Palatine First (The Aurelian Archives) (6 page)

A gunshot echoed through the night, a sharp crack. Reece instinctively ducked his head and brought up his hob in both hands. There was a spell of silence.

“Was that…at us?” Hayden breathed.

Gideon peered about, eyes narrowed. “More than likely a warnin’ shot. Wouldn’t waste coin bettin’ they’re on our trail, though.”

With a much louder crack, another gunshot rang out, this one a good deal closer. Reece thought he might have heard the bullet rough up some nearby branches.

He used the guiding hand he had on Hayden’s shoulder to shove him forward. “Run!”

Another gunshot. Bark-turned-powder exploded out of a trunk to their right.

The bullets followed them through the forest, smacking trees, rustling branches, occasionally whistling near their heads. Gideon shot off a few rounds of his own, aiming at nothing, hoping to make their trackers hesitate. Reece had never run so hard. His boots were cutting into his heels; his hair was sticking to his forehead. Each breath he drew of the cold evening air stung his lungs, made the stitch under his ribs burn.

They had crashed into their bims, kicked the engines to life, and peeled out onto the road to the sound of one last gunshot before Reece realized. He’d dropped his gun.

V

Sca
ndal!

For three days, Reece waited for the sentries to come. He looked over his shoulder, checked around corners, and laughed too loudly at himself when he jumped at a small, innocuous sounds.

And if that was bad, what was worse was poor Hayden’s state. Reece should never have told him about losing the gun. The purple rings under his bifocals made Reece think he hadn’t been sleeping, and he knew he hadn’t been eating, because he never left the suite, and the food Reece brought him back from the dormitory kitchenette kept ending up in the garbage. Gideon was scarce, busily working on the gun commission that would pay for his next few months at The Owl, but Reece doubted he was any kind of worried. Which must be nice.

When the duke’s personal Dryad arrived on Atlas the morning of the fourth day to retrieve Reece for his three week holiday, it marked the first time the friends had all been together since that night.

“I don’t see what all the bleedin’ fuss is about,” Gideon muttered as he pushed his bim up a ramp and into the Dryad’s cargo bay. “I can make you another gun in a matter’a hours. A better one too, likely.”

“It’s not about the gun.” Hayden grunted and tried a third time to push his bim up the ramp only to have it roll its weight back down and nearly run him over. He’d been at this for a while. His suspenders had been let off his shoulders, and his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows. “It’s about someone
finding
the gun.”

Seated cross-legged on a travelling chest in the hold, Reece made a shushing noise, reminding them to keep their voices down. He didn’t want the captain or any of his crew hearing something they might report to Abigail for a pat on the head. He was already paying them off to keep their mouths shut about giving Gideon and Hayden a ride planetside. For all their fine clothes, Easterners were a shifty lot.

“So what if they do?” Gideon grabbed Hayden’s bim by its handlebar and dragged it up the ramp towards himself. Hayden tripped after it.

“Guns bought
legally
,” Hayden emphasized the word, “are all registered, identifiable by a numeric code on their…grip thing.”

With a snort, Gideon drawled, “That’s why you don’t buy them
legally
.”

Hopping up, Reece crossed the hold and pulled a lever that raised the ramp and closed the airlock hatch behind it. “Gid, have you heard anything particularly telling?”

Gideon sat, leaning his back against the pile of their luggage, and then readjusted to pull a gun out from behind his belt. “Not since the crash. The second crash.”

Reece frowned. The one of the transit-ship that had been carrying all those workers. The first thing he had done upon returning from the Wilds was send a log to Caldonia’s Sentry Center, tipping them off about the forthcoming crash, but the warning had been dismissed out of hand. He blessed Hayden’s foresight; it had been his idea to send the warning anonymously. The reports on the wireless all said too little remained of the ship to determine what had caused the engine failure.

“Hayden, what are the chances your father might be able to find something on Eldritch in the archives? He should have access to the duke’s personnel files, shouldn’t he?”

