.

Before Amaranthe could turn toward him, or start patting around for a lantern, Sicarius wrapped his arms around her from behind. It was so uncharacteristic that her first thought was that he was launching some sort of training exercise and expected her to defend herself. But she’d already be on her back with a dagger at her throat if that were the case.

Arms around her waist, Sicarius stepped close, his chest pressing against her back. Something-his chin? — came to rest on her shoulder.

“This… may be a foolish question, given our positions,” Amaranthe said, her voice a little squeaky, “but is this… a hug?”

Sure, he’d hugged her before-so few times that she had no trouble counting them-but that had usually been after she’d nearly gotten herself killed some way or another. Certainly never during a mission when there was work to be done and other people were nearby.

Sicarius snorted softly at her question, his breath whispering across her neck, stirring gooseflesh. “Thank you.”

The quiet words startled her more than the hug. Amaranthe couldn’t ever remember him saying them.

“For… sending the men to look in the shaman’s cave? For going against your wishes and bringing along Sergeant Yara, who, as you noticed, vouched for us to Sespian? Or maybe for my unique style of leadership which, at no extra charge, includes non-linear thinking, inappropriate jokes, and a tendency to blow things up?” Stop burbling, a voice in the back of her mind said. She’d been wanting hugs-all right, more than hugs-from him for a long time, so she should simply appreciate the rare moment.

“Yes.” He kissed her on the neck, and the warmth of his lips sent a wave of heat through her.

Amaranthe closed her eyes and leaned back into him, enjoying the feel of the hard muscles beneath his shirt molding into her back. She clasped his hands with her own, exploring his strong, calloused fingers with her thumb. His neatly trimmed nails were lacking in teeth marks. He had to have been as worried of late as she, but chewing on nails had perhaps not been allowed during his young-assassin training sessions.

Too soon, Sicarius lowered his arms and stepped back. “Later.”

“Wait,” Amaranthe blurted, spinning and groping in the dark to catch one of his hands. “Later, what does that mean? Later, we’ll resume hugging in a dark room? Later, there’ll be more than hugging in a dark room?” A cool draft brushed against the skin of her neck, reminding her of the feel of his lips there.

Sicarius opened the door, and Amaranthe groaned to herself, knowing she wasn’t going to get an answer. But, on the way out, he squeezed her hand. Before he disappeared into the corridor, he gave her a backward glance with the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Huh,” she murmured.

It took Amaranthe a moment to collect herself and push musings of what “later” might entail to the back of her mind. When she stepped into the corridor, she was almost knocked on her rump by a sweaty, bare-chested Maldynado skittering backward past the door. He paused in a crouch, his face to the navigation cabin, his fists cocked.

“What are you-” Amaranthe started.

“I’m faster than you thought, aren’t I?” Maldynado asked, ignoring Amaranthe. “You’ll need to come up with more speed or fancier combinations than that to touch me.”

“All you’ve proven so far is that you’re good at running away,” came Yara’s voice from a few paces farther up the corridor.

She was stalking toward him, her fingers curled into fists, her face flushed with exertion.

“I don’t want to hurt you by throwing a punch that’ll knock you on your lean little rump,” Maldynado drawled. “I thought it was sufficient proof of my manliness that I could evade all your attempts to pummel me.” He spread a hand across his muscular chest, fingers splayed.

“Hurt me!” Yara sputtered. “You couldn’t hit a drunk possum stuffed in a sack.”

“What a lovely image,” Maldynado said. “Is that one of your rural adages? It’s quite charming.”

Yara charged him. Maldynado danced back into the cargo bay and glided to the side when Yara ran in. She jumped after him and launched a punch at his belly, a quick jab that would have caught up with many opponents, but he evaded it easily.

Before Amaranthe could veer for Sespian’s suite, Maldynado and Yara sparred their way back down the corridor. Amaranthe stepped between them, hands upraised. “It’s very possible that enemy craft is coming back to visit us. Would you two mind making sure everything in the cargo area is battened down, in case there’s an… altercation?”

A sheepish expression on her face, Yara said, “Of course,” and hustled to the cargo bay.

Though Maldynado couldn’t have managed a sheepish expression if he’d tried, he did shrug and start to stroll in that direction. Amaranthe caught him by the bare, sweaty arm.

“What are you doing?”

Maldynado’s eyes widened innocently. “What do you mean?”

“She finds you annoying. Why are you bugging her by inflicting yourself upon her?”

