The Scarlet Empress (21 page)

So, they made it only as far as the former South Korea
before running into the bad guys. Not good. Cam had suspected Kublai was exaggerating in order to keep her close to the palace, overstating the dangers elsewhere in order to force her loyalty to this nation as opposed to the others. Now she saw she may have been wrong.

She’d also been wrong about Zhurihe—very wrong. Her hand twisted in the fabric of the girl’s collar. “All those times you were leaving me on the farm, you were working double shifts at the palace. Going back and forth by magcar, right? Bree likely knew you by your palace name—Joo-Eun.”

Cam tightened her grip on Zhurihe’s collar. The girl wheezed in the affirmative.

“And the entire time you were fixing to help her leave, you were consoling me, telling me that she was dead—and probably telling her the same thing!” Cam pushed her away in disgust. “I can’t figure out whether you’re a pathological liar or a spy.”

“I am neither! I wanted only to keep Bree safe. And you, too, Cam. I have my reasons.”

“As selfless as you think your cause is, it doesn’t give you the right to play with other people like chess pieces!”

“But I—”

“Shut up, Zhurihe. Just shut up.” Grief and resentment threatened to take over. Cam took a couple of steadying breaths. Frowning, she demanded, “And why the hell did you pay that boy to throw rocks at Minister Hong?”

“I wanted him to leave you alone.”

They regarded each other warily. “Is Hong dangerous?”

“Stay away from him. Don’t listen to him. He’s not to be believed.”

“How do I know you’re not lying again?”

“Trust me.”

“I’m supposed to trust
you?
”

Zhurihe’s face turned white. “Have to go.” She spun on a heel, braids whirling, and ran off into the night.

“Zhurihe! Wait!” Cam started to chase after her when a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, holding her back.

“It’s not polite to keep a date waiting, pretty one.”

Kublai!
She spun around and there he was, standing in front of her: all six-foot-two, tattooed, irresistible bit of him.

The next thing Cam knew, she was sitting at a dark corner table in the Hollow Heart. Kublai pressed a cold pack to her wrist. “I didn’t even feel it,” she said. “I think I bashed it when I tripped over those pots.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Kimchi.” She tried to tug her hand away, but he held fast. “Apply the ice a little longer.”

“I want to wash up. I stink.”

“I don’t mind.”

She sighed and let her head sag onto her hand. A lank strand of hair fell over her eyes, and she blew it out of the way. “I haven’t had many days worse than this, Kublai. The prince refused to see me for the sixth consecutive time—or the tenth, depending how I count. Then I chase down the boy throwing rocks at Minister Hong and—”

“Minister Hong was in the Serpent Quarter?”

“Yes. And I was as surprised as you are to see him there.

Anyway, I chased down the boy tossing the stones and—”

“A child was throwing rocks at Hong?”

“Yes, but someone else told him to do it, and—”

“Who did?”

“She . . .” Cam stopped short of giving an immediate answer. There was the question of Zhurihe’s double identity, something she hadn’t fully puzzled out yet. Until she had a better idea what was going on, she’d best not share too much and risk putting Zhurihe’s life at risk. Kublai was loyal to the prince. If he were to learn of deceit going on in the palace, namely Zhurihe’s deceit, it could get the clone killed—if Dr. Park didn’t get to her first. As many wrongs as the girl had committed so far, Cam didn’t think she deserved to die for them. Her instincts told her that while Zhurihe couldn’t be trusted, she wasn’t evil. “It was an older girl,” she said finally. “A teenager, and she kicked my butt.”

“I think it was the other way around.”

Cam made a sound halfway between a huff and a snort. “Let’s just say she had the advantage of being younger.”

“And not having been in biostasis for a hundred and seventy years.”

Leaning on her hand, she smiled up at him. “You give good pep talks.”

His thumb moved over her arm, tracing the line of the ice pack. “You’re Rim Rider material, you know that?” he said.

She leaned closer. “You might find Rim Riding with me more fun than going with Nazeem.”

He watched her with that enigmatic expression of his. “Fun wasn’t the first word that came to mind.” He reached for the strand of hair that kept flopping over her
eyes and tucked it behind her ear. The filmy white embroidered blouse she’d somehow not stained in her pursuit of Zhurihe slipped lower, baring one shoulder. His fingers dipped from her hair to her bare skin.

