Anguissa leaving?

There was absolutely no chance of that happening.

Not if it was true that she carried his child.

Ryke had already been compelled to abandon one son and he wasn’t going to do it again. He wasn’t sure he believed Anguissa, or if she was just trying to manipulate his thinking. Either way, he couldn’t let her leave until he knew for sure whether she carried his child.

How was he going to convince Anguissa to agree? He’d never met a woman who believed she could do whatever she wanted, much less one who welcomed the responsibility for everything.

While it was true that Captain Hellemut was female, Ryke didn’t think of his former commander as a woman—and even she had relied heavily upon other members of the team. Hellemut had a tendency to assume that the details would be managed, and to enjoy the allotment of punishment when it didn’t. He’d long suspected that her command was lazy because she preferred torment over precision.

Anguissa was different. She took charge and seemed to like it. He’d never met a woman he found so persuasive, and that worried Ryke. Were all the old Centurion stories about dragons true? The worrisome thing was that even if they were, he couldn’t imagine exterminating Anguissa.

Was that proof of her power over him?

Ryke changed the subject to give himself time to strategize.

Fortunately, Anguissa was interested in food.

They left the captain’s quarters together and Ryke indicated the route to the canteen. Anguissa’s stomach rumbled audibly in anticipation and he found himself reassured that some things about her were easy to understand.

She spared him a glance and he braced himself for something unpredictable. “You married, Ryke?”

He shook his head. Was that the reason for her concern? He’d discovered in his research that the dragons of Incendium tended to be monogamous. Although he’d never shared that inclination—it wasn’t common on Centurios—it was easy to believe that Anguissa wouldn’t share. Umbros of power didn’t share either. They kept harems of princesses so they could choose which one to enjoy on any given night, but the women weren’t shared with anyone else.

“In a committed relationship?”

He gave her a look. “You do remember the bit about the Gloria Furore?”

“But you might have been before that.”

Ryke shook his head once more.

“Then here is an example of cosmic injustice,” she said and he couldn’t read her tone. Was she mocking him? He wasn’t used to that.

“How so?” he asked warily.

“You’re gorgeous, Ryke. You’re strong. You’re a great pilot and an effective warrior. I suspect you’re noble and you’re certainly courageous.”

“I’m going to guess that you think flattery will get you something.”

“It’s just the truth.” She patted him on the arm. “I’m trying to address your terrible lack of confidence.” Ryke rolled his eyes. “By your own admission, you don’t even make mistakes.”

“That’s your claim, too.”

Anguissa ignored that and kept talking. “You make love like you invented it, at least given the limitations of your favored style of lovemaking—”

“Limitations?” he echoed in a low growl.

Her smile flashed. “And you know when to offer food. I admit that you do have this confidence problem, and there’s the pesky matter of you being an umbro, but where is the line of women prepared to serve you forever and bear your sons?”

So, she was competitive.

That he could understand.

“They’re on Centurios,” he admitted.

“Didn’t bring a couple of them along, just to service your needs?”

“Abductions don’t work like that.”

“Would you have?”

Ryke shook his head. “I didn’t want any of them and I had the right to choose.”

“Do you think you’re choosing me, then?” She seemed to think this was a joke, which mystified Ryke. Given his lineage, he was always the one to choose.

“I will choose you, since you intend to bear my child.”

Anguissa shook her head, setting those snakes in motion. “Not good enough, Ryke. Both people need to choose to be together, and it has to be for something more than obligation.”

“There is nothing more important than responsibility!”

She leaned closer, those flames in her dark eyes. “What about love?”

Ryke scoffed. He couldn’t help it. “A fiction,” he said and immediately saw that they’d found a point of disagreement.

“Then the sooner we part the easier it will be,” Anguissa concluded and continued ahead of him. “I knew an umbro couldn’t be my HeartKeeper. Glad to have that resolved.”

Ryke felt his eyes narrow. “What makes you think you can be the one to decide?” he demanded as he strode after her.

Anguissa laughed. “I always choose my destiny.”

“No.” Ryke shook his head. “When it involves me and my child, I’m the only one with the right to choose.” He gave her an intent look, but knew better than to hope for an easy agreement.

“The right to choose?” Anguissa echoed, her tone thoughtful. “Why does that sound important?”

“Because it is, obviously.”

“Why?”

