Queen of Swords (2 page)

The bathroom door swished open, jerking him back to the present. He listened to her breath hiss out as she sat across from the bed.

Boone contemplated trying for another round. He could still taste her on his lips, and it was driving him crazy. They’d been together more times last night than he could count and still he craved the feel of her skin against him. But last night was a mistake, and not one he could afford to repeat. Maybe if he kept thinking that, he’d start to believe it. Besides, she’d hate him soon enough. All of Kristian’s floozies did. Just because she seemed different from the countless others didn’t indicate a different outcome.

As soon as she left the room, he rolled back over and stretched. He was tired and sore and felt fantastically used. The woman really was something.

His wrist unit beeped, and Boone sighed. Couldn’t Jenny give him a few minutes to enjoy the afterglow? He opened the call, leaving the screen blank. His little sister didn’t need to see where he was and start asking questions. “What?”

“Now, now, is that any way to speak to your favorite sister?”

“You’re my
only
sister.”

Jenny laughed. “Technicalities.” Even without the screen on, he knew her gray eyes, so similar to his own, were dancing with mischief. Which meant trouble for anyone in her sights.

Boone flopped back on the bed and propped his head on his free arm, the movement pulling at old wounds. He rolled his neck, fighting against the tide of memories threatening to drown him. Kristian coaxing him down to the dungeon to hide from the old man. The chains digging into his wrists. The knife, gods, that damned knife…

“You’re not even paying attention to me!”

He could have kissed his sister for pulling him free of the past, even as Boone hoped to the gods he wasn’t going to have to clean up another of her messes. “What do you want, Jenny?”

“What’s she like?” She was only snooping. Thank the gods for small favors.

Boone glared at his wrist unit, but it wouldn’t have intimidated her into silence, even if she could see him. Jenny wasn’t afraid of anything. “You are not calling to ask about Kristian’s new whore.” To call her that felt like a betrayal, but he slapped down the feeling. She may have been amazing last night, but if she became a member of the prince’s harem, she was an enemy, plain and simple.

“Bo-oo-ne.” Jenny stretched his name into three syllables. “Stop playing with my emotions and tell me what she’s like. Is she vapid? Lazy? A royal bitch like the last one? Come on, I’m dying here.”

“No.”

Jenny was silent for what felt like an eternity. A new record. “No? That’s interesting.”

“Yeah.” He pictured those violet eyes gone hazy with passion. “She’s not at all like we expected.”

“Can we use her?”

That was the question. Judging from last night alone, the Diviner wasn’t a woman someone used lightly. Hells, she’d probably fillet anyone who tried. “I don’t know.”

“You sound weird. What happened?”

Of course Jenny would pick up on his distraction. “Nothing. We’ll talk later.” He reached over and ended the call. Almost immediately, the unit rang again. Boone clicked it on. “Damn it, Jenny—”

“Hello, little brother.”

He froze, his gaze glued to the screen showing the man who had been his enemy for nearly ten years, ever since he’d chained Boone in the dungeon and tried to cut the skin from his back.

Dread curled in his gut. “Kristian.”

Chapter Two

It took fifteen minutes to jump in a sans shower and change her clothes, but Ophelia couldn’t talk with her mother reeking of sex and wearing the same clothes she left the house in. Feeling significantly better, she made her way back downstairs to the kitchen and paused in the doorway, taking in the scene from so many childhood talks. Mama sat at the table sipping a steaming cup of her favorite tea, the warm glow of Keiluna’s twin suns filtering through the large windows. The only jarring note of the whole picture was a small frown line between her mother’s brows. Mama never frowned.

“Come in, daughter.”

She did as she was told, sliding into the seat across the table. “What’s happened?”

“Always so impatient.” The words were right—Mama was never one to rush—but there was strain evident in her tone.

“Mama, what’s wrong?”

Her mother took a deep breath and folded her hands around her cup. The white of her knuckles was yet another indication of worry. What in the seven hells was going on? Mama was never less than serene. Something had her spooked. Ophelia found herself reaching for the thick metal bracelet on her right wrist. It could snap into a dagger with the click of a button—one of the many inventions that put their little gunrunning business on the radar of anyone willing to fight Sanctify.

“Daughter, there is something we need to discuss.”

Ophelia rolled her shoulders, trying to dispel the tension knotting its way through her body. “I’m not really in the mood for one of our talks.”

“Yes, I know. You’ve been hiding for a month now, avoiding me and the Lady.”

Her mother held up a hand, forestalling the protest that wasn’t coming. She was right—Ophelia had been avoiding her. Or, rather, the constant reminder of what happened when she didn’t trust the Lady. Her crew’s terrified faces flashed through her mind, gone almost as quickly as they’d come. She shouldn’t have gone on that last mission. She shouldn’t have ignored the warning in the cards—

“I was willing to give you time to grieve and work through things on your own,” her mother continued, breaking her from the downward spiral of her thoughts, “however, there are things at work that are beyond our own personal comfort. The Lady’s work.”

