Endgame (29 page)

“You can’t go home then,” I say with real sympathy.

He shrugs. “I couldn’t anyway.”

“Oh.” Mishani wouldn’t pry, so I finish the dance in silence.

When he escorts me to the edge of the dance floor, Vel is waiting with arched brows. “I told you I would be right back, Mishani.”

Oh, he’s good.

Gaius steps up, as promised. “It’s my fault. I implored her to favor me with a dance.”

Only then does Vel pretend to recognize him. “Of course. Anything for Marcus’s nephew.”

“The prince is your uncle?” I shrink back toward Vel, like I’m unworthy to be in the presence of such greatness. Maybe I have a bit of theatrical talent, too.

“Yes,” Gaius admits.

“It was a pleasure.” Vel steers me away.

I cast a quiet look over one bare shoulder. Gaius stands gazing after me with flattering intensity. Young men can be so tiresome in that respect. They fall in and out of love on the
weight of a shared glance or a touch on the arm, constant as the wind.

“How did you pass the time while I danced?” I’m careful to keep my questions innocuous, in character for the girl I’m pretending to be.

“I spoke at length with the Imperator.”

“I don’t know him. Is he important?”

Vel smiles, the indulgent expression of a man who thinks the woman beside him is an adorable idiot. “Very. Dance with me.” Not a question. He owns Mishani, after all, and her compliance is a given.

Yet I’m surprised as he leads me out. I figured we’d go after the governor next, but on second thought, this makes more sense. He can’t make a beeline for all the important men in the room. The machinations will be noticed instead of taken as normal social interaction.

He draws me against his shoulder with an expertise I shouldn’t find surprising, and yet I do. “I didn’t know you danced.”

“You’ve barely scratched the surface of my skills, my sweet.” It’s a reminder to be Mishani, not Jax.

I school my features into starry amazement, and he chokes a laugh.
Aha, the perfect infiltrator has a weakness.
Maybe I shouldn’t be amused right now, but I’ve discovered I don’t mind being undercover. At least, not all of it. I wouldn’t want to do it forever, but for now it’s an adventure, and I’ve never been able to pass one up.

Vel whirls me, attracting admiring glances from those sharing the floor with us. He moves like all men want to—with bold confidence, like he doesn’t give a damn about the staring. That’s the sort who gets noticed.

By the time we stop, I’m breathless, and some of the shiny-eyed stuff is real. I try to picture March doing any of this and fail utterly. He’s a warrior, not a spy.

Me?
I’m a bit of both. I guess that’s why they’re both in my heart. I miss March, but I’m experienced in sealing off the sorrow and not letting it interfere with my mission.

“Attention,” Prince Marcus calls, as I catch my breath. “As you all know, we’ve gathered to honor Legate Flavius, who did me a great service at vast personal cost. He has not
asked for restitution, yet my conscience will not permit his heroism to go unrewarded. So it is my pleasure to announce his new rank tonight. Welcome your new primus.”

The crowd applauds, some with sincerity, others with daggered looks. A congratulatory mob surrounds us, and I press up against his side. Beyond the inner circle, I spot Gaius watching us with a return of his sorrowful stare. I guess he’s remembered how much his life sucks.
Poor kid. Yeah, right.
At least he’s better off than the La’hengrin.

From what I know of the convoluted ranking system, a primus is higher than a legate, serving the prince directly. Which means all the legates now glaring at Vel fall under his command. The governor is above the prince because there are so many princes from various houses, and somebody has to be in charge. The Imperator ranks higher than a primus, but only in matters of national security. It’s all kind of confusing, but fortunately, Mishani doesn’t need to know shit about politics; that’s the upside to all my doe-eyed silence.

“Speech!” someone calls.

Soon the cry is taken up and echoes through the room, until Vel steps forward with a smile, ready to meet their demand. “I’m honored that His Highness thinks me worthy of this title. I’ll do my best to live up to the standard of the primus who came before me.”

Prince Marcus raises his glass. “To the new primus!”

Not everyone in the room is thrilled. Even as they toast, I feel the anger and envy burning across the distance. And all the while, Gaius watches in silence.

Afterward, Suni Tarn catches my eye from across the room. He holds the look long enough for me to gather he wants to speak with me. I guess that means Loras brought him in on the op. So I run my hand down Vel’s arm to catch his hand in mine. He doesn’t resist when I twine our fingers together, though this is a bold move for Mishani; it’s a public claim on the new primus, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Most men of rank would disassociate at once from a presumptuous La’hengrin, but he permits the move, thus stating that he returns my regard. I haven’t enjoyed subtext so much since we left Ithiss-Tor. Pity the Nicuan nobles don’t know how to execute a proper
wa
.

Vel lets me lead him on a meandering course toward the former chancellor and his partner, Edun Leviter. The two men are handsome in their black formalwear. Leviter wears touches of silver at his cuffs, and it’s an elegant echo of his hair. By the time I reach them, they’ve gotten rid of the few guests who wanted to make conversation. Leviter has a way with a brow raise and a sardonic look that makes you want to crawl under the nearest rock.