Ryke spun to confront her. “I choose my destiny and that of everyone bonded with me. It’s not complicated, Snake-Eyes.”

“But what gives you that power?”

“It’s my birthright,” he admitted without meaning to do so.

Anguissa regarded him with curiosity. “What birthright? Who are you, Ryke? A king among umbros?” She ran her fingertips over the inside of her left arm and frowned. He realized she had a thin screen mounted there, adhered to her skin, but it wasn’t illuminated.

Did she intend to research him?

It was Ryke’s inclination to end the conversation, but he had an idea. Maybe he could spark that curiosity of hers, by not answering many questions, and ensure that Anguissa stayed with him. It wouldn’t work for long, but it might work for long enough.

He turned away from her and continued to the canteen. “I told you my name. If you want to know more, you should come to Centurios with me.”

Anguissa laughed so hard that he glanced back. “Oh, Ryke, Centurios is the last place in the universe I’ll ever go.”

“But that’s where we’re going.”

“No, that’s where you’re going. Not me. I have a personal policy of not visiting systems or planets where my kind are considered to be abominations that have to be exterminated.” She smiled. “How else do you think I managed to survive more than three hundred of years in command of a vessel?”

Three hundred years?

Ryke glanced back, intrigued. Had he met his match? “How old are you?”

“Almost four hundred Incendium years. Three ninety-six, actually.”

“How many children have you had?”

“None.” She was impatient with the question. “I only just met you, Ryke, and you’re the Carrier of the Seed. It’s not that complicated.” She mimicked his earlier tone perfectly, her eyes sparkling. “I can explain it again if you like. Maybe more slowly.”

“Let’s eat,” Ryke said crisply instead and turned to march to the canteen. How was it that Anguissa could both irritate him and entice him? She didn’t seem to take anything seriously, she teased him—which no one had ever had the audacity to do before—she defied him, and oh, she tempted him.

If he hadn’t been starving, he might have cast her over his shoulder and gone back to the captain’s quarters, just to show her (again) who was in command.

Once might have been enough to deliver the Seed, but it certainly hadn’t been enough to satisfy him.

Of course, he’d been with the Gloria Furore for what seemed like an eternity.

“Why didn’t you want any of them?” Anguissa called after him.

Ryke knew exactly who she meant.

“They were all princesses,” he muttered.

“I’m good with princesses.” Anguissa clearly felt a little insulted. Ryke could hear it in her tone.

Maybe that was why she riled him so much. Maybe it was a trait of dragon princesses. It certainly wasn’t a trait of the other princesses he’d known, all of whom had been languid, dumb, and disinteresting.

Especially in contrast to Anguissa.

“I’m not,” he said flatly.

“And why was it up to you to choose, Mr. Birthright? Whose son are you?”

Ryke was fed up. “I had the right to choose because that’s how Centurios works, Snake-Eyes!” he roared then wondered if she’d cry.

Anguissa scoffed instead. “Men make all the decisions? I like the idea of your world less all the time. You definitely need drop me off somewhere else on the way. Food first, then the chart room.” She gave him a playful smile and entered the canteen, her hips swinging with a sensual promise that made Ryke hungry.

And not for food.

“You should remember that there are other advantages to staying on board,” he murmured when she was alongside him. He could smell her scent and feel the heat of her skin. It was easy to remember her wrapped around him, demanding more, and his body responded immediately to the memory.

“Like?” She looked up at him, lips curved in a smile, eyes dancing.

Daring him.

Ryke seized her around the waist, picked her up and backed her into a wall. “Me,” he said with resolve. “I’ll be here.” He kissed her before she could reply, bending all of his will upon seducing her.

Anguissa didn’t fight him.

No, not this woman. She welcomed sensation and pleasure, and then demanded more. She melted with a little sigh of capitulation, then arched against him, seizing a fistful of his hair, rubbing herself against him, setting his very soul on fire. Her tongue did magical things to his resolve, like melting it. Ryke was beginning to wonder what it would be like to let Anguissa ride him, if it would be worth it to let her take command of their lovemaking, if he would survive the fire she would incite.

But that would be wrong.

It would be a violation of all he knew to be right.

It would be, in fact, an abomination.

No, she liked being taken just the way he did it. Hadn’t she begged for it? She might talk a lot of nonsense—probably just to provoke him—but she liked how he loved her just fine.

He’d been right about that.

