Endgame

“Too many political ramifications and potential financial complications.”



“So a pretty girl who does whatever he wants and doesn’t talk back probably constitutes his fondest dream.”



Vel smiles. “I suspect he envies me right now.” He pauses, drawing me to the side, so a couple of party guests can sweep past us, glittering and laughing too loud.



The music is soft, more background than sharp focus, but there are a few dancers. I spy Gaius among them. He’s young, perhaps twenty-five turns, and taller than his uncle. He has a round face that makes him look younger and a little extra flesh around the middle. He might even be attractive if he didn’t seem so nervous. As he maneuvers his partner on the floor, his forehead beads with sweat, and he stumbles twice, just while I’m watching him.



“The kid’s a mess,” I whisper.



“Local gossip has it that his mother sent him away from Nicu Tertius in disgrace. He wanted to marry a maid, or something shocking like that.” Irony in the last sentence. “She hoped his uncle could cure his democratic notions.”



He’s not the lazy young wolf I expected. I thought he’d be the easiest mark, but with this new information, I must reconsider my approach.



Then an idea strikes. “Go look for Drusus or the governor. I’ve got Gaius.”



CHAPTER 39



When the dance ends, I’m standing on the edge of the floor, wearing my best I’m alone and frightened look. The face the doctor gave is lovely enough to draw Gaius’s gaze—and when nobody comes to claim me, he pauses, hesitant. My gaze meets his, equally timid, then skims away, because clearly I’m not worthy to look upon the prince’s nephew.



Naturally, he joins me. “Are you here with someone?” His voice is a pleasing tenor, soft enough that I can barely hear him over the music.



“The legate said he would be back directly…” I trail off with uncertainty that invites him to be decisive.



“Would you like to dance with me then?” It’s an invitation, not a demand.



Maybe Gaius isn’t a Nicuan noble at all. If he was switched at birth, it would explain so many things. I incline my head and offer my hand, which he takes. He seems surprised, like even submissive females regularly reject him.



The music commences; the dance is more graceful and ceremonial than anything I ever did in a spaceport bar, but I follow his lead without trouble. At this moment, my body feels younger than it has in turns, and that’s disconcerting. That little twinge in my knee has gone away entirely, and I can’t feel where I dislocated my shoulder. The doctor was probably referring more to taut skin and perky breasts when he said I would like the Rejuvenex results, but it’s nice not to have those little aches. It also feels like I’m living in someone else’s skin, and for the first time, I think, This is what it’s like for Vel.



For a few moments, there’s silence between us. He’s counting steps, I think, and I’m playing the shy ingénue. But to get anywhere, I can’t be mute, so I murmur, “Thank you for asking me. I don’t know anyone.”



“Your escort shouldn’t have left you. These parties can get a bit…” He trails off as if at a loss for a word that won’t shock me.



Which is rather hilarious, considering that Mishani sleeps with Legate Flavius in return for her room and board. So it’s not like the sweet young thing doesn’t know the score; unfortunate necessity dictates her actions within the confines of the shinai-bond. Yet I play along. Gaius needs to feel like a hero. At a glance, I can tell he’s rather broken, sad, and feeling worthless. I might be able to use that.



“You’re kind.”



“Not really.” But he’s smiling now, maybe because I’ve been nice to him. “I’m Gaius, by the way.”



“Mishani.”



“Which legate…?” Awkward, leading question.



“Flavius.” It’s not hard to let a little trepidation slip into my eyes. “I don’t know where he went.”



“If he’s looking for you, I’ll explain how you came to be with me.” Evidently, Gaius understands that nobles can be irrational and hotheaded. He doesn’t want to see me beaten for an imaginary infraction.



“You might get in trouble,” I say softly, because Mishani doesn’t know about Gaius’s connections. He likes that because he thinks she danced with him on the strength of his smile.



“No, I’ll handle it, don’t worry.”



“What do you do?” A harmless question, and I’m curious how he’ll answer.



“I work in the governor’s office.”



Truth, then, but not all of it—there’s no mention of his uncle, the prince. Which means Gaius wants to be liked for himself.



“You must do important work.” Mary, I’m already tired of this girl, with her wide eyes and breathy voice.



“Not as much as you’d think,” he mutters.



So he’s discontent. I file that away as potentially useful information and cock my head as if bewildered.



He smiles down at me. “Never mind.”



“Have you been here long?” I ask.



He won’t tell me about the scandal or why he ended up here during this dance, but he needs a confidante. With skillful management of our encounters, I can become that person.



“Since just before the troubles.”



That’s what Nicuan nobility calls the growing insurrection that will end with nothing short of complete expulsion of enemy forces. They don’t realize how serious the situation is despite the planetary lockdown. Because there are glittering rooms full of expensive art and purchased women with painted faces, they think everything can continue as it always has. Most have no idea what’s going on in the provinces.