She couldn’t breathe the entire time those fingers circled over the rounded part of her shoulder. That touch went a lot deeper than what was obvious. One lingering, almost regretful caress, and that magical contact vanished.

She exhaled through her nose.
Breathe deep; that’s it, Cam.
“How did you know I was in the Quarter?” she asked when she could speak.

“I saw you walking here, crossing the square near the palace.”

“And you followed me? You saw Hong, the rocks?”

He shook his head. “I’d lost sight of you, and came here, hoping you might remember the name of the pub. When you didn’t show, I went looking for you.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me. I got that impression when we split at the palace.”

“But you came looking for me nonetheless.”

“I needed a friend.”

His lips compressed. “And I, too.”

“Listen to us, a couple of morose . . . well, I can’t say drunks because we haven’t touched our drinks.” Two tall glasses of beer sat bubbling between them. “Let’s just say a couple of gloomy souls.” She folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. “So, when are you riding out again?”

The candor in his expression faded, like someone had pulled a curtain across his soul. “I’m awaiting the prince’s word.”

Cam made a face. “That makes two of us. He won’t talk to me. All I want is five minutes of his time to see what he can tell me about Bree’s disappearance.”

“Maybe he has nothing to tell you.”

“If so, I want to hear it from him. I did find out something on my own, though. Bree got as far as New Seoul, and survived a brush with the bad guys.”

Kublai almost rose up from the table. “How did you learn that?”

Cam leveled him with a steady gaze. “My sources are confidential.”

“Sources? What sources?”

“No one who’s trying to hurt anyone, okay? She’s a palace staffer who picked up on a little gossip, that’s all. God, Kublai, you’re so loyal to the crown, sometimes it feels like I’m talking to the prince himself.”

Kublai picked up his glass of beer, downing half of it at once. “I shall take that as a compliment.”

“Shoot, you even resemble him.”

Kublai gulped more beer.

She compared and contrasted his tattooed features with the portraits she’d seen throughout the palace. Every time she gazed up at the larger-than-life paintings—of a grayeyed prince dressed in royal regalia, stiffly posed with his parents and brother in the gardens, sitting happily astride a magnificent Hansian—she thought of the Rim Rider. “So, how’s Beast, your gorgeous horse?”

“He doesn’t care to be confined to the city. He’s more than ready to ride out again.”

“A little like his rider, I bet.”

Kublai’s expression softened. “A little, yes.” He seemed
to have forgotten what unease her mentions of the prince had caused.

“Well, he’s an amazing animal. Give him an apple for me next time you ride him. I miss him. It must have been all those days I spent on his back. All that power between my legs. No euphemism intended.”

Kublai’s mouth spread in a smile. “Too bad.”

She laughed, a soft, wicked laugh. “Let’s talk power between the legs, then. I need the distraction. I’m a woman, so I don’t have the body parts you do—”

“Thank the good Lord,” Kublai said, throwing a glance to heaven.

“—but the concept is still valid. Take horses and jets, for instance—lots of similarities. You ride, and I fly.” She sighed. “I meant that in the past tense. I flew.”

“You’ll never stop being a pilot, as I will never stop being a horseman. It’s ingrained in us. It is part of who we are.”

“I like to think that, too. But I read that modern warcraft are spacecraft. They don’t fly in the atmosphere very often, like the one I saw in Mongolia, because they’re not tactically efficient there. I’m an air-to-air pilot. If that doesn’t make me obsolete, then what does?”

Something flashed in Kublai’s eyes. He pushed aside his empty glass to check her bruised wrist. The skin was reddened but it wasn’t throbbing anymore. He discarded the ice pack and threw a money card on the table, pulling her to her feet by her good hand. She laughed as he tugged her along. “Where are we going?”

“The Royal Museum. I have a surprise for you.”

“A plane! You’re going to show me a plane in a
museum. Is this supposed to make me feel that I’m not outdated, outmoded, and outgunned? Tell me it’s not a biplane. I didn’t fly those, you know.”

“Stop guessing or I won’t take you.”

She laughed at his gravity. “I used to have patience for surprises. I don’t now. I guess it’s been so long since anyone surprised me . . . with a good surprise.”