“Good evening,” I say.

Tarn says, “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Since I haven’t met him as Mishani, he’s affirming my suspicion that he knows. Loras must have anticipated our need for aid and provided intel. That’s helpful. Now we can arrange a meeting with no awkward fumbling.

“I understand you have quite an art collection,” Vel replies.

Leviter nods. “Suni is the connoisseur, but I appreciate beautiful things.”

“If it wouldn’t be too forward, perhaps Mishani and I could come to see your Durand? It is rumored to be exquisite.”

“Edun and I will be leaving the city next month for an extended holiday,” Tarn says, and the words sound like a warning. “So it would be best to arrange the appointment soon.”

“The day after tomorrow?” Vel suggests.

“Perfect. Do you have your handheld? What’s the code?” After Vel’s reply, Tarn pulls his out and beams his address to the device.

“I look forward to it,” I say.

“We should mingle.” When we move off, Vel leaves his hand in mine, telling everyone that he won’t tolerate slights to me.

It’s a bold maneuver. Enemies will reveal themselves faster over my unseemly rise. They won’t be able to bear that a female like Mishani has so much power over the new primus. In time, after listening to enough vitriolic whispers, Prince Marcus may come to regret his generosity, but we’re not trying to build a lasting political career, only obtain access to classified information while creating dissent in the Imperial government.

This should work like a charm.

Tarn and Leviter live in a sleek high-rise with excellent
security.

For obvious reasons, they don’t require us to pass through the scanners. That would alert the system that Vel and I aren’t who we claim to be. So Tarn comes down to meet us, obviating the need for such measures. I follow him to their private lift; they have the entire top floor of the building, and the view is breathtaking, one of the best I’ve seen on La’heng.

He motions us to silence until we step into the apartment, then says, “You can speak freely here.”

“White-noise generator?” I guess.

He shakes his head. “Edun has hacked all the spyware so it logs a variety of incredibly mundane conversations. Those tasked with keeping watch over us must think we’re the dullest dogs in the world.”

As Tarn mentions him, Leviter comes down the hallway into the common room. The place is furnished in minimalist design; it’s not warm, but it is elegant. It suits both of them, and they appear more relaxed—for obvious reasons—than they were at the prince’s bash. I take a seat before anyone else because I don’t have to be Mishani right now, and it’s a relief.

“You’ve heard from Loras?” I ask.

Leviter nods. “Yes, he gave us a full report of activity in the capital, so we can facilitate. I must admit, this has been unexpectedly entertaining.”

Tarn grins at him. “You already had your hand in when I arrived.” He turns to me with an amused look. “He was bored, you see. Thought it would be diverting to see what trouble he could stir up here.”

“You destabilize governments for fun?” Vel asks.

Leviter shrugs. “Sometimes. If there’s no paying work to be had.”

That makes me wonder what crises he’s perpetuated. “Who have you worked for? Or is that an
if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you
question.”

Tarn and Leviter exchange a look, then the former chancellor replies, “He worked for me during the war.”

Even Vel seems intrigued. “Is that how you met?”

“Virtually.” Tarn puts a hand on Leviter’s knee. “I couldn’t get involved with him openly while I was chancellor.”

I raise a brow. “Why not?”

“Because I worked for Farwan.” Leviter’s curt response explains everything.

“You were one of their cleanup men, weren’t you?” I know the type.

A frown pulls Leviter’s brows together. “I was the best.”

“So I put you out of work. Sorry about that.” I wonder if that means he hates me. So far, he hasn’t acted like he does.

He shrugs. “I always maintained diversified interests.”

“I appreciate your help.” I change the subject, seeing his reluctance to discuss his past further. “What news do you have?”

Tarn accepts the need to get down to business. “Loras says his mission is going well. He’d like you to be ready to move in two months.”

That seems like a short time to get appointed to the war council and obtain the classified data we need. “Do they have databases?”

Leviter shakes his head. “The nobility here cling to outmoded fashions, and that includes information storage.”

“So we’ll need physical access.” I sigh. “That makes it harder, if it’s even possible at all.”

“It should be, skillfully played.” Leviter sits across from me, all predatory grace. It’s impossible to tell how old he is, but I read no mercy or scruple in that gaze. “You’ve made a good start, shaken the foundations a bit.”

“How would you suggest we proceed?” Vel sounds more like himself, and I’m glad for it. I’ve gotten used to his manners and his courtly, formal air.

Thus invited, Leviter outlines a plan of action that’s Machiavellian and diabolical in its ruthless sophistication. At first, I hesitate. Gaius seems like a decent guy—for a noble—and I hate the thought of screwing his life up worse than it already is. If he’s caught, or if I fail to turn him, it means the end of the whole scheme.

But the resistance needs us.

“All right,” I say at last. “I’ll do it.”

“You’re a true patriot,” Leviter responds with gentle irony.

Because this isn’t my home. These aren’t my people. Yet I fight as if they are.

Vel pushes to his feet. “Let us look at the Durand since that is why we came.”