Endgame (28 page)

“Not really. It’s just…odd. You’re a bit of an actor, aren’t you?”

He ducks his head, as if embarrassed. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re good at so many things. I just have grimspace.” Saying the word sends an ache curling through me.

“It’s a result of a long life span. You’ll pick up lots of skills as we rub along. You’ve already trained in combat, weapons, and gunnery.”

I pause, realizing he’s right. The days when I was only fit for
jumping have passed. Now when I return to the star roads, it will be out of love, not necessity.

Tiana taps on the door. She still doesn’t know who I am, but she’s a kind person who deserves better than she’s gotten out of life so far.

“Do you want supper at the usual time?” she asks.

“Please.”

Tiana dips at the knees, then hurries away. Household chores don’t require backbreaking labor in the city as they do in the outlying villages, but I hate that she doesn’t have other options.

Once she’s gone, I ask, “Do you think Cato bothered her?”

“Not anymore,” he observes. “In other news, apparently everyone is talking about my reform. The other nobles are dying to meet you.”

“I can’t wait,” I mutter.

“How do I look?” I ask, twirling.

“Like someone else,” Vel replies.

It’s an accurate answer. I didn’t expect flattery from Vel, who has no taste for human beauty. The day of the party has dawned at last, and I’m wearing a deep blue gown with sparkles affixed to it. I don’t know when I ever dressed up this much. The old Jax partied a lot, but she didn’t circulate among high society. I was a staple of the midnight bounce for misbehavior in various bars across the galaxy. This is outside my experience. Fortunately, my stint as a diplomat taught me some refinement. I should pass as Vel’s arm candy.

“Good enough. Ready?”

He offers his escort out to the waiting aircar. This one isn’t available for public hire, and it’s larger than most, with a ca-pacious backseat and a driver. He’s a servant under Tiana’s dominion, but they don’t know about our masquerade. I have mixed feelings about that; I want to tell every La’hengrin I meet about the cure and how they can join the resistance, but some of them might be indoctrinated loyal drones; they could expose us to our enemies. It’s a tough call. But then, there’s never any guarantee about who you can trust.

I slide into the back, careful to arrange myself like a lady. Vel hands me his handheld. “Study these four men. I need you to charm them.”

This isn’t the first time I’ve read dossiers, but I can use a refresher on Prince Marcus, his nephew Gaius, Drusus…the Imperator of the Guard, and Sextus Varro, the governor himself. Tonight, I’ll be rubbing elbows with the brightest lights on Nicu Quintus.
Assholes.
As the aircar pulls away, I skim what Vel knows about my targets. This mission will be tricky, as I need to captivate them without making them think I intend to cheat on Legate Flavius, my lord and master.

“Any advice?”

“Start with Gaius. He should be the most accessible.”

Still reading, I nod. “It looks like he landed a courtesy position in the governor’s office, thanks to his uncle. Nepotism is the best.”

“Isn’t it, though? I’ll keep an eye on you, but I’ll try not to get in your way.”

I can’t get used to how different he sounds, how thoroughly he’s analyzed Flavius’s speech patterns and adopted them as his own. I don’t mention it, however, because the aircar isn’t certified surveillance-free. This conversation, the legate’s enemies would ascribe to the political scheming natural to Nicuan nobility.

“Noted.”

For the rest of the trip, I refresh my memory on what each man is interested in and how I can use that knowledge. I’ve never played the femme fatale before, never had the sort of beauty that made it feasible. This should be…interesting. The driver hovers beside the balcony on the second story designated for VIP arrivals. A waiting servant in black formalwear swings the gate open to secure against the side of the car.

When the ramp clicks into place, I step out, skirt in hand. With a deliberate mental reminder, I take delicate steps, skirt raised a bare centimeter above my sparkly, ridiculous shoes. Vel alights behind me, one hand on the small of my bare back, and it’s easy to forget that his skin isn’t real—that there are claws beneath the surface. He gives no sign of hesitation; he specializes in slipping into someone else’s life.

