Gambit (15 page)

“Kynon.” Chae bit out the reminder. She didn’t want to hear explanations, regrets—she almost snorted—or his relief.

Daned gave her another silent nod. He glanced back at the throne and the mass of men. As one, they picked up their weapons and the senior personnel swarmed around the frozen prince. The others tramped up the steps, the clatter of their boots, armor and guns echoing across the citadel. Just as quickly they stopped, their formation around her perfect protection.

Chae let out a slow breath. “My mother never said Ladaians were telepathic.”

“Only the first caste and the royal Houses were.” A brief smile broke through his mask. “Now? You’ve given it to everyone.”

She ran a hand over her hair, dislodging twigs and a dried leaf. “Well, it obviously annoyed me. The secret looks you shared.” She dug her fingers into the back of her neck, rubbing a suddenly tight muscle. The sunder-seld hadn’t repaired all of her aches from the crash. It wanted her to live with the reminder that she was still mortal. “Let’s go, Daned.”

He gave her a short nod. “Yes, Majesty.”

The men moved as one, clanking up the steps at an even pace. Chae moved with them, her imperial advisor at her side. She flicked a glance at him. Light gilded him from the streaks of sunlight breaking across the citadel. He was beautiful and he should’ve been hers. She wouldn’t get over that fact anytime soon.

But she would. She was the Empress of the Ladaians. Had more power and wealth than any sane person knew what to do with.

It was enough. It was.

Chapter Eight

Chae rolled her neck. A dull ache pressed between her shoulders. Still human. A smile tugged at her mouth. No, never human. She was Ladaian down to the last allele. She brushed her hands over the front of her bodice. The bronze silk was delicate and almost snagged under the callused touch of her fingertips. She turned and winced at the bite of the boned corset into her waist. Her gaze met Daned’s in the long gilt mirror taking up one of the angled bulkheads of Kynon’s stateroom aboard his ship. “Is this what the royals wear? Seriously? And you didn’t mount a revolution for crimes against fashion alone?”

“Tradition,” he said.

“Ah, Ladaian tradition.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Where would we be without that?” She resisted the need to glance at the ornate bed draped with rare silks and wide enough to have fun with at least five people. Not that she would want to roll around with Daned in Kynon’s bed. She’d scrolled through his inventory as she hunted through the production unit archives for something suitable for an empress to wear. His sheets had witnessed perversion. Things that made even her wince.

It was a good thing she’d not searched for clothes
before
she slept in his bed. Even with a new base and fresh sheets brought in by four terrified stewards, only the fact that she’d been dead tired had made her find sleep. Waking up sprawled in a massive bed and her searching fingers finding no naked Daned had been a foul way to start her first imperial morning.

Not that it was morning. Not on the Ladaia-Ara, the planet they were crawling across the system toward. Crawling gave the princes time to assemble there. It did nothing for her mood. “How long until we reach Ara?”

Daned closed his eyes and Chae allowed herself the luxury of watching him. For a moment, he wasn’t guarding his expression against her. The soft gleam of the overheard lights touched his skin, and the ache to trace her fingers over the planes of gold filled her…

Chae sucked in a breath. The constriction of her bodice pressed hard against her ribs and she focused on her own reflection. She’d scrubbed till she shone—wallowing in a bath full of hot scented water for over an hour—and now her hair was a smooth flow of dark silk. She watched her lips curve, almost seeing a stranger.

“Twenty minutes until we land at the palace compound,” Daned said, breaking into her thoughts. His gaze shifted to the carpeted floor and even with his mind closed to her, something pushed against her, the shape of an emotion she couldn’t quite read.

“What is it, Daned?”

He looked up and the total control had slipped back into place. His mind was impenetrable. “Majesty?”

“You’re reluctant to tell me…something.” Chae turned and the irritating fullness of her skirts dragged across the thick carpet. She dug her fingers under the tightness of the bodice, easing the pressure.

She stopped at the layered silver trays of strange delicacies sitting on a long side table. She picked up a perfectly wrapped square of pale fish and popped it into her mouth. Exotic, unknown tastes warmed her tongue and she let out a soft sigh. The little morsels had sustained her as the crew pried her into her corset. She took another one and turned to Daned.

