To The Princess Bound (29 page)

It was at that point that the woman began to panic.  Victory saw the shimmer in the woman’s flesh, saw the slight shift in proportions before she got her fear back under control.  Her eyes narrowed.

“And you’re a Shi,” Victory said softly, trying not to let it show how the assassin’s presence was giving her goosebumps.  To her brother’s men, she said, “Make sure
it
doesn’t escape.”

When finally the last passenger had boarded the ship under the shake of Dragomir’s head, her brother’s men retracted the gangplank and the warship departed.  A moment later, a smaller courier ship slipped in behind it, taking its place.  As the bow opened and the ramp extended, the Shi watched it with hungry eyes.

“Are you going to kill me, then?” it asked.  Neither male nor female, an inShi—a Shi with the power to make internal changes in the base structure of matter, rather than external—was born hermaphroditic, with the ability to change shape between the sexes at will.  And, with much practice and dedication, could eventually change the appearance of age and features, as well.

They were the perfect assassins.  Victory cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner.  It simply hadn’t occurred to her, due to her father’s outspoken hatred of anything mutogenetic.

“I’m not going to kill you, no,” Victory said.

She saw the flash of cunning in the ice-blue eyes.  “You are going to turn me in to the Imperium?” she—
it
?—asked.  Though the Shi was the picture of fear, Victory didn’t need to be an Emp to know that the assassin was laughing inside.

“And return you to my father’s service?” Victory snorted.  “No, I don’t think so.”

Again, Victory watched her flesh shimmer with fear.  This time, several of her Praetorian saw it, too, because their hands tightened on their weapons.  She sighed.  “Drop the guise, fool.  We know who you are.”

The image of the woman seemed to slough away, leaving a familiar young man with ice-blue eyes staring back at her, his face contorted in a sneer.

Victory swallowed the fear that was forming in her gut, seeing him again.

“Oh, you remember me?” the man jeered.  “I don’t suppose you want to go for another round, Princess?”

Lion stepped forward and punched him in the gut, doubling him over.  Then she briskly stepped back, letting him wheeze into the ship’s deck.

Coughing into the deck, the Shi gasped, “If you idiots aren’t going to kill me and you’re not turning me over to the Imperium and you’re not sending me back on the cattle car with the other passengers, what are you going to do with me?”  He looked up, smiling.  “Let me guess.  You want to make a deal.”

“I didn’t say we weren’t going to kill you,” Victory said, gesturing for Whip.  “I said that
I
wasn’t going to kill you.”

At that, she stepped out of the way as Whip, carrying Lion’s bloody dagger, rammed it into the assassin’s throat.  Even as he was grabbing for the weapon, trying to pull it free, three Praetorian lifted him and threw his body overboard.  They heard it splash in the boiling waters far below.  Victory, Lion, Whip, and several others went to the railing to look down, watching until the body stiffened and went still.

“They are efficient,” Dragomir said, looking ill.  He had stayed well away from the edge of the railing, giving the ocean beyond a wary look.

Afraid of heights,
Victory remembered.  “It’s their job,” she stated.  “That Shi was dead the moment you pinpointed him on the gangplank.  He just didn’t know it yet.”

“If you will follow me, milady,” her brother’s man said, gesturing to the courier’s gangplank.  “The vessel is set to start losing altitude in three and a half minutes.”

Victory glanced up at the open maw of her brother’s ship.  Knowing what awaited her on the other side, Victory took a deep breath, then led her entourage into the breach.

At Home with an Emp

“I don’t like it, milady,” Lion said, glancing again at the Emp, who was watching them carefully from a bench across the ship’s hull from them.  He was wearing a good set of four-layer embroidered black silk, and above the fine ebony cloth, his blue eyes seemed to almost glow. 

Two Praetorian now stood between her and him, casually making sure he kept his distance.  Ever since they had cut away the metal belt and removed his collar, Victory had been exercising her newfound ability to be as far from him as possible. 

…and here she was about to put herself into the exact same situation, but with their positions reversed.  Victory wondered if the doctors were right and she had simply lost her mind.

“It’s not smart,” Lion insisted.  “You’ll be putting your life into his hands.”

“And?” Victory demanded.  “What choice do we have?”

“Allow me to station my Praetorian outside the town,” Lion said.  “They will make daily checkups, ensure that he is not abusing his privileges.”

It was oh-so-tempting.  Victory considered it, strongly.  Then she finally shook her head.  “My brother was right.  Tales of Praetorian wandering the woods might get back to my father, and you know he would investigate.”

“They would dress as common peasants!” Lion objected.  “Please, milady.”

“Seventeen common, light-skinned female peasants, all setting up camp in the middle of the mountains?”

Lion flushed.  “We could send less.  Five or six.”

“We stick to the plan,” Victory said.  “Your girls will help my brother with his investigation, as plainclothes agents in the palace.”

“I don’t trust him,” Lion growled, meeting the Emp’s blue eyes with her challenging gray.

I don’t, either,
Victory thought.  But she knew that if she showed lack of resolve now, that Lion would balk, most likely hijack the ship, and fly Victory to some place that she deemed to be safe, regardless of her brother’s plan.  “You seemed to trust him well enough the other day,” Victory stated, “When you stood against my father to spare his life.”

“Yes, but that was a favor owed,” Lion said quickly.  “He saved our sister’s life.  We saved his.  It was an even trade. 
This,
” she waved to the shackles and collars laid out on the floor between them, “is madness, milady.”