Ryke broke their kiss and set her on her feet, knowing there was satisfaction in his expression as he looked down at her. Anguissa sighed, her lashes fluttering as she leaned against him in complete surrender.

Ryke felt a glow of satisfaction. This was more like it. He was right. He knew what she wanted better than she did.

“I choose you, and I will make it worth your while. Now, let’s eat.” He turned to stride into the canteen, confident that she would follow submissively behind.

She’d admitted she was hungry, after all.

Ryke’s expression was so smug that Anguissa couldn’t let the moment pass unchallenged. His kiss had been amazing, but the man needed a correction to his thinking if he believed she was going to be an obedient little female for whatever duration of time they were going to enjoy together.

She lowered her gaze so he wouldn’t glimpse rebellion in her eyes. Her snakes hissed a little but he ignored them, seeing what he wanted to see.

How like a man.

Truth be told, she was disappointed in this side of his nature.

When Ryke continued into the canteen, obviously expecting her to follow at his heels like a trained pet, Anguissa waited only a moment before she tackled him from behind. She tripped him, rolled him to his back and pinned him down on the floor of the canteen. Ryke was surprised and not entirely pleased.

“Now, I choose,” Anguissa said before he could argue, then kissed him leisurely and thoroughly. This part of his nature worked just fine for her. She held him down, taking what she wanted, feasting upon him at her own leisure. She waited until she could feel the enthusiasm of his response, then lifted her head.

“That’s how things work on Incendium, Ryke,” she informed him. “The royal family of dragon shifters chooses, and men do what they’re told.” It wasn’t entirely true, but she enjoyed provoking him. Ryke’s eyes flashed, but Anguissa rolled easily to her feet. “Clearly, we aren’t each other’s HeartKeepers and shouldn’t even risk visits to our respective worlds. Is there food or not?”

She pivoted to find a stranger watching them from the other side of the canteen. He was tall and thin and remarkably pale. His hair was so blond as to be nearly silver, his skin was white and his eyes were as clear as water. She wasn’t sure they had a color at all.

He looked a bit astonished by the sight of her.

Anguissa smiled and stepped forward, offering her hand. “You must be Bakiel,” she said in the universal tongue.

The man’s eyes widened and he took a step backward. Was it her imagination that he wavered a little, as if he was made of mist?

“She’s a dragon shifter princess, Bakiel,” Ryke growled from behind her. “It’s easier to humor her, as you’ve just seen.”

Bakiel hurried forward and took Anguissa’s hand, barely touching her before he retreated again. His hand had been cool and soft, so fragile that Anguissa had the sense that she could have crushed it easily.

Maybe he sensed the same thing.

Maybe that was why he was keeping his distance.

“Your luxa?” he whispered to Ryke, who scowled.

“No!”

“What’s a luxa?” Anguissa asked. Bakiel averted his gaze but Ryke glared at her.

“A myth.” He seated himself at the table and Anguissa loved that he looked both disoriented and a little disheveled. His eyes glimmered as he watched her and she guessed that he hadn’t liked that she’d tackled him in front of his friend.

He should get used to it.

What an unlikely pair Ryke and Bakiel were. She was struck that they appeared to be such opposites, but the bond between them was almost tangible.

“Brothers?” she guessed. “Lovers?” Although the first seemed unlikely, she had a feeling the second would annoy Ryke if she said it aloud—which was why she had.

He caught his breath and she hid her smile as he glared at her.

“Friends,” Ryke said firmly, although it took him a moment to choose the word.

Anguissa eyed him. There was more to this relationship than friendship, she could smell as much, and she was going to find out what it was.

Whether Ryke wanted to confide in her or not.

The way she saw it, she had to know more about Bakiel to know whether he was trustworthy. It was a matter of self-defense.

Maybe he had recoiled because he was from Centurios—where her kind were abhorred.

Or maybe there was more.

To Ryke’s relief, Bakiel was awake and, just as Ryke had hoped, his old friend was cooking. Bakiel could do magic with provisions and when he was on Centurios, his culinary skills were completely unsurpassed.

That wasn’t Bakiel’s official role in Ryke’s life, of course, but it was a welcome talent. When Ryke came out of a slip, he was always ravenous. Bakiel had made an art of cooking while standing guard.