“This will be a good surprise,” he assured her.

Hands clasped, they walked quickly through the rainslick nighttime streets. The TV walls of the buildings splashed garish color across the pavement. “But won’t the museum be closed? It’s late.”

“A minor technicality.”

“Great. All I need is to get arrested my first week in Beijing.”

“You won’t be arrested. Trust me.”

“Connections, Rim Rider?”

“You could call them that.”

The museum building loomed ahead. It was shaped like a giant diamond. Opalescent, it glowed from within. Cam was skeptical. “How are we going to get in if it’s closed?”

“You said you are a gymnast, yes?”

“I was.”

He shrugged as he brought her around back. “That’s all the skills you’ll need.”

She made a face. “That leaves it wide-open.”

“Have faith,” he said. “The effort will be worth it.”

Lack of confidence had never been one of Kublai’s traits.

On the back lawn, he crouched down on the wet grass. “Here is where we must sneak.”

“Oh, great.”

“Follow me.”

They scurried, bent over, to one of the opaque facets of the diamond. Now that she was closer, she could see handgrips leading all the way to the roof, a good fifty feet above their heads. “You’re kidding, Kublai.”

“Ready?” he asked, his eyes alive with mischief.

Cam looked up at the roof. Well, this couldn’t be worse than anything else that had happened to her, and it sure took her mind off the horrible evening. “Ready.”

They clambered up the diamond. At the top they were treated to a stunning view of the city—including the palace. “Beautiful,” she murmured. “It looks like a jeweled sand castle.”

“On a bejeweled beach.” For once he didn’t sound boastful. He truly loved this city, and it showed quite frankly in his face.

He went to work breaking and entering. After slipping a blade from his pants and counting a specific number of facets, he found the seam he needed. With the pointed tip of the blade, he followed the line down and around the facet.

“Isn’t this wired with alarms?”

“Not this facet.”

“You’ve done this before.”

His gleaming smile was her answer. Carefully he lifted the facet and placed the heavy piece so that it lined up with the intact facet below. “Let’s go.”

To the tune of
Mission Impossible
playing in her head, she followed the Rim Rider though the opening. They dropped to a catwalk below, shimmying to a ladder that took them down to the ground floor. “Alarms?”

“Disabled.”

“How?”

“If I tell you, pretty one, I will have to kill you.”

She laughed. “Don’t tell me then. I want to see whatever it is you’re going to show me.”

He took her by the hand and led her through a maze of rooms filled with treasures until he found the room he wanted. Before he’d allow her inside, he slipped behind her and covered her eyes with his hands. “Are you ready?”

“Ready.”

“Really ready?”

“Kublai!”

He dropped his hands. Cam stared at the incredible sight: a mint-condition F-16 Viper.

“I thought you would like to see it,” he said.

She shook her head, rendered speechless by the fighter, silver and sleek.

“I ride and you fly,” he murmured. “I have told you much about the Hansian breed. Now it’s your turn to tell me about the Viper.”

Awed, she walked up to the jet. Coming up on her toes, she brushed her fingers across the fuselage. “It’s real. . . .”

“Would you like to go inside?”

She brought her hand to her chest. “Be still, my heart.”

He waved at the ladder hanging on the side of the jet, a climb she had made countless times. She grabbed hold of the rail with both hands and pulled herself up into the cockpit, slipping down into the seat. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

Kublai watched her from the top of the ladder, his
pleasure evident, despite the tattoo that so often masked subtler expressions. Cam ran her fingers over the controls. Then she jerked her hand back. “The lights in the instruments are on.” She swerved to meet Kublai’s gaze. “There’s power?”

He nodded. “You could even start the engine, but I wouldn’t recommend it. In the room behind us, there’s a display of ancient tapestries.”

“You’re serious.”

“Of course. Korean tapestries, dating back to—”

“I mean about the engine starting! It’s nearly a two-hundred-year-old airplane, Kublai.”

“The fossil-fuel cells have been replaced with a nuclear drive, but other than that and a few other changes, it is as fully functional as it was when you flew it.”

“I could have, you know—I could have flown this very one.” Cam savored the sensation of being in the cockpit again, one hand resting lightly on the stick, her other on the throttles.