Geared for Pleasure (34 page)

The Wode asked why the men weren’t in single file and one of the Felidae holding Jobi’s weight mentioned something about too much Spotted Ale. It was a plausible excuse. It was the most plentiful resource in the settlement and, Phina imagined, the reason for most Felidae offspring.

They were allowed to pass and none of the guards glanced her way. But she was not out of danger yet. Her only hope was that Eli was in the first batch of the return shift. That he would not seek out his brothers in the line. That he would not catch her scent. It was a
slim hope, at best, one she knew Nob was clinging to… for Jobi’s sake if not hers.

Half of the crowd headed to the right, including one of the men who had been keeping Jobi upright. Nob quickly replaced him, leaving Phina to keep up behind them.

Jobi’s low mumble was meant for his brother, but Phina heard him. “Do
I
get to go be the queen’s pet Felidae now? Will I be fed queensfruit tarts and ale? Or does Seri plan to sell me to a passing noble?”

Moons, how they saw her. She knew. Of course she knew. She was reminded each time she returned that she was unwelcome. She had never allowed herself to care. Perhaps she had grown soft. Fair Dare, who cared about what she was feeling, had softened her. Or perhaps it was the guilt that Cyrus had awoken within her.

She straightened her spine, stilling the restless motion of her tail. Nephi mattered. No one else. Let them think what they would, she knew who and what she was. She had never needed their approval before. She did not need it now.

Phina looked up and saw the entrance to the mine with fresh eyes. Dare would no doubt see the large opening to the underground as another marvel she had yet to witness, large enough for the Deviant to sail into and framed by carvings on either side. The images were of the same female. Not Queen Idony, but an elder Felidae whose name meant Peacemaker.

She was beautiful, her hair wild and decorated with feathers and flowers from the marsh as well as the desert. An open floor-length robe revealed a body covered in sensual markings. Not merely along her spine or arms but along her belly. The markings lined her collarbone instead of jewels. The image, it seemed, welcomed her children into the deep, secret places of the world. Into her womb.

Phina recalled the stories from childhood. The Peacemaker was
the leader of all Felidae. Under her they had been one tribe united. Her mere presence inspired peace and harmony. She’d ruled at Queen Idony’s side for an age, ensuring her people were kept safe. Protected.

Phina was never sure if the stories were true. She had been tempted to ask the queen many times over the years but hadn’t wanted to seem ignorant. She also hadn’t wanted to be disappointed with the truth. To know that those stories, just like the ale they were eternally supplied with, were meant to distract them. To soothe them. To keep Phina’s people compliant.

The sun was low in the sky when she took her first step into the mine. She would have to move swiftly—Jobi’s injuries would no doubt slow them down.

No one spoke but went to their posts or picked up the tools left for them by the last Felidae workers. Phina moved to the other side of Jobi, glaring when he momentarily resisted. He was going to make this as difficult as possible.

Nob was grunting with exertion. “Your luck holds out as usual, Seri. The ore’s veins take us in the opposite direction of your special tunnels.”

“They are not
my
tunnels.”

“You are the only one fool enough to use them.” The voice Phina had always associated with pain froze the three of them in place as they turned the corner that would lead them to their destination.

Eli.

“You’re the only one who crawls like a Theorrean worm in the dirt to find someone to spread your legs for,” he growled. “Someone who doesn’t know what you are.”

She helped Nob sit Jobi down on a flattened area of rock and turned to face her brother. Still just as big as she remembered. So much larger than his life. One eye closed with scars made by a Wode
dagger, the rest of his face a continued study in hate and violence. In another world he could have been a warrior. In this one he had long since given up. Long since sold his soul to survive.

Jobi chuckled morbidly. “I love these family gatherings. All singing and nestling. When do we toast with ale?”

Eli turned to Nob. “He got past the Wode? What have you let her talk you into this time? When will you learn what she is? The curse you call on yourself by listening to her?”

Phina stepped between them. “I am here to—”

Her words were cut off by the back of Eli’s hand.