Ryke was glad that Bakiel didn’t look any worse for wear after his time in stasis. As far as he could see, his custo hadn’t been injured in any way, either, which had been his fear all these years. Bakiel was several years older than Ryke, born to a lower caste, but they’d known each other almost all their lives—they’d been bonded young, and become friends, too.

“I knew you’d turn up hungry,” Bakiel said by way of greeting. “The universe revolves around certainties such as this.” He’d put the stew into zero-gee modules, probably because he wasn’t sure of Ryke’s plans. Bakiel hated a mess. Ryke appreciated that, but would have preferred eating from a bowl.

Soon enough, he’d be back on Centurios, with Ryko Primus, and be able to indulge in all its familiar pleasures.

What about the pleasure of Anguissa’s company? Ryke had a feeling he might be living without that, and he didn’t like it one bit.

He had to change her mind.

Somehow.

Was she telling him the truth about the Seed? It seemed incredible, but then, the universe was full of facts that were hard to believe.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked Bakiel.

“Well enough. It was chilly, and I had some weird dreams, but hey, all is good.” Bakiel held up his hands. “Seven years later and I’ve only aged a couple of minutes. Who can argue with that?” He eyed Ryke. “You didn’t...”

Ryke interrupted him before he could finish the question. “Never without you, my friend.”

Bakiel was visibly relieved. Anguissa’s curiosity was almost tangible. Bakiel nodded toward her. “Another concubine?”

Anguissa straightened and her snakes hissed, which didn’t surprise Ryke one bit. Bakiel retreated in obvious alarm.

“Princess Anguissa,” Ryke said, pointing to her. “Bakiel,” he told her, indicating his friend.

“She’s almost as pretty as Mareeqa.” Bakiel said, as if Anguissa wouldn’t be able to hear or understand him. Ryke could have wished for that.

“Almost?” Anguissa echoed quietly, her snakes hissing a little louder as they writhed in agitation. “And who is or was Mareeqa?”

Ryke glared at Bakiel, who wasn’t going to answer anyway. He was staring at Anguissa. Ryke doubted his friend had ever seen anything like those snakes. Or maybe he’d never confronted a woman who was so forthright.

“It’s not important,” Ryke said tightly.

“It or she?” Anguissa asked, her gaze simmering.

Ryke didn’t answer. He was well aware that Anguissa was simmering. She wasn’t used to being denied anything. On one hand, he figured it would be good for her to learn that she wasn’t in charge everywhere.

On the other hand, any denial or perceived insult might convince her to leave him more quickly.

Ryke’s gut clenched at that prospect.

“She,” he replied, then turned to Bakiel as Anguissa’s eyes narrowed. “What’d you make?” He had to hope his questions about Anguissa would have better answers when he wasn’t so hungry.

Bakiel served Ryke with an apologetic shrug. “I found pretty much everything for the stew, even the spices. I know you hate the tubes, but a person only has to clean dinner out of a ventilation system once to never want to do it again.”

Ryke took a taste, not surprised to find it delicious. “It’s great. You always could improvise better than anyone else. Thanks, Bakiel.”

“Are concubines and princesses to be seen and not heard?” Anguissa asked. “Are they permitted to eat in the company of a man with such a birthright?”

Bakiel was clearly startled by her tart tone. He looked between Anguissa and Ryke, obviously not knowing what to do.

But then, he was from Centurios.

“Women eat last on Centurios,” Ryke explained.

Anguissa shook her head. “Tell me again why you thought I’d want to visit your home planet?”

“Because I choose for you to do so.”

Anguissa smiled and folded her arms across her chest. “So I can meet Mareeqa?”

“Oh, that won’t happen,” Bakiel said under his breath, falling silent when Ryke gave him a poisonous glance.

Ryke stood, abandoning his meal, and prepared another portion for Anguissa. He set it down on the table and resumed his place. He could feel Bakiel’s astonishment. “Sit,” he invited Anguissa. “Eat.”

“I might be too overwhelmed by your gallantry,” she said.

“You’re probably too hungry for that.”

“You’re right,” she said, flashed him a smile, then sat down and began to eat. “This is delicious,” she said to Bakiel, who watched her warily. “Thank you very much.”

“Is she talking to me?” Bakiel asked.

“She’s not talking to the food storage unit,” Ryke replied. “I don’t think it’s smart enough to reply, and she doesn’t like robots or automatons anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t I talk to you?” Anguissa asked. “Why wouldn’t I thank you?”