Hayden abruptly stopped digging through his travel sack to cast Reece a look. “Maybe. But the headmaster isn’t technically employed by the duke, he’s employed by Parliament.”

“That doesn’t mean he might not have something on Eldritch. Those two have been chummy my whole life.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration. They’re…business partners, Reece. Besides,” Hayden added, “couldn’t we just…
ask
your father about the headmaster? I mean—”

“Oh, certainly,” Reece said curtly. “I’ll have to make an appointment with his secretary. I’m sure the duke will slide us straight onto his schedule, right between the Mead Moon Parade and my fortieth birthday.”

Hayden said nothing for a moment, lowering his eyes to his bag and gently pulling out his auto-encrypting journal. He looked so guilty, so tired and thin and pathetic, that Reece found himself opening his mouth to apologize. But what came out was, “He hasn’t been my father in a long time now.”

Something stirred deep in his chest, and he thrust the feeling away harshly, scowling. He didn’t allow that to bother him anymore; he couldn’t. The duke and Abigail both preferred Liem, the shining prodigy, the intragalactic politician, the Palatine First. The duke’s partiality, Reece could understand. The two of them had had an abysmal falling out two years ago, when the duke had tried to send Reece to the other side of the galaxy to pursue politics, of all things. And Liem was the son of his first wife, Genevieve, who had died from a virus she had contracted shortly after childbirth. That merited some favoritism.

But Abigail? Was Reece’s friendship with Gideon and Hayden really that appalling?

No, that was only half of it. As for the other half, Reece didn’t care that she considered a captain’s chair a “substandard aspiration”. It seemed a perfectly good chair to fill to him.

“Well.” Hayden flipped the copper-plated cover of his journal open and drew out the finger-sized metal wand needed to type figures into it. “In any case, Father and Sophie both are ready to have you back to the house. You too, Gideon, so long as…” He hesitated, ticking the wand between his fingers.

Gideon looked up with interest from the hunk of gear-laden machinery he’d dislodged from the belly of his bim. “So long as what?”

Despite how immersed Gid often got in his work, Reece got the feeling he’d been listening, and wondered how it had all struck him—him, whose parents had both been killed in Panteda’s war.

“Well, last time you came to stay, you taught Sophie about throwing knives, and Father’s been a little concerned about our eating utensils all gone missing…”

It wasn’t home, but The Estate at Emathia was something to look at, that was for sure.

Reece draped his elbows over his bim’s handles and drew a deep breath. The Honoran country air was sweet, full of autumn smells, dying leaves, ripe vineyards, busy chimneys. The brick-laid drive before him stretched a straight half mile, edged by towering oaks bearing bouquets of red, gold, and brown leaves.

Set against those colors, the mansion at the end of the drive jarred the eye. A deep teal, it had red and white shingles patterned in swirls, red roof crestings, and white banisters along all three of its elaborate balconies. Its two chimneys stretched like fingers into the sky; its bay windows, huge and trimmed in deep purple, were made of stained glass. Excess was the key to being royalty, apparently.

Starting his engine up again, Reece glanced sideways at Gideon on his bim. The Pan wouldn’t be getting a warm reception no matter what, but it might help that he had changed out of his grungy gun
shop dunnage and into a brown leather waistcoat that fit too snugly to hide any guns. A small green military ribbon was pinned to his chest pocket. On the other side of him, Hayden was wearing his ratty brown jacket, a riding cap, and his oversized goggles. Reece sighed.

They rolled up the drive together in a noisy line, the shadows of the oaks flickering over them like moving pictures in a kinema. Two of the royal wolfdogs, Midas and Hera, loped along through the grass, barking and howling. The breeze was cool, pushing Reece’s muddy brown hair out of his eyes.

At the foot of the mansion, three servants in matching white jumpsuits hurried forward to park the bims in the motorvehicle stables. Reece briefly hesitated beneath the stairs winding down from either side of the front doors, then charged them, taking the steps two at a time with Hayden and Gideon close on his heels. Sometimes it was best to just get this part over with. He threw one of the doors open, stepped into the parlor, and stared.

