Fifth Quarter (21 page)

"We never had access to a bath this large." She bent forward and gently stroked her brother's cheek, Gyhard's cheek, Aralt's cheek, with the razor. "I just thought it would be easiest, but if you're uncomfortable…"

"No." He swallowed. "Stay." Eyes closed, he tilted his head back again.

"Brilliant, Vree. Brilliant. You've got him."

"Just be ready to move," she repeated. The sound of the steel scraping soap and whiskers off wet skin seemed to echo in the bathing room. If she listened hard enough, she thought she could hear even the heartbeat that throbbed beneath the steadying hand she'd rested on her brother's, on Gyhard's, on Aralt's chest.

The soft mat of hair in the center of his chest rose and fell more quickly as his breathing became labored. His hands opened and closed in the water—she could feel the currents he created swirl against her hips. Dropping her gaze, she nodded, satisfied, and leaned closer.

His eyes snapped open again and stared directly into hers.

"Now, Bannon!" She was completely unprepared for the rush of desire…

They'd been naked together a dozen times since Gyhard had taken over her brother's body, but as his hands closed around her waist, they crossed the line where a simple lack of clothing became something more. Breathing raggedly, she moaned low in her throat as her arms snaked around his neck and their mouths pressed together. Desperately trying to hold onto reason, Vree kept her eyes open to give Bannon as much of a chance as possible. Her loss of control, her surrender finally to what she had wanted for so long, her failure to remain a weapon for his use, must not destroy his chance to regain his body.

"Bannon…"

They pulled apart and her hands began to dance over wet flesh as though they'd never touched it before. She marveled at its texture, at its resilience, at its sculpted beauty. She marveled at her own responses, at how the brush of a callused palm across a nipple resonated groin deep.

Which was when she realized that it wasn't her desire she felt, but Bannon's. Bannon. Whose desire to make love to his own body while in hers was so strong it was all she could feel. Bannon, whose desire was blinding him to the one thing he
should
want above all else.

Gyhard murmured her name into the curve of her throat, shifted his body…

"No." Her rage burned hotter than Bannon's desire. She twisted away to the other side of the bath, leaving Gyhard reaching for her desperately. "I said no."

He stared at her incredulously. His mouth opened and closed and then he managed a strangled, "Why?"

Struggling to steady her breathing, she turned on him. "Why? I'll tell you why. Bannon was supposed to use this, this seduction, to get back into his own body. You'd be distracted, he said. It doesn't make any slaughtering difference if you are because he's more distracted than you ever could be. Oh, he's having one slaughtering good time being me fucking him."

"Vree, I…"

"Shut up, Bannon." She heaved herself up out of the bath and jerked a drying cloth off the hook.

"What about me?" Grasping the shreds of his composure with both hands, Gyhard waded toward her. "I want you, not him."

Vree stared down at him through narrowed eyes, fingers clutching the warmed cloth tightly so he wouldn't see them tremble. "What about
me
?" she asked. "I know what Bannon wants, I know what you want; what about what I want?"

"All right." His voice picked up an edge. "What do you want?"

"I want…" The safety of an army around her. Knowing always exactly what was expected. Her place in the Empire secure and unchanging. Her brother; not always kind, not always careful, but hers. "I want what I had before you showed up."

"Even if I left your brother's body, you couldn't have that life again."

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to block out the terrifying vision of life going on with no parameters she could understand. "I know."

He looked up at her for a long moment, then he sighed. "If that's what you believe," he said quietly, "then we have nothing further to discuss."

It took Gyhard a very long time to sleep that night. It helped only a little that the pair of Imperial assassins in the next room were no doubt having a sleepless night as well.

Over and over, he heard himself say,
I
want you
.

She was the first person he'd been honest with, been himself with, in over ninety years. Circumstances may have been responsible for that but it was a strong bond nevertheless. He was amazed that she'd managed not only to provide a refuge for her brother but to stay sane while doing it. He admired her speed and strength and grace, and he thrilled to the danger her presence denoted.

Removing the mirror from its case, he stared into the silvered glass. The expression on young Bannon's face, on the reflection of his face, seemed less cocky than it had.

"I think I may be falling in love with your sister," he told it softly. "If only…"

If only he didn't have to kill her.