“Princesses don’t talk to anyone other than their keepers,” Bakiel said. “And my caste is only qualified to serve...”

Ryke cleared his throat.

“Ryke’s caste,” Bakiel concluded hastily.

“And what is Ryke’s caste?” Anguissa asked. He supposed it was predictable that she picked out the most important detail so easily. “King of the umbros?”

Bakiel’s eyes widened again.

“It’s not important,” Ryke said, surprised to find that Anguissa said the words along with him. Bakiel was watching them, obviously both fascinated and shocked. “Flame Thrower,” he added.

“Soul Stealer,” she replied.

“Fire Face.”

“Host Killer.”

“Worm Scale.”

“Shadow Vermin.” Anguissa looked up. “Worm Scale?”

“Not my best choice.”

“No. You’re losing your touch, Ryke. Maybe it’s food deprivation. You’d better eat up.”

Ryke indicated Anguissa to the startled Bakiel. “This princess is a bit different from the ones you’ve known before.”

Bakiel had apparently been struck dumb. He was watching the snakes of her hair, seemingly mesmerized.

“Call me Anguissa if it’s easier for you,” she invited. “Or Snake-Eyes.”

Ryke almost smiled at that.

Bakiel swallowed. “Do they bite?”

“Only when I’m really angry. I doubt I could ever get sufficiently annoyed with you, but Ryke has already been bitten a couple of times. It’s his gift.”

“She likes me,” Ryke told Bakiel.

Bakiel grinned at Anguissa’s snort of disdain.

“We don’t have castes on Incendium,” Anguissa said when Bakiel remained standing. Obviously she’d noticed his deferential manner. “Come, sit, eat. Ryke will get over it. He’s already eating with a woman and a princess, after all.”

Bakiel hesitated only a moment, then came to sit opposite them. He didn’t serve himself anything to eat. “Aren’t there dragon shifters on Incendium?” he asked.

“You’re talking to one,” Anguissa said with a smile. “If you ever need something roasted a little more, Bakiel, just let me know.”

“I couldn’t allow it,” he said quietly. “Not for Ryke’s food.”

Anguissa looked between the two of them, inviting an explanation.

Ryke ignored her.

“Why don’t you like robots?” Bakiel asked Anguissa. “Princesses I’ve known have relied upon android service to keep from doing anything themselves.”

“She’s not your typical princess,” Ryke reminded him.

“Not a typical princess from Centurios, that’s for sure,” Anguissa supplied. “What little I know about them isn’t working for me.”

“But why not robots?”

“Well, they’re outlawed on Incendium, so I grew up with a natural aversion to them. Once I met a few, though, it became personal.”

“Why?” Bakiel asked but Ryke was interested as well.

“They do what they’re told,” Anguissa explained. “Exactly what they’re told, and I don’t like that.”

“Well, that explains why you like Ryke,” Bakiel countered, relaxing in her presence. “He never does anything he’s told to do. Why, his father...”

“Bakiel!” Ryke growled in warning.

Bakiel visibly bit his tongue and fell silent, his pale eyes flicking from Ryke to Anguissa and back.

No doubt about it. Anguissa had a dangerous power over Bakiel. The knowledge made Ryke wary.

“So, Ryke has a father,” Anguissa said cheerfully. “That’s unexpected news.”

“Did you think I was hatched from a pod, Princess?”

“There’s something about you, Ryke, that makes it hard to believe you’re not completely solitary, that you didn’t just spontaneously appear somewhere as, maybe, your birthright. But now I’ve met Bakiel, your friend, and I’ve learned that you have a father. Let me build up my strength a bit before you shake my assumptions again, please.” Anguissa winked at Bakiel who grinned. He was obviously completely taken by her.

“Why is it an issue that robots do what they’re told?” Ryke asked, curious that she’d list that as an issue. He would have thought she’d like obedience.

He did.

Anguissa finished her meal and sighed with satisfaction, treating Bakiel to a smile so brilliant that Ryke wished she’d smile at him that way. “Thank you again, Bakiel. That was wonderful.”

The other man blushed.

Then Anguissa turned a bright glance upon Ryke. “Do you know anything about Argetan silicon?”

“Only that it’s the best in the universe.”

“And rare,” Bakiel interjected. “Even the last I heard, it was really expensive.”

