The Iron Admiral: Deception (33 page)

Sean swallowed again. If that was all… His throat hurt. He nodded.

Saahren took a step forward. Sean cringed against the wall.

“If you so much as blink before your signature is fixed, I’ll consider my promise to Allysha is void.” He leaned forward. “And you know what? I won’t mind one little bit.”

“I’ll sign,” Sean croaked. The threat hung in the air like a miasma. If he didn’t sign, he’d die and Sean was under no illusion which option Saahren would prefer.

“Good.” Saahren took a step toward the door.

“And when I’ve signed?”

Saahren stopped and turned his head. “I’ll let you go.”

The door opened and he was gone.

Sean sank down onto a chair and let out a long breath.

Saahren rolled over onto his back and gathered Allysha up so her head was on his shoulder. “I missed you.”

She grinned and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You were only away for an hour. I barely had time to freshen up.”

“Mm. And now I’ve gone and messed you all up again.”

Chuckling, she ran a finger down his breast bone. His skin was damp. “Oh, well. I can always have another shower. Will you be going out again?”

He shook his head. “They’ll have to do without me. But tomorrow, I have a meeting with Suldan Bentrax. You’ll be coming with me.”

“Oh.” She gave a mental shrug. She supposed that made sense, probably in her capacity as the grand admiral’s ptorix advisor. “Fine.” She kissed him but he didn’t get involved as he usually did. Odd.

“What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk, darling.”

Her nerves jangled. “What about?”

He shifted his weight. “I’ve captured O’Reilly.”

Her heart bounced. Sean had made it out of Kentor. “Where is he?”

“Down there, in the cells.” He pointed at the mattress.

Here on this ship. “How is he?”

“Fine. He’s agreed to a divorce.” He said ‘fine’ as though the word tasted nasty in his mouth. So at last, she’d have her divorce. She could move on with her life.

“That has to happen on Carnessa,” she said.

“I understand that. Suldan Bentrax has agreed to fast-track the matter.”

“Bentrax?” Questions buzzed in her brain. “I think you’d better explain.”

He took a deep breath. “Bentrax has agreed to marry us. So tomorrow, I’ll go and sign the treaty between the Confederacy Government and the Suldanate and then he’ll conduct a ceremony.”

She sat up and stared down at his face. “Hang on, hang on. I… Don’t I get a say in this? It sounds like it’s all decided.”

He put an arm around her but didn’t try to pull her down. “Allysha, darling, settle down. Listen.”

I’m listening.

“I’ve spoken with Xanthor. He’s delighted that we’re to be married and he’ll be there tomorrow. He asked to make the rings for us.”

Her jaw hung open. She closed her mouth. “You haven’t told me any of this.”

He half-smiled. “I couldn’t, could I? I saw Xanthor before the final battle. It was a hypothetical, always assuming everything worked out. This way, your ptorix friends can attend the ceremony.”

“He’s okay with us getting married?” Yes, that’s what he’d said, but how was that possible?

“He’s delighted. He told me he knew Jossur wasn’t bombarded.”

“Oh.” Another mind-numbing about face. Everything she’d believed to be true was crumbling to dust.

“He’ll be there tomorrow. You’ll have time to talk. I had theghabra and the books brought on board from Malmos. You’ll be able to hand them over.”

She lay down again, an arm over his body, her mind reeling. Theghabra and the books. She’d forgotten about them. The memories flooded back; the scientist on Tisyphor who had borrowed the ptorix musical instrument and taken a swab which he used to resurrect a killer virus. She’d kept theghabra , the mine manager’s diary and the books she’d found in her Tisyphor apartment, safe in her Malmos apartment until

she could return home to Shernish. Now, finally, she would be able to give the artifacts to Xanthor. So many things to think about, so many endings.

“Tell me what’s going to happen.”

“Bentrax and I sign contracts while you have a private meeting with Xanthor. You and O’Reilly sign the divorce papers in front of witnesses and Bentrax immediately ratifies the action. Then he marries us in accordance with Qerran law. It won’t be the only ceremony; just the first.”

“What about Vlad and Irina? My team? A dress?”

He shifted again so he could meet her gaze. “Allysha, this wedding is not just about us.”

