Queen of the Pirates (27 page)

And it wasn’t as if
Aquitaine
had never promoted extremely well–connected incompetents to high command before. Her predecessor commanding
Auberon
, Augustine Kwok, one of Loncar’s relatives, had probably fallen into that category. And her opinion of Fleet Lord Loncar wasn’t much higher.

Jessica pushed those thoughts out of her head and projected this new image. She had worked very hard on the coquettish giggle she gave the Red Admiral, getting the tone just right and the little toss of the hair just so.

Probably not as well as Moirrey had trained her to do, certainly not as well as the little pixie could have done it, but Jessica seemed to have set the bar low with Admiral Wachturm early on. She could fake
bimbo
fairly well with these men, by now.

Jessica bit her lip to keep from giggling out loud at the memory. Until that moment, she really hadn’t believed Desianna and Moirrey’s intense belief that boobs and eyelashes could lead any man astray.

And now, they were going to go through it all again. She still wasn’t sure if studying Desianna as closely as she had was a genius move, or a dangerous distraction.

She had always worked harder than anyone else to be better. It felt like cheating to wiggle her hips at a man to break his concentration.

And yet, it worked.

Deep breath. No giggles, young lady. Serious business. Dangerous men, at least in their own minds.

Jessica smiled and let her warmth fill the room.

Sure, dangerous men.

Jing Du arrived first. Part of his responsibilities as Chancellor of
Corynthe
was the diplomatic tasks. He was formal this evening, both in dress and bearing as he entered the room, nodding carefully to Jessica in her role as ambassador to the Court from the barbarians of the distant interior.

Probably still shocked that the barbarians had mastered internal plumbing.

In some ways, Jing Du was the most transparent player, so caught up within his own intellectual superiority that he was occasionally blinded to the motives of the people around him. But he was also deeper than the rest, by orders of magnitude. Still waters. Dangerous depths. Had Jessica been put in charge, he would be the first one up against the wall.

Admiral Wachturm was next. He was still technically her prisoner, but Jessica had tried to play to the man’s ego by asking him to be her co–host in these affairs. The
Fribourg Empire
considered women too inferior to handle difficult, dangerous tasks, anyway. Jessica suspected that both his wife and two daughters were at least his equal in many things, to hear him talk them up, but it would be impolite to suggest that to the man’s face.

Especially not when she wanted him to see the role she was playing, rather than the truth.

They were still enemies.

He had won at
Iger
, and at
Qui–Ping
. But that had been Loncar in command the first time, and her desperately out–gunned squadron running for their lives the second. There had never been a true test between them. Not yet.

It would be to the death, one of these days.

The Red Admiral took up a spot exactly diagonal from Jing Du, at Jessica’s right hand, just as the chancellor would be at Arnulf’s when everyone was seated.

Others arrived quickly after that, less bound by the formal rules around an event like this.
Bitter Kitten
,
Furious
, and a pilot of the 1–ring
Lithuania
, a young, blond man who went by the callsign
Sōdalane
, as the first three places in yesterday’s fighter pilot race. Daneel Ishikura, Ian Zhao, and David Rodriguez, plus the captains of
Black Prince
and
Lithuania
as locals. Tomas Kigali and Alber’ d’Maine for balance. The governor of
Callumnia
, a seedy little man who looked more like a crooked lawyer than anything else.

Everyone was seated and beginning to engage in small talk when Denis Jež entered and rapped on the bulkhead with a flat palm to get everyone’s attention. He did that well.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, quietly booming his voice across the entire assembly without actually shouting. He did that well, also. “I present to you His Majesty Arnulf, Admiral Rodriguez, Supreme Commander of the
Corynthe
Fleet, Governor of
Petron
, King of the Pirates.”

Denis quickly stepped to one side as Arnulf entered, Desianna on his arm. She looked tiny by comparison to Arnulf, barely coming up to the bottom of his ear, even in her stiletto heels. It was only when she towered over Jing Du that Arnulf’s absolute size became apparent.

