Empress Game: The Empress Game Trilogy Book 1 (13 page)

“Do your worst.” And so began her lessons on the social aspects of her charade as Lady Evelyn—in minute, excruciating detail. Isonde was an exacting instructor, annoyingly patient and obsessively thorough. Kayla took great pleasure in surprising the look of superiority right off Isonde’s face as often as possible.

The days fell into a pattern after that.

In the remaining week of their journey, Kayla focused all her energy on training, polishing her schmoozing skills, memorizing the names and faces of the empire’s leaders and studying their politics.

Somewhere along the way Trinan and Vid had become Corinth’s unofficial bodyguards. The two seemed to have bonded with her
il’haar
and spent most of their time with him. Much like Rigger, who visited in her free time, they kept up a steady stream of chat, including Corinth in the conversation without expecting a reply. They never questioned him directly, they never pressured him or made him uncomfortable, they merely… talked.

Corinth loved it.

He convinced Kayla to let him bunk down with the agents in their makeshift quarters beside Isonde’s. The men promised her he would be safe. Corinth echoed their assurance, and conveyed to her the protective feelings coming from Trinan and Vid. It was hard for her to argue with two impressive bodyguards, especially when she had so much else to focus on.

The IDC agents brought Corinth with them to the rec room while they sparred and worked out, and he was already starting to hero-worship them. The animation on his face, the engaged way he listened to the men, filled her heart to see. He looked alive. Alive in a way he hadn’t since they’d escaped Ordoch. It eased her mind, and for the first time in five years she was relieved of her constant fear for his safety.

While the guys sparred among themselves, Malkor became her training partner. Their sessions, sometimes three a day, were more intense than anything she’d experienced since leaving Ordoch. It was exhausting in the best of ways. He pushed her limits, forcing her to develop tactics she’d never employed before and find new ways to handle larger opponents.

He learned from her as well, and he was a quick study. They’d taken to hanging around after a session to discuss the tactics of the day, what worked, what didn’t, and why. Long after the others filtered out, when Corinth assured her he was fine and was off to tinker with the ship’s damage with Rigger for the afternoon, she and Malkor would sit and talk while the sweat cooled on their bodies. His analysis of fighting was impressive, their talk easy and natural.

Kayla sat with him now after a particularly fierce workout, each stretching tender muscles in silence. Across the length of the rec room Janeen heckled Trinan and Vid, much to Corinth’s delight. The woman seemed friendly enough with the rest of the octet, but Kayla had had enough of her sour looks. Kayla felt oddly competitive with the woman, driven to prove that she was the better choice even though Malkor had already rejected Janeen. She trained harder and spent that much more time studying imperial politics.

::Kay?:: Corinth brushed against her shields. She dropped them just enough to allow him into her most conscious mind. She bent her right leg into her body and pretended to concentrate on stretching over her left.

::You were fierce today.::

She hid a smile at his pride.
Am I not fierce every day?

::Especially today! He didn’t hurt you though, did he?:: She felt his intention to explore the rest of her body for injury. She held him in place, only allowing him access to her thoughts.

Never.

::Rigger’s going to check the progress the tech team is making on the engines and she said I could come along. After some lunch. Is it all right if I go?::

She hated being away from him, but the alternative was locking him in their room like a prisoner.

You still feel safe with them?

::Trinan thinks I need more meat on my bones and plans to feed me a shuttle’s worth of food when we get back, and Vid is trying to think of a way to get me to try some exercise without pressuring me.:: The surprised and delighted feel of his mental voice came through. Five years with no one to talk to besides her, no one else looking after him, taking an interest in him. No wonder the agents fascinated him.

You call for me the nanosecond you need me. Before that, if you even
think
you might need me. I’ll come running.

::I know you will.:: He swirled in her head, his mental hug, and withdrew as the agents packed up to leave.

How much trouble could he get into on a ship this size? She reasoned against her anxiety. He waved as they filed out, and Janeen was the last to go. It looked like she might hang around, watching Kayla and Malkor with that poorly hidden frown, but Trinan jibed her for slowing them down and she headed out, hobbled by her healing ankle.