Ophelia clutched her mug tighter, telling herself there was nothing to be afraid of. As long as she kept whatever the cards told her close this time, nothing like that would happen again. Not to say something bad wouldn’t happen—bad things happened all the time, that was life—but it wouldn’t be
her
fault if they did.

“What’s going on?”

“Always so impatient,” her mother said again.

“I get it from Papa.” No one in their right mind would accuse her mother of such a messy emotion.

“Yes, I suppose you do.” Same answer as always, but there was a hint of sadness in Mama’s violet gaze. It looked like there was more she wanted to say, but she smiled serenely instead. “Have you eaten?”

Ophelia bit back a scream of frustration. This was how Mama worked, how she’d always worked. Just because Ophelia only got more impatient with age didn’t mean anything. She obediently went to the InstaChef and scrolled through the selection, picking out egg substitute, tofu, and insta-spuds because she knew Mama would disapprove. Childish, but so was making her wait.

Mama sniffed. “You shouldn’t put such things in your body.”

It was an old argument, comforting in its predictability. If Mama had her way, they’d only stock synth-free food, but this was probably the only disagreement Papa ever won. Ophelia took a bite of the eggs and sighed. “Can you please tell me what happened now?”

“Of course.” Mama tucked a strand of pale hair behind her ear. “The Prince of Hansarda has asked for your hand in marriage.”

Ophelia choked, spewing half-chewed eggs. “You’re joking.”
Marriage
. Even thinking the word made her want to flee to the nearest spaceport. She could jump to one of the Far Reach planets, be gone before anyone knew she was running in the first place.

“You know better daughter.” Mama grabbed a hand towel to clean up the mess, effectively blocking Ophelia’s path to the door.

Obviously she was going to have to resign herself to having this conversation, “Why me?” Even as she asked, a suspicious thought wormed its way into her mind. When Mama just watched impassively, she gave it voice. “Because of the guns. He thinks marrying me will give him access to Azure.”

It wasn’t a bad plan, as such things went. They were the main supplier for everyone and anyone who worked against Sanctify, and thanks to Mac, Azure’s resident genius, their “little” family business possessed the most cutting-edge technology, both defensive and offensive. They used the loose governing practices of the Star Council the same way Sanctify did to take advantage of the individual planets left to govern themselves.

But they were completely anonymous. Or they should have been. “How does he know who I am?”

Mama dropped the dirty towel into the laundry shoot. “Perhaps he’s heard tell of you.”

“Unlikely.” Ophelia made it a point to keep a low profile. The only exception was her nighttime activities here, but Keiluna was a party planet—or it used to be. Before the riots, it would have been odd if she spent so much time here and
didn’t
drink herself stupid with some regularity, just another vacationer with more money than sense. Which was the point.

How in the hells were they going to clean up this mess? This guy was prince of an entire planet. It wasn’t as if she could waltz in and shoot him dead for knowing who she was.

Ophelia crossed her arms over her chest, fighting back panic. If he knew who they were, then the information might be floating about the techno-waves, waiting for anyone interested to pick it up. They had to get out of here, had to hunker down until they came up with a plan. Sanctify would love to permanently remove the thorn in their side that was Azure Enterprises. Not to mention the coup it would be for them to find not one, but two, Diviners. She shuddered to think of the possible fate awaiting her.

Ophelia wasn’t a fan of death by burning.

Or being slaughtered with lasers like her crew had been.

She took a deep breath and tried to slow her racing pulse. “Obviously there’s something you’re not telling me, otherwise Papa would already have us on the run. What’s going on?”

Mama motioned to Ophelia’s bag where she’d dropped it on the floor when she came into the room. “Do a reading.”

She went completely still, remembering the last time her mother uttered those words. Dread twisted in her stomach, radiating outward until it was a physical weight on her shoulders, a noose ready to tighten. To a Diviner, the cards were both a gift and a curse, acting as a conduit to the Lady’s will. Whatever the reading said, she had no choice but to abide by it. She couldn’t risk anyone else she cared about being caught in the fallout of not obeying the Lady. Ophelia wanted to scream in fear and frustration, to rail against how perfectly trapped she felt by those damn cards.

The hairs on the back of Ophelia’s neck stood up, but she did as she was told, reaching into her bag for the box containing her cards. It was engraved and made from the obsidian wood found on Beshmai. The planet wasn’t on interstellar maps—it had been found by Ophelia’s great grandfather, Jeremiah, on one of his countless explorations. He’d kept the location a secret and the natives allowed him and his descendants to visit, holding them in high regard.Shaking off her thoughts, she pressed the dual switches to release the lid. Her cards had been Jeremiah’s, the bag containing them frayed from countless years of loving use. They poured into her hands like long-lost friends, instantly quelling her growing unease. Yes, this is what she needed, even if she dreaded the message.

