Queen of Swords (7 page)

It was going to be a long twenty-four hours.

Chapter Seven

The bastard. The Ladydamned
bastard!
Ophelia bit back another shriek and tried for calm. It slipped through her fingers even as she beat her fists against the thick metal door of the cabin. She turned and stalked to the opposite wall, nearly tripping over something on the floor. When she looked down, she cried out in relief. Boone brought her cards.

She dropped to the floor in an undignified heap and pulled the box into her lap, opening it so quickly, she almost spilled the contents onto the floor. As the thick cards, worn with years of use, came into her hands, Ophelia’s panic lessened. She would get out of this. It was only a matter of time.

Shuffling several times, she prayed for guidance. Not wanting to do a three card reading for fear it would be identical to the last two, she lay seven cards out in a cross formation. The middle card, the one representing Self, wasn’t surprising. She was always the Queen of Swords.

After a quick internal debate, she flipped over the rest of the cards and sat back, taking in the reading. The single card above the queen was generally a mirror or partner—the King of Wands, so it was probably the latter. The King was supposed to be a charming, honest, generous person who loved their home and family life. Sure, they had a dark side, would commit any number of terrible acts to keep those things safe, but who wouldn’t?

Except she didn’t know anyone who fit the bill.

Her treacherous mind brought up her captor’s face, but she hurriedly moved on to the cards on either side of the Queen before she could consider the possibility too closely.

They represented the present. The Five of Wands was good news; it meant she had a chance to get out of the trouble she was currently in. The Empress was odd. It was usually the card representing her mother but…

Ophelia blinked. Was it really that easy? She looked around the room, taking in the standard issue bunk and bolted-down table and chairs. The object of her search was tucked into the wall in the corner near the door. A link. It would be offline, but that had never stopped her before. Mac, in all his mad scientist glory, had insisted she learn to hack most comm units. For her own safety, of course.

Training kicked in, keeping her in place. She would see what magic she could work with the link in a minute. First, though, she had to finish her reading.

Relief making her almost giddy, she glanced over the two cards directly below the queen. The Ten of Swords and Lovers. Ah hells. The Ten of Swords meant there was trouble ahead, the kind one didn’t always bounce back from. No guarantee of victory. The Lovers probably meant the card’s most obvious definition. She would take a lover again before this was over. Fine, whatever.

As long as it wasn’t Boone.

The last card was one often designated for influence of an outside force. It seemed simple enough. Boone had locked her in here and so he must be the King of Swords, Ill Dignified. But sitting there, looking at the upside down King, it didn’t feel right. Boone was a bastard, but he wasn’t cruel or violent. Sure, her wrists hurt like a bitch, but Ophelia saw the panic in his eyes when he flipped her. Whatever he’d seen, it wasn’t her.

Against her better judgment, Ophelia’s gaze skated back up to the King of Wands. No, just no. He was not her mirror, and he certainly wasn’t her partner.

Pushing her suspicions away, she considered the King of Swords. He was a different player in this drama, one she might not have met yet but who had significant influence over her life. She hated whoever it was already.

She put her cards away, and dug through her things, praying Mama had stuck her kit in here. Ophelia yanked out a small ratty bag, dumping the contents it held into her hand. Perfect. Once Mac was sure she could dismantle most basic electronics, he gave her a shortcut. This device would allow her to piggyback off any signal sent by the ship, rerouting it until she connected with whoever she wanted.

Pulling off the cover beneath the link, she picked through the exposed wires, bringing out the white one to clip the device on. A few seconds later and she was in the system, diverting a call to some ship named
Boreas
, putting it through to go to Keiluna instead.

Now all she could do was wait. And pray no one noticed a call bouncing from the captain’s cabin.

A half an hour later the screen static slowly cleared to show the very unhappy face of her father. Shit. Ophelia forced a smile. “Hello, Papa.”

He gave a roar that would have made any large predator proud. “Where in the seven hells are you? I’m coming to get you right now.”

Her mother appeared behind him and slapped her small hand over his mouth. “Are you well, daughter?”

Was she well? She’d been kidnapped, thrown around, and locked up. No, she wasn’t well. But it could have been a lot worse—her face could look like Boone’s did after she’d gotten a hold of him earlier. Ophelia shrugged. “I’m okay.”

