Her daughter shrank farther into her chair. “I don’t know. That’s what I heard Denieen tell Teena.”
Grabbing a small figurine from a table, Jadis threw it against the wall. “Impossible! No one can just look at a pregnant woman and tell if an unborn child will be a boy or girl.”
“I’m just telling you what I heard.”
Glaring at the smashed figurine, Jadis ignored her daughter. The right potion in her drink, and Denieen wouldn’t have another baby. Enough of the potion, and Denieen wouldn’t be around to interfere with her plans.
She glanced back to where her daughter was hunched in her chair. “How many times have I told you to sit up straight? Proper posture is important. Now go get dressed. Your new orange gown is ready. I want you looking your best so everyone can see how much more attractive you are than a washed-out Drakian slut.”
Smile returning to her face, Kadis rose to her feet. “Yes, Mother. I
am
much more attractive than she is.”
In the back room of a tavern on the other side of the city from the palace, Cadan accepted the goblet the hooded Gattan offered to him. “Everything is ready?”
The man nodded once.
Cadan sipped his wine. “Good. I’ll see you later then.”
“The secret door?”
“The bolt is already thrown. The men will have no trouble entering the palace.”
As the other man left, Cadan gulped his wine. Treason was thirsty work. He refilled his goblet and drank that. Deceiving his mother made him even thirstier.
* * * * *
Nobody wants to see me.”
Sheala chuckled and pulled Sosha’s bodice down.
Sosha grabbed it with both hands and pulled it back up again.
Sheala stomped her foot. “Sosha! You have great breasts. Why do you keep trying to hide them?
“They’re my breasts! If I want to hide them, I will.” She yanked her bodice up farther. “I’m not a Drakian who’s happy to show off her breasts to anyone who wants to look, you know. Besides, they’re full of scars.”
Sheala grinned. “You’re bloodsister to a Drakian, and those scars are barely noticeable.”
Sosha scowled back. “Then
you
show off
your
breasts. Go topless if you want.”
“Your queen and her court would really love that.”
“The men would, Coz,” Ban quipped as he sauntered into the room. “I thought you decided to be circumspect and dress conservatively.”
Sheala glanced over her shoulder at him. “Me, yes. But Sosha’s a heroine. She could get away with showing a little cleavage.”
Chuckling, Ban nodded to Sosha. “Sheala’s right, love.”
Sosha shook her head. “I’m not a heroine. I’m an object to be pitied. I’ve not even heard from my mother and father, I’m so pathetic.”
Pulling her against his chest, he tsked. “You aren’t pathetic. You are the bravest and most desirable woman I know.”
Sniffing, Sosha pushed herself out of his arms. “Obstinate, inflexible Medirian! But you’ll see. Just wait.”
Before Ban could reply, there was a knock on the door and a servant entered. “A message for Prince Hardan.”
As Ban read it, Sheala glanced at the servant, looked away, then stared at her more closely. Something about her piqued Sheala’s curiosity. Perfectly coiffed dark hair, black skin, immaculate uniform. She looked like all the other servants Sheala had seen, though they did have different skin tones depending on their tribes.
“Something wrong, Sheala?”
Blinking, Sheala turned her attention to Ban.
He had his usual smile on his face.
She blinked.
What was that strange look in his eyes?
Sheala blinked again.
He was grinning at her. “Something in your eye, Coz?”
“What?” She shook her head. “No. I…”
“Finish helping Sosha with her dress. And if she wants her breasts completely covered, that’s her decision. Once we get her off of Gattan again, we’ll work on her inhibitions. Now, I have to go. I’ll see you later at the reception.”
“But…”
Before she could finish, both Ban and the servant were gone.
Sheala frowned at the door then glanced over to Sosha. “Did you think there was something strange about that servant?”
The Gattan met Sheala’s gaze in the mirror. “No. I didn’t really notice.”
A strong grip on the servant’s upper arm, Ban pulled her down the hallway and into a small alcove. No one was around. “Do you know what’s in this message?”
“Of course.”
“Send it to Kavlalardrac—top priority.”
She nodded.
Ban stared at her. Her disguise was excellent. Anyone looking at her would be sure she was a member of the
Pantra
tribe. “Does anyone here know who you are?”
The disguised Medirian stared back. Her answer was an emphatic “No!”
