Claimed & Seduced (28 page)

“She’s right,” Mareeka said. “They have no weapons, no power. They are ripe for a takeover.”

“And the ruling classes?”

Keira sniffed. “They are weak. Those in control hide behind walls and let their people suffer. Many cling to the old ways and those who do have new tech don’t share. This world hasn’t modernized like the Cawdor. The people of the Cat have no infrastructure.”

“Weapons?” Razvan barked.

“The queen refuses to have weapons in the ballroom. All weapons are left at home or checked at the castle doors.” Mareeka chuckled, her sly amusement rubbing Keira’s feathers the wrong way. She dug her fingertips into her palms to stall her giveaway reaction.

“What about the prince? He could have warned them,” Razvan said.

“He is pathetic, a mere figurehead,” Mareeka said with a sneer of contempt.

Keira’s heart ventricles picked up in speed and pumped furiously, steering toward panic. She sucked in a quick breath, forced her lips to a mocking smile. “Mareeka is right. The prince will offer no barrier to your plan. He is a mere puppet, his strings jerked by his parents. You do them a favor taking over this planet.”

“Perfect,” Razvan said. “It appears the oracle was correct since you have both confirmed her words. I am pleased. I am very pleased.”

“What about Marjo?” Mareeka demanded. “I want recompense for her death.”

“And you will, darling,” Razvan said. “I award you the king and queen to do with as you wish.”

Mareeka beamed. “I will mount their heads on pikes and place them at the city gates as a warning.”

Flying stars and meteors.
The pair of them were mad if they thought they could take over without a war. Jarlath and Ellard would fight with everything they had, everything they were. They would never surrender like tame kittens.

Chapter Fourteen

“W
ait! Sir, you must show me your invitation to gain entrance. And, sir! No weapons in the ballroom. The invitation specifically states no weapons of any kind. You must surrender your weapons,” a man dressed in navy blue-livery said.

“We’ve mislaid our invitation. So sorry.” Mareeka pulled out her blaster, and when the man put out a hand to accept it, she shot him in the chest. Blood bloomed on his smart tunic. A second blast obliterated his face. He dropped to the floor, dead.

“
Tsk-tsk
. I believe we will keep our weapons,” Razvan said to the other servant at the door. “Come, ladies. Let us attend the ball.”

Keira stepped over the fallen man and into the ballroom, her left arm linked with Razvan’s. Mareeka flanked his other side. Gradually, the animated chatter died and a path cleared. The couples on the dance floor stilled and the musicians faltered, the music giving way to silence.

“Please, carry on with your festivities. Don’t let us interrupt you,” Razvan said. While his demeanor came across as pleasant, Keira felt the thread of tension in his muscles. “Musicians, play.”

After a bumpy and discordant start, the string instruments began mid-song.

“Dancers, dance,” Razvan said. “This is a celebration. Pray continue with your normal proceedings.”

“I don’t believe you have an invitation,” a bejeweled woman said, her tone snooty. “There is a dress code.”

Keira felt herself gape and hurriedly corrected the deficit. Was the woman stupid? Did she not recognize Razvan? Had Jarlath and Ellard not managed to warn their people?

“It’s her,” someone else hissed, and Keira wasn’t sure of the speaker’s sex.

“Keira Cloud, the murderess,” a woman said.

Keira turned her head to see her stepdaughter, a sneer marring her pretty face.

Mareeka glanced past Razvan to study Keira with interest. “A murderess. I heard tales of a woman who murdered her husband. This was you?”

“Yes,” Keira said.

The whispers rose and swelled with excitement, Keira’s reply passing like a magical wave from person to person. Foolish felines. Let them gossip. Let them treat her like a pariah.

They were the stupid ones.

The enemy walked amongst them and they worried about propriety.

“Why don’t you and Mareeka join the dancers?” Keira suggested. “Let me scout a good spot for our announcement. Do you have any suggestions?”

“By the fire,” Razvan ordered. “We might require it for a quick exit.”

“I will arrange it,” Keira said.

“We shall dance after we greet the king and queen,” Razvan said. “Can you see them?”

“They will be over the other side of the ballroom,” Keira answered. “I’ll show you the way.”

The people in front of them stood aside and let the three walk the length of the ballroom. Jarlath stood with his parents, a woman dressed in yellow clinging to his arm as if she were afraid he would escape. Jealousy struck Keira like a slap to the cheek, and she had to rip her gaze from him to focus on the king and queen.