Chapter Eight

Vree checked that both of her wrist daggers would release if needed, then pulled down the long, full sleeves of the silk shirt Aralt's gold had provided to cover the sheathes. Swinging her saddlebags up onto one shoulder, she strode out into the suite's main room, eyes squinted shut against the brilliant morning sun streaming in from the tiny private garden.

"Vree! What if there isn't another way?"

Gyhard glanced up as she came in, noted the shadows around her eyes, and handed her a bowl of figs. "Still sane?" he asked neutrally.

"Vree! Answer me!"

She chewed, swallowed, and picked another piece of sticky fruit out of the bowl. Turning it over in her fingers, she shrugged. "Sane? Well, nothing's changed."

"And it wasn't all my slaughtering fault either! You added your own hunger to the mix, sister-mine."

"About what almost happened last night." The memory brought a heated buzz that Gyhard ignored. "It was a good idea that could have worked, but I want you to know that you won't get that close again."

"Why?"

He blinked. "Why what?"

"Why do you want me to know?" Dropping into a chair, she poured herself a mug of beer out of the clay carafe on the low table.

"Uh…" He rubbed his jaw where the touch of the razor she'd wielded lingered. He'd intended not to even mention their brush with… well, with each other. "You're in a strange mood this morning," he observed instead of answering.

"No shit."

Lifting her head, she met his gaze.

Her eyes, he noticed, were hard, unreadable; shields in front of her thoughts. The confusion that had lingered in them from the beginning was gone.

He stood. She stood with him. If he reached out his hand, he wouldn't quite be able to touch her.
Will you kill your brother to save a prince who means nothing to you
? He had glimpsed her strength last night and, for the first time, he thought she might.

"Perhaps…" His hand came up but he forced it back down again. "Perhaps I should have killed you, killed you both when I had the chance."

"I see them." Her heart slammed against her ribs and the large breakfast she'd just finished turned to stone in her stomach. "First Army. Nothing to do with us."
Couldn't
be anything to do with them.

"If Emo talked or they found Arro's body…"

She dried her palms against her thighs. "Then we can expect a dagger in the night, you said that yourself."

"Sure, but first they have to find us, and all armies
must
assist an assassin loosed at a target."

"First Army guards the Emperor. Even if Marshal Chela sent a courier—and that courier rode by without us noticing—the First Army is
not
going to leave His Imperial Majesty to search for us."

"Yeah? Well, they're heading this way and they look pissed."

Vree stepped back behind a stone lattice and called herself several kinds of fool for leaving Gyhard alone in the inn. While she could easily slip off the small terrace, down the lane to the stables and away, five armed and armored soldiers of the First Army now stood between her and Bannon's body.

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

"Bannon, shut up."

The captain dismounted. "If any of the honored guests try to leave," she barked, dropping her reins to trail on the ground. "Take them alive." Lips set in a thin line she straight-armed her way through the carved doors and into the inn.

Four left. If it came to it, she could kill two easily. The two remaining would be warned and moving. Not so easy but not impossible either. Trouble was, that left the captain in the inn with…

"Vree, listen!"

Like most expensive inns the Zepher Garden was set well back from the South Road, a row of lindens blocking the sounds and smells of common travelers from the delicate sensibilities of its wealthy clientele. Wafting through the trees came the unmistakable sound of bellowed orders and civilian shouts of outrage.

"You're right, sister-mine. There's something bigger going on than us." She allowed Bannon to turn her back around to face the four soldiers waiting by the inn door. "They don't want to be here. They want to be out cracking skulls with their buddies. Whatever's going down, they don't think it has anything to do with this place."

Every impatient scowl, every unnecessary jerk at the reins clearly said they wanted to be elsewhere. "The one on the right looks like he dressed in the dark, his tunic's on inside out. And all three men need a shave."

"Why would the Emperor send the First Army out of the Capital in the middle of the night?"

"Looks like we're about to find out."

"Captain, I assure you of my complete cooperation and I am of course shocked and horrified by this attack against the most gracious Imperial Family, but I also assure you that no one involved in such a distressing incident would ever dare to come here." The Zepher Garden's portly owner patted the silver brooch that secured the folds of his mantle on one rounded shoulder with a plump, white hand. "My loyalty to the Emperor is well known. Why, Senator Eraco, who as I'm sure you are aware is very close to the Emperor, keeps a suite of rooms here."