Born of Shadows (8 page)

“Listed by whom?”

Only Nykyrian would revert to formal language in such a hostile situation. “Can’t read that part—language unknown and the translator is unable to ID it. I’m forwarding it to you now.”

Nykyrian paused to read it. “He’s a civ-con under League orders acting as an instigator to cause conflict for your father.”

“Meaning?”

“Someone wants a war and they want to start it by assassinating your father. League doesn’t want it traced back to them, so they hired your stain to try. Bad thing is, he won’t be solo. Another will rise to the greed and take the shot.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly.”

Caillen fell silent as he contemplated how many assassins would want to be a million credits richer… yeah… that was one long list. “So what do I do?”

“Duck.”

“Tired of the one-word answers, Nyk. I need a course of action here.”

“There’s nothing to be done, Dagan. You’d have to know who wants the war and why. I can guarantee you that all the stain might—and I use that word with all due sarcasm—have known was who hired him, and that would be a juiceless flunky who would die before he or she talked.”

“So in other words, don’t bother looking.”

“It would be a waste of time.”

Easier said than done. Caillen didn’t operate that way. “I can’t do nothing.”

“Fine,” Nykyrian said in a strained tone. “I’ll look into it, but I can’t make any promises. Just because the League gave me amnesty doesn’t mean I have friends there.” Nykyrian was the only League assassin who’d ever left the corps and lived. The latter being a testament to the man’s incredible fighting skills. To this day, the League wasn’t happy about it and if not for the fact that Nykyrian was heir to not one, but two, major empires and married to the daughter for a third, he’d still have a death sentence on his head.

Caillen paused as he saw Darling on the other side of the door. He motioned his friend outside where his father was talking, then closed the door so that the others wouldn’t overhear his conversation.

Frowning, Darling stood across from him and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What can I do to protect my dad?” Caillen asked Nykyrian.

“Not much. Tiradors are pretty hostile. More than that, they always frame someone for their actions—it’s what they’re paid to do.”

“How do you mean?”

“I meant what I said. He was there to not only kill your father but to pin the crime on an innocent. You search him, you’ll probably find evidence he was going to plant.”

“I did search him and found nothing.”

Nykyrian paused before he responded. “Then that’s a good sign. It means whoever hired your assassin is probably close enough that they wanted to plant the evidence themselves and didn’t trust him to do it.”

“To protect their identity?”

“Exactly.”

Which meant the person who wanted his father dead could easily be one of the people standing on the other side of the glass. Caillen narrowed his gaze at his uncle and the other advisors who surrounded his father.

One of them was a traitor…

He met Darling’s gaze that reiterated his own thoughts. “I need proof.”

Nykyrian scoffed. “Of all people, you know how hard that is to come by. These people unfortunately aren’t stupid.”

He was right about that. And Caillen’s mind whirled as he tried to think of how best to protect his father. “What language was that note in?”

“Ancient Pralortorian.”

No wonder his translator had been useless. It also made him feel better that he hadn’t been able to identify it. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a language the Trisani spoke about four hundred years ago.” Only Nykyrian would know something that obscure.

“Why would his orders be in a dead language?”

“League protocol. They use dead languages to communicate so that any mundane who happens on their missives won’t be able to understand them.” Which was no doubt why Nykyrian had been fluent in it. That assassin training came in handy in so many ways.

Caillen sighed. “So it all goes back to the League.”

“Not necessarily. The League might have nothing more to do with it than issuing termination orders. Remember, they’re corrupt. Anyone who can afford to bribe them could have gotten this done.”

“In other words, guard my back.”

“Yeah. ’Cause no offense, this is going to get ugly. If I was the hitter, my next crack at your father would be at the summit.”

Caillen arched his brow as he looked at Darling and remembered what Darling had said earlier. “What about their security?”

Nykyrian laughed. “Amateur night.”

“Darling told me that it was so tight even Syn would get caught.”

“He seriously underestimates our Rit. Trust me. Even
you
could breach it.”

Now that was just insulting. “Thanks for that.”

“Ah, don’t get your feathers knotted. You’re one of the best contractors I know. That wasn’t meant as a slight. Only saying you could.”

Caillen still felt insulted by it. His thoughts went to the summit and how best to protect his father while there. “Are you going to be there?”

“No. Kiara’s about to give birth any second. There’s nhing this side of hell or the other that could pry me away from being here right now. Sorry.”

He couldn’t blame Nyk for that either. The man had literally given his life for his wife. “It’s all right.” He didn’t need help when it came to surviving. “Thanks for translating for me. I’ll talk to you later.”

Nykyrian hung up.

Caillen let out a tired breath as he turned his attention to Darling who’d waited patiently through his call. “What’s up?” he asked Darling.

“I found something you missed.”

He arched a brow at that. “Pardon?
I
missed something?”

Darling nodded. “He was transmitting right before he attacked. I routed it back and was able to get a twenty-second loop.”

“Okay. What did it say?”

Darling pushed the small transmitter in his hand. A deep, accented voice spoke. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. I’ll kill your father for you and then you’ll be emperor.”