“I have met them before,” Keira murmured to Razvan. “Would you like me to make formal introductions?”

“I believe I would. All these cycles I have missed you, pet, but I see you haven’t wasted your time here on Viros. Your contacts are invaluable.”

Keira didn’t reply. Instead, as they approached the royal family, she watched Jarlath. He ignored her presence to whisper to the young woman. Pleasure flushed the woman’s cheeks. He was flirting with her!

The queen noticed their presence first. She looked them up and down and frowned. “Who are you?” Keira saw the instant the woman recognized her. “You,” she spat at Keira. “My son announced his betrothal tonight. You can’t have him now.”

Keira lifted her brows. She didn’t understand these people, their entitlement and arrogance. They were delusional. “I would like to introduce Razvan Cronan, ruler of the House of Cawdor and his consort, Mareeka. Please make a line and take your bows.”

The king and queen gaped. They shot swift glances at Jarlath, their faces turning pale. He’d failed to convince them of the danger. It was up to her to succeed unless Jarlath had other plans. She glanced at him and caught him fondling the woman’s breast. No, not fondling, but his actions—his finger teasing along the skin of the woman’s décolletage—skirted proper in a public venue. Her crow let out a furious squawk, one she couldn’t suppress, one colored with pique and jealousy.

“They are slow to respond,” Razvan drawled.

“Line up now to pay your respects,” Keira ordered.

Jarlath removed his hand and straightened. “Best do as she says. We don’t want our eve spoiled by formalities. Let us greet the man, drink to his health then return to dancing.”

He strode over to Razvan and offered his hand. Razvan stared before accepting the handshake.

“Your hand is sweaty,” Razvan said with distaste. “In one sense this pleases me, although it doesn’t feel pleasant.”

“Forgive me,” Jarlath said with a smooth bow. “Welcome to Viros, my lord.” He straightened and moved into the background.

“Next,” Keira said, her tone sharp when everyone hesitated. “You, Lady. Greet Razvan, the new leader of Viros.

The woman—Keira couldn’t recall her name—gasped and lifted her nose. “I will not. I refuse.”

Keira opened her mouth to prompt the woman with a sharp directive, but Mareeka pulled out her blaster. The woman dropped and hit the ground before Keira had a chance to blink. Blood spread from the hole in the woman’s chest and turned the delicate green dress a brilliant red.

A woman screamed. Another fainted. A man cried out, his distress nearing hysteria.

Mareeka waved her weapon. “Remove the body. Now.”

Keira focused her gaze on the men and women waiting in the makeshift line. Their expressions ranged from horror to shock. “Remove the body.”

Jarlath pushed through the crowd and lifted the woman into his arms. He stalked from the ballroom, and Keira watched him the entire time, her heart crying out for the man she loved. What they had was impossible. She’d known from the start. Funny how it hurt so much more now that she was presented with the evidence of him with another woman.

“Next to shake hands with the new leader,” Keira said in a verbal prod.

The elderly man nearest to them sprang forward, his hand extended, his puffy face wreathed with hearty cheer. “Welcome.”

“I approve of your bossy nature,” Razvan whispered in her ear. “You are even better than I remember. You please me.”

She had to work hard to contain her shudder of distaste. His scent was wrong—strong and overpowering, and her crow pushed and clawed, communicating her dislike of this usurper touching her other self.

“Thank you. Where are the king and the queen? They are not exempt.”

“I see them at the end of the line,” a buxom woman stammered.

“Ah, yes,” Keira said. “Thank you.”

The receiving line moved at a fast clip with none of the reluctance shown by the first woman.

The young lady who’d hung off Jarlath’s arm earlier preceded the king and queen.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” she said, a faint tremor throbbing through her words as she rose from her curtsey.

“Your name?” Razvan asked.

“L-lady Arabella,” she whispered.

“I’m sure we will see more of each other,” Razvan said.

Lady Arabella cast him an uncertain glance before she joined Jarlath. The woman seemed perfect for the prince—young and beautiful and without an unsavory reputation. No doubt she was a virgin too, and the clear cat tattoo on her cheek proved her feline status.

Razvan turned to the next in line—the queen. “How delightful to meet you.”

