Ardor's Leveche (17 page)

Ardor’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell is Morrigunia?” she asked, suspicion rife through her voice.

“The Morrigunia,” he said and watched her lips part in shock.

“
The
Morrigunia?” she asked. “The Triune Goddess?”

“It was She who made me,” he told her.

A long breath came from Ardor’s constricting chest and she shuddered. “Am I going to have to fight her for you?”

“I hardly think so,” he said with a laugh. “I haven’t seen her in years. She’s no doubt moved on to some other poor warrior.”

“That’s a relief,” Ardor said. “Not that I believe in gods and goddesses.”

“Of course, not,” he agreed.

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Ardor stepped into the baggy pajama bottoms, wincing at the feel of it encasing her legs. “I hate these things.”

“We do what we must,” he said smugly and leaned a hip against the wall. “I’ll find something better than Med Cen pajamas and prison-issue jumpsuits for you to wear.”

“I hope so,” she said, buttoning the PJ top.

“What would you like?”

“I kind of like what you’re wearing,” she said.

He lifted one brow. “Aye, well, I have no idea what women Reapers wear, but if this uniform is to your liking, I see no reason not to accommodate you.”

Ardor started toward him and stopped, slowly lowering her head to find herself clad in an exact replica of his uniform—from silk uniform shirt to sleek black leather britches. The only thing different was the collar insignia. His was a silver raven and hers was copper. Her eyes widened.

“I outrank you?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She reached up to touch the copper raven. “This is the rank of a major, isn’t it?” she asked, glancing over at him. “Silver would be a captain.”

“Aye, wench, but there is a disparity between Storian fleet officer grades and Riezell Guardian ranks. Your major status would be equivalent to a lieutenant commander in fleet grades,” he reminded her.

“Oh, yeah. Right,” she said, a bit crestfallen. “You’re two ranks ahead of me.”

“Aye, I am.”

“What colors are lieutenant commander and commander?”

“Brass for the LC and gold for commander,” he replied.

“I don’t think I’ll ever reach LC at Command,” she said. “Not even Neff went that far up the glass ladder.”

“Don’t you consider yourself as good as Chastain Neff?”

“I never thought about it. Chas was the epitome of a primary. She had a lot more discipline that I do.”

Gabriel held her gaze. “How much discipline
do
you have, Major Kahn?” he asked.

“After this, I’ll be court-martialed so I doubt my warrioress abilities still apply.”

“You’ll not be going back to Riezell so that court-martial is a moot point,” he told her.

“I was given an assignment,” she said. “One I fully intended to carry out. I might not have counted on being caught so early on but it is still my duty to escape my enemies and—”

“I am not your enemy,” he said in a soft voice.

“No, but your people and mine are at war,” she reminded him.

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The Reaper shook his head. “No, that’s not the way it is with my men and me. I am doing everything I can to end this ridiculous war my father is supporting. My main goal is to keep our people out of Coalition prisons and safely away from the Storian war machine.”

Ardor furrowed her brow. “Is that true?”

“I swear to you on my honor as a Reaper that it is,” he replied.

“You haven’t been fighting Coalition forces?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been too busy trying to keep us all alive until my brother can take the throne. Hell, my father—my king—put a bounty on my head for not fighting Coalition forces when I was ordered.”

“Does he know you’re alive?”

“My guess is he has a spy at Command Central, someone high up the echelon. If that man—or woman—now knows that I showed my face, I’m sure my father knows.”

There was a discreet knock on the laboratory door.

“That would be Breva,” the Reaper said with a sigh. “Enter!”

The moment Gabriel Leveche saw his brother’s face he knew something bad had happened and the reprimand for leaving the cavern never left his lips.

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“I wish I didn’t have to give you this news,” Breva said, his face pale and his eyes red. He nodded at Ardor, acknowledging her.

“What’s happened?” Gabriel could feel a tightening in his groin.

Tears suddenly sprang up in Breva’s eyes. “It’s Manuel,” he said. “Our brother is dead.”

The Reaper staggered, devastated by the news. “How?” he managed to ask.

