Empress Game: The Empress Game Trilogy Book 1 (23 page)

“What? No.” Malkor shook his head. “Can’t you treat her here?”

“I have no idea what’s wrong. I need to run blood and tissue analyses before I can even guess what I’m working with. I’m hesitant to try anything else before I know more.”

“I’ll get you whatever you need. Tell me what.”

Toble’s brow furrowed. “I need the databanks at the med center and several stationary scanning workstations. We need to get her out of here. Now.”

“We can’t even move her, if it’s as bad as it looks,” Malkor argued.

“We’re going to have to. What’s your issue, Malk?”

Malkor didn’t look away from Isonde’s face. “No one can know.”

Isonde lay there, unconscious, frozen to stone, maybe even dying, and he wanted to keep up their charade? “You have to be kidding me,” she said.

“You’re out of your mind,” Toble said harshly. “You can’t compromise treatment for the sake of your espionage.”

“It has to stay secret,” Malkor said, vehement.

“She could be frutting dying. Her heart’s beating but it’s working too hard to do so. She can’t keep up under this kind of strain and the muscle relaxant I tried had zero effect. I need to—”

“No.”

“Malk—” Hekkar tried, but Malkor cut him off.

“It’s my call.”

The man was nuts. He had to be.

“The plan is and always was for Isonde to win the Empress Game. If anyone knows she can’t compete anymore, it’s over.” He frowned, clearly liking it less than the rest of them, but he didn’t back down. “This is the choice she’d make for herself.”

“There is no way she’d—” Kayla started.

“You don’t know Isonde at all,” he snapped. “She stays. That’s final.” He rose, giving them each a stare that said his word was law. “Toble, work me up a list of what you need right now so I can acquire it. We’ll say Lady Evelyn’s had an accident, easy as that. You—” he stabbed a finger at Kayla. “Keep that damn hologram on. From this moment on you
are
Princess Isonde.” He strode to the door. “I’m gathering Aronse and Rigger. I want that list in three minutes, Toble. Or less.”

* * *

Hours later, Kayla held herself still by sheer strength of will while Toble manipulated her shoulder nanometer by nanometer. She gritted her teeth to keep from moaning at the piercing pain.

“It’ll help to work the stiffness out, I swear,” he said. The medic sounded apologetic while he tortured her. Beads of sweat formed on her brow with the effort to withstand the procedure and Corinth dabbed at them, his cloth coming back yellow-green. Her body had begun metabolizing whatever toxin Janeen had used—they still hadn’t narrowed it down precisely—and the remnants of the drug oozed out of her pores with each drop of sweat. At least she was improving, which was more than could be said for Isonde.

Kayla looked across the space of their shared apartment to where Isonde lay in a specialty medical pod-bed contraption. She’d been pumped so full of muscle relaxants she should have been a puddle of human limpness. They’d had a mild effect, enough to smooth the horrific grimace from her face and ease some of the constriction on her heart. Her lungs drew fuller breaths, but even still, she needed a mask to provide sufficient oxygen.

“Toofartoofartoofar,” Kayla said, as Toble stretched her arm. They walked a fine line between working the joint to speed up the metabolic breakdown of the toxin and forcing the still stiff muscles to the breaking point. Corinth squeezed her good hand.

“I need to get your shoulder to loosen up more before I can do a full exam. You said you heard something snap?”

Kayla nodded.

A half-hour later they were seeing real improvement. Her shoulder throbbed like techno bass and she was more than ready for the pain meds Toble said he would administer once they could be sure it wouldn’t interfere with the toxin, but she had some range of motion back. He wrapped her arm and shoulder in gel pack coolant cells to reduce the massive inflammation and went to check on the multitude of tests he had running in the makeshift lab he’d set up in her kitchen.

Malkor, who’d been at Isonde’s side like a sentinel, wandered over. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling?” She swiped a hand across her brow, smearing the yellow-green fluid that oozed through her pores. “It hurts like a bitch, but I’m in better shape than Isonde.”

“You need to be, you fight Ordinal Divinya in the morning.”

The preposterous nature of the statement warped her mind into stupefaction. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.” Malkor looked disturbingly resolute.