She spat out dirt and blood and lifted herself off the ground where she’d fallen. She snarled, claws out. “Thank you for the kiss, brother. I only wish I’d brought my pretty bracelet. Then I’d have something as special to give you in return.”

He came toward her but Nob grabbed his arm in challenge. “Nephi is in danger. Jobi is ill. She can help them both.”

Eli’s frustrated roar echoed through the mines. “She cannot help. She is a fiend.” He pointed to his face. “Look at me. I spent my life accepting her punishment. As the eldest it is my duty. A duty that has left me childless. Mateless. No chance of gaining respect as an elder. Nephi suffers without us, unable to be with her family. And Jobi? Nobel,
look
at us. You are the only one of us who stands whole. Undamaged by her. If I killed her now I could spare you before she destroys everything we love.”

The fight spilled out of her like blood onto the ground. Was he right? Did she destroy everything she cared about? Everything she touched? She thought about what her family had suffered—what Cyrus had suffered—because of her.

A few steps took her to Eli’s side. She gripped his wrists and lifted his hands to her throat while he looked on in bewildered rage.

She smiled sadly, thinking of what he might have been if not for her. “Kill me then, Eli. You go save Nephi from Ellsworth. From
being hunted and watched in every private moment. From being raped or beaten each time she feels safe enough to let down her guard. Save her, brother. But kill me.”

The salty dampness leaking down her cheeks went unheeded as she forced him to apply pressure to her neck. “There is still time to save them all,” she gasped. “Stop them from taking Jobi to sell as a slave or to experiment on for medicine meant to heal the nobles. Kill me and this nightmare will be over. For both of us.”

He had hesitated before starting to squeeze her windpipe. She could take comfort in that. Only a moment, but he had tried.

Phina closed her eyes, hearing him weep in self-pity, and sent a silent apology to the queen. She had tried, through service, to make right what was wrong, but perhaps a true sacrifice was required. The captain and fair Dare, strange smelling and special, would save the queen without her.

When the pressure was suddenly removed from her windpipe, she began to choke, her body desperate for air despite her willingness to die.

She saw Eli lying unconscious on the ground and Nob standing over him, a shovel in his hand. Phina knelt to see if her prone brother was still breathing.

“He’ll live.” Nob was quiet. “He will be sorry he did, as he is each time he wakes, but he’ll live. You and Jobi need to go now.”

Jobi’s expression was as somber as his brother’s. “He won’t thank you when he wakes up. Sure you want to stay?”

Nob shrugged. “I am all he has left. Eli could never survive on his own. You know that.”

It was a surprise to Phina. “Nob?”

“Go.” His tone was adamant. “Save the ones who must be saved. My life is in no danger.” He tried to smile. “I may finally bed that girl with the pretty face. Who knows? Just remember your oath.”

She would never see him again. She had sworn it. She embraced
him and whispered a soft “Thank you” before hefting Jobi up the rise to the tunnel’s entrance a few feet off the ground.

“Crawling one-handed without a tail.” Jobi’s voice was cynical. “I will take my chances with the scientists.”

Phina pushed him inside. “
You
will move faster than you have in years and do it with a smile.” She gazed at Nob one last time. “We have a sister and possibly an Arendal Sword to save. Then we have a ship to fly.”

“Fly? Seri, did you say fly?”

He was being led into a trap.

Cyrus sighed, aggravated beyond all measure that they had barely made an effort to conceal their intentions.

The Wode at the stormgate had real enough reactions. He’d lowered his hood and they had beamed, slapping him on the back and saying they had known he was alive, despite the rumors.

He’d watched one young Wode pull the lever that opened the circuit of the gate, breaking the connection to the protective charge around the wall to Queen’s Hill. He then began to turn the crank on the gate’s wheel to raise it up for Cyrus to pass.

He’d strode swiftly up the three ridges of Queen’s Hill, nightfall making his journey less eventful. Few people wandered about at night. The artisans and scholars were tucked into their houses, raucous laughter and music drifting through the nobles’ open windows. It was always best to leave what
they
were doing to the imagination.