“She only thinks she finds me annoying.” Maldynado smiled and gestured toward the corridor. “This seemed like the best way.”

“Way for what?” Amaranthe wondered if she truly wanted the answer.

“Wooing her, of course.”

“ Wooing? ”

“It’s drafty up here. You don’t think I’d be running around with my shirt off for no reason, do you?”

Amaranthe glanced toward the cargo bay, but Yara was out of sight. “What do you mean wooing her? Are you joking?”

“Of course not, boss. We’ve been out of town for several days now, and a man has needs.”

Amaranthe dropped her forehead into her palm. “I didn’t think you even liked her.”

“Oh, she’s insufferable, but there aren’t many options up here. She’s prettier than Books anyway.”

“Listen, Maldynado. I don’t think you’re going to have much luck wooing her, but either way, she’s off limits.”

“What? Why?”

Aware of the fact that Sespian was probably in his suite a few feet away, Amaranthe lowered her voice. “I brought her along for the emperor.”

“Uh, pardon?”

Amaranthe wasn’t about to go into the real reason, so she said, “He’s the one who promoted her, and I think she feels loyal to him. Maybe more.” The last was a stretch-nothing Yara had said implied she had romantic notions toward the emperor, but surely he was a more appealing candidate than Maldynado, someone who could vex her without saying a word.

“If that’s her interest, that’s fine,” Maldynado said, “but I’m not going to step aside for his sake.”

“I don’t think it’s very gentlemanly of you to pursue a woman you’re not genuinely interested in.”

“Maybe not, but I’m a disowned lout, not a gentleman, remember?”

Amaranthe was surprised he was fighting her on this. He usually accepted orders without much of a battle, so long as they didn’t involve getting up too early. “But what if the emperor developed real feelings for her? He could offer her a wonderful future, not simply a roll around the cargo bay.”

“If he wants her, he can fight for her.”

Amaranthe opened her mouth, intending to protest more, but Maldynado added, “I don’t think it should be within your prerogative as my employer to tell me whom I can and can’t date.”

Her shoulders slumped. He was right. Amaranthe didn’t even know if Sespian had any interest in Yara or vice versa. She’d simply hoped that she could play matchmaker and forever end Sicarius’s concern that Sespian might have feelings Amaranthe. Well, maybe that could still happen. Maldynado might be pretty, and he might look quite scintillating walking around with his shirt off, but Yara didn’t seem to be impressed with any of that. Maybe she’d prefer a sweet fellow who would treat her well. Anyway, Sespian hadn’t said anything on the train that suggested he still had feelings for Amaranthe. Maybe he’d forgotten all about it when the drugs wore off.

“Very well,” Amaranthe said. “Do as you wish.”

She left Maldynado scratching his head, and she wondered if she should have fought harder. He seemed to have expected to lose.

Amaranthe lifted her hand to knock on Sespian’s door, but paused. She heard voices. Had Sicarius gone in to speak with Sespian? If so, maybe she should wait. But, no, he’d asked for her help for any conversations they might have.

She knocked, and the conversation stopped.

“Come in,” Sespian called through the door.

When Amaranthe entered, she found Books in there with Sespian, not Sicarius. He sat on one of two purple velvet chairs edged in gold trim with a crystal chandelier dangling precariously low overhead. Books’s hands were on his knees, and he wore an earnest expression on his face. Sespian faced him while sitting cross-legged on a wide bed draped in flawless white furs. Barefoot and clad in rumpled clothes stained with grease and coal, he didn’t quite fit into the opulent room. Amaranthe wished she’d thought to have fresh clothing available for him. Women were supposed to think of such things, weren’t they? When they weren’t busy planning kidnappings and train infiltrations?

“Come in, Corporal Lokdon,” Sespian said.

Amaranthe realized she hadn’t moved passed the threshold. She took a couple of steps, then hesitated again. “I’m sorry, Sire. I’m not sure what the proper protocol is.” She looked toward Books for advice. “Should I bow or curtsey as I come in?”

Sespian’s eyebrows arched. “You’re worrying about protocol now? You were giving me orders and having me shovel coal before.”

“That’s when we were busy kidnapping you. Given the chaos of the moment, it seemed more acceptable to be remiss in social responsibilities then.” Amaranthe waved toward Books. “I thought you were piloting the dirigible.”

“Basilard said he’d get me if anything came up.”