“Look, tell me.” She smirked and waved the delicacy at him. “I don’t have my Sel-9 anymore—” and she felt that loss like a hole in her hand, “—so I can promise not to shoot you.” He wiped his fingers across his mouth and nerves twisted her gut. “Should I…attempt to sit?”

Daned waved her to the wide couch beside the mirror and Chae half flopped into the long, thick cushion. She watched Daned pace.

He stopped. “Castes and royal Ladaians are different, have different priorities.”

Her mouth thinned. They’d already been over this. She knew she couldn’t get him naked. She did not need another reminder. “Daned…”

His unreadable eyes met hers. “This is not about us.” He paused and his shoulders straightened. He ran his hand over the smoothness of his jacket, unnecessarily straightening it. “Castes form individual bonds. Royals do not.”

Chae frowned and the scream of her instincts, the sour taste in her mouth, said it wasn’t going to be good. He’d tried to tell her something on the way to the citadel. Something…unpalatable. “Spit it out. What tradition fucks up my life now?”

“Your imperial successor is chosen by the sunder-seld. It decides whose child you’ll bear.”

“I’ve been in the job less than a day and I’m already having to scrounge up a replacement?” she muttered. “And this means? Daned, please, just tell me.”

“Past emperors have taken the daughters of each prince and the sunder-seld chose—”

“No!” Chae erupted to her feet. His words had awakened a memory and the nastiness of it fired through her blood. “An empress takes every prince. That fucking chair decides which one will father a child.”

“The royal lines and the castes were created differently for this reason.”

Chae pulled in tight breaths, cursing the bands of her gown that made breathing almost impossible. “It’s totally fucked up.”

“We’re not human. We just look human. You have to remember that.”

Chae snorted. “You can say that again.” Her fingers caught in her hair and she hated that her hand was trembling. She had to get a grip again. She should’ve known that everything about her new wealth and power would turn to shit. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the sunder-seld under her skin. It suggested duty and her need to follow ancient tradition. Which was fine, as
it
didn’t have to sleep with nine over-pampered and no doubt depraved princes. “Hell, are they all like Kynon?”

Daned was silent.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Wonderful, he’d just confirmed her suspicions. “Your traditions stink.”

“I know.”

His quiet words made her look at him. His professional mask coated his features and, in his well-fitting suit, he appeared to be the same man who had taunted her while the truth crawler injected venom under her skin. It was hard to believe she’d known him only since yesterday. “You would’ve done this as emperor. Either way we were screwed.”

“Yes.” He wet his lips. “Although I never believed you would be my advisor. Or I yours. There hasn’t been an imperial advisor for centuries.”

“We’re too perfect a match.” A smile pulled at her mouth. “What if we fought it? You take command of this ship—this monster has enough power to rip open its own rift lock—and we run. Take to the stars.” Chae sucked in a quick breath, fighting the sudden stab of fear though her bones. It wasn’t her fear, it was sunder-seld’s. The damn chair was terrified of losing her after waiting so long for an individual with the right genome. Chae pushed down its terror. It wasn’t her worry. “We could do that. Run and live real lives somewhere far from here.”

Daned shook his head. “I have my duty to the throne.”

She would never twist his sense of duty. And she butted up against the hard reality that she couldn’t run without him. “Bloody chair,” she muttered. “So I’m stuck here, like this—” her hands yanked up the full skirts of her gown, “—and waiting on nine princes.”

“I’m sorry, Majesty.”

“Not as much as me, Daned. Believe me.” The whispered thrum to the engines changed and Chae smoothed down her hair. She let out a sigh. “Planet entry.” Her fingers itched. She’d been a pilot too long. She couldn’t trust another to fly and land safely. Her shoulders straightened. “I want to watch it land.”

“Majesty…”

Her mouth thinned. “I can’t control you, Daned, but I’m still the empress. You can’t disobey me.”

He gave a slow nod and hell, she wanted to punch him. Was there no one who
wasn’t
practically a flesh-pet to her now? He pressed his hand to the doorplate, and the fizz and flare of technology brightened the dim room. Guards clanked to attention. Daned offered his arm and Chae slipped reluctant fingers over the smooth material of his sleeve. His forearm tensed under her touch.