Ophelia shuffled the deck and cut in three times, flipping over three cards in quick succession. Sheer stubbornness kept her in her seat when she wanted to run from the message waiting in front of her. She closed her eyes and took a few cleansing breaths before facing her fate.

Her hand moved almost of its own will to the first card. The Fool. A journey begun. She touched the second card. The Wheel of Fortune. A turning point, a change in luck, whether for the bad or good. The Ten of Cups. A fortunate marriage, contentment of the heart, and the perfection of human love and friendship.

It couldn’t have been clearer if the cards spelled out: Marry the prince and live happily ever after.

Ophelia sat back and rubbed her hands over her face, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t want to get married.” The stranger’s face from last night
flickered through her mind, gone in an instant, just like any chance she had of ever meeting him again. Her mind raced to find another meaning, another message.

A way out.

She knew better now. To deny the cards was to invite disaster. Because Ophelia hadn’t listened last time, Sanctify had hijacked
The Dutchman
and killed her crew. Grief surged hot and thick in her throat until she could barely breathe for the need to cry. But she wouldn’t give in to the impulse. She didn’t deserve the relief. Akito and Kana might have lived if she’d listened when the Lady communicated the warning.

But she hadn’t listened, too focused on the big payoff they’d have gotten to stop and consider the risks. Guilt joined her grief, almost too much to bear.

She would do as the cards said, no matter how unsavory the task, because Ophelia couldn’t handle any more innocent blood on her hands.

“I know, daughter, I know.” Mama stood and wrapped her thin arms around her. “But the cards never lie, and this is the fate they’ve laid out for you.”

Papa cleared his throat, startling both of them with his appearance in the narrow doorway. “You don’t have to do this, baby girl.”

Ophelia’s stomach took residence somewhere north of her heart. She wished she could give him the answer he wanted, to erase the horrible look from his face. Too bad life never worked out like that. “I have to.”

“This is your doing, Marianna,” he growled, crossing the kitchen and shoving a finger in her mother’s face. “If it wasn’t for your ridiculous superstitions and woo-woo feelings, she wouldn’t feel like she had to go.”

Mama let go of Ophelia and wrapped a small fist around the offending finger, pushing it away. “She has to go. If you try to keep her, there will be consequences.” She paused. “Just as there were last time.”

“Don’t you dare throw that in my face, woman. What happened on
The Dutchman
was a terrible tragedy and nothing more.”

“Bullshit.”

They all froze, gazes flying to Mama’s face. Papa made a choked sound, his face turning a deep burgundy. Once he got going, he could yell for hours, and Mama would just sit there and watching him, using a few choice words to piss him off further.

Ophelia slid from her seat and moved between them, forcing their attention off each other. “I’m going. End of discussion.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Then sit down, baby girl, and I’ll make you some real breakfast.”

She obeyed, pulling Mama down with her. Her mother gave a soft smile. “Things will work out.” Because she was
Tyche
, Mama got feelings sometimes that were as accurate as if she used the cards. The problem was they weren’t always specific.

The smell of bacon—real bacon—filled the room, making Ophelia’s mouth water. She’d loved watching her father cook ever since she was a child, had spent hours in this kitchen with him. He certainly didn’t look like the homemaker type. His shoulders were absurdly large, closer to Bolkerian than human—minus the spikes, of course.

He set a glass of orange juice in front of her. “You don’t have to go. It’s too soon. Stay here and we’ll keep you safe.”

Ophelia ignored Mama’s huff and took a sip. “I have to go.”

Papa had always held a blatant hatred for the cards. She suspected it went back to his years as a lieutenant of Sanctify—much like his outdated belief women couldn’t do everything men could. He may have lost his innate hatred for anything nonhuman, but he still couldn’t quite make himself believe. To Papa, the cards would always be superstitious nonsense, not the all-important guide they were to Diviners. It was yet another thing that always managed to come between them.

He growled and flipped the bacon. “He’s using you to get into the family business.”

“I know.” And she had no idea how the prince knew in the first place. It didn’t sit well with her, but Ophelia had to trust the Lady knew what She was doing. She took another sip and set her glass on the table. “He won’t get anything from me. If you think otherwise, then you don’t know me very well.”

“I know, baby girl.” Papa turned around, wielding two plates full of bacon and pancakes. He set them in front of her and Mama before retreating for the final one. “But I’m worried about what he’ll do when he finds out.” Papa exhaled loudly, dropping into his chair. “And I don’t know who we’re going to replace you with.”

Ophelia opened her mouth to suggest… Oh hells, she didn’t know, but he beat her to it.

“I suppose I’ll have to take over until I find someone.”

Her mouth snapped shut with an audible click and Mama sighed. Ophelia knew very well how
that
conversation would go once she was out of the room. It wouldn’t be pretty. She thought fast, picking a name at random. “What about Cain?”