Authors: Zachary Jones

Refusing Excalibur (34 page)

BOOK: Refusing Excalibur

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Pocketing the tablet, she headed to the front of the palace, where Lana would have the car ready.

“My lady,” Lana said, as Lysandra approached the car, a small, relatively unobtrusive sedan. The bodyguard was wearing the red synthleather jacket Lysandra had recommended.

“Lana, you look like you’re about to go out on the town,” Lysandra said.

“That’s the idea, My Lady.” Lana’s brows furrowed. “Is that cigar smoke?”

Shit
, Lysandra thought. “I was curious what my father got from smoking those dreadful things.”

Lana nodded. She believed the lie. “I take it you didn’t enjoy it?”

“Providence, no!” Lysandra said. “I’ll need something to cover the smell.”

Lana pulled out a small spray bottle and held it to Lysandra. “Will this do, My Lady?”

Lysandra accepted the odor remover. “You are a lifesaver, Lana.”

“That’s what I’m paid to do, My Lady,” said the bodyguard.

Lysandra smiled. “Quite.” She sprayed herself a couple times and was relieved when it almost instantly erased the foul smell of her father's tobacco.

She handed the spray bottle back to Lana and entered the backseat of the car. Lana then shut the door and took her place in the driver’s seat. “Where to, My Lady?”

“The Spire, please. I’ll be dining with the entourage there,” Lysandra said.

Lana nodded, and the car accelerated, traveling slowly through the palace grounds.

The Spire was an upscale restaurant located on the top floor of one of New Pergamum’s tallest towers. It billed itself as the highest restaurant on the planet, with a commanding view of the capital. It also happened to be one of the most secure restaurants on the planet, tailor-made for nobles and royalty who wanted to dine out in style without sacrificing security.

It was also on the other side of the city, a thirty-minute drive by car. Enough time for Lysandra to scan through some of her stolen data.

She pulled out her tablet and unlocked the screen. She had downloaded the complete manifest of the military forces of the Lysander system.

She glanced through the fleet manifest first, looking at all the ships that made up the Home Fleet. She did not see anything she did not already know. All the ships of the Home Fleet, two hundred warships in all, were recently refurbished reserve vessels, replacing the more modern warships that had been assigned to the Invasion Fleet.

She next checked the dossiers of the officers in charge of the fleet, starting at the top.

The Home Fleet was commanded by Admiral Xander Keen, a career naval officer with a long, if unremarkable, career in the Imperial fleet. He had spent most of the years since the war with Savannah serving on the frontier. The most interesting part of his record, however, was his war record. He had spent most of the Savannan War serving in Imperial Intelligence, under the command of Uther Solari. It wouldn’t surprise her if Solari had somehow been responsible for Keen’s current assignment.

She checked the next officer in the Home Fleet’s chain of command and began reading her record when she felt the car stop.

“We’re here, My Lady,” Lana said.

Lysandra closed the tablet’s screen and pocketed it. The drive had been faster than she had expected; she had not even noticed when the car drove into the Spire’s underground parking lot.

“Ah, so we are. You made good time, Lana,” Lysandra said, helping herself from the car.

Lana exited the car. “Traffic was light today, My Lady.”

Three men approached, but Lysandra was not alarmed; they were the advanced bodyguard team sent to the Spire ahead of her arrival.

“Is the building secure, Kline?” Lana asked.

“Yes, sir,” one of the men said. “We’ve vetted all the guests in the restaurant as you ordered. Everyone checks out.”

“Ah, good. I presume there’s a table waiting for me?” Lysandra asked, walking to the elevator before anyone could respond.

Lana walked up beside her. “The usual place has been cleared for you, My Lady.”

“Excellent,” Lysandra said.

They entered the Spire’s VIP elevator, which only had two stops: the secure garage at the bottom and the restaurant itself at the top.

Lysandra would have preferred riding one of the public elevators that ran up the side of the tower and watching New Pergamum fall before her. But those were too exposed for the comfort of her security detail.

As the elevator rose, Lana stood between Lysandra and the door.

“I thought you said the restaurant was secure,” Lysandra said.

“Just a little extra caution, My Lady,” said Lana, facing the door.

Lysandra smirked and admired the smooth brown skin of Lana’s neck during the ride up. Nothing else was worth looking at. The bodyguard was not a great beauty, but she did have a certain athletic attractiveness to her. No doubt due to all the years of military training.

When the elevator doors opened, Lana quickly stepped out and scanned side to side before signaling Lysandra with a glance that it was safe for her to come out.

The maître d’, a tall bearded man in a fine suit, walked up and bowed. “Princess Lysandra, it is a great pleasure to have you here tonight. Shall I escort you to your table?”

Lysandra nodded. “Of course.”

Lysandra’s “table” was actually a private lounge walled off from the rest of the restaurant. Its panoramic window faced west, giving a spectacular view of the Imperial palace twenty kilometers away.

The circular table had already been set, with a bottle of her favorite red wine, already opened, resting by her seat.

Lysandra sat down and poured herself a glass. “When do you suppose the first of the entourage will arrive?”

“Ten minutes at the earliest, My Lady. You didn’t give them much time to prepare,” Lana said.

“It’s good to keep them on their toes,” Lysandra said. She gestured to one of the seats. “Sit down. Pour yourself a glass while we wait.”

Lana smiled and shook her head. “Not while I’m on duty, My Lady.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll entertain myself while I wait.” She took a sip of the light fruity wine and pulled out her tablet, picking up where she left off.

