Queen of Swords (3 page)

“He’s impulsive and abrasive. He’d be killed within a week.”

One could argue the same traits applied to her. She took a bite of bacon and chewed slowly, the meat tasting of ash on her tongue. The synth crap couldn’t compare to real meat, but right now she couldn’t even enjoy it. “You’ll find someone.”

He shrugged and began shoveling food into his mouth. Obviously there would be no more talking about it. She and Mama shared a significant look and began cleaning their own plates. For a time, there was only the sound of forks scraping against porcelain and the occasional slurp from either Ophelia or Papa.

This memory was what she’d wrap around herself to ward off homesickness when she was gone. Strength and love radiated from her parents as they gave their silent—and grudging, from Papa—support. Ophelia had never doubted they loved her, but in this moment she could almost see it.

It would have been the perfect moment if not for the fate hanging over her head, as inescapable as death.

Someone pounded on the front door, the sound booming through the house like the Reaper’s summons. Ophelia shivered and jumped out of her chair, moving as if in slow motion. The air had a weight to it, fighting her movements. Or maybe it was all in her head.

She threw open the door to reveal a man, his hand still raised from the beating he’d given the faded wood. Ophelia froze, her gaze traveling over weathered boots, pants stretched over large thighs, a shirt that did nothing to hide the muscles beneath, and the cache of weapons his jacket barely concealed. She stopped counting after three lasers and two blades. This man was trouble in the worst way.

He was also the same man whose room she left not an hour ago.

How had she thought him nothing special before? What a fool she was. While he still couldn’t be considered pretty, his icy gray eyes were extraordinary, so light they were nearly colorless. They pinned her in place, seeming to look inside her soul.

Ophelia had the sudden suspicion she was being judged…and found wanting.

Chapter Three

She damn near took Boone’s breath away, standing there with her pointed chin raised in defiance. It made him want to cross the distance between them and see if she tasted as good as she had last night. Which was insanity of the highest order, especially considering the conversation he’d just had with Kristian. That sadistic shit wanted his tithes early, had even gone so far as to suggest Jenny be the one to deliver them personally. As if he would ever allow that monster to get his filthy hands on her. Not while Boone still breathed.

The sound of a feminine throat being cleared—the mother—knocked him back to the present. He finally took in the other two people in the room and mentally cursed. The dainty woman wouldn’t be a problem, but no one in their right mind would mistake the giant for anything other than a threat. He towered over the two women, bulky without the fat so many men his age carted around. Gerard, her father. The man stepped forward, putting himself in front of his family. He was surprisingly light on his feet for someone so large. This must be where Ophelia learned how to move.

“Who are you?”

Boone didn’t bother to try for charming—this man would see right through the act. “I’m here for her.” He jerked his chin at Ophelia, amused when her violet eyes narrowed.

Gerard crossed his arms over his barrel chest, seeming to swell. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Boone thought over the information he’d gathered on the man before leaving his ship they’d gathered on the man, analyzing the possible threat. Gerard was a former lieutenant of Sanctify, but he’d apparently gone rogue with one of their captives some twenty-odd years ago. Considering most of those idiots would rather die than betray their great cause, it was surprising. Even more surprising, though, was that he’d married the captive in question.

His gaze skated over the woman before coming back to the husband. Ophelia might have gotten her coloring from her father, but she got her looks from her mother. Still, there were plenty of beautiful humans to choose from without delving into the alien population, especially the cursed Diviners. Still, whatever Gerard’s reasoning for taking off, Sanctify’s training made him a threat. A massive one. Before Boone was forced to neutralize the man, Ophelia shouldered around him. “Papa.”

Gerard looked down, appearing to give her all his attention. Boone knew better. “Look at him, baby girl. What kind of man sends a damned mercenary to pick up his bride?”

Certainly not Kristian, but Boone wasn’t about to tell them so.

Then the big man’s word penetrated.
Bride
. Kristian was
marrying
her. Boone had the curious sensation of falling while still remaining on his feet. He felt his face settle into the familiar cold mask.

“Gerard.” The mother—Marianna—took one look at his expression and slipped under her husband’s arm. “We discussed this. This is the man she must go with.”