Chae lifted her chin. “This is getting old.”

He didn’t reply.

A few paces down the wide central gangway she leaned into him, and the tension ran the length of his body. Her lips touched his ear, and the brief taste of him rioted through her flesh. Their short time together, all that they could’ve done, rushed over her thoughts, and her fingers tightened involuntarily against his arm. “Just to be absolutely clear. No naked time at all?”

“Chae…”

She sucked in a quick breath and damn it, everything in her wanted to push him up against the bulkhead, strip him of his conservative suit and ravish him.

He stopped but kept his attention focused down the length of the corridor. “We came close to permanence. We cannot fulfill that promise. You would—” He paused and his voice dropped soft, low, and held a calm control that made her want to kick him. Hard. It was bloody annoying that she only wore leather slippers, not her usual heavy boots. “The need to seal that is driving your need to fuck me.” He met her gaze. The lack of dark passion in his eyes…hurt. “Your need for me is only physical, Majesty.” A bleak smile touched his mouth. “Forming permanence with me will interfere with your role now.”

“I’m not royal. I’m fifth caste with genetic tinkering.” They were only millimeters apart and his warm scent tugged at her, urging her to close the gap and let her mouth find his. She almost groaned as his fingertips touched her cheek. “I don’t want to ignore this, us.”

Daned stepped back and his fingers curled away from her skin. “You know that I have to.”

Chae pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth to hold back the rush of curses that she wanted to let fly.
Duty
and
honor
were filthy words to her right then. But hell, she’d find a way around this. She’d always been good at that. She needed Daned. It wasn’t just physical. It was soul-deep. Chae suppressed a snort and focused her attention back to the ship. She waved her arm down the gangway. “Lead the way.”

Daned paused and then gave her a short nod. He offered his arm, but she didn’t take it. He turned, his body stiff, and strode down the carpeted gangway.

Chae followed, the full skirts of her gown dragging against the thick nap of the flooring. “First thing to go, after the ceremony.”

“Majesty?”

Chae rolled her eyes, hating the way he said her new title. Polite, deferential, without passion. She could’ve been talking about him, removing him from his post, putting him far from her and her temptation. A long string of curses burned on her tongue. Her gaze skirted the breadth of his shoulders and she shoved down the almost constant need she had to jump him. “The frock, Daned. I can’t move in it.”

“It’s traditional.”

“I know. You said.” She expelled a hot breath. “No wonder my mother ran from you people.”

He stopped at the base of a short flight of metal stairs leading up to a guarded platform. “One of the few to do so.”

“You’re going to tell me more about that at another time,” she murmured. “No. Actually. Tell me now.”

“Of course, Majesty.”

Jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow would’ve felt really good…but she wasn’t touching him. Chae planned to go out of her way not to touch him. It ran an ache through her bones and her fingers formed fists. Touching reminded her of what she couldn’t have, what his duty refused to allow. And hell, he needed that reminder. She’d felt the tremble as he touched her skin. He might think it “only physical,” but it’d caught him too.

“Lana Beyon was a teacher within her caste on Ara. She found permanence and you were born when she was thirty-five. The records labeled your father as another teacher.”

“Who?” Her mother had never mentioned her father. Not once.

Daned stopped and was silent. He didn’t turn. “Anders Jordan. He died when your mother was three months pregnant.”

Chae pressed her lips together. Had that grief made her mother run? Made her use her skills to never trap her daughter, tie her to another Ladaian? She resisted the urge to scrub her face. It’d only been a partial success. Lana hadn’t tied her to her own caste. Another caste? Oh yes.

Daned’s soft, controlled voice broke into her thoughts. “Within one month of his death, she stowed aboard a cargo ship and vanished.” He started to walk again. “We found you when we pulled in every errant Ara-Ladaian we could find to complete my prince’s plan.”

Chae followed him up the steps to the long platform.

Her mother had tried to save her from the grief of permanence. She’d twisted her blood until it was exactly what the sunder-seld wanted…and tied her to the one man she couldn’t have. She ignored the rise of her anger. She couldn’t change who or what she was. And she had to live with that.