Jessica smiled. She supposed that a society that embraced trial by personal combat with edged weapons as a primary legal tool would favor big men.

Arnulf, David, and Daneel were all more than head and neck taller than her. Even Ian Zhao made Marcelle and the Red Admiral look small.

She glanced at the walls surrounding her.
Auberon’s
Dragoon had assigned only female marines as guards tonight. She doubted that anyone at the table not in green would recognize that fact.

Correction. Little miss
Furious
, the black–haired hotshot pilot off David’s 3–ring,
Sky Dancer
, had noticed. Jessica watched her force her mouth closed and fix a questioning eye in her direction. Jessica just smiled serenely at her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I bid you welcome,” Jessica said. “As we prepare to depart for our final stop in the Grand Promenade, I hope that this will be another stone in a great bridge of eternal peace and understanding between our nations.”

She fixed a smile on her face.

And the horse might learn to sing.

Ξ

Desianna smiled.

Tonight was a night for gold.

Yellow gold. Rich and lustrous that set off her hair and was framed, in turn, by it.

Four different length necklaces, intricately bound together by a black pearl pendant that hung just the perfect depth into her cleavage. Matching teardrop earrings set in the most delicate gold lacing. A single gold bracer that covered all of her left forearm, like some barbaric shield. A welded–gold chain extravaganza on her right forearm that linked across the back of her hand to rings on her middle two fingers.

Tonight, she wore her little black dress. Not so short, as befit a woman of her stature, both political and physical, but plunging in front and in almost absent in back, strategically held together by fine gold chains that ran at exactly the line of her nipples, diaphragm, and navel. In addition, it had been slashed up the left to nearly her hip bone, showing an amazing flash of bronzed and toned thigh to the Red Admiral when Arnulf pulled out her chair and seated her himself.

She smiled at the man as he attempted to close his mouth.

Tonight was Jessica’s night, but that meant Desianna’s job was to distract these silly men and their chauvinistic upbringings, so Jessica could play them without them paying enough attention to consider how badly they were being out–maneuvered.

Besides, of all the men at the table, only Denis Jež had treated her like a proper gentleman, and not a conquest he had planned, or dreamed about.

Desianna wondered if she might could convince Jessica’s first officer that Arnulf’s statecraft would be advanced by a light seduction.

Her eyes twinkled as they met Jessica’s.

Men
.

Still, it was an extra bonus to be surrounded by so many women tonight.

That was rare, especially at formal dinners. Here, she had the two pilots, plus Jessica. All the girl soldiers around them were just icing on the cake, even if they were probably less girly than some of the men present, were push to come to shove.

And none of them could compete with her for the men, which was exactly how she and Jessica had planned it.

Briefly, Desianna considered emigrating back to
Aquitaine
, just because the men there would treat her the way she felt she should be treated. Spoiled. Utterly rotten with a side of fresh cream. Men were men. Maybe she should treat herself to the attentions and devotions of a gentleman.

Did
Corynthe
need an ambassador to
Aquitaine
? Maybe she should retire from being First Wife and travel.

Desianna felt her own smile expand to encompass the entirety of
Auberon
and all her crew. Oh, the delicious potential for trouble.

A smell distracted her before she began to purr.

Jessica’s chef was standing at her left hand, holding a silver bowl for her to inspect.

Figs and arbequina olives brined in red wine vinegar. Desianna shot Jessica an inquiring look.

Someone had blabbed.

She smiled up at the man, aware that Jessica would probably kill her if she tried to seduce him away. He seemed to share their dirty little secret as he placed the bowl before her with a half bow.

The men could wait.

Desianna delicately speared a fig and nibbled, wondering what it would do to her reputation if she spiked the first hand that reached for the bowl. It was a close–wrought thing. That might be embarrassing, seated between Arnulf and David. But still.

The fig was perfect.

She speared two olives before she consented to share, and then only because a steward set down a cheese plate and a tray of pickled vegetables, half of which she couldn’t hazard a guess at, even by color.