Papa grabbed her mother’s hand and jerked it from his mouth. “Where is he? I told him I’d skin him alive and I swear to Ba’al that’s what I’m going to do.”

Oh hells. This was going from bad to worse. “Papa.
Papa
, stop yelling.” When he started swearing by Sanctify’s patron god, they were in serious trouble.

Mama slapped her free hand over his mouth again. “Now, daughter, tell us what’s going on. The day after you left, a man showed up claiming to be the emissary sent by the prince. When we told him you had already left he was, ah, surprised.”

“I’ll just bet he was.” Ophelia couldn’t help the grin that squeezed past her defenses. At least someone else was as miserable as she was. “I think I’ve been kidnapped.”

Mama’s silvery brows rose. “Indeed?”

“Get off me, woman.” Papa growled again, squirming out from under Mama. He glared at his wife. “I can behave.”

“Of course you can.” As if her mother hadn’t just been manhandling him.

Ophelia cleared her throat. “If you two are done, can we get back to me?”

“Where are you?” Papa leaned to either side, trying to get a good look at the room through the tiny screen in the wall. “Why are you in the captain’s cabin?”

“I’ve been locked in.” Ophelia shrugged. “They still haven’t told me what’s going on, but Boone doesn’t act like he’s going to try for ransom.” No, all he’d said was that he refused to let her marry the prince. There was more to the story, she was sure of it. Not that it mattered. She needed to get out of here, one way or another.

“He won’t,” Mama said in a singsong voice.

Goose bumps rose in the wake of the shiver that racked Ophelia’s body. Nothing good ever came of her mother talking in the
Tyche
tone of voice. “What do you mean? Why else would they take me?”

Mama cocked her head to the side as if listening to someone, her gaze going distant. Finally her eyes cleared. “I don’t know.”

Ophelia blinked. “That’s it? You don’t know? What kind of
Tyche
Diviner are you?” The second stage, brought on when a Diviner became pregnant, came with some interesting side effects. Her mother had gained a closer bond with the Lady, until it almost seemed like their goddess spoke through her sometimes.

“Don’t you talk to your mother like that, baby girl.” Papa ran his hands over his face and through his hair, leaving the short locks standing on end. “We’ll figure this out. Do you know where they’re taking you?”

“Psrida. Which makes sense, I suppose, since it’s in the middle of nowhere, and they don’t have a government system set up yet.”

Papa nodded. “I’ll see what information I can get on this end about
the shithead who has you. And then I’m coming for you.”

Mama popped him on the head. “No, you’re not. She’ll deal with this on her own.”

While Ophelia didn’t mind the vote of confidence, she would have liked some assistance. “Mama—”

“Don’t ‘Mama’ me, daughter.” Mama paused. “You have to go now.” The call cut off just as the door swished open. Ophelia spun around, trying to look as if she hadn’t been up to something.

Gee stood in the doorway, his orange gaze traveling over the room before focusing on the link behind her. “Are you comfortable?” The words sounded forced, as if he’d practiced them before coming in.

“Considering I’ve been kidnapped and locked up, yeah, I suppose I’m comfortable.” Ophelia strode over to the table and hopped up. She could have made a run for the door but what was the point? The ship was tiny and it wasn’t as if she could fly it even if she managed to get to the cockpit before someone caught her. The one skill she could have really used in this situation, and she was lacking because Papa had strong views about the capabilities—or lack thereof—of women pilots. When she got out of this mess, it was the first thing she’d learn.

Gee bit his lip, but eventually lost the fight to keep from laughing. His cackle echoed through the room, bouncing oddly off the walls. “You are something, lady, you definitely are.”

Ophelia kicked out her legs, watching him from under her lashes. After his initial sweep of the room, he hadn’t once looked at the link, but she didn’t know him well enough to decide if he’d noticed or not. But there was nothing he could do about it now. She’d already made her call. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

“Depends on who you’re asking.” Gee held up a plate. “I brought food.”

Why was he being so civil? “There’s an InstaChef in the room.”

Gee frowned, the expression deepening the lines covering his face. “That? My Marcy would kill me if she found out I let you eat that synth-crap the Cap’n insists on stocking. Besides, it’s mostly liquor.”