His eyes normally would’ve gone to the chandelier overhead made of black and red stained glass, or to the swanky throw rugs cast over the hardwood floors, or the grand piano. Paintings that cost as much as a decent education, antique paperbound books confined to glass cases, tall love seats upholstered in fine jacquard and velvet.

All he saw was Liem, chatting with Abigail near the tall fireplace, a saucer and a cup of tea in his hands. And the girl standing with them.

Abigail looked as stately as ever in a purple dress and bustle, her cold eyes mostly hidden behind the black veil on her feathered monstrosity of a hat. Liem’s fine grey suit with its banded collar and ivory gloves was, as Gid would say, “dirt near princely”. As for the girl standing with them…

…she could have been a Pan. Lank black hair fell down her back, and her skin was pale white. She was dressed like a Westerner, with her skirt hitched up to her knees, showing off scuffed workboots. She was running her thumb along the edge of the necklace she wore close against her neck, like a black ribbon.

“Reece Benjamin.” Abigail surveyed him from behind her veil, pursing her lips. Liem jumped as if she’d shouted and sloshed his tea. “What have I told you about bringing the dogs in the front door?”

Realizing he was gaping like a numpty, Reece pulled himself together and glanced back at Gid and Hayden. He scowled as the jibe sank in. Abigail had as much tact as a teapot.

“Reece,” Liem greeted dryly, recovered from his start. For only being stepbrothers, they shared a remarkable amount of genes, but today Liem’s eyes looked darker even while the rest of him seemed strangely paler. Reece thought he looked feverish.

“We were just discussing your test.” Abigail’s eyes flickered to the fading bruise on Reece’s forehead. She raised the fan she’d been holding by her side, spread it artfully, and fluttered it before her face. “It’s just as well. Perhaps now you’ll consider a worthier vocation.”

“You’re absolutely right, of course, Mother,” Liem said smoothly. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times…there’s nothing worse than a man who has to put his head in the clouds to find a stable job.” He raised his cup to smell his tea—and hide his smirk, if Reece wasn’t mistaken.

Trying though it killed him to keep his face neutral, Reece shrugged. “Gideon might be able to teach me some guncraft. That’s a pretty stable market.”

The strange girl hadn’t turned to face the conversation—she was still staring off into space, motionless save for the hand on her necklace.

Liem must have followed Reece’s eyes, because he put down his tea and cleared his throat loudly. “Nivy,” he said, and clicked his fingers at her.

Slowly, the girl turned, and Reece was struck by her. Not just by how pretty she was, but by how lean and scrawny, like someone who hadn’t seen bread in a while, and especially by her eyes. They weren’t the Pantedan blue, but they were bright, clever. And a little cold.

Reece could only stare as Liem shuffled forward, raised his arm, and settled it stiffly around the girl’s shoulders. “Reece,” his voice cracked, “this is Nivy. She has been my guest here at Emathia these last few days while we’ve been waiting for Mother to return from her stay in Olbia. We’ve just told her the good news. Nivy…has agreed to marry me. We’re engaged.”

Silence, except for the gentle swishing of Abigail’s fan, moving faster than ever now.

“Congratulations,” Hayden said timidly, reminding the lot of them he was there, a small shadow next to the frowning Gideon.

Reece just kept staring. It had to be a farce. Liem was the Palatine First, heir to Honora’s dukeship. This girl was…

“Well. Nivy.” Abigail’s tone was nothing short of patronizing. She had to be a tempest inside.  This ordeal (if it wasn’t a hoax) was probably giving Reece an edge over Liem for the first time in years. “You’ll have to introduce me to your parents so we can arrange a proper date.”

Something in Nivy’s eyes flickered, but her face remained blank, perfectly controlled. When she said nothing, Abigail pressed testily, “What are their names? I may recognize them.”

Reece’s mouth opened in surprise when Liem pulled Nivy a little closer into his side. His darker-than-usual eyes shot Reece an unreadable glance.