“Our father has struck once more,
chanto
,” Breva said, swiping at the treacherous tear that fell down his cheek. “Manuel was executed this morning for seditionist acts against the Royal Throne.” His voice broke. “He was bound to a stake in the central courtyard and beheaded before his body was burned.”

Gabriel’s face paled. “They thought he was a Reaper?” he asked in a whisper.

Breva nodded, unable to go on.

Ardor reached out for her lover but his stiff posture told her he did not want comforting at that moment. His face was a mask of sorrow but his hands were clenched tightly at his side, his eyes hot with fury. “Did I not tell you, wench, they had a cohort at Command Central?”

“You have said that before,” Breva said. “Tell me who he is and I will go after the bastard and flay the flesh from his bones!”

“You leave that up to me,” Ardor said and both men turned to face her. “It is my right for whoever it was who revealed my identity to you is bound to be the same one who told King Alejandro you are alive.”

“She would not do such a thing,” Breva said.

Ardor blinked. “She?”

“I have my suspicions who the traitor is at Command and believe me I will be the one to end his miserable life. It was he who pushed me into the fire pit on
an Éigipt
,” the Reaper snarled.

“Who are you talking about?” Ardor asked, but Gabriel ignored her.

“There is no one to oppose our father now,
chanto
,” Breva said. “When he picks a successor, you can bet it will be someone just like himself.”

“He’d best not pick a successor any time soon if he wants to live,” the Reaper said.

“His days in this galaxy are numbered as it is.”

“Let me do my job. I’ll take the bastard out as Command planned,” Ardor said, but still the men acted as though they hadn’t heard her.

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“If there is a spy among the Coalition Forces,” Breva said, “do you think he knew about Ardor’s assignment to assassinate the king?”

“I’d stake my life on it,” the Reaper replied. “I can’t believe Bowen would want to have our father dogging his heels.”

“Bowen?” Ardor gasped. “You don’t mean Colonel Kurt Bowen, do you?”

Still the men paid no attention to her. They were talking between them of retaliation for their younger brother’s death so she had to shout to gain their notice.

“Do you mean Kurt Bowen, Reaper?” she yelled, interrupting them.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “You say his name with too much familiarity, wench. Is he the one you think betrayed you with the implant?”

“Only he could have,” she answered. “As for being familiar with him…” She shrugged. “I’ve intimate knowledge of him but it meant nothing to me, although it seemed to mean something to him.”

The Reaper reached out casually and took her arm, but his grip was anything but casual. “Meaning?” he demanded.

She shrugged again. “He told me he loved me, but if that were true, he’d not have had them put an implant in my head without telling me.”

“Would you have agreed?” Breva asked.

“Hell, no, I wouldn’t have agreed to have my brains scrambled!” she snapped.

“Well, there you go,” Breva said, his smile wavering.

Gabriel stared into her eyes for a few moments then spoke to his brother, never taking his gaze from Ardor. “Get the Burgon on the horn. Tell him it’s urgent and use a highly secure channel.”

“The Burgon?” Breva questioned. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I’m positive.”

Breva turned on his heel, strode over to the Vid-Com, and called the on-duty com officer. “Open a channel to Aduaidh Prime, Barrera. Our prince wishes to speak personally to the Burgon!”

“What are you planning?” Ardor asked the Reaper.

He pulled her to him, holding her against his hard length, his hands tightly on her upper arms. “Do you think you can do what Command ordered you to?”

She nodded slowly. “I can take the king out and, given the chance, I will.”

Breva glanced over at them. “She’s been with us long enough for them to be suspicious of her,
chanto
,” he said.

“Not if I escape,” Ardor said, “and I planned on doing that anyway.”

“As though I’d allow it,” Gabriel said with a snort.

“You’ll have to look the other way, Reaper,” she said. “That’s the only way I know to make this work. I have to escape.”

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“She’s right,” Breva said then looked back around at the Vid-Com screen where the Burgon’s image was glaring at him.

“Who the hell are you?” the Burgon demanded, his eyes flashing. “I was told Prince Gabriel Leveche had miraculously sprung up from the dead to speak to me.”