The room settled into silence.

“We should be arriving in Falanar’s orbit by tomorrow night,” Malkor said, breaking the calm between them.

“So it begins then, the charade?”

“I’m afraid so. These are your last hours as Shadow Panthe.” He searched her face as if looking for a reaction.

Unexpected fear rose up. Shadow Panthe—the hated persona, the comforting disguise. The lifting should have been a relief, and it was, but she had worn the mantle so long. It had kept them safe until now. One mask ripped off to assume another. Was it opaque enough? Could she shield her
il’haar
beneath it? Could she stand the weight of it?

“I’m ready.” She would have to be.

She gained confidence from the certainty of his expression. He thought she could do this. Or at least, he didn’t consider the plan a total failure before it began.

“And we are agreed, Corinth will stay with Trinan and Vid for the most part, positioned as a refugee from one of our latest missions?”

That had been hardest to decide. Her role as Isonde’s attendant would leave her little time to watch over Corinth. In her absence, he was safest with the two agents and she had no one else she could trust him to. She couldn’t take him everywhere she went, and leaving him on the starcruiser, out of her grasp, hadn’t been acceptable even before it had been damaged. In the end, this was her only choice.

“Yes, provided I get to see him often.”

Malkor chuckled. “I doubt anyone could stop you.”

“What of you and the octet, once we land?”

“I’ll be with you. At least, as much as possible.” He shifted his weight. “I’m not leaving you alone in this.”

The words gave her an odd sense of relief. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I brought you into this mad scheme. What kind of man would I be if I abandoned you to it?”

Malkor might be IDC, but she trusted him on a superficial level. More than anyone else on this ship, and certainly more than anyone on Falanar. She could use his analysis of opponents’ techniques in the fighting to come. That and… it was perversely pleasurable to have someone—anyone—to talk to again. Someone who spoke out loud, who occasionally offered a wry chuckle. Someone with a sarcastic tongue who could give as good as he caught.

“My octet has duties during the Game, mostly of the diplomatic sort. Facilitating relations between visiting dignitaries, playing host to all of our foreign contacts, and of course, validating the ID of every Empress Game participant.”

“A full schedule.”

“I’ll make time. It’s not… unusual, for me to be seen in Isonde’s company.” He glanced away. “She and I… Ardin, Isonde and I grew up at the emperor’s court, for the most part. Her uncle and my father both sit on the Sovereign Council, and we spent the majority of our time on Falanar. It will not seem odd for me to visit with you and her.”

“Just how familiar are the two of you?” She could tell her question put an end to their post-sparring closeness.

“Why were you hiding on Altair Tri?” he asked instead of answering.

“We’re back to that, I see.”

“Always.” And she was back to hiding. As always.

“You’ll not get an answer from me.” Despite the distance now between them she wanted to stay, try to reclaim the few minutes of closeness she got to share with anyone. Instead she forced herself to stand. “Don’t waste your time. Or mine.”

M
alkor stood in the giant customs block on Falanar, expelling annoyance with every breath. They’d arrived on the imperial homeworld mere hours ago and already his octet was swamped. An unprecedented number of guests had come for the Empress Game. All available tech and security officers had been enlisted for the enormous task of confirming the identity of every last person who came through the port. Meanwhile, the IDC was responsible for identifying every participant in the Game. An agent personally oversaw the palm print analysis, DNA assay, retinal scan and visual confirmation of identity for each participant and their attendant. Of course, all of that happened only after each visitor had tested negative for the Tetratock Nanovirus while still on board their own ship.

Malkor had a stack of assignments just as large as the rest of his agents, and had been running around like a bot on overdrive since he got there. Already he’d logged princesses, sovereigns, governors and priestesses from every planet in the empire. Who
wasn’t
making a bid for the empress-apparent’s seat on the Council of Seven?