She skimmed through the Home Fleet’s second in command, noted that she had also served in Imperial Intelligence for a time, then moved on, selecting the captain of a battleship, the
Vigilant
.

His résumé also listed a stint in Imperial Intelligence. Lysandra was beginning to see a pattern.

She took another sip of her wine and selected another captain at random. This one had also served under Solari, as did the next one, and the next one after that.

Lysandra noted with growing alarm that the commanding officer of every warship defending the Lysander system had once served under Uther Solari. How was it possible no one else had noticed this?

“Lysa!”

Lysandra sighed and pocketed her tablet. The first of her entourage had arrived.

“Myla,” she said, standing to embrace the new arrival.

Lady Mylaena Taevus was a short, curvy woman with long cherry-blond hair falling around her face in loose curls. As the head of her house rather than just an heir, she was the highest ranking member of Lysandra’s entourage and, therefore, its unofficial leader.

Myla gave her a mischievous smile. “So I assume with your father off-planet that we’ll be doing something scandalous.”

Lysandra smiled and shook her head. “I just needed to get out of the palace. Being groomed for the throne has left me with little time for going out.”

“Poor dear,” Myla said. “Well, do not worry, Your Royal Highness. Though you may be out of practice at having fun, I am not. Shall we do something unbecoming of our rank?”

“Tempting,” Lysandra said. “But I think I’ll start with dinner first. Hungry?”

“Now that you ask,” Myla said, sitting to the right of Lysandra’s seat. “Who else will be joining us?”

“The usual,” Lysandra said. “I’m not in the mood to make new friends.”

“Oh, but there are so many people out there who want to be friends with the next Empress of Lysander,” Myla said.

“Yes, I know. That’s the problem,” Lysandra said.

Myla raised an eyebrow. “Really? I recall you using your status as heir to attract more than a few pretty girls to your bed.”

Lysandra grinned. “Being a princess does have its perks.”

“As I have seen.” Myla took a long sip from her own wine glass. “Well, it’s good to see you have finally escaped the confines of the palace.”

Lysandra’s meal arrived, a beef-steak, cooked rare, with a side salad. She dined methodically on the savory meat while the rest of her entourage arrived, all young women from the top of Lysander’s nobility. Myla, being their unofficial leader, corralled them as they arrived, allowing Lysandra to eat in peace.

She looked across the table to the royal palace shining in the distance. Uther Solari had placed officers he knew in command of every ship defending Lysander. She was willing to bet he had done the same to the ground forces as well.

With the emperor gone, along with all the officers directly connected to him, Uther Solari was now effectively in control of the planet, all without anyone noticing.

A chill ran through her stomach and spoiled her appetite, but she kept eating so she could avoid her entourage and think without being distracted.

She couldn’t return to the palace; she was lucky she got out at all. If Solari, indeed, planned to launch a coup, then capturing the emperor’s heir to serve as a hostage would be imperative.

She needed to get off-planet and catch up with the invasion fleet, hopefully before they launched their attack on the Free Worlds.

She felt the tablet under her coat. The data she stole would likely contain the route the invasion fleet would take.

Glancing at Lana, Lysandra’s heart sank as she remembered that the head of her protection detail had come from Imperial Intelligence. Royal bodyguards were supposed to be loyal to the emperor himself, but could she really take that chance? No. She would have to give Lana and the rest of the royal protection detail the slip.

Lysandra realized, with a shock of ice-cold fear, how very alone she was. No servants, no bodyguards. She glanced at Myla, who was busy chatting away with the members of her entourage. No, not even her friends.

Lysandra had prepared for this eventuality. Her father had required it of her, for the threat of a coup was omnipresent for a monarch.

She set down her knife and fork. She had to focus. She needed to get away from her bodyguards.

“Excuse me,” Lysandra said, rising from her seat.

“Is everything all right, Lysa?” Myla asked.

“Oh, yes. I just need to use the facilities,” Lysandra said. She set off for the private bathroom reserved specifically for her.

Lana followed, as was her job.

There Lysandra relieved herself since she may as well. Then she washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face to calm her nerves. She should have drank more wine or ordered something stronger. The bathroom had only one way in or out, which made it easy to guard but would make it impossible for her to slip out unnoticed.

She took in several deep breaths, gathering up her courage for what she would have to do.

Stepping from the bathroom, Lysandra fanned the air in front of her face. “Lana, you wouldn’t still have that freshener on you, by any chance? I’m afraid I left a most unladylike odor back in there.”

“Of course, My Lady,” Lana said. She began to dig inside her jacket.

While she was distracted, Lysandra walked around behind Lana and slipped her arm around her neck.

“What—
urk
!” was all Lana got out before Lysandra squeezed the way her hand-to-hand combat instructor had taught her.

“I’m sorry,” Lysandra whispered, kicking Lana in the back of her knee and dragging the struggling woman to the ground. Within seconds, Lana was unconscious.

Lysandra left the limp bodyguard in the bathroom and closed the door. She would have to act fast; Lana wouldn’t be out for long.

She first removed the woman’s gun belt and took a set of plastic cuffs from one of its pouches. She then proceeded to bind Lana’s hands behind her back and her ankles together. With a third cuff, she slashed Lana’s ankles to her wrists.

She also considered gagging Lana but decided against it. Even if she couldn’t trust Lana, she was still fond of her, and the thought of her choking on her gag while she lay bound and helpless horrified Lysandra.

Instead she would just have to hope Lana’s screams wouldn’t carry too far past the private bathroom’s heavy door.

She picked up the gun belt and left the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Hiding around the corner, she checked what she had.

BOOK: Refusing Excalibur

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