Deathstalker Honor (16 page)

She stopped talking and looked at him expectantly, and for once in his life Owen didn’t have the faintest idea what to say. He thought hard. “I knew Jacob Wolfe,” he said finally. “My father had . . . dealings with him. As I recall, he didn’t think much of me.”

Constance smiled. “Jacob didn’t think much of anyone. He was a hard man. He had to be. But I knew another Jacob, the side of him he never dared show anyone else, not even his children. Perhaps especially not them. He was strong and steadfast, and he stood up for what he believed in. A lot like you, Owen.”

“Hold on,” said Owen, raising both hands defensively. “If there’s one thing we should both be certain of, it’s that I am not in any way like Jacob Wolfe. I never wanted to be a warrior. I was a quiet scholar, and perfectly happy to be so, until Lionstone outlawed me. I was dragged into the rebellion, kicking and screaming all the way.”

“Then the more honor to you that you achieved so much with such disadvantages,” said Constance demurely. “But now the rebellion is over, what are you going to do with your life? You can’t go back to being a simple scholar, not after all you’ve seen and done. The butterfly cannot become a caterpillar again. And while bounty hunting no doubt fills a present need in you, it’s not a profession to build a life on. Like it or not, you have become a symbol to many people, and they’re looking to you to provide leadership. Which means you’re going to have to enter politics. Otherwise, you could win the battle but lose the war. Surely you didn’t go through all you did just to see Lionstone replaced by something even worse?”

“No,” said Owen. “No, I didn’t. But I’m not interested in power for myself. Never have been.”

“The best kind of politician,” said Constance. “It’s the ones who want power you have to watch out for. This is a matter of duty, Owen, not desire. The Empire needs you.”

“I’ve heard that so many times,” said Owen. “From so many people. But they all had very different ideas as to what I should do once I came to power. I always thought I’d be free of all that, once the rebellion was over and I’d made it clear I had no interest in the crown or the Throne. I thought I’d be free to turn my back on all the blood and death and run my own life again. I should have known better. Duty will ride on my shoulders till the day I die, like the Old Man of the Sea, who once picked up can never be put down.”

“Or the red shoes,” said Constance, nodding. “They’ll make you a great dancer, but once you put them on, you can never take them off, and you can’t stop dancing. When I first heard that story, I decided that if that ever happened to me, I’d just have to dance as beautifully as I could. So that I’d be remembered for what I did rather than the curse that drove me. Be a politician, Owen. Be a statesman. Make something new and marvelous of yourself. I can advise you, guide you, introduce you to the right people. We’d make a good partnership.”

“There’s more to this than your admiration for me, or your need to be free of Clan Wolfe,” said Owen suddenly. “You’re afraid of something. Something specific. What?”

“Very good, Owen. You’re as sharp as everyone says. Blue Block has become the real power that the Clans answer to. They talk, and everyone listens. They make suggestions, and everyone rushes to follow them. But I don’t trust Blue Block. I don’t trust their motives. I want to be free of them. I want the Families to be free of them. But thanks to you they’re frightened and divided. The Clans need a hero to gather behind. And even after everything you’ve done, they’d accept you. They understand your argument was always with Lionstone rather than the Clans. They respect vendetta. And they’ve always understood ambition. After all, you were born and raised an aristocrat, just like them.”

“No!” said Owen sharply. “I’m nothing like them. I fought to bring down not just Lionstone, but also the order that supported her. I saw the horrors and evils the Families were responsible for. I saw the awful lives the many lived so the few could sprawl in luxury.”

“You changed. So can they. Help them. Remake them into what they could be, should be—a guiding force to run the Empire fairly, and make it strong and secure again.”

“I don’t know, Constance. It’s not that simple. There are a hell of a lot of people in positions of power and influence these days who think the only good aristo is a dead aristo.”

“You could change that. Owen, the aristocracy has too much potential for good to just let it disappear. We are an inheritance of the best, going back centuries. Generations of breeding and gengineering for perfection. You’re the last of the Deathstalkers. Do you want your bloodline to die with you? If not, you must marry another aristocrat, to maintain your Family legacy. Anything less would be a betrayal of your Clan.” She stopped and looked searchingly at Owen. “Separately, we are both people of great potential. Together, our Family could become unbeatable.”