Beyond identifying the contestants, the IDC had a secondary list of people to investigate. The techs handling the registration of spectators compiled lists of suspicious persons who had been allowed entrance with special circumstances attached. These people formed the watch list of persons of interest who might attempt to fix the Game.

The IDC had received hundreds of allegations of cheating already, and more would pour in after the first round of fighting when people started getting eliminated. The hours it would take to wade through the illegitimate claims would prevent a thorough investigation into each, giving any real threats to the Game’s validity a greater chance of slipping through.

He hoped.

Malkor checked his datapad again, the lists upon endless lists, and made mental notes. He’d heard from the junior IDC agent he’d assigned to the de facto queen of Narden—she’d been unable to provide proof that her husband was actually dead. He’d heard from Janeen in the regen lab—the ankle was healing, but swelling from last week was hindering the cellular repair process. He’d heard from Rigger—the latest version of the Isonde hologram was ready for testing. He’d heard from Vid and Trinan—the boy was settled. He’d heard from Gio and Aronse—they’d been assigned a special detail for a party Master Dolan, Grand Advisor of Science and Technology and the only exiled Wyrd ever to live in the empire, was expecting. He hadn’t, though, heard from or seen Shadow in hours. Not since before they’d arrived.

The group had split three ways when the starcruiser docked. Ardin and his contingent had been admitted without being processed. The IDC agents and Corinth had gone to their own station on the planet’s surface. Isonde, her bodyguards and Shadow had joined the mass of imperial citizens in the queue at Falanar’s customs block to await admittance. Even as a member of the Sovereign Council, Isonde wasn’t exempt from procedure.

Malkor’s first order of business had been to locate the apartment Shadow and Isonde had been assigned to and reassign it, moving them to an apartment closest to the rooms the visiting IDC teams would occupy. The IDC complex could only house so many octets. It could not accommodate the sheer number of octets returning to the homeworld from various planets where they had been stationed. Housing the rest of the octets in the buildings where the Game’s participants would stay was the perfect solution.

He checked the Game’s roster: Isonde hadn’t been registered yet. With Isonde’s high standing in the empire they should have been processed already.

Where the frutt were they?

Malkor debated his next action. Two massive sections comprised the customs block on Falanar. The identification depot was laid out in row after towering row of offices and waiting areas stacked on each other where people coming or going from Falanar were detained, searched, scanned and positively identified before being allowed on their way. Malkor occupied the second section of the block, the welcome port.

The welcome port was as big as a plaza and open from floor to arching ceiling. The setting suns sparkled through various skylights, each cut in the shape of a star and filled with prismatic birefringence gel. Maps of every aspect of Falanar lined the walls, pointing visitors toward tourist attractions, lodgings, trade sectors, business sectors and pleasure sectors.

Malkor watched the thousands of visitors crossing toward the doors at the far end of the port for one more minute before heading in the opposite direction. He pushed his way through the welcome port’s entrance and headed into the multi-level maze of the main customs depot for Falanar. He walked the first floor, which contained the tech rooms where visitors were scanned and positively IDed. The hallway was just the open space between two of the many parallel columns of rooms. They rose on either side, story after story of offices, waiting areas and private lounges. Open-air walkways fronted each floor and the upper levels connected to their counterparts across the space via bridges. A multitude of brightly dressed people milled behind the glass fronts of the waiting rooms above, and staff members ushered groups on the maglifts to yet more waiting rooms even higher up.

Shadow, Isonde and their dangerous charade waited somewhere amid all this. He checked his datapad again. Next on his list of participants to validate was Ophala ut’Anani, a tribal priestess from the ruins of Mimar’s Ward.

She could wait.

* * *

Kayla felt as though she might hyperventilate.

The feeling, stressful enough, was exhausting when going on its fourth hour. Isonde looked out the glass front of their waiting room, calmly surveying the bustle of the customs depot. They’d been placed in a room on the seventh floor, and Kayla could see into the glass-fronted waiting rooms across the way from theirs. Not just on their level, but on all the adjacent levels.