There was a very good reason she had skipped lunch today.

Ξ

Daneel considered the evening’s underplay and bi–currents swirling and eddying around the table as
Auberon
’s crew removed the main course and the head cook again appeared, to again personally attend Desianna and deliver…

Were those strawberries? In cream?

The capital region on
Callumnia
was in winter right now. And the governor was a hack, a tax farmer mostly kept in the palace by Jing Du and protected by Arnulf as long as the revenues flowed. That fool wasn’t smart enough to bring something like this to the party.

That meant it had to come from Jessica.

Her little smile as he glanced over seemed to confirm his suspicions. Gods, that woman just kept getting more and more amazing.

How had any man let her get away? More likely, what man had ever kept up?

Ian Zhao was constantly at the edge of being insulted to be seated across from Daneel. He was a big–shot captain, after all, and
Warlock
was a has–been nothing who was only invited because that female bitch captain wanted to rub it in their faces.

Ian, you need to learn to play poker better. Or, better yet, don’t, and let me take all your money some time.

Daneel smiled. Just the right level of carefree and innocence that seemed to drive burning splinters under Ian’s fingernails. Not that he hadn’t dreamt of doing exactly that sometime.

No, the most fun tonight seemed to be watching Jessica and Desianna play people like an orchestra.

Daneel wondered if he would have even noticed, back when he was someone else. Before
Sarmarsh
. Before resurrection. Before Jessica.

Was this what it meant to be civilized? Leave behind all that crazy pilot shit and actually look forward to living longer than the next raid, the next fight, the next romantic conquest? Worse, to dress so boringly?

Daneel grinned at his own dark gray and dark blue outfit, across from Ian Zhao in fuchsia and aquamarine like a half–drunk peacock. Come to think of it, he sounded about as useful as well.

Maybe get him fully drunk sometime, with all that anger, might let more details flow.

Jessica barely trusted him. He knew that. But Daneel didn’t know the key details of the bigger plot, and at this point couldn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know.

Daneel gauged Ian’s face and wondered just how much farther Ian could be safely pushed this evening.

A
thunk
on the table brought his eyes around. Along with everyone else.

Damn, Arnulf knew how to work a room.

Arnulf grinned back at everyone, slowly making eye contact, politely establishing his pack dominance with bulk and size and charisma. But, oh, such a deft touch.

It was a shame Arnulf would never survive what Daneel knew was coming. Daneel had developed a much greater understanding and appreciation of the man recently.

He sighed internally.

“Admiral Keller,” Arnulf began slowly, deliberately, humorously, “we have talked in the past about the difference between
Aquitaine
as a nation and
Corynthe
as a collection of loosely aligned worlds.”

He paused for effect, dangling everyone in the room as he seemed to choose the right next words.

“It seems to me,” he continued, “that one of the differences is that
Aquitaine
was
founded
, while
Corynthe
simply grew into existence over time.
Corynthe
needs to be re–founded, so we can turn it into a nation. I have studied your history, but I am more interested in your founding myths.”

“Myths, Admiral?” Jessica volleyed.

To Daneel it was like watching a sporting match, as heads swiveled back and forth.

“Yes,” the big man smiled easily. “Three hundred and ninety–four years ago, the Republic was proclaimed, with
Ladaux
as its capital. But that was an ending to the story, not just a beginning. Tell me of the time before. Tell me of the time that ended.”

Jessica smiled, a thoughtful look on her face as she sipped her coffee, eyes a thousand meters away.

“To do that,” Jessica began, “I need to tell you about the Story Road.”

Arnulf smiled expectantly. Daneel watched the king’s left hand reach out and come to rest on the back of Desianna’s, fingers twining together.

“Three millennia ago,” she continued, “the
Homeworld
was destroyed in a war. Fools pounded it with giant rocks, small moons really, until it was a bed of lava. I haven’t been there, but I have seen pictures taken in the modern era. The old maps are irrelevant, because the entire face was changed. Even the gravity has been altered, so much material had been cast down from the heavens.”