Owen shook his head slowly. “Constance . . . I don’t know you. I don’t love you.”

She smiled. “We’ll come to know each other. I like what I’ve heard of you. I think we’d be . . . compatible.”

“Constance, I always thought that when the time came, I’d marry for love or not at all. I want a marriage, not a business merger.”

“I can’t promise you love, Owen. I don’t know that I’ll ever love again. But my match was an arranged marriage, and Jacob was a stranger to me when we began as man and wife. We don’t have to love each other to be supportive partners and allies, but . . . perhaps love will come later.” She fixed him with a thoughtful eye, head cocked slightly to one side. “Or is there already a love in your life? There’s been endless speculation in the media and in Society about your relationship with the d’Ark woman. A . . . formidable figure. No one doubts that she’s a hero of the rebellion, but you must realize, you could never marry her. You are from different worlds and always would be. And despite what the songs might say, love doesn’t conquer all.”

“Hazel . . . never would say she loved me.” Owen stumbled on, not sure what he was going to say until he said it. “We’ve been as close as two people can be, fought side by side against everything the Empire could throw at us, faced death and worse together . . . but she never once said she loved me.”

“I can give you children,” said Constance. “Raise them to be part of the Deathstalker Clan. Could she do that for you? Would she?”

“No,” said Owen. “I don’t think she would. Very well, Constance, a marriage shall be arranged between us. You set everything in motion; I’ve been away for so long I’m rather out of touch with the formalities involved.”

“Of course,” said Constance. “I’ll take care of everything. You may kiss me now if you wish.”

She came into his arms and turned her mouth up to him. It was a very polite, almost diffident kiss, but Owen could feel his whole life changing with that touch, as he committed himself to a future he could barely see or grasp. A chapter in his life was ending here, and something new beginning. He just hoped that for once he’d made the right decision. They broke apart and looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, Owen’s hands resting easily on Constance’s hips. She met his gaze freely, open and trusting, binding herself to him. But there wasn’t an ounce of love there, and both of them knew it. Constance stepped back, and Owen’s hands fell to his sides. She smiled at him, curtsied, and moved off into the crowd, leaving Owen standing alone. He could see people all around him regarding him with new interest, but for the moment all he could think of was how he was going to break the news to Hazel d’Ark.

 

Hazel had found the bar, a quiet, set-apart area with gleaming tiles, rows of interesting-looking bottles, and a long wooden counter. She’d also found Jack Random and Ruby Journey. The three of them were drinking together in companionable silence. None of them looked particularly happy. Jack was wearing a simple blue jumpsuit that showed off his newly youthful figure to its best advantage. He’d been given all kinds of medals, but he never wore them. Ruby was wearing her usual black leathers under white furs. She said it helped remind her of who she was. However, she was also wearing so much gold and silver and jewelery, on her arms and wrists and around her neck, that she couldn’t make the smallest movement without it all clattering and chiming together. They were all drinking the strongest brandy that the bar had to offer. They had a bottle each, and they weren’t bothering with glasses. The bartender looked distinctly scandalized at such cavalier treatment of a good brandy, but had the good sense and survival instincts to keep his mouth firmly shut.

“One of the drawbacks to our Maze-improved bodies,” said Jack sadly, “is that it takes a hell of a lot of booze to make a dent in them. But facing this wondrous new Empire we helped to create is too awful a task to contemplate entirely sober.”

“Right,” said Ruby. “Of course, it helps that we can afford the very best booze now. Can’t honestly say that it tastes that much better from the rotgut I used to drink, though.”

“You have no palate,” said Jack.

“Yes, I have,” said Ruby. “I speak perfectly clearly.”

Hazel could see an argument starting and moved quickly to head it off. “So, what have you guys been doing while Owen and I were off chasing the bad guys? Keeping busy?”