Ophelia perked up. Liquor? That would certainly help pass the time. “Oh?”

Those orange eyes didn’t miss a beat. “I suppose I shouldn’t have said so, but I suspect you would have found it on your own.” He paused. “Are you going to play nice if I walk over there?”

Probably not. Ophelia’s stomach chose at that moment to voice its protest rather loudly. She shrugged and slipped into one of the chairs. “Sure.”

The plate Gee set in front of her gave off the most amazing smells, and she recognized the same pasta stuff she’d been eating before yesterday’s jump. Accepting the fork he passed over, she poked at the noodles. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Gee’s laugh made her flinch. “My Marcy would like you, no matter how much you misbehave.”

“I didn’t ask to be kidnapped.” Ophelia took a bite.

“Mayhap not, but the Cap’n has gone out of his way to make things comfortable for you.” Gee shook his head as if that were the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “And what do you do? You break his nose and ruin his pretty face.”

“He’s not pretty.” She stomped down on the guilt threatening to worm its way into her heart. Boone kidnapped her. She would
not
feel sorry for defending herself. And if she’d enjoyed it…so what? “And he started it.”

The Evarven shook his head. “You don’t know nothing about nothing.”

Maybe she could finally get some answers. Ophelia made an honest effort to be charming and gave the Evarven a sweet smile. “Then tell me.”

But Gee only shook a gnarled finger at her. “Don’t try those feminine wiles on me, lady. You did me a kindness with the reading, but the Cap’n and his family have been friends of mine for years.”

She took another bite, striving to look innocent. “Oh?”

“Enjoy your meal.” Gee gave a funny little bow, and was gone before she could voice a protest. Damn. Ophelia finished off the plate and sat back.

She had exactly three seconds of being blissfully full before her stomach tried to crawl out her throat. She flew into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time to vomit up everything she’d just eaten—and a good portion of her stomach itself. She kept dry heaving until she was so weak she could only lie on the cool tile floor, cursing the Evarven, his damned Marcy, and a certain rat bastard with gray eyes that knew too much.

Chapter Eight

Boone sat down to eat, grateful to be alone for the first time in days. He was never alone anymore, someone always calling him with questions, problems, concerns, complaints. Hells, it was exhausting just thinking about. But it had always been this way, him cleaning up Jenny’s and her friends’ messes. And when he’d finally escaped Hansarda, taking Jenny with him, he had refugees needing shelter and protection. And those refugee numbers kept growing over the years, until a good portion of Valneci were his people. Thank the gods the Necians were welcoming of strangers, because he didn’t know any other planet where he could keep his people together and safe.

“She’s up to something.”

He took a bite before looking at Gee. “What’s she doing now?”

“Acting all nice and innocent.” Gee plopped down across from him.

She
was
up to something. Boone looked down at his nearly full plate and then back at Gee. “I’m finishing this.”

The Evarven shrugged. “Whatever you like.”

Boone took another bite, but it turned to dust in his mouth.
Damn it
. He pushed the plate into Gee’s waiting hands and stood, cursing her. There was nothing she could do to get off this ship. Couldn’t she just sit back and relax for a single godsdamned day?

What was he thinking? Of course she couldn’t.

He stalked down the corridor, his anger rising the closer he got to the captain’s cabin. He was going to stick her in a pair of mag-cuffs. Then she wouldn’t be able to do anything to stress him out. Hells, if he’d known Ophelia would be this much trouble, he would have sent Jenny to get her.

Pausing to contemplate the horror that would be Jenny and Ophelia together, Boone shuddered. Or perhaps not.

He keyed open the door and leaned in a little to see if she was waiting to sneak attack him again. The main cabin was empty. From the state of the link, she’d been busy over the last few hours. A horrible sound came from the open door to the bathroom, giving her position away.

Aware this could be a ploy, Boone moved silently to the door. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t Ophelia on the floor, covered in sweat and curled into a ball. Before he could say anything, she made a panicked sound and clawed her way up the toilet to dry heave.

Boone didn’t think—a nasty habit he was forming—he just went to his knees and pulled her hair back, running his free hand over her back. “Ophelia, are you okay?”