Kayla gestured to where Isonde lay comatose. “That pretty much answers the question of whether or not I’ll be fighting in the Game in the morning. Or at all.” She shook her head. “We’re done here.”

“We’re not done until I say so.”

Toble came back over then, saving her from replying.

“I’ve got a better idea of what we’re working with,” he said, “based on the results of the blood and tissue analysis, and information Rigger was able to dig up on Janeen’s complink terminal. It looks like she used a synthetic polymer designed to combine the paralytic effect of the coinsis flower with the muscle stabilizer known as RDU-7. The results were supposed to be extremely localized and, from what Janeen’s supplier had told her, meant to mimic a severe muscle pull.”

Toble sighed. “Rigger found a communiqué Janeen had sent to an anonymous recipient. Her plan had been to inflame the knee Lady Evelyn injured yesterday with the toxin, to the point of making her forfeit the series with Divinya. Ideally, if she could administer the dosage with some subtlety, none of us would have even known the injury wasn’t natural.”

“Did you find a corresponding injection site on Isonde’s left knee?” Kayla asked.

“I did. I can only assume that Isonde had an allergic reaction to the toxin, and that yours was more along the lines of what she intended.”

“Janeen had said something like, ‘this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.’ At the time I thought she meant only that she’d attacked the wrong one of us, but maybe she’d meant Isonde’s reaction to the toxin.” Kayla looked at Malkor. “What was her plan, even?”

“Rigger’s only started going through Janeen’s files on her complink, but it looks like she and Divinya are in cahoots to fix the Game and put Divinya on the throne.”

“Wouldn’t take much fixing, Divinya can get to the top all by herself.”

“Janeen knows how good you are. She couldn’t take the chance that you’d beat Divinya.” He switched his gaze to Toble. “How bad is Evelyn’s shoulder?”

Toble peeled back the coolant cells and activated his scanner. Her skin flamed without the gel packs; she’d be slapping those back on pronto. She braced for the bad news, and noticed that Malkor seemed to be holding his breath while he watched Toble. Concern for her, or the mission?

Toble’s frown deepened, as she’d known it would.

“What’s the word?” she asked.

“Rotator cuff injury. You have a partial tear in one of the tendons. Actually, it’s more like a fracture. The at-the-time brittle tendon snapped halfway across, and the injury is sheared, rather than fibrous. That’s going to make it harder to treat.” He switched places with Malkor to do a full three hundred and sixty degree scan. “You’re lucky that’s the worst of it. The other muscles and ligaments are strained, but you have no other acute tears.” He finished the scan and wrapped the coolant cells back on.

Partially torn tendon and an extremely strained rotator cuff. Not nearly as bad as what could have happened, given the situation, but no small injury for a fighter. That effectively rendered Malkor’s insanity moot.

“How long will it take to heal?” Malkor asked.

“Cellular regrowth on the dermis is tricky enough. Internal accelerated healing is even more complex.” Toble considered a moment. “If we could have her in a three hundred and sixty degree, finely calibrated shoulder reconstruct sleeve, I’d say the cellular material could be replaced safely over a period of three days, maybe four. After that she’d have to get the new material up to strength with the rest of her body. She’d need physical therapy for a few weeks.”

“Unacceptable. How much can you get done before the match tomorrow?”

“It doesn’t matter, Malk, I’m not letting her fight.”

“You have no say in the matter.”

“But I do.” Kayla glared up at him. “There is no way I’m fighting like this. I couldn’t win, even if I cared at this point about landing your princess the crown.”

“This is not just about winning Isonde the throne.” Malkor looked ready to say more, but snapped his teeth shut. “I need a word with you, Evelyn. In private.” He walked toward her bedchamber without waiting for a response.

“He’ll see reason,” Toble murmured, trying to sound encouraging. “Just give him a few… hours.” He adjusted the setting on the syringe he carried before injecting her. “This should take the edge off of the pain. We’ll put a stabilizer cuff on as soon as you get back from ‘the talk.’” He returned to Isonde’s bed-pod.

Corinth seemed unwilling to release her hand.

“I’ll be fine.”

::He is serious about this.::

She nodded to show she understood.

::We’ll find another way to get home. I don’t want you hurt worse.::

“I’ll be fine,” she said again, and pulled her hand away from him to stand.