“Off and on,” said Jack Random. “Since I brokered the deal that defanged the aristocracy and brought about their surrender, everyone and his brother comes running to me every time an aristo steps out of line. Like there’s anything I can do about it, except pass their complaints on to Parliament. I have my own problems, trying to set up a new political system practically single-handed. People expect so much of me. My legend has been expanded by the rebellion to almost inhuman proportions. People were confused by the two Jack Randoms, so they’ve decided there must only have been one, and attributed everything to me. Along with a whole lot of complete fiction. No one sees me anymore, the real me—just the damned legend. They think I can do anything, solve any problem, and then have the nerve to get angry when I can’t.” He took a long swallow from his bottle. “Of course, my legend’s nothing compared to Ruby’s. I’ve known people to cross themselves when they see her coming.”

“And quite right too,” said Ruby briskly. “Half the time I don’t even have to pay for things anymore. I just walk into a place, point at what I want, look a bit severe, and they fall over themselves rushing to give it to me as a gift. I’ll bet we won’t even have to pay for these drinks. Probably make the barman wet himself with a single look.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” said Hazel hastily. She looked across to where Owen was talking with Constance Wolfe, and scowled. “Wonder what he’s doing with Pretty Miss Perfect? I don’t like him talking with other aristos. They’re a bad influence on him. And he’s always been easy to talk into things.”

“You should know,” said Ruby. “What’s the matter, afraid they’ll woo him away from you?”

Hazel snorted. “Not after everything we’ve been through together. There’s a bond between us that’s stronger than anything they could ever understand.”

“Yeah,” said Ruby. “But have you bedded him yet?”

“Mind your own business!”

“Thought not.”

“It would . . . mean too much to him,” said Hazel. “He’d take it too seriously. He’d start talking about relationships and trust and building a life together, and I’m not ready for that kind of shit.”

“Can’t say I can see a time when you ever would be,” said Jack.

“And you can shut up as well.”

“Better get to it soon, girl,” said Ruby calmly. “Or someone else’ll have him. Wouldn’t mind a bash at him myself. Good build. Nice ass. And he’s got that innocent, little-boy-lost look that always sets my fingers itching.”

“You keep your hands to yourself, Ruby Journey,” said Hazel firmly. “Anyone touches him but me, and I’ll put them in traction for a month.”

“Yeah, but do you love the man or not?” Ruby insisted.

“We have . . . an understanding.”

“Understandings won’t keep you warm in the early hours of the morning. You’re just frightened of commitment, Hazel. Always have been.”

“That’s good, coming from someone who’s never had a permanent relationship with anyone in her life!”

“We’re not talking about me,” said Ruby calmly. “We’re talking about you. And Owen. He isn’t going to hang around forever, you know. The war brought you together, but that’s over. He’s the best thing that ever happened to you, Hazel d’Ark, and you’d be a damned fool to let him get away. Right, Jack?”

“Don’t look at me,” he said. “I’m still trying to work out what our relationship is. Besides, I’ve been married seven times, under various names, and none of them worked out. Being a professional rebel took up a lot of my life. There wasn’t always room left for anyone else, no matter how I felt about them.”

“But your job’s over now,” said Hazel.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” said Jack. He started to raise his bottle to his mouth, and then stopped and put it down again. “I was the man who fought the System. Any System. I defined myself, who and what and why I was, in relation to Lionstone and her corrupt Empire. Now they’re both gone, I don’t know what to do with myself that matters a damn.”

“You’ll just have to learn a new kind of war,” said Ruby. “It’s called politics.”

“I’m too old a dog to learn new tricks,” said Jack. “Even if I have a new young body. I spent my whole life turning myself into a particular kind of man, only to discover there’s no need for that kind of man anymore. Instead, there’s just meetings and committees and endless bloody compromises, all the time trying to keep old enemies from each other’s throats. And all the time wondering if any of it really matters . . .” He sighed deeply. “I suppose I could put myself forward as a bounty hunter, like you and Owen, but I can’t escape the feeling that everything here will come crashing down in ruins if I’m not here to oversee the change. They trust me, you see. I’m the legendary professional rebel. The man who finally gave them their freedom. How can I tell them that their everyday little problems bore the shit out of me?”