She braced her forearms on the rim of the toilet, opening one eye to glare at him. “Do I look okay, jackass?” Another dry heave.

He might have laughed if she didn’t look so wretched. “What can I do?”

“Die.” Ophelia’s entire body shuddered. “Or just leave me alone to suffer in peace.”

Things would have been so much simpler if he could. “I can’t do that.”

She ignored him, heaving until he was worried she’d tear something internally. When her body finally went slack, exhausted from its efforts, he caught her before she drowned in the mess she’d made in the toilet. She felt so slight in his arms, so breakable. Boone fought down the urge to wrap her up and take her somewhere safe, somewhere he could protect her.

He wanted to make Ophelia
his
.

Boone nearly dropped her at the realization, and drew his training around him like a shield, hoping she was too sick to notice his lapse. “Now what?”

“Now…” Her head lolled against him before she seemed to get control of herself. “Now, I take a shower.”

Her breath hit him and Boone fought back a wince. “Okay.”

“I know my breath stinks, jackass.” Ophelia pushed until he let her go and then used his shoulder to propel herself to her feet. She swayed alarmingly, but found her balance by the time she reached the sans shower. “Now get out.”

“I’ll wait in the cabin until you’re done.” He held up a hand to forestall her protest. “Just to make sure you don’t fall and crack your head open.”

“Okay, Mother,” she muttered, turning away.

He paused in the door way and glanced back in time to see Ophelia pull her shirt over her head, revealing a back whose every dip and curve he knew intimately.

“Stop looking at me.”

Boone spun around so fast, he ran into the wall. Cursing, he stumbled out of the room and collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling while the sans shower turned on. This was the seventh level of the hells, being so close to what he wanted and not able to do anything about it. Then again, he wanted Ophelia clean and healthy, not knocking on death’s door from puking for gods knew how long.

The shower shut off and he listened to her mutter as she moved around the bathroom, going first to the Clotheshorse and then to the sink to brush her teeth. A few minutes later, Ophelia stopped in the doorway and stared down at him. Even with the circles under her eyes dark enough to match her loose purple shirt, she looked delicious. The thought sent blood flowing south and he cursed himself all over again. “Are you okay?”

“No, Butch, I’m not okay. Your Ladydamned Evarven poisoned me.” She took a step and stumbled, catching herself on the table. “Get off my bed.”

“Technically it’s my bed.”

Ophelia’s glare was halfhearted at best. “I’m not in the mood. Just leave me alone. Please.”

The please did him in. Boone climbed off the bed. “Gee didn’t poison you.” If he did, they were going to have a long, painful talk. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he shook his head. While Gee wasn’t above using poison, he wouldn’t hurt Ophelia. The Evarven knew what was at stake and he wouldn’t do anything to endanger it. Ophelia dead would cause more problems than it would solve.

“Whatever.” She dropped facedown onto the bed and seemed to instantly fall asleep.

Boone blinked. “Ophelia?” He went back to the bed, lifting her carefully with one arm while he pulled down the comforter with the other. Then he tucked her in, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders.

She looked younger when she was sleeping, more vulnerable, and it pulled at something inside him that he’d thought died long ago. It didn’t change anything, not really. Until Kristian was dead, Boone would spend his every waking moment making sure his half brother got that way. There was no time for a relationship that went beyond sex—even mind-blowing-forget-your-own-name sex. Especially not with a crazy Diviner who would kill him as soon as kiss him.

His wrist unit beeped and Boone cursed, hurrying from the room before the sound could wake Ophelia. He slipped into her old cabin and keyed the unit on. Cole’s face appeared, his inky eyes worried. “Boone.”

There was only one reason the Beshmaiite would be calling right now—bad news. “Cole.”

“There’s trouble.”

Of course there was. Boone resisted the urge to beat his head against the wall. “Tell me.”

“The king is dead.”

Boone cursed again, wishing the furniture wasn’t bolted down so he could break something. This was exactly what he wanted, but not now. Not when he had Ophelia to worry about and his people were scattered to the seven winds. “When?”

“A day or two ago. It was kept quiet, but one of Kristian’s whores was there when they found the body. She told a serving girl, who told one of our men. You know how it goes.”