“Ah. Are you discussing… economics?” Though removing the implant was foremost in Amaranthe’s mind, she ached to know what mission Sespian had in Sunders City and how it might tie in with the team’s counterfeiting scheme from the winter before.

Books’s brow crinkled in puzzlement.

“Not yet,” Sespian said.

“I came to, ah…” Books picked at a thread on the arm of his chair.

Sespian waved Amaranthe toward the second chair. “He’s been inquiring after the fate of the Spearcrests.”

Ah, Books hadn’t mentioned Vonsha Spearcrest often, but Amaranthe had suspected he still had feelings for the woman, despite her betrayal.

“Yes,” Books said, “it seems the family was asked to retire in the south.”

“On a piece of land near the Gulf,” Sespian said. “Their role in the water debacle demanded reprisal, but I didn’t wish to decimate the entire family because of the actions of one individual, one who had a reason to feel bitterly toward the throne. They’ve been asked not to return to the capital, but they retain their warrior-caste status, and their new home is arguably more appealing than that remote mountain property.”

“It has lemon trees,” Books said, “and a view of the water.”

A longing note in his voice made Amaranthe wonder if he was thinking of retirement too. Or maybe visiting Vonsha. As far as Amaranthe had heard, the woman had been sleeping with that shaman and had only spent the night with Books to distract him, but she supposed it could be hard to put feelings aside, no matter how inappropriate they were. Not for the first time, she thought of what her father would have to say if he were alive and knew she was mooning after an assassin.

“I came to talk to you about the implant, Sire,” Amaranthe said. “The men recovered samples and a schematic, and Akstyr believes he can remove the device. How would you feel about a small surgery?”

“A schematic?”

“Yes,” Books said. “From the Mangdorian shaman who made the devices. I translated the text for Akstyr, and he studied it on the way here.”

“Surgery, you say.” Sespian touched his neck. “There’s a possibility of death, I assume.”

“Yes,” Books said. “According to the information I translated, the implants were never intended to come out. In fact, they’re something of a death sentence. Even if they’re not called upon by their controller, they wear out after about six months, and the poison within leaks into the bloodstream where it-”

“Books,” Amaranthe whispered, making a cutting-off motion with her hand. “Let’s focus on the details of how it can be removed, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, yes, I apologize, Sire.”

Though Sespian had grown pale, he said, “No, it’s fine. I want to know everything before I make any decisions.”

“That’s about all I have. Akstyr will have to tell you the rest.” Books shifted to face Amaranthe. “Though I need to talk to you about our flight over here. The pilot Lady Buckingcrest sent with us assaulted me, and there were two men hiding in the engine room who tried to shoot Akstyr when he went down to explore.”

“I see.” Amaranthe dropped her chin into her hand. “Do you think the men might have been along to spy and Akstyr, in stumbling across them, forced them to take action?”

“The pilot wasn’t open to discussing the situation with us, and the other two died in the fight. Akstyr was lucky to survive.”

Amaranthe glanced at Sespian, worried he would frown with disapproval over men being dispatched, whether it was in a fight or not, but whatever he was thinking wasn’t on his face. He’d been much easier to read when he’d been influenced by that drug. Now, he reminded her more of Sicarius, though there was a gentleness to his visage, even when it wasn’t giving anything away.

“Is it possible Maldynado’s lady friend is a member of Forge?” Amaranthe asked Books. “Or one of their allies? And unbeknownst to Maldynado, she sent the men along to hinder us?”

“Perhaps. Or…” Books eyed the open door and lowered his voice. “What if it wasn’t unbeknownst to Maldynado?”

A chill crept in the pit of Amaranthe’s stomach. “What are you saying?”

“He’s the one who directed us to Lady Buckingcrest and this mode of transportation. As I recall, you had another errand you wished him to accompany you on that night, but he insisted that we needed a superior conveyance.”

Sespian’s interest sharpened at this new turn in the conversation. “As a Marblecrest, he could stand to gain much if his family took the throne. If Forge knows you’re between them and success, they might have infiltrated your group with a spy.”

Amaranthe raised both hands and patted the air. “Maldynado’s not a spy. He’s the first man I recruited for my team, and running into him was accidental.”

“Are you certain?” Sespian asked.

“Yes. I was dodging enforcers at the time, and he was wearing a loincloth. Nobody would set something like that up. Since then, he’s been among my most loyal of team members.”

“Well, he would be, wouldn’t he?” Sespian stroked his chin. “An unreliable man would be suspect or in danger of being released.”