Breva bowed his head slightly. “I am Major Raoul Breva, Prince Gabriel’s half-brother. He—”

“Why are you wasting my time?” the Burgon snapped. “I don’t care if you are half-brother to Alel Himself!”

Gabriel let go of Ardor and stepped up to his brother, gently pushing Breva aside.

“My apologies, Your Excellency. I am here now.”

The Burgon’s eyes widened. “Gabriel? Is that really you?”

“In the flesh, Ryden.”

“Maybe, then again, maybe not.” Bristling at the use of his given name, the Burgon stood up from behind his ornate desk, put his fists on the top and leaned on them.

“Where did you get that nasty little scar over your eyebrow?”

Breva glanced at his brother. “One too many women and not enough men to go around on Ionary, Ry,” Gabriel stated. “An academy side trip gone awry for you and me. It was the redhead who got me with her dagger then she poked you in your ass, left cheek if I remember correctly.” He grinned. “You bled like the stuck pig she labeled you.”

There was a faint twitch of the Burgon’s lips. “And her name was…”

“Starinda, if memory serves. At least that’s the name she gave the guards who arrested her.”

“And just what did the guards do after they arrested her?”

“Screwed her out behind the bar. We caught them with their pants down as we were leaving.”

Emperor Ryden Bakari, the Burgon of Aduaidh Prime, straightened up. “Well, I’ll be a Diabolusian warthog’s pecker,” he said. “It
is
you, Gabe!”

“The Coalition found it harder to kill me than they expected,” the Reaper said with a malicious grin.

“Am I correct in assuming you are the infamous Lord Savidos?”

“That’s me.”

“Huh,” the Burgon said then sat down, fingering a wicked scar that ran from his right temple to the corner of his mouth. “You’re one of Tariq’s changelings?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No, but I know of the warrior you’re talking about.”

A thick brow lifted. “Really?” he asked. “And just how did you find out about him?”

The Storian prince grinned. “An intercepted diplomatic pouch that took a detour from Cair Ghrian’s hands to mine,” Gabriel replied.

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“Such is war, eh?” the Burgon inquired with a sigh. His face lost its jovial expression. “You have heard about your brother?”

A harsh grimace passed over the Reaper’s handsome face. “Aye.”

“I lost all ten of my brothers to this wretched war and many a good friend. I hated to hear such devastating news,” the Burgon said quietly.

“Manuel’s death is why I have come knocking on your door.”

“The idea of a man ordering his own child’s death sickens me. Alejandro has stood in the way of peace all along. We should have known he would never allow Manny to take the throne and thwart him.” He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, there was despair in the dark depths. “We should have done more to protect Manny.”

“There was nothing you could do, Ry,” the Reaper said. “Not then, at least, but there is now.”

“Name it.”

“Alejandro Leveche has outlived three wives and countless concubines, but the man is still as randy as a teenage plebe,” Gabriel said. “His time of ruling the Storian people with a bloody hand is rapidly nearing its end.”

“I’d give him one of my wives and all of my concubines if he’s just go away to some far galaxy and let us get on with the peace process,” the Burgon said.

“I have the means at hand to take my father out of the equation,” Gabriel said.

“And how will you do that?”

Gabriel motioned Ardor to come to him. He took her hand as she walked to his side. “This lovely lady is Ardor Kahn, my betrothed.”

Ardor glanced up at him, her lips parting.

“My sincerest congratulations, Gabe. She is, indeed, quite lovely,” the Burgon commented.

“She is also a Riezell Guardian,” the Reaper reported. “Their primary now that Major Neff has retired.”

Respect gleamed from the Burgon’s eyes. “How did she come to be with you and does Command know?”

“We took her from the prison ship
Borstal
. She had been put there by General Morrison to infiltrate the palace at Vespertine. Her job was to assassinate the king.”

The Burgon’s eyes widened. “They’re resorting to Aduaidh tactics now, are they?”

“You have met Colonel Kurt Bowen?”

A nasty frown slid over the Burgon’s face. “Unfortunately, I have had the dubious pleasure of making his acquaintance. There was something not quite right about the man. I have never trusted him.”

“Your instincts were correct, Ry. I believe him to be a double agent, working both for and against my people.”

“To what advantage?”

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