Well, if it wasn’t, what was it about? “Go on.”

“This is a marriage between Grand Admiral Saahren and a citizen of the Qerran Suldanate.” He waited for her to say something, then sighed. “It’s a political union, witnessed by the Head of State and your ptorix friends. Do you see?”

“You mean like in ancient history when two warring families would marry off their offspring to stop the fighting?”

“Something like that.”

“Huh. A marriage of convenience.”

He scowled. “That’s not true. Youknow it’s not true.”

She rolled toward him and kissed him lightly. “Yes, I know it’s not true. I suppose you think about things like that all the time; the big picture.”

“It goes with the job. The media will love it. It’s a great chance to cement the relationship between Qerra and us.”

So this would be a public display for everyone else to enjoy. Gee.

“Allysha?”

She saw the gleam of concern in his eyes. “I don’t mind being Chaka Saahren’s partner in life. But I thought I might have a moment to get used to the idea of being a grand admiral’s wife.”

He smiled his relief. “Nothing like on-the-job training.”

“I guess I’ll have to get used to it.”

He settled her in closer to him. “You will.” His hand slid down her naked back, sending her body into anticipatory flutters all over again.

Except… “Chaka, what do I wear? I don’t have a dress.”

She’d requisitioned clothes, of course, but they were day-to-day garments, pants and shirts.

“The green dress is still here.”

The green dress. The one he’d had made for her without her knowledge. A designer dress, made just for her. It must have hung in the closet all this time.

He ran a finger down her cheek, under her chin.

“Surely it’s suitable?”

She nodded. “Yes, it is.” Oh, the ptorix would love the material. And it looked beautiful on. “Shoes?”

“Came with the dress.”

“I love you.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

****

Saahren leaned against the door, arms folded, smiling. “It is.”

He opened a drawer and took out a long, flat box. “And you’d better wear these.”

She’d sent that box back to him a few months before. She took the earrings out and put them on her ears but handed the necklace to him.

“Here, you fasten this.”

He hung the necklace around her neck and fastened the clasp under her hair. The altari stones flashed against her skin, vibrant and alive. Saahren, magnificent in his white dress uniform, smiled at her in the mirror and kissed her shoulder, sending a shiver through her body. She leaned back against him. She couldn’t get enough of him. She wondered, not for the first time, why she’d been so stubborn. His arms wrapped around her waist, his lips slipped to her throat. She breathed in his scent, male and familiar. He released her suddenly and stepped away, clearing his throat.

“Come on, my dear. The sooner this meeting is over the sooner we can get back to other options.”

Yes, indeed. ‘Other options’ sounded very inviting, in spite of the fact they’d been doing nothing else since she’d come on board. Breathing deeply, she followed him along the corridor to the foyer, where his

guard stood to attention, and into the transit.

Butcher waited in the hangar bay, along with a contingent of the grand admiral’s guard, all resplendent in dress uniform. She waited as the ceremonial necessities were dealt with, then Saahren directed her to the shuttle. Lifting the skirts of the gown she went up the ramp, Saahren behind her.

“You look wonderful, Miss Marten,” Butcher said. “Truly beautiful.”

“I expect you had a few things to do with the dress and the jewelry, SenComm,” she replied, smiling up at him. “As well as the flowers.”

He chuckled. “I just made sure they were delivered.”

The harnesses deployed from the seats and the shuttle launched. She watched the view screen while Saahren and Butcher talked last-minute business. Carnessa floated below, most of its sphere in darkness.

The shuttle and its fighter escorts flew around the planet into the sunlight. Swirls of cloud hung over much of the sphere but this time the storms were in other latitudes. Ullnish basked in summer sunshine. Soon she could see the city’s sprawl around the river. Further to the west, the river Sher wound its way to the sea, down from the snow-capped peaks of the Bareback Mountains to Shernish Port. Was she homesick? Yes, a little. She was looking forward to seeing Xanthor; she had so many questions for him and he and his family would always be dear friends. But she’d never live in Shernish again. She glanced over at Saahren, his head bent and frowning, as he checked some detail with Butcher.

Ullnish changed from a high level map to a child’s miniature into a real city, with streets and moving vehicles. The shuttle descended into the oval in front of the Suldan’s Palace, its curves and minarets glowing red in the sunlight. A phalanx of ptorix soldiers stood along the front of the palace.