Heading up the steps of the Copper Palace for the first time in what seemed like ages, he realized he did not feel as if he had come home. The Wode at the door were strangers to him, which was
suspicious in itself, though he refused to show surprise. They knew the name Arendal. After a slight hesitation, they, too, let him inside.

It was Behrnard, the palace steward, who had given it away. He had gone white as snow on the mountain when he saw Cyrus’s face. After a momentary hesitation, his shock had transformed into effusive welcome. Too effusive. Too welcoming.

He took Cyrus through the grand hall and up the wide staircase, his words seeming to tumble out faster than he could breathe. He assured Cyrus that both the queen and the Chalice would be overjoyed to see him alive. That they had been beside themselves with grief.

Queen Idony and Dare, he’d added, were visiting informally with a few members of the Raj in her rooms. He could join them as soon as he cleaned up and changed into his Arendal uniform.

Cyrus looked around his room and shook his head. Berhnard had lied. Repeatedly. Dare was on the Deviant, hovering in secret somewhere nearby, and the true queen had never allowed any member of the Raj into her personal sanctuary.

At least his suite had not been invaded. The Wode-sized bed was as neatly made as when he had left it. His personal items, including the tribal hide painting he had been given to remember his origins from the Faro Outpost, still hung on the wall.

The gesture did not comfort him. The rooms of the Queen’s Sword were not meant to be a shrine. It was meant to be the dwelling for a Wode who swore his fealty to the queen. Someone who would protect her with his life. If they’d believed him dead another should have been chosen immediately.

The scope of the situation momentarily overwhelmed him and a red haze blinded his vision. The villains who had perpetrated the crime may still be unknown, but everyone in this palace was complicit. Even Berhnard, whose only crime in the past had been that of being an irritant.

He noticed his sword, the true Arendal broadsword, leaning against the wall beside the open doors of his balcony. As though it deserved no better treatment than to be left to the elements when the servants let the air in each day. He would be taking that, along with the dagger.

His fingers reached out to trace the familiar design on the white gold of the hilt when his heart began to pound tellingly. He would recognize her scent anywhere. The Felidae and her damn pheromones.

“What are you doing on my balcony, Seraphina?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw her tail curling around the door. “Wondering what is taking you so long, Sword of the Queen. I left someone waiting and you are too busy strolling down memory lane to accomplish your mission. Also, you have a lovely view from here. The Twin Mountains are so close you could almost touch them.”

Relief at seeing her relaxed his shoulders. He did not want to think about how worried he had been when he saw her leap into the air, aiming for that damn shock fence. She could have died. Could have been caught by the Wode who guarded the settlement.

He took a calming breath. “Are you ever going to tell me how you got from a fenced-in settlement to the palace? And who is waiting for you? If someone else followed you, it could be a security issue when the true queen returns.”

She entered his room and he saw the streaks in the soot that had covered her face. He reached for her instinctively. “Seraphina? Have you been crying?” A clinking sound made him look at what she was holding. “Where did you get the absencea?”

She stepped back, placing one hand on her hip and lifting the crystal container full of light green liquid to her lips before answering. “Yes, I have been crying. That is my secret. You have found me out. I have no actual skills at escape or theft. I simply find a big,
strong Wode and cry on his shoulder until he offers me a tour of the Copper Palace. He even got me into the library where I know the steward hides the absencea while I was waiting for you. Works every time.”

Cyrus sighed. “Do not tell me then. I cannot play guessing games. I am to bathe and change before I meet Queen Idony in her rooms.
Dare
is with her, I’m told.”

She raised her eyebrows, and when she pushed her wild red hair behind her ears, he had a sudden urge to nibble on them.

“They don’t expect you to leave or they would not be lying to you.”

He nodded grimly. “My thoughts exactly. I was planning on keeping the pretense until I discovered and removed the dagger from her possession. However, no one is giving me that option. Berhnard had to know that when he informed me that she is entertaining members of the Raj in her suite. Unless he was simply too panicked to think straight.”

He heard Seraphina hiss, saw her tail stiffen and her nostrils flare. “Bastard,” she whispered angrily.