She followed Malkor into her bedroom, cradling her left arm with her right to take some of the weight off of her shoulder. She went straight to the chair and sat down. She’d prefer to keep on her feet for the impending confrontation, but she was still slightly ill from the forcible loosening up of her shoulder, and she knew that the pain meds Toble had given her would kick in soon, adding a fuzzy brain to the mix.

“You won’t convince me to do this.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” he snapped. “You should be as much on board with this insanity as I am.”

“Insanity’s the right word for it,” she shot back.

Malkor looked as intense as she’d ever seen him. Intense and harrowed. Isonde was one of his closest friends. They’d grown up together, and he’d come on board with her and Ardin’s scheme partly out of love for the two of them. To see Isonde as she was now must be devastating.

“Have you told Ardin yet?” she asked.

Malkor gave a tight shake of his head. “The last thing we need is him down here, freaking out, taking control of the entire situation and ruining us.” He pierced her with his gray stare. “You
will
continue to act as Isonde.”

“The Game is over. Who knows when she’ll come out of that coma, if ever.”

“She will.”

“You can’t know that. I did my part. I came to Falanar, fought in the Game, and did my best to win. Now you do yours. Corinth and I want passage to Wyrd Space, arranged by tomorrow.”

“No.”

The word hit her like a slap. “No?” She’d expected that response. Feared it. She’d had only his word to rely on in their bargain. Apparently that wasn’t worth what she’d thought it was. “You promised—”

“You can’t leave now. I need you.”

“To win the crown for a woman who might never be able to wear it? What the void do I care about the crown?”

“Frutt the crown,” he said in a harsh voice. “This is about so much more than that. You of all people should understand.”

Time to eject from this critical failure of a mission and get Corinth out of harm’s way.

He made a sound of disgust. “You’re being obtuse on purpose. I know you want to go home, but what of your people? Isonde’s influence on the Council of Seven is the
only
way to pass a motion to withdraw from Wyrd Space. Without her in power, the Ordoch occupation will drag on for who knows how long.”

He paused, watching her, his words hanging in the air.

He was right. He knew it. And stars be damned, she knew it, too.

“It was one thing to fight as her,” Kayla said, “to act as her attendant when she was there to guide me through the politics, but take over her life?”

“You have to.”

She hated every word he said. The truth of it. The pain meds kicked in with a fogging effect on the edge of her mind, but she pushed it back. “When I win the Game, what then? Will you let me go?”

“Not if she hasn’t woken up yet.” At least he didn’t lie about his intention.

“And how long do I keep this up? Am I supposed to marry Ardin? Receive her coronation? Take her seat on the Council?”

“If necessary.”

“I am
not
Princess Isonde,” she said vehemently. “This will
not
be my life.”

He took a step forward, looming over her. “It is now, and will be until I say otherwise.”

They stared at each other, Kayla trapped, furious—Malkor looking hard and regretful but implacable. Damn him for being right.

“Don’t make me use Corinth as a hostage,” he said softly.

That stabbed straight to her heart. She couldn’t even speak past the shock.

His hands fisted at his side. “Don’t look at me like that. You know I don’t want to.”

“But you will.”

His expression left her in no doubt. “I need you to be on board with this. I need to know you’re committed.”

She glared up at him. A thousand angry words threatened to tumble out, but the reality of the situation stayed her tongue. Everything he said was true. Every action he demanded was the best hope for her people. And he had Corinth…

“I’ll be your princess,” she finally said, “but you promise me,
promise me
, that you’ll keep Corinth out of it.”

He sighed in obvious relief, his shoulders relaxing for the first time since the conversation began. “As long as you’re with me, he’s safe. You have my word.”

What a useless bargaining coin that was.

S
tretching on the arena floor the next morning, Kayla felt as terrible as she’d expected to feel. Maybe worse.

She’d slept in fits overnight, dozing when she could in between stimulating jolts from the cellular repair cuff wrapped around her shoulder. Toble had alternated that with a cortisone shot and layers of coolant gel cells to reduce the inflammation as much as he could. The result was a partial regeneration of the tendon to heal most of the tear—which her body hadn’t had time to become accustomed to—a thoroughly numb, weak-feeling shoulder and uncertainty in the strength in her left hand because of it.