“Exactly. Once upon a time, not so very long ago, I was hauling a load of Argetan silicon. It was a good contract, delivering the silicon from the mines on a distant moon in their system to the refinery on their home planet. The terms were fair and the price was more than excellent, to be paid on delivery.”

Ryke sat back and guessed “But not without risk.”

Anguissa shook her head. “No. The Gloria Furore had infiltrated the wormholes in their system and were raiding the deliveries. They were seizing the freighters and transiting them against their will, battling for custody of the ore in other systems, then ransoming the ore back to Argetan. The Argetans were quite honest about the risks when the contract was assigned.”

“But you still took it.”

“Oh yeah. Because there was also a bounty if the pirating raids by the Gloria Furore could be stopped.”

“You didn’t take them on?” Ryke was horrified.

Anguissa smiled. “I certainly did.”

He shifted on his seat, not liking the sounds of this at all. It was one thing to have courage. It was quite another to spit in the eye of the most violent and vengeful league of space pirates ever known.

Pretty much the way he had just done. How exactly was Ryke going to ensure that he wasn’t captured again?

Anguissa continued easily. “I’d met another pilot in the bar at a station frequented by freighters like mine. It doesn’t matter where or when it was. The thing was that he told me about both the contract’s availability and the Gloria Furore’s scheme.”

“Because he’d survived it.”

Anguissa nodded. “Barely. He was retiring, heading back to his home planet to grow sprouts and watch the suns rise. He said he couldn’t take the risk anymore.”

“But you like risk.”

“Love it. It proves to me that I’m alive.” She smiled slightly in recollection and Ryke knew exactly how she’d won that pilot’s confidence. Something tightened within him but he knew it wasn’t jealousy.

He was never jealous.

Of anyone.

“Did he let you be on top?” he asked without meaning to do so.

Anguissa’s smile filled with such satisfaction that Ryke wished he’d been able to stay silent. “It’s the best way,” she purred. “Too bad you didn’t let me show you. You might have been converted. Maybe you’ll dream about it, Ryke. Or me?”

“I won’t have to dream about you. You’ll be staying with me.”

Anguissa shook her head, her gaze unswerving. She was so convinced of her decision and her right to make it that Ryke didn’t know how to argue with her.

He frowned and pretended to be fascinated by his meal. Truth be told, it tasted a whole lot less delicious than it has just moments before.

Anguissa continued her story with familiar confidence. “He told me where they went to fight over the payload.”

“And you thought you could outsmart them,” Ryke said with disgust. “Did it ever occur to you that he might have been one of their agents?”

“It did, but I was tempted. I went in, eyes open, took the contract and left the mining moon with my hold stuffed full of high-grade silicon. They came out of the wormhole exactly as he had said they would. We pretended to be surprised and let ourselves be taken. We were transported to the very same system that the pilot had told me would be their destination. It was on the end of a distant sector, an uninhabited system.”

“No witnesses or chances of intervention,” Ryke muttered, well familiar with the strategy. It was typical of the Gloria Furore to isolate their intended victims and leave few choices—except the one that would doom the victim.

“Except for one small detail,” Anguissa said with satisfaction. “I’d made some preparations.”

“What kind of preparations?”

“I had two Starpods in the hold of my ship, nice little numbers with heavily armored hulls and considerable artilleries. We released them as soon as we reached the target system and I teleported to a third that we’d left in orbit around a moon.”

“Like junk.”

“Just like. So, the freighter was piloted by a robot, programmed for the navigation, and otherwise empty except for the payload of Argetan silicon. I knew they’d try to take the ship for the silicon. To force them to make their attempt sooner rather than later—”

“Because Starpods don’t have that much oxygen,” Ryke contributed, knowing how the Gloria Furore liked to wait for that vulnerability.

Anguissa nodded, evidently aware of it, too. “To force their hand, so to speak, the nav system of the ship with the cargo was programmed to dive into the sun of the system.”

“That trajectory was a feint to draw them out,” Ryke said.

“It worked. They came fast. The fight was short and fierce. We lost one Starpod when it was annihilated and the other was taken by the Gloria Furore. They tried to ransom my crew to me, but we’d planned another feint. The crew teleported to my Starpod just before the capture.”

“Much the way the Archangel jumped as soon as you were teleporting.”

“Exactly.”

“Risky business, princess.”

Her eyes lit. “The very best kind. As soon as they took that Starpod into their hold, the bomb detonated.”