The blood faded from Caillen’s face. “What the krik…”

“You’re the one being framed, Cai. I barely got that out before the guards found it.” He dropped it on the ground, then crushed it beneath his boot heel. “Someone plans to remove both you and your father from the line of succession.”

No shit.

The only question was who.

And when.

6

Royal Qillaq Training Arena

“Cover your back!”

Circling her sister in the dirt practice ring inside their oversized stadium, Desideria Denarii barely ducked out of the way before her older sister’s sword strike separated her head from her shoulders. She countered the blow with one of her own. One that drove her sister back and into a defensive stance.

And that set Narcissa’s temper into overdrive. Shrieking, she went at Desideria with everything she had. But with her furious attack, she unbalanced herself and Desideria disarmed her with one stroke which only made her sister madder as her sword was slung ten feet away from them.

It landed in the dust with a loud clatter.

Throwing her head back and spilling her black hair across her shoulders, Narcissa let loose a fierce battle cry, then charged at her. Desideria barely caught herself before she stabbed her own sister through the heart—that was what she’d been trained to do when someone attacked her and they were stupid enough to leave her an opening. Yet even though it was their warrior’s code, she refused to kill Narcissa ing a practice fight.

Even if it meant days of starvation for her.

They’d already buried two sisters from training mishaps. Desideria had no desire to bury a third.

Instead she allowed Narcissa to shove her to the ground where her sister rained blow after blow on her face. Desideria kicked her back, then flipped up to land on her feet. She moved in to retaliate.

“Enough!”

They froze at the shout from their trainer. At six feet in height, Kara was a well-trained soldier. Her short, slicked-back black hair matched Narcissa’s and they all shared the same sharp, exotic features and black eyes. Muscular and curvaceous, Kara and her twin sister had once been members of the High Guard for their queen. A queen who just happened to be Desideria’s mother and Kara’s older sister. Once Desideria and her four sisters had reached a trainable age, Kara had honorably quit the Guard to be their private instructor.

Kara had been merciless to them ever since.

Kill or be killed—that was her aunt’s only motto and it was one she strove to drive home to her nieces.

“Narcissa, hit the showers. We’ll talk later about your outburst.”

Narcissa curled her lip as she wiped the blood from her nose and glared at Desideria. Without a word, she headed across the ring for the stairs that would take her into the shower rooms.

Her aunt turned that deep, fierce scowl on her. “You…”

Desideria sighed in resignation as she ignored her bleeding lip and swelling eye. “Punishment. I know.” Well at least the good news was she’d lose some of the extra weight her mother always complained about her carrying. Not the way she wanted to do it, but…

Kara glowered at her. “Why didn’t you strike when you had the chance?”

Because Cissy may get on my nerves to the nth degree, but at the end of the day, she’s still my older sister and I love her. I would never really hurt her, never mind kill her.
Desideria knew better than to even breathe a hint of that sentiment out loud. Kara would never understand it.

She was Qillaq and they didn’t have those weaknesses.

When she didn’t answer right away, her aunt grabbed her by the shirt and jerked her until they were nose to nose—an impressive feat since Desideria was a full six inches shorter. The force of her jerk caused Desideria’s braid to fall over her shoulder and dangle loosely down her back. “No mercy. Ever. No matter who it is. When you fight,
any
fight, your opponent is your enemy. Do you understand?”

Desideria nodded.

Her aunt shook her. “Do. You. Understand?”

“Yes.”

Kara slung her away and she barely caught herself before she went tumbling into the dirt. “Pathetic waste. Just like your worthless mongrel father.”

Those words resonated deep inside her and before she could rein herself in, she attacked.

Laughing at her audacity, Kara sidestepped her charge and unsheathed her own sword to engage her.

Desideria hesitated as she realized what she’d done. But it was too late. She couldn’t back down. A challenge issued was a challenge met. To withdraw now would be an official and public beating.

True to the nature of her people, her aunt was ruthless as she tried her best to kill her.

But Desideria didn’t want to hurt her aunt any more than she’d wanted to kill her sister.
It’s your father’s blood tainting you
. That accusation had been made by everyone around her. And it was true. Unlike her sisters, she was only half Qillaq which made her less in the eyes of all.

You are my delicate rose—the most precious thing I have
. She could still hear her father’s last words to her. Delicate rose was what Desideria meant in his language. He’d talked her mother into naming her that even though he’d had to lie about the meaning at her birth in order to get his way. Her mother thought it meant “strong warrior.”

The name Desideria was his inside joke on her mother’s warring people who’d enslaved him.

And he’d died under questionable circumstances.

Now no one was allowed to even speak his name out loud and she’d been forbidden to mourn him.

To this day, she wanted blood over that too. But right now, as she fought her aunt, she didn’t feel like she was part Gondarion. She felt the heat of her mother’s people and she wanted to hear Kara cry for the insult she’d given Desideria’s beloved father.

Delving deep to tap every bit of her training, she swung her sword and twisted it, catching Kara’s blade. In one deft move, she disarmed her. Desideria caught the sword with her left hand and angled both of them at Kara’s throat as she circled her.