“You can’t go home then,” I say with real sympathy.



He shrugs. “I couldn’t anyway.”



“Oh.” Mishani wouldn’t pry, so I finish the dance in silence.



When he escorts me to the edge of the dance floor, Vel is waiting with arched brows. “I told you I would be right back, Mishani.”



Oh, he’s good.



Gaius steps up, as promised. “It’s my fault. I implored her to favor me with a dance.”



Only then does Vel pretend to recognize him. “Of course. Anything for Marcus’s nephew.”



“The prince is your uncle?” I shrink back toward Vel, like I’m unworthy to be in the presence of such greatness. Maybe I have a bit of theatrical talent, too.



“Yes,” Gaius admits.



“It was a pleasure.” Vel steers me away.



I cast a quiet look over one bare shoulder. Gaius stands gazing after me with flattering intensity. Young men can be so tiresome in that respect. They fall in and out of love on the weight of a shared glance or a touch on the arm, constant as the wind.



“How did you pass the time while I danced?” I’m careful to keep my questions innocuous, in character for the girl I’m pretending to be.



“I spoke at length with the Imperator.”



“I don’t know him. Is he important?”



Vel smiles, the indulgent expression of a man who thinks the woman beside him is an adorable idiot. “Very. Dance with me.” Not a question. He owns Mishani, after all, and her compliance is a given.



Yet I’m surprised as he leads me out. I figured we’d go after the governor next, but on second thought, this makes more sense. He can’t make a beeline for all the important men in the room. The machinations will be noticed instead of taken as normal social interaction.



He draws me against his shoulder with an expertise I shouldn’t find surprising, and yet I do. “I didn’t know you danced.”



“You’ve barely scratched the surface of my skills, my sweet.” It’s a reminder to be Mishani, not Jax.



I school my features into starry amazement, and he chokes a laugh. Aha, the perfect infiltrator has a weakness. Maybe I shouldn’t be amused right now, but I’ve discovered I don’t mind being undercover. At least, not all of it. I wouldn’t want to do it forever, but for now it’s an adventure, and I’ve never been able to pass one up.



Vel whirls me, attracting admiring glances from those sharing the floor with us. He moves like all men want to—with bold confidence, like he doesn’t give a damn about the staring. That’s the sort who gets noticed.



By the time we stop, I’m breathless, and some of the shiny-eyed stuff is real. I try to picture March doing any of this and fail utterly. He’s a warrior, not a spy.



Me? I’m a bit of both. I guess that’s why they’re both in my heart. I miss March, but I’m experienced in sealing off the sorrow and not letting it interfere with my mission.



“Attention,” Prince Marcus calls, as I catch my breath. “As you all know, we’ve gathered to honor Legate Flavius, who did me a great service at vast personal cost. He has not asked for restitution, yet my conscience will not permit his heroism to go unrewarded. So it is my pleasure to announce his new rank tonight. Welcome your new primus.”



The crowd applauds, some with sincerity, others with daggered looks. A congratulatory mob surrounds us, and I press up against his side. Beyond the inner circle, I spot Gaius watching us with a return of his sorrowful stare. I guess he’s remembered how much his life sucks. Poor kid. Yeah, right. At least he’s better off than the La’hengrin.



From what I know of the convoluted ranking system, a primus is higher than a legate, serving the prince directly. Which means all the legates now glaring at Vel fall under his command. The governor is above the prince because there are so many princes from various houses, and somebody has to be in charge. The Imperator ranks higher than a primus, but only in matters of national security. It’s all kind of confusing, but fortunately, Mishani doesn’t need to know shit about politics; that’s the upside to all my doe-eyed silence.



“Speech!” someone calls.



Soon the cry is taken up and echoes through the room, until Vel steps forward with a smile, ready to meet their demand. “I’m honored that His Highness thinks me worthy of this title. I’ll do my best to live up to the standard of the primus who came before me.”



Prince Marcus raises his glass. “To the new primus!”



Not everyone in the room is thrilled. Even as they toast, I feel the anger and envy burning across the distance. And all the while, Gaius watches in silence.



Afterward, Suni Tarn catches my eye from across the room. He holds the look long enough for me to gather he wants to speak with me. I guess that means Loras brought him in on the op. So I run my hand down Vel’s arm to catch his hand in mine. He doesn’t resist when I twine our fingers together, though this is a bold move for Mishani; it’s a public claim on the new primus, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Most men of rank would disassociate at once from a presumptuous La’hengrin, but he permits the move, thus stating that he returns my regard. I haven’t enjoyed subtext so much since we left Ithiss-Tor. Pity the Nicuan nobles don’t know how to execute a proper wa.