“They must have known there was no one aboard.”

“No, my co-pilot over-rode the sensor data to report that there were two lifeforms aboard, even though there were none. He had the ability to disguise the transport, too.”

“He’s good.”

“Bond is very good,” Anguissa agreed with an enthusiasm that made Ryke wonder at the full extent of their relationship. He refused to consider what she thought of Bond as a lover. “It wouldn’t have stood up to a long scrutiny, but it didn’t have to send the false signal for long. The Gloria Furore’s ship sustained multiple damages and its hull fractured. We watched it go dark.”

Ryke couldn’t regret that any of the Gloria Furore had been exterminated. “And so you returned to your ship, delivered the silicon, and collected the reward, too.”

Anguissa shook her head. “Not exactly. It was the robot, you see.”

“I don’t see,” Bakiel said.

“It was imperative that the robot not know the full plan, in case the ship was taken before we won the battle against the Gloria Furore. In case they surprised us. So, the flight plan was to dive into the sun. Period.”

“Oh no,” Bakiel said.

“The last I heard from the robot was his congratulatory message on winning the battle against the Gloria Furore. We tried to send a message to change course, but the ship had entered the sun’s magnetic field. All we could do was watch as the ship and its payload were incinerated.”

Ryke couldn’t even imagine how much that had cost Anguissa, in addition to the ship itself. No wonder she held a grudge.

“And that’s why you hate robots?” Bakiel asked. “Because one made a mistake?”

“It wasn’t a mistake, not in its perspective.” Anguissa folded her arms across her chest. “Robots do what they’re told. Nothing more and nothing less. A truly sentient being would have seen that we had triumphed, known that we couldn’t possibly want to destroy the valuable payload, and would have changed course.”

“That lesson cost you a fortune,” Ryke said.

“And a whole lot of time,” Anguissa admitted. “We were in the back of beyond in a Starpod that wasn’t equipped for jumping. We had to wait for someone to come out of the wormhole and help us, ideally someone who was not the Gloria Furore.”

Ryke knew the probabilities against that. “Let me guess. Your pilot friend and informant decided to stop growing sprouts.”

Anguissa smiled. “He sent his daughter after us, afraid he’d steered me into trouble. She was a pilot, too.”

Ryke was thinking about the long memories of the Gloria Furore and that his escape might be considerably more complicated if the space pirates were hunting both him and Anguissa.

Then he thought of worms in nav systems.

“What if it wasn’t the robot at fault?” he asked and Anguissa turned to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“What if someone wanted you to lose the payload? What if there was a worm that overrode whatever command you gave the robot?”

“But who would do that? I trust my crew...”

“But one of them installed Hellemut’s worm in the Archangel’s nav system,” he felt obliged to point out. “Was Bond present for both missions?”

Anguissa stared at him, then shook her head. “Yes, but it can’t be him.”

“Who else was on both missions?”

“Only Bond,” she acknowledged, then shook her head. “It couldn’t have been him.”

“It could be anybody, Snake-Eyes,” Ryke said gently. He admired her faith in her crew, but such loyalty wasn’t always deserved.

“No! I’ve known Bond for half of forever.” Her snakes were writhing, more agitated than Ryke had ever seen them. He knew it was a sign that she was shaken by his suggestion. “He’s from Incendium. I trust him completely.”

“Maybe that’s not such a good idea. Everyone can be bought.”

“No,” she said, pushing to her feet. “No. You’re wrong about Bond.” She strode to the portal of the canteen. “Now, where’s your chart room? I want to see your course and choose my own.”

Ryke wasn’t fooled. He’d startled her and challenged the trust she had in her crew. In her place, he would have denied the possibility, too.

But he could almost hear Anguissa thinking, sorting through her memories and searching for any details that correlated with the suspicion, either way.

Given time, she’d either build a case for Bond or against him.

Ryke was prepared to wait.

He was even prepared to argue his suspicion with her again, especially if it meant she didn’t leave him just yet.

Not Bond.

It was impossible that Bond could have betrayed her.

But even as Anguissa fought against Ryke’s suggestion, she was remembering little incidents that hadn’t seemed important at the time. Bond insisting that he should have the entire suite of passwords to the Archangel, “just in case.” Bond out of sight when she expected him to be on deck when they confronted the Armada Seven. Bond averting his gaze, as if he had a secret.