“I want you off Gattan by tomorrow. Something about your disguise alerted my cousin. If she noticed, the Gattan will. We don’t want any more dead assassins.”
The servant bowed her head. “I’ll be gone by morning, Sir.”
Cursing silently as the woman walked away, Ban tore the messages into small pieces and placed them in a small pocket sewn into the waistband of his pants. It was damned hard to place spies on Gattan. But if Sheala looked twice at her, then a Gattan would too, if one already hadn’t. Kavlalardrac would not be happy to lose this woman.
Then he smiled. With the story Sosha had to tell about her kidnapping, the servant’s disappearance from the palace could be turned into an advantage. Everyone would assume she’d been kidnapped too, especially after a few well-placed rumors about more girls disappearing were spread on Gattan.
Someone in league with the slaver-pirates was sure to slip up. With any luck, he’d soon be able to let Kavlalardrac know who the pirates’ contact on Gattan was.
He slid his finger along his waistband. First, though, he had to make sure the Gattan queen survived the night. And there was no way to warn her or anyone else of the plot without revealing his identity as the Monarch’s Assassin. Luckily, the Medirian ambassador knew exactly who he was. Time to pay a visit to Aunt Jessilindra. Between them, they should be able to come up with a plan.
“Trouble follows you like a jealous lover, Bandalardrac.”
Chuckling, Ban kissed the ambassador on the cheek. “It’s nice to see you, too, Aunt Jess.”
Snorting, she waved him to a chair.
He glanced around the room. They seemed to be alone. “The room’s secure?”
She pressed a button on a console next to her chair. A soft Medirian lullaby began to play softly. “It is now.”
Ban cocked an eyebrow.
She smiled. “Electronic scrambling waves embedded in the music which interferes with their listening devices. The Gattan remain frustrated on how to counter it. Now, what do you want?”
“There’s a plot to murder the queen and her family at tonight’s reception.”
She stared at him over steepled fingers.
“Her sister is behind it.”
Jessilindra shook her head. “We knew Jadis was envious of her sister. She feels Krondal’s mother should have ordered him to marry her, because she was his mother’s first choice. But Krondal preferred the younger sister Mattis, and his mother agreed with his choice. Jadis is a bitter woman, but I never thought she’d physically harm her sister and niece.” She looked up at Ban. “They’ll never be able to get weapons into the reception room. Every door is monitored by listening and tracking devices.”
Ban laced his fingers behind his head and stretched his legs out before him. “They’re going to use traditional weapons.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Traditional weapons?”
“Bows, arrows, swords. They’ll kill someone just as dead as a laser.”
She shook her head. “This can’t be. This just doesn’t sound like Jadis. The queen dying now is completely at odds with the plan she’s been formulating over the last year.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “Her plan was to marry her daughter to Marljas and have Kadis produce a daughter.”
Ban snorted. “That girl would be pretty far down the line of succession.”
“Not if something happened to the royal family. Krondal and Marljas are cousins.”
“But Wendjas is older. Denieen’s daughter would be queen.”
She stared into her nephew’s eyes. “Do you think she’d stop at killing Denieen if she’d already killed the queen?”
Ban nodded. “Good point.”
Jessilindra rose. “But her entire plan revolves around Kadis marrying Marljas. She can’t dispose of the queen until that part of her plan bears fruit. Why would she decide on assassination now? If the queen and her daughters die, the line of succession passes to Drefes. Teena would be declared queen.”
Ban shrugged. “I’d show you the message if I hadn’t destroyed it.”
“Was it the original?”
Ban shook his head. “A copy. Sent from her son Cadan to a compatriot here in the palace.”
Her head snapped up. “Cadan? I’ll be damned. The little bastard has balls after all.”
Ban stared at her. “He’s acting without his mother’s knowledge?”
Tapping her chin with a finger, she shook her head. “No, but I’d say he’s modifying whatever plan she had for tonight.” She smiled at Ban. “He’s as good an actor as you are. Instead of playing a rake, however, he plays the spoiled young male Gattan very well, interested only in clothing, hunting, and drinking. We started watching him more closely when the last girl disappeared. He bought a new hunter and paid off outstanding debts to his tailor.”
“He’s involved with slavers?”