The queen glared at Keira then offered her hand, her manner stiff and grudging.

To her relief, Mareeka laughed. “You will become used to your new lower status. Give me your tiara. I want it.”

“No, this is an heirloom. I—”

Jarlath appeared beside his mother. “Give Mareeka the tiara, Mother.”

When the queen was slow to move, Jarlath removed the jeweled circlet and handed the glittering headpiece to Mareeka. “I hope you enjoy wearing this tiara. It has passed down through many generations of our family.”

“But, Jarlath—” the queen said.

Jarlath cut her off and led her away. “Let Father bid our new leader welcome.”

“Make us space near the fire,” Keira ordered. “Your new leader is feeling the cool temperatures on this planet.” True because he was shivering even though she, herself, felt overly warm. Still, his chill worked in her favor. “This is the king.”

The king stuck out his hand, taking Razvan’s smaller hand in his grasp.

Razvan pulled his hand free and wiped it on his trews. “Your hand is as damp as your son’s. Sweaty palms must run in your family.”

“I do apologize,” the king said with suitable gravity. He coughed and pounded his fist against his heart. “I’m sorry. I haven’t felt well…my age.”

Razvan sneezed and rubbed his chest ventricles, a frown on his swarthy face. “It must be the Virosian climate.”

Yes
. Exactly what she desired in order to use the repulsion spell, although if she had the opportunity, she’d prefer to knife the dirty cur in the heart. “Come and sit by the fire,” Keira said. “Mareeka, would you like a seat by the fire too?”

“Yes,” Mareeka said, and the woman seemed pleased at Keira’s willingness to serve her.

“I’ll be back in a min. Meantime, why don’t you have a drink? Razvan, there are hot mulled liquor drinks or I can order cool drinks for you if you prefer.” She gestured to a tray of steaming drinks, held by Cristop. Not by a flicker of an eyelid did she betray she knew the youth. Others were accepting drinks off the tray, not hesitating as they watched the unfolding drama, although she noticed they kept a wary distance. “These drinks are a specialty of Viros. Perfect for when the weather turns cold.”

“I’ll have a hot drink,” Razvan said. “Inhospitable place. ’Tis either unbearably hot or very chilly.”

“With sweetener?”

“Yes,” Razvan said.

Cristop palmed the drug so expertly she almost missed the action, then the youth added bee-honey and handed the drink to Razvan.

“What would you like to drink, ma’am?” Cristop asked with absolute deference. Once Mareeka chose her drink, Cristop added something to her drink too.

Relief flooded Keira. She wasn’t working alone. They had a plan after all. She might not have a future with Jarlath but at least they had a present. With that, she’d have to be content. Making good on her word, she pulled up two velvet-hair stools and placed them close to the fire. She also arranged for a small float table for the couple.

Once she led Razvan and Mareeka over to the fire, she clapped her hands. “Start the music. Go back to your dancing.”

Gradually the nervous chatter became more natural, and Keira wondered where Ellard was hiding. She glanced at Jarlath and found his dark head close to Lady Arabella’s. Pain kicked her hard in the chest, and she dragged in a calming breath in an attempt to ease the ache. It didn’t help.

Instead of letting her jealousy gain traction, she studied Razvan. The drug was taking effect since his eyelids were at half-mast. Mareeka, however, seemed more alert.

“Would you like some canapés?” Ollie asked, proffering a tray at Keira.

“No, thank you,” Keira said.

Ollie stood on her foot, and Keira winced.

“On second thought, maybe I will. Is that space-crab?”

“It is, but I recommend the malpack pies,” Ollie advised. “The chef has a way with pies.”

“I’ll go with your recommendation,” Keira said, and she was relieved when Ollie gave her an approving nod and removed his hefty weight off her foot.

“And you, miss?” Ollie asked.

“I want space-crab,” Mareeka said. “Two.”

“Of course. Let me give you a napkin,” Ollie said.

“I like this.” Mareeka waved a languid hand. “People waiting on me. Sparkly jewels. If only Marjo were here to enjoy this party.” Her hand went to the butt of her blaster, and for one awful moment, Keira thought she might shoot Ollie simply because he stood closest.

“Would you like the waiter to leave the tray?” Keira asked, subtly sliding between the pair.

“He should get more,” Mareeka ordered.

“Of course.” Ollie bowed, playing his part to perfection.