A secret he was ashamed of.

Bond having friends in every port. Bond needing to meet up with those friends to catch up on old times as soon as they docked.

Not friends. Contacts. Bond had to report.

He’d been first off the Archangel on Incendium. Did the Gloria Furore have spies there? Here she’d believed his story that he had kids on Incendium. A family she’d never met or even seen. Did they exist?

Not Bond, she thought fiercely, even as she acknowledged the spy probably had been her trusted crew member.

What had been his price?

She left the canteen with her thoughts churning, and guessed that the chart room was between her current position and the deck. She heard Ryke following her but didn’t look back. She could do without any commentary on making another mistake.

It was a bit irritating how she kept showing herself badly in his presence.

Had that mistake been due to the Seed, too? No, she hadn’t been able to smell it during that first encounter, not from the deck of the Archangel. She’d been aware of Ryke, though, behind Captain Hellemut on the display of the Armada Seven’s deck, looking like a very tasty male specimen. She’d been aware of the censure in his intent gaze, too, but had thought at the time it was because he was truly allied with the Gloria Furore. They despised everyone who wasn’t on their side.

She hadn’t even smelled that he was an umbro, not then.

But his disapproval had been because she was a princess.

And not a passive one.

Anguissa turned when she felt a familiar tingle on the back of her neck. She turned and looked toward the deck. “The teleport is in use,” she whispered.

Ryke frowned. “No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I heard it. I felt it.”

Ryke looked annoyed, probably because she corrected him. “You can’t possibly feel or hear the teleport from here and it’s locked down.”

“I heard it.”

“Impossible.”

“We have company, Ryke.”

“We do not. You’re getting jumpy.” He tapped the comm, his gaze locked with Anguissa’s. “Piper Twelve, has anyone boarded the ship without authorization?”

“Of course not, sir. The teleport is locked down.”

Ryke spread his hands, smug again. “Thank you, Piper Twelve.” He indicated a portal to the right. “Here,” he said. “Forget the teleport and have a look at this.” He entered an access code and the door slid open to reveal an old-style chart room.

Anguissa caught her breath. It was as magical as she’d always believed such rooms must be.

“I’ve never seen one,” she breathed as she stepped into the darkened room. “Except on the hologram and it’s not the same.”

“Not even close,” Ryke said with satisfaction. He stood inside the door, arms folded across his chest, watching her.

“Don’t look so proud of yourself,” Anguissa chided. “You didn’t invent it just for me.”

“No, but I’m showing it to you.”

“Leaving me to wonder what you want in exchange,” she replied, then examined the room without waiting for his reply.

Bakiel slipped into the chart room behind them, as silent as morning fog, and surveyed the display.

Anguissa was fascinated. Although the chart room obviously had fixed dimensions, it didn’t appear to have any walls at all, much less a floor. Within it was a projection of the known universe, in all its glory, an interactive and three-dimensional map.

She felt like she was stepping into space itself, though it was actually just a model. The chart room seemed to be filled with glittering dust, spaced at wide intervals. Each speck of dust was a star, and when planets circled that star was the sun at the center of a system, even smaller darker dots rotated around it.

“All this variety,” Anguissa whispered, awed as she always was when she considered the universe.

“And more unknown,” Ryke said. He tugged on the glove with pointers embedded in the tips of fingers and thumb, and made a gesture. The depiction of the universe swirled, then one sector zoomed larger. She felt as if they dove into that sector and heard Bakiel catch his breath in awe. Everything within it was magnified, the suns becoming larger and brighter, and the planets more visible. She narrowed her eyes and studied the closest system, certain she could even see a few moons.

She wasn’t familiar with this quadrant at all. When Ryke reached out with his gloved hand, names appeared above systems and suns in the script of the universal standard language. Mytholos. Arkadeen. Krakaken. Names Anguissa had heard but locations she knew little about.

When Ryke moved his gloved hand, known wormholes glimmered in the proximity of this fingers, like lines of stardust. Some were brighter than others and she guessed that these were the clearer routes. There was a path illuminated in bright yellow light, and Anguissa knew this was their charted course. As Ryke had said, there were two more wormholes selected for jumps, but they didn’t look short to her.

“So, that’s Centurios?” she said, indicating the end point of the path.

“No!” Ryke responded, to her surprise. “This is all wrong!”