“You talked, woman. I never agreed to anything.” His voice was gruff, but Boone noted genuine affection. Given their history, it shouldn’t have surprised him. But it did.

Then again, aside from Jenny and her personal brand of crazy, Boone didn’t have much experience with loving families.

Marianna patted her husband’s chest and nodded at her daughter. “There’s a bag by the door with a few things you’ll need. Everything else will be provided for you.”

“So soon?” Ophelia looked shell-shocked, her violet eyes wide. “I just found out about this.”

“I know, daughter, but this is the Lady’s will.”

She sighed. While she hugged her parents, Boone half expected her to burst into tears or theatrics, but it was a relatively calm affair. Then she grabbed her bag and headed out the door.

He turned to follow her, but a large hand on his arm stopped him. Boone went still, waiting to see what Gerard would do. “Yes?”

“I know what you are, and I see the way you look at her. You touch my baby girl, I’ll skin you alive.” Knowing Sanctify’s practices, it wasn’t an idle threat. The big man grinned, sending Boone’s instincts on red alert. “That is, if there’s a big enough piece left when she gets done with you.”

Boone stared until Gerard nodded and let his hand drop. Marianna smiled as if they were discussing the weather. “We’ll be seeing you again, Boone.”

Had he told them his name? He didn’t think so. The small hairs on the nape of his neck rose, and he backed slowly out the door. Godsdamned Diviners. And there was one waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, her boot tapping impatiently.

“Let’s go.” He started down the street without waiting to see if she’d follow. She would, or he’d go back and throw her over his shoulder. It would play hells with the plan to act like he was there on Kristian’s orders, but Boone couldn’t afford to leave her behind. Not after finding out she planned to accept the prince’s proposal.

With a muttered curse she jogged up until she was even with him, slipping on a pair of tinted red glasses. “Where are we going?”

He debated not answering, but couldn’t resist the temptation to keep her talking. “The private shipyards.”

“Of course we are.” Clenching her jaw so hard couldn’t be good for her teeth. Ophelia slanted a look at him and frowned. “I seem to have forgotten your name.”

Something like hurt snaked its way through him, quickly followed by an uglier emotion. How many men had she gone to bed with, not bothering to remember their names after the night was gone?

“Oh.” Boone made his voice flat and disinterested. He’s been using his old man’s tricks more and more lately. Someday he’d have to thank his father for forcing Boone to learn them in the first place. “How fortunate for me.”

He picked up his pace and, this time, she followed silently. The residential neighborhood evolved into the market district, delicious smells saturating the air despite the early hour. Here, more than Ophelia’s neighborhood, he saw the evidence of Sanctify, from the smattering of posters around the square to the huge vid of the High Priest giving a speech about some speciesist bullshit or another. Not only were there guards dressed in white set up at every entrance to the market, but there was a distinct lack of diversity in the marketgoers. There should have been blue, green, and yellow skins mixed with the spectrum of browns and pinks, should have been electronic sounds of translators interweaving with the voices raising in bargaining. Instead there were just humans, lots and lots of humans.

It was almost a relief when the market gave way to the huge factories where liquors were brewed from the hops found on-planet. Here there were less people, less of a reminder of humanity’s tendency to hate anything different from itself. He might detest Diviners, but Boone didn’t have a problem with aliens as a whole. Word was Sanctify had taken yet another planet this last month, one in the inner Third Quadrant. Boone wondered what Gerard thought about that.

The hangar was able to house four small ships or two large ones. The owner was a greedy man who didn’t ask questions as long as the price was right. Even between supporting his people and paying the hefty tithes to Kristian, Boone wasn’t a poor man. Turned out he had a real knack for smuggling, even with the occasional pro bono run.

He keyed the palm lock and waited while the metal doors slid open with an ear-splitting squeak. Ophelia came up behind him, so close he could feel the heat coming off her body. Or maybe that was his overactive imagination. It wasn’t a problem he usually had, but he’d been spending a lot of time with Jenny. Her insanity must be rubbing off on him.

“You have
got
to be joking.”