I skim the gathering beyond the wide archway. This level of the governor’s mansion has been designed like a garden—with no expense spared to keep the illusion in place. Out-of-season flowers have been nurtured in glasshouses, beneath costly vita-bulbs. The red blooms sit in ornate vases, cut for this occasion, perfuming the air with a sickly sweetness. All around me, everyone is well fed and richly dressed. One woman wears enough jewels to build everyone new cottages with solar panels in the first village we visited. Then I swallow my anger because Mishani would be impressed, awestruck even. She’s a humble La’hengrin mistress, elevated by the legate’s desire. I widen my eyes, skimming the colorful gowns and the men in suits that speak of their rank.

“There’s Gaius,” I murmur. “Introduce me?”

Vel wraps an arm around me. “We must pay our respects to the prince first, my sweet.”

It’s a gentle correction, but my cheeks flame, just as Mishani’s would. Disappointing him means the difference between a pampered life and abject poverty. If he sells her
shinai
-bond, all this comfort and security goes away. The girl I’m pretending to be would never forget it, so I need to seem anxious, eager to please. Nicuan men seem to like a whiff of desperation wafting about their women.

“Yes, of course,” I say softly.

The crowd parts for Vel as I can’t imagine it ever did for the real legate. Perhaps it’s as a result of his new standing. Farther in, I spot the prince chatting with three beautiful women, all of whom are taller than he is. Not that he appears to mind. Prince Marcus lifts a hand when he sees Vel, beckoning him over.

“Ah, here is our guest of honor. Flavius, have you met—” Marcus supplies the women’s names, but I don’t bother to memorize them.

“A pleasure.” Vel bows over each hand in turn, with distance in his manner.

The prince favors me with a warm, slightly disturbing smile. “And this must be your lovely Mishani. There is talk, you know, Flavius.”

“Is there, Your Highness?” He affects surprise.

“The rumor is making the rounds that you intend
to give this girl your name.” Though the prince’s tone is playful, his manner is guarded.

“Stories always proliferate,” Vel says dismissively. “Take a knee, little one.”

On cue, I offer an obeisance similar to the one I learned for the Grand Administrator on Ithiss-Tor, adapted for the different state occasion, of course. By the prince’s expression, he approves. When I straighten, he’s beaming.

“Oh, she
is
lovely. No wonder you can’t bear to let her out of your sight.”

“That’s an exaggeration, I fear.”

“But I’ve heard she shares your quarters,” the prince says archly.

Heard from whom?
With some effort, I keep my face blank. Mishani wouldn’t respond unless addressed directly though I hate being talked about as if I’m a piece of furniture. This is what Loras dealt with all those turns. No wonder he’s so angry.

Cato,
I decide. The centurion wasn’t loyal to his legate; power games go on at all levels of Nicuan society. He did some damage before he died, but we can control the fallout.

“A man likes certain comforts close at hand,” Vel answers lightly.

The prince nods. “So true. And it’s less expensive than renting a house for her. If you had a wife, it wouldn’t work, but I admire your ingenuity, Flavius. I wish I still had such autonomy.” His avid gaze lingers on my smooth skin.

I fight the urge to cover up.

“Yes, marital alliances do curtail a man’s freedom, but from what I hear, you profited handsomely from your union.”

Prince Marcus brightens, doubtless reflecting on the number of credits in his bank account, brought by the wife who doesn’t seem to be present. “This is true.”

“If you don’t mind, Your Highness, we’ll pay our respects elsewhere and stop monopolizing your attention.”

That sounds like heavy flattery for me, but the prince only nods:
Yes, of course, everyone in the room is waiting for five minutes with me.

What a jackass.

Vel leans in to whisper, “Well done.”

“I didn’t
say
anything.”

“Exactly. The prince’s wife is a harridan, never stops nagging. They moved into separate houses after six months.”

“Why don’t they terminate the union?”

“Too many political ramifications and potential financial complications.”

“So a pretty girl who does whatever he wants and doesn’t talk back probably constitutes his fondest dream.”

Vel smiles. “I suspect he envies me right now.” He pauses, drawing me to the side, so a couple of party guests can sweep past us, glittering and laughing too loud.

The music is soft, more background than sharp focus, but there are a few dancers. I spy Gaius among them. He’s young, perhaps twenty-five turns, and taller than his uncle. He has a round face that makes him look younger and a little extra flesh around the middle. He might even be attractive if he didn’t seem so nervous. As he maneuvers his partner on the floor, his forehead beads with sweat, and he stumbles twice, just while I’m watching him.