No knowledge could stay secret if one knew where to look. “Has Kristian moved yet?”

“No. But you know what this means.”

War. With the old man dead, there was nothing to stop Kristian from killing them all. And he wouldn’t hesitate to ensure there was no one else who could take the throne. “We have to move now.”

Cole’s fur stood on end before flattening against his skull. “We can’t, Boone. We’re not ready, and we barely have four ships.”

Not nearly enough to attack an entire planet with, not if they wanted to live. “Damn it. I’m tired of running and hiding.”

“There’s no shame in staying alive.” Cole paused. “I gave the order to withdraw our people to Valneci. What are you going to do with the woman?”

Kristian would still want her connections for when he moved to expand Hansarda’s influence, but it was doubtful he’d pursue her until things settled down. Ironically enough, now it looked like Boone needed her more than ever. Which was a problem, because she hated him. “I don’t know.”

Cole saw entirely too much. “You like her, don’t you?”

“She’s useful. That’s all.”

His first mate huffed out a laugh. “If you say so. What’s the plan?”

Psyche
didn’t have enough fuel or supplies to make the jump to Valneci. It would take a few days to track down what he needed on Psrida, a week at most. “A week, maybe two.” Two being worst-case scenario.

“Be careful.”

“Yeah, you too.” He cut the transmission and leaned against the wall. Why couldn’t the old man have lived a few more months, given them enough time to get everything in order and launch an attack? Boone hit the wall, the external pain so much easier to bear than the internal. The old man was nothing if not consistent. He’d been a pain in the ass when he was alive and now he’d found a way to be a pain in the ass after death. He might just get Boone killed yet.

And if Boone felt grief over his passing—the old shit
had
been his father, after all—it was normal. It didn’t matter that he’d made Boone’s life a living hell, had supported Kristian despite—or perhaps
because
of—his sadistic nature, or anything else. His absence would be noticed for more than the political ramifications.

So what was he going to do with Ophelia? The longer she stayed with him, the more danger she was in.

She had to go back.

Taking a deep breath, he sent a call to Jenny. Within moments her face appeared on the screen, brown hair sleep-tossed and eyes half open. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I need you on Psrida.”

She yawned. “Can’t. Already halfway to Valneci.”

“Turn around and come back.”

“What’s going on?” The screen moved as she sat up and pushed back her hair. She frowned. “And what happened to your face?”

Boone’s hand went to the thin strips of medical patch covering his nose. “Don’t worry about it. I have news…” How was he supposed to go about this? Jenny didn’t share his overwhelming hatred for the old man. “The king is dead.”

That woke her up. “Daddy’s dead?”

Now that he’d gone and said something, Boone wished he’d waited until he saw her in person to deliver the news. “Yes.”

“Huh. Well, that’s shit.” She gave a wobbly smile, her eyes shining in the low light. “Guess that simplifies things.”

He let the subject drop, not really sure how to handle it in the first place. “I need you to take our guest home.”

“Take her home? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Bring her with us. I bet we could get some goodies for ransoming her ass.”

“We’re not ransoming her. We took her so Kristian wouldn’t have access to her family’s weapons, and he doesn’t need them yet, so we’re taking her back.”

Jenny muttered something the old man would be proud of. Gods knew she’d picked up plenty of his bad habits even though she hadn’t seen their father in years. “You’re being an idiot because you slept with her.”

“No, Jenny, I’m being smart.”

“Stupid.”

“Smart.”

“Stupid.”

He groaned. “Enough. Will you do it or not?”

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll take the little skeezo back to her family.”

“Safely. And you won’t ransom her.”

Jenny pressed a hand to her heart and had the audacity to look injured. “I would never do something so shifty.” She grinned when Boone stared her down. “Okay, I so would. Fine, fine. I’ll be good. Cross my heart.”

It would be easier to take her back himself, but he needed to be on Valneci. Their whole operation was based there, all of the refugees from Hansarda who needed him. Besides, Boone didn’t think it was smart to spend more time with Ophelia. He was hanging on by a thread as it was. Give him another week and he’d bully his way back into her bed.

No, it was better to cut all ties with her as soon as possible. Truly, it was.