“How better to hide?” Victory demanded.

Lion opened her mouth, but closed it again with a frown.  She turned to glare at the Emp, who had been watching their conversation in a wary silence.  “There must be a better way.”

“Well, if there is, you have approximately two minutes to figure it out,” Victory said, glancing down at her clock.  “The pilot said we’d be arriving in his village at two-oh-four.”  They’d already been flying for two days and fourteen hours, and the change of scenery was going to be a welcome—if nerve-wracking—experience.

Lion continued to object, refusing to don the garb of a slave.

“Just do it,” Victory snapped, finally losing patience with her guard captain.  “Either that, or find another who will.”

Lion went utterly stiff, then lowered her head in defeat.  She picked the collar off the ground and snapped it around her neck.  She winced as it flash-welded in place.  Then, giving the Emp a look of defiance, went over to sit at the exit beside Whip, who was already wearing both her collar and cuffs.

Victory snatched up two sets of cuffs and tossed them at Lion.  “Those, too.”

The woman snarled profanities under her breath, but she allowed her sisters to help place the restraints.

Victory may have been imagining it, but she thought she saw the Emp smirking as he carried a leash over and snapped it to Lion’s neck.  He snapped another to Whip’s collar, then let them both drop between their linen-covered breasts.  They were garbed in a standard one-piece slave shifts, without weapons, armor, or decoration—typical slave fare, and even then, the rough cloth felt itchy upon Victory’s body.  Itchy…and familiar.

I can’t do this,
Victory thought, staring down at the collar in her hands.  She felt the engine’s rhythm change, felt the G’s shift as it began to slow. 
I can’t.

She didn’t notice the Emp until he squatted down beside her.  When his big hands reached for the band of metal in her palms, Victory jerked away, glaring.

“Trust me, Victory,” Dragomir said softly.  “There’s something between us…”  He swallowed and glanced at his hands, where they touched hers.  “We’re…connected…in a way that most people could only dream.”  He seemed to be struggling for words, and settled with, “You were always safe with me, as I was with you.”

Scowling, Victory peered into his eyes, wanting to ask him what he meant by that, yet not finding the courage.  When she said nothing, he gingerly reached down and took the collar from her hands.  He lifted it, slowly, until it was level with her throat.  Seeing it, Victory balked. 

“Trust me,” Dragomir whispered again.  “As you have before.” 

As she had before…in other lives?  All the Emp’s sentimentality about other places and other times almost gave her hope…  Victory squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could believe him.

He gently settled the band around her neck and clapped it shut.

Victory flinched at the sudden hot-cold sensation as the metal band flash-sealed around her throat.  She let out the breath that she had been holding in a shuddering, nervous laugh.

“Wrists, now,” Dragomir said.  He picked up a set of shackles.

Shaking, yet trying not to let the Praetorian see how afraid she was, Victory turned to give the Emp her back.

She felt the cold steel when he snapped them into place and squeezed her eyes shut against the first pangs of terror.

“Ankles,” he said softly.  He picked up a shackle and set it around her ankle.  Instantly, the memories came flooding back to her and Victory let out a tiny whimper that only Dragomir could hear.

His voice became gentle.  “You won’t be in them long, Princess.”  He waited, watching her face.

She searched his blue eyes, saw the sincerity there.  Slowly, even as her stomach twisted with terror, Victory nodded.

The ankle shackle snapped shut.  A moment later, the second one followed it.  Knowing the Praetorian would put an end to the plan if she didn’t, Victory repressed her shudder. 

“Now this,” Dragomir said softly.  He reached under her chin and clasped a leash to her throat.  A moment later, she felt him padlock it in place.  Victory squeezed her eyes shut against tears.  It was then that she felt the warm blanket sensation once more, wrapping her, leaving her feel as if she were sitting in a titanium-reinforced fortress, instead of the bowels of a courier ship, about to be dropped as a slave to a man whom she had forced to eat pig slops and sleep on his knees.

Outside, Victory heard the landing gear slide into place, felt the
thump
as the ship settled onto the village’s central square.

Above her, Dragomir stood up to face the gate.

When it opened, revealing a cluster of tiny stone hovels and filthy farm animals, Dragomir’s face lit up with a relieved smile.  “I almost didn’t believe it,” Dragomir whispered.  He motioned at Victory, his hand holding her leash.  “Come on, Princess,” he said softly.  “Your new home awaits.”

“My brother will be back to check on me,” Victory warned him.

Dragomir sighed and waited.

Victory reluctantly got to her feet and, shuddering at the cold tug around her ankles, shuffled after him.  At the gate, Dragomir bent to pick up the leashes of her two Praetorian, then together, they shuffled down the gangplank.

Seeing the crowd of dirty faces that had begun to emerge from their hiding places behind buildings and rain barrels, Victory glanced again at the gangplank leading back up to the ship. 
Oh gods,
she thought, watching it as it retracted behind her. 
They’re really going to leave me here.

Then the ramp slammed up into the courier’s belly and the ship’s engines powered up.

“Wait!” Victory screamed, unable to hold in her terror any longer.  “Please don’t leave me here!”

If the pilot heard her over the roar of the engines, he didn’t respond.  A moment later, the Imperial courier ship was rising out of sight, disappearing over the gnarly limbs of the cottonwood trees, leaving her alone in the native village.