“He’s not a spy, Sire. We’ve been through life and death together in the last nine months. He would have gotten fed up and left my side at some point if he didn’t have a very good reason for being there.” Amaranthe glowered at Books, annoyed that he’d brought this up in front of the emperor. Sespian had just met Maldynado and had no reason to trust him yet, but Books ought to know better.

“And what is that reason?” Sespian asked.

“He wants a statue made of himself,” Books said.

“I see,” Sespian said in a tone that meant he didn’t think that was “a very good reason” at all.

Amaranthe sighed. “Let’s wait until we have more evidence before we start accusing comrades of colluding with the enemy. For all we know, those two men followed Books and Akstyr, snuck on board, and were hoping to collect someone’s bounty.”

“That wouldn’t explain why the pilot attacked us,” Books said, “but I’ll agree that there’s insufficient evidence to accuse anyone. Besides, Akstyr might be the one to blame for at least some of our troubles. He has a new bounty on his head, and he told his mother he’d be at Forkingrust or the pass.”

“His mother?” Amaranthe resolved to get the full story from Books, but he’d already said more in front of the emperor than she would have liked.

Someone cleared his throat in the corridor. Basilard. We are approaching a tall mountain, and this boat may need to make a course adjustment.

Books stood, bowed to Sespian with a, “Sire,” and headed for the door.

Also Maldynado is attempting to teach himself how to pilot.

“Dear ancestors.” Books’s calm walk toward the door turned into a sprint.

“Boat?” Amaranthe asked Basilard, in part because the word choice amused her and also because she wanted Sespian to know they weren’t chatting about suspicious things when her people signed back and forth.

No word yet for… Basilard pointed toward the ceiling.

“Not many dirigibles in your mountain homeland, eh?” Amaranthe asked. Though Sespian had other concerns at the moment, it wouldn’t hurt to remind him that Basilard was a foreigner, here helping because he wanted to improve his people’s lot.

Basilard shook his head and lifted a hand for a departing wave.

Shut the door, please, Amaranthe signed. And if you see Sicarius, can you tell him to join us in a few minutes?

After Basilard left, Sespian crossed a finger over his throat and asked, “What’s that sign mean?”

“Ah, that’s the one Basilard made up for Sicarius.”

Sespian grimaced. “I hope you were telling him to have him leave us alone.”

“If you’re left alone with me, I’ll pour all my efforts into convincing you to let us perform this surgery on you and then to use my team as your own personal… emperor’s edge.” Amaranthe felt silly saying the group’s name-Maldynado had teased her about it so often that she’d stopped using it-but maybe it would amuse Sespian.

“Hm,” was all he said.

“Are you thinking of letting us try to remove it?” Amaranthe asked, wanting a feel for where he stood.

“Oh, I’m thinking of very little else. Having the promise of instant death held over my head every day for the last five months has dampened my enthusiasm for my job. In the beginning, I thought I could fight Forge, keep them out of the Barracks and the government, but they have spies everywhere. Knowing they can track me down and end my life at any time has made it difficult to keep up the fight, but if the implant were gone…”

“How did they embed the device to start with?” Amaranthe asked.

“A team of hooded men came into my bedroom one night, held me down, and gagged me. My first thought was that Sicarius had finally come to kill me, but he always worked solo. I didn’t see any of these men’s faces, though the leader was older. He had hard gray eyes, and I could see the hint of a scar under one.”

Amaranthe sat up straighter, but Sespian wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at his lap, and he continued speaking.

“While they held me down, Peadraga, that woman who was with me on the train, strolled in and inserted the device. She didn’t need any tools. She simply laid it on my throat, and it burrowed in while I could do nothing to stop it.” His lips twisted as if he wanted to spit. “I don’t know if my personal guards, who should have been at my door, were Forge’s from the start or were paid to look the other way. Turgonians pride themselves on duty and honor, but it seems there’s little loyalty that can’t be bought. Maybe I’m just not the ruler my father was and people feel they have no reason to risk themselves backing me.” He pushed a hand through his hair.

“That’s not true. You care about the people. They’ll see that one day and appreciate it. You’ve been born into a difficult era, where the empire is trying to reconcile great technological and socio-economic changes with a centuries-old system of government. None of your predecessors had to deal with anything like this. Besides, you’ve yet to have a real chance to rule, so you can’t compare yourself to Raumesys.” Amaranthe realized that what she meant as an encouraging talk sounded a bit like a lecture, so she tacked on a weak, “Sire.”