“The kid’s a mess,” I whisper.

“Local gossip has it that his mother sent him away from Nicu Tertius in disgrace. He wanted to marry a maid, or something shocking like that.” Irony in the last sentence. “She hoped his uncle could cure his democratic notions.”

He’s not the lazy young wolf I expected. I thought he’d be the easiest mark, but with this new information, I must reconsider my approach.

Then an idea strikes. “Go look for Drusus or the governor. I’ve got Gaius.”

When the dance ends, I’m standing on the edge of the
floor, wearing my best
I’m alone and frightened
look. The face the doctor gave is lovely enough to draw Gaius’s gaze—and when nobody comes to claim me, he pauses, hesitant. My gaze meets his, equally timid, then skims away, because clearly I’m not worthy to look upon the prince’s nephew.

Naturally, he joins me. “Are you here with someone?” His voice is a pleasing tenor, soft enough that I can barely hear him over the music.

“The legate said he would be back directly…” I trail off with uncertainty that invites him to be decisive.

“Would you like to dance with me then?” It’s an invitation, not a demand.

Maybe Gaius isn’t a Nicuan noble at all. If he was switched at birth, it would explain so many things. I incline my head and offer my hand, which he takes. He seems surprised, like even submissive females regularly reject him.

The music commences; the dance is more graceful and ceremonial than anything I ever did in a spaceport bar, but I follow his lead without trouble. At this moment, my body feels younger than it has in turns, and that’s disconcerting.
That little twinge in my knee has gone away entirely, and I can’t feel where I dislocated my shoulder. The doctor was probably referring more to taut skin and perky breasts when he said I would like the Rejuvenex results, but it’s nice not to have those little aches. It also feels like I’m living in someone else’s skin, and for the first time, I think,
This is what it’s like for Vel.

For a few moments, there’s silence between us. He’s counting steps, I think, and I’m playing the shy ingénue. But to get anywhere, I can’t be mute, so I murmur, “Thank you for asking me. I don’t know anyone.”

“Your escort shouldn’t have left you. These parties can get a bit…” He trails off as if at a loss for a word that won’t shock me.

Which is rather hilarious, considering that Mishani sleeps with Legate Flavius in return for her room and board. So it’s not like the sweet young thing doesn’t know the score; unfortunate necessity dictates her actions within the confines of the
shinai
-bond. Yet I play along. Gaius needs to feel like a hero. At a glance, I can tell he’s rather broken, sad, and feeling worthless. I might be able to use that.

“You’re kind.”

“Not really.” But he’s smiling now, maybe because I’ve been nice to him. “I’m Gaius, by the way.”

“Mishani.”

“Which legate…?” Awkward, leading question.

“Flavius.” It’s not hard to let a little trepidation slip into my eyes. “I don’t know where he went.”

“If he’s looking for you, I’ll explain how you came to be with me.” Evidently, Gaius understands that nobles can be irrational and hotheaded. He doesn’t want to see me beaten for an imaginary infraction.

“You might get in trouble,” I say softly, because Mishani doesn’t know about Gaius’s connections. He likes that because he thinks she danced with him on the strength of his smile.

“No, I’ll handle it, don’t worry.”

“What do you do?” A harmless question, and I’m curious how he’ll answer.

“I work in the governor’s office.”

Truth, then, but not all of it—there’s no mention of his
uncle, the prince. Which means Gaius wants to be liked for himself.

“You must do important work.” Mary, I’m already tired of this girl, with her wide eyes and breathy voice.

“Not as much as you’d think,” he mutters.

So he’s discontent. I file that away as potentially useful information and cock my head as if bewildered.

He smiles down at me. “Never mind.”

“Have you been here long?” I ask.

He won’t tell me about the scandal or why he ended up here during this dance, but he needs a confidante. With skillful management of our encounters, I can become that person.

“Since just before the troubles.”

That’s what Nicuan nobility calls the growing insurrection that will end with nothing short of complete expulsion of enemy forces. They don’t realize how serious the situation is despite the planetary lockdown. Because there are glittering rooms full of expensive art and purchased women with painted faces, they think everything can continue as it always has. Most have no idea what’s going on in the provinces.