She looked at Saahren, eyebrows raised.What do I do now?

“I’ll go first,” he said, “after the soldiers are out. You follow me and we proceed together.”

“Shouldn’t Butcher be with you?”

He rose to his feet. “You’re my consort. You walk beside me.”

“Oh.” She stood. More than the grand admiral’s ptorix advisor; very soon his wife. She bit her lip. A first lesson in being the grand admiral’s lady.

His escort had formed a corridor toward the palace entrance. They already stood at attention, weapons across their bodies.

As soon as the grand admiral’s feet hit the polished limestone of the court the ptorix officer howled an order and his soldiers performed the equivalent of presenting arms—a jewel-hilted, curved sword in the left arms, a short beam weapon in the right. Saahren halted and saluted.

His hand on Allysha’s elbow, he walked down between the human troopers. She tried hard to control the pounding of her heart. For the first time, she noticed news people, both ptorix and human, with cameras. She kept her attention on Saahren, reassuringly close beside her. He’d slowed his pace so she could match him, her heels clicking in time with his measured tread. She glanced up at him and he returned an encouraging smile, a mere lift of his lips. Butcher walked behind them, carrying a bag.

The palace guard, resplendent in gold-encrusted dark blue robes, waited at the doors, weapons poised.

At their head stood Ambassador Marratrax. She remembered him from the confrontation in Malmos, when Saahren had exposed the attack on Brjyl as a ptorix plot. His eyes glowed green for a moment as he looked at her.

“Welcome to you, Grand Admiral. We are honored that you should join us.”

“The honor is mine, Lord Marratrax. You will remember Miss Marten and also my adjutant Senior Commander Butcher.”

She thrust out both her hands. Marratrax’s eyes whirled yellow for a moment as his fingers entwined hers, soft and gentle.

“I greet you, Lord Marratrax,” she said in Ptorix.

“And I, you. A little more than just an advisor this time,” he replied in the same language. His eyes sparkled, green-gold as the dress, amused.

Flushing she stepped back as Marratrax turned back to Saahren.

“If you will come this way, Grand Admiral.”

Marratrax leading, they entered the cool, high-ceilinged confines of the palace. Allysha hadn’t been here before. She admired the decorations on walls and ceiling, stylized animals and birds, their eyes picked out in gold and precious stones. Xanthor would probably be able to tell her all about them. No-one spoke. Marratrax and his escort glided almost silently across the floor. Saahren had six of his escort with him. Their boots rang, echoing, in the entrance hall. The heels of Allysha’s shoes provided a soprano counterpoint.

They stopped in the suldan’s ante-room. The main door, arched and ornate, clearly led to the Suldan’s office but lesser doors were to left and right.

“Marratrax will take you to Xanthor,” Saahren said.

Butcher handed her the bag he had carried from the shuttle. She nodded her thanks.

“This way, Lady,” said Marratrax.

The right hand door was open and in the entrance stood…

“Xanthor!” She rushed forward, into his arms. And Ceta was there, with Bartok and Farex. She hugged each one, soft blue fur against her cheek, gentle tentacles waving on her shoulders.

“So. You’ve come back with a different man,” Xanthor said.

Allysha licked her lips, suddenly anxious. “He said you approved.”

“He is very suitable, Allysha. He wanted my blessing on your marriage,” Xanthor said, his tentacles writhing gently on her shoulder. “It was perhaps a way of establishing his good intentions.”

She frowned. “What about Jossur?”

“He is an admiral, not a murderer.”

They’d put a chair in the room for her. She sank down onto it. “But… You said, at that meeting in the University…”

Xanthor’s fingers swirled and his eyes were blue.

“I said what I was told—what I believed—was true. Later, when I started to think perhaps I had not been told the truth…” He lifted his arms, all four. “By then, I was not allowed to voice my concerns. I have seen the evidence. The planet was not bombarded. Your father died in a tragic accident. The cycle of life is often strange.” Xanthor’s tentacles swirled in a complex pattern. “And in war, truth is expedient.

We on Carnessa cannot afford to alienate the Khophirate.”

“You didn’t even tell me,” Allysha whispered.