Sespian snorted softly.

“I honestly believe you’re the open-minded, forward-thinking person we need in charge right now,” Amaranthe said. “We just need to make sure you survive and have the leeway to apply your vision.” It wouldn’t hurt if he had an older, experienced advisor he could trust either. She imagined Books or even Sicarius in that role. Maybe it was hubris, but she thought Sespian would benefit from having her whole team on board. If only she could get him to see that. “Don’t let anyone beat you down. This is worth fighting for.”

“Odd,” Sespian murmured.

That wasn’t quite the response Amaranthe had expected. “Me? Or my speech? Or both?”

“I get a lot flatterers telling me what they think I want to hear in order to get what they want. Why is it that I believe you when you do the same?”

Maybe Amaranthe should feel insulted-he’d just called her a flatterer who was angling for something, after all-but the puzzled crease to Sespian’s brow took the bite out of the words. “Because I don’t hide the fact that I want something? And I don’t think I want anything that’s particularly evil or would require you to compromise your integrity. I just want my name cleared.” All right, she wanted Sicarius’s name cleared, too, but that probably would compromise Sespian’s integrity, and she doubted Sicarius particularly cared about that aspect anyway. “There’s more to it than that, of course,” Amaranthe went on. “Me wanting to be someone who matters and to live up to the expectations of a dead father, for example. But my life story, dreams, fears, and so on can wait for when we have more time. Right now, I only wish to know what reassurances I can give you to get you to say yes to this surgery. There was a beacon of some sort left behind on that cliff, and I’m afraid that means the other craft will know we’re alive. They may already be looking for us. If someone on board that craft can trigger your implant… Well, I’d find it rather inconvenient to lose you so soon after retrieving you. I doubt Maldynado’s older brother would pardon me.” There, finish with a smile. What more could she do?

“I’d like to hear the life story sometime,” Sespian said, surprising Amaranthe. That wasn’t the part of her speech he was supposed to focus on. “If we survive the next few weeks, perhaps you’d like to have dinner with me? Some place quiet? And private?”

“I… uh…” Amaranthe felt like a deer caught on the railway with a train barreling out of the night toward it. Her mind wouldn’t come up with something useful to do, and she could only gape at Sespian. He wasn’t supposed to be interested in dinner with her any more. He was supposed to want to have dinner with Yara. “Sire, you’re…” The son of the man I love, she thought, but she couldn’t possibly say that. “Young. Yes, young to me. I don’t think we’d be a good…” Amaranthe trailed off when she realized Sespian was watching her intently. It wasn’t, she sensed, in hopes that she would agree to his proposition. A moment passed, and he said nothing. Finally, she asked, “Was that a test?”

Sespian smiled sadly. “If you’d said yes, it wouldn’t have necessarily proven or disproven anything, but because you said no… I suspect I can trust you.”

Amaranthe slumped back into the cushy chair. She wasn’t certain whether she was more relieved that Sespian had admitted to trusting her or that he hadn’t truly had his hopes pinned to her saying yes about the dinner proposition.

“As to conditions for the surgery,” Sespian said, “I want everything explained. It has to sound logical and there has to be a good probability of success. I don’t want Forge to be able to hold that power over me any more, but I also don’t want to commit suicide.”

“Of course, Sire.” Amaranthe stood up and headed for the door. “I’ll let Akstyr know.”

“Corporal Lokdon?” Sespian slipped off the bed and met her a couple steps from the door.

“Yes, Sire?”

“If we both survive this with our sanity intact, I hope you’ll reconsider the dinner offer. I won’t always be young. If it helps, I’ll probably be old and doddering before you, thanks to the drug that curmudgeon Hollowcrest used on me.”

Amaranthe gripped his hands. “Sire, I’m sure you’ll live a long and fulfilling life.” Except she wasn’t sure of that. Sicarius, she recalled, had been concerned when he learned the name of the drug Hollowcrest had used. That knowledge had fueled his cold fury when he broke the old general’s neck with his bare hands.

The door opened. Belatedly, Amaranthe remembered that she’d told Basilard to send Sicarius in.

She released Sespian’s hands and yanked hers behind her back, but not before Sicarius witnessed the handholding. His expression never changed, but he looked into her eyes for a heartbeat, and then he looked into Sespian’s for several more.

“Nothing’s going on,” Amaranthe said, though she promptly realized that made it sound as if there were something going on. “We were just-”

Without a word, Sicarius walked away.