She nodded. “We don’t have definite proof, or I’d have given it to Mattis.”
Ban pursed his lips. “Hathnic has been seen with the slavers.”
His aunt’s curse was impressive. “That explains the hooded Gattan my people can’t identify then.” She leveled a stare at Ban. “You will take care of him?”
Ban nodded. “When I find him. Do you think he’ll be involved tonight?”
Jessilindra pursed her lips and stared blankly. Then she shook her head. “Not directly. His price would be far higher than Jadis would be willing to pay, especially to someone she thinks is a Gattan.”
Again, Ban nodded. “What about the daughter? Is she involved?”
His aunt shook her head. “No. She’s completely self-centered and interested only in her own wants and needs. What’s more, she has a habit of bragging to her sycophants about everything she thinks she’ll get.
Marljas Drefeson was one of them. Her return to the palace was not pleasant.” His aunt grinned. “Jadis would not convey all of her plans to her daughter. Everyone would know them in twenty-four hours.”
“Okay, she’s stupid. That doesn’t change the facts, though.” Leaning forward, Ban rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. “So, how do we stop the queen’s nephew from murdering her tonight? My identity must remain secret.”
She sighed. “I know.”
Ban waited, absolutely sure that Jessilindra had a plan. Kavlalardrac was smart and devious. Aunt Jessilindra was even smarter and more devious.
“I must go pay my respects to Bjin.”
Ban frowned. “The Deslossian? How can he help?”
Her lips twitched with a secretive smile. “There are things even you don’t know, Bandalardrac.”
The doors opened, and Sheala gripped Marljas’ hand tighter as she walked with him into the reception room. “Are you sure I look all right?” Her shimmery pink gown was conservative by Drakian standards—her entire bosom was covered. However, the lightly boned, corseted bandeau top left her shoulders and arms completely bare. Traditional Gattan gowns, while usually leaving the wearer’s arms bare, had high necks.
He lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of hers. “You’re the most beautiful woman here.”
“Even though I’m not Gattan?”
Halting, he looked down into her eyes. “Especially because you’re not Gattan.”
The usual shiver whirled up Sheala’s spine. Squeezing his hand, she stepped closer to his side.
Stopping just inside the door at the top of a short stairway, he tilted his head and motioned his chin forward. “What do you think?”
The half-dozen steps allowed Sheala to see the entire room, a room far larger than she’d imagined, larger than the throne room of the Medirian king. To her left, a huge set of double doors was closed. A single guard holding a long spear stood on each side. A waist-high, white shield with a red flame in the center rested on the floor before each guard. At the opposite end of the long room from the doors was a raised dais. A long row of tables lined two sides of the hall. A single table with six chairs was on the dais.
Two tables sat on angles on each side of the dais. Whoever sat there would be seen by the entire assembly.
Sheala looked up. A balcony at least fifteen feet from the ground hugged the walls on three sides. At measured intervals, torches flickered from its railing. She stared. “Torches? In this day and age?”
At her side, Marljas chuckled. “They’re holograms. Fiberoptic lighting is embedded in the walls. You must admit they add atmosphere, though.”
She snorted. Atmosphere. Like the people milling about the hall needed any reminders of Gattan’s violent past. All of the men—and most of the women—wore sleeveless tunics, vests, or dresses so their arms were bare. Sparkling jewels were as obvious as challenge scars, flashing from ears, necks, arms, wrists, rings, and belts.
“Well, now I know why you dressed like you did for my birthday party,” she muttered more to herself than to Marljas as she glanced at the open, sleeveless vest he wore. The vest was heavily embroidered with gold and jewel-toned threads, but he wore it hanging open. The white scars on his brown arms and chest were visible to everyone. Depending on how he moved, the vest gaped, and the Drakian lion and dragon tattoo he wore appeared. Already, a few Gattans they’d passed in the hallway had wrenched their heads around for a second look.
Red diamonds glittered from his belt and wrist sheaths. The bands around his upper arms, however, held rarer jewels, jewels that matched her own.
Sheala glanced down at her wrists. She too wore red diamonds, but hers were far more precious than most, being so pale they looked pink. Marljas had presented her with matching wrist sheaths, thick mating bands for her upper arms, a ring, earrings, and a choker necklace containing the rare gems a week after they’d arrived on Gattan.