Boone bit back a laugh as they walked through the hangar to where
Psyche
waited. Ophelia must have been expecting one of the ships royals traveled on, equipped with everything from spas to entertainment rooms to gods knew what else. Compared to such ships, Jenny’s was miniscule. It had only one deck comprised of hub, crew rooms, and a common room, the rest of the space taken up by the engine. It was also one of the fastest ships in the universe, but no one could tell by looking at it.

Schooling his face, Boone spun around, forcing her to scramble back to avoid running into him. “Problem?”

“Yeah. This crap bucket doesn’t look like it will fly, let alone get to a Far Reach planet like Hansarda.”

Which was the point. “And?”

“And?” She sputtered and threw her hands in the air. “Lady, but I’ve been saddled with an idiot.”

“You really shouldn’t clench your jaw. It’s not good for your teeth.”

Boone had a hard time keeping a grin off his face when she gave a little shriek. He shouldn’t get so much pleasure from riling her up, but while they were arguing he had an excuse to watch her. Her violet eyes practically shot lasers at him, her face lighting up with anger.

Ophelia closed her eyes for a brief moment and, when she opened them, she looked almost calm. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

He fell into step behind her, taking the opportunity to appreciate how she filled out the basic black pants. They weren’t as tight as the ones from their night together, but some things couldn’t be hidden. Boone found himself speaking without intending to. “Tell me something.”

“What?”

The hatch slid open and a ladder descended as they reached the ship. “Do you generally sneak out like a thief the morning after you sleep with someone?”

She stumbled, but caught herself immediately. “Only the unmemorable ones.”

His vision bled red for one eternal second. Boone moved forward, getting a hand on either side of the ladder, bracketing her in. She froze, probably deciding which one of his knees she was going to break, and he took the opportunity to lean in until his lips brushed her ear. “And do you generally scream the unmemorable ones’ names while they’re making you come?”

Her entire body spasmed at his words. “Bastard.”

Some of his anger abated. Ophelia wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to believe. “Not according to my mother.” He dodged the elbow meant for his stomach and stepped back. “After you.”

She went up the ladder without a backward glance, but he knew he’d shaken her. Good. He didn’t want to be just another man to her. Funny how the thought of her with others made him want to paint the hangar with their blood. Or maybe not so funny. He’d been around her less than an hour this morning, and already she was getting to him.

It wasn’t a problem. Boone wouldn’t let it be. If all else failed, he could lock her in one of the rooms. When he got to the top of the ladder, he hit the switch to close the hatch.

“It’s roomier than I expected,” she said, looking around. Apparently they were going to ignore the sexual tension strumming between them in an almost-visible cord. “Where’s my room?”

“Down the right hallway. First cabin on your left.” He waited until she’d taken three steps to add, “Or the one at the end of the hall.” As soon as the words crossed his lips, he regretted them. Boone was here to get her away from Kristian, not to indulge himself. His night with Ophelia was the exception, not the rule.

It had to be.

Her back stiffened, but she didn’t stop, which was probably a good thing. They had to space as soon as possible and verbally sparring with her would delay that. As pleasurable as he found it, spending more time with her would have to wait. Boone took a slow breath and switched to work mode.

He found Gee in the hub, halfway under one of the seats and muttering in the Evarven’s native tongue. Boone kicked the seat next to him, earning a new spat of curses. “We need to go.”

Gee slid out and leveled an orange gaze at him. “I’ve been ready for ages. You’re the one dawdling.”

“I’m ready now.”

“Damn well about time. You been dipping with the little miss again?” The Evarven held up his tiny hands when Boone moved to kick the seats again. How someone so small could be such a pain in the ass was beyond him. Gee grinned, revealing teeth that were slightly too pointed to pass for human. “Whatever. Not my business if you’re dipping—as long as you’re not going to get us killed because you’re thinking with the wee head.”

“If you don’t shut your mouth, Gee, I’ll be forced to kill you. Which would be a damn shame, since, for some reason, Jenny tolerates your wrinkled ass.”

Gee glared, the expression losing its potency because of the sparkle in his eyes. “That’s because she’s got a brain in her head and she’s a nice girl. Unlike you.”

“You’re right. I’m not a nice girl.” He slipped into the cockpit to the sound of the Evarven’s laughter. It was time to get the hells out of here.

Before Kristian figured out Boone was taking off with his bride.