Steel Dominance (7 page)

“Dangers? Here? That depends on our luck, forethought, and abilities.”

“All that?”

“Yes. The zealots are a minor problem. They’re a group of people who dislike the way the Qu’ran and the Bible fight it out here and yet also intermingle. Some zealots want Christianity. Some are for Islam. Most in the city don’t care for doing anything worse than verbally arguing their point on religion. The dangers are more from the Byzantine court intrigue. The emperor-bey panders to both sides. The Heraklos family wants his throne and are also happy to keep things running the same way as long as they can get hold of the reins.”

She nodded. “I’d heard that. And the Ottoman siege isn’t changing either?”

“No. There’s no indication of new trouble, apart from the assassination a few months ago. Money talks here, as it does anywhere, and business doesn’t want real war. So you’re safe as long as we keep quiet your search for the secret of this tomb.” He raised an eyebrow. “I assume there is some power to be gained from the tomb.”

“Yes. My research indicates that. So, if I am careful and we play our roles well, I will be safe?”

So sure of herself all of a sudden?
He tweaked the curl of hair.

“Ow!”

“Safe from the Heraklos perhaps, but”—he moved over, cornered her, and took her chin between finger and thumb—“not from me.”

She did nothing. Her chest stopped moving, as if she waited to see what he’d do next.

So he lowered his head, watching her eyes and the dilation of her pupils as he did so, and kissed her sweet plump lips. Her gasp as he touched her mouth and nudged her lips apart made lust surge forth. He used his tongue to open her more, then slowly increased the force until her neck bowed back and she was caught between him and the seat. The curl wound around his finger made a nice anchor. His other hand he placed on her breast to circle the bump of her hardening nipple.

At last he lifted away and studied her. Eyes shut, and her mouth swollen, open, and panting. Her breasts rose and fell delightfully. He couldn’t resist cupping one and stroking his thumb across to feel the heaviness.

“Sofia.” Her name rolled from his tongue like a clear ocean wave—precious and pretty. He’d never thought a name could thrill him so much. “Don’t forget how to say yes.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Hmm? That was cheating,” she said huskily.

The hair sprang from his finger in a coil. He tucked it into the mass of her hair, then rested his head beside hers and spoke. The words came out softly in the intimate space between them, as if they exchanged some secret avowal. “Not cheating. I just wanted to sample the wares before I bought them.”

“Oh! You—”

“Shh.” He put a finger across her bruised lips. “We’re here. At court. Be good.”

Seeing her swallow and compose herself so she could pretend to be his slave was somehow pleasing. He liked her both ways—as a feisty beautiful goddess and as a subservient slave. Strange.

His finger still rested on her lips.

He’d never been interested in doing anything in public with Kirsten despite her pleas, yet with Sofia, especially after seeing how she’d reacted earlier with another man watching, he could imagine himself taking this so much further.

“Answer me this, dear Sofia. Are you the sort of woman who says yes when she means no? Or no when she means yes? This is important, so take your time to answer.” He glided his finger around in a slow, serpentine movement that brushed her lip, then her chin only to return again. She half closed her eyes.

The engine of the limousine had switched off, but the driver would wait until Dankyo signaled.

“No. Yes means yes. No means no.”

When her tongue tip darted from between her lips, he brushed it and felt the moisture cool on his skin.

“Good.” Then he slowly moved his finger downward, trailing over her throat, then lightly across the cloth around both nipples, and down farther to traverse her belly button and trace a circle around and around the edge of it while he watched her face. Only whisper-fine silk separated his fingertip from her bare flesh.

When he went to go lower, she grasped his wrist and said firmly. “No. Please.”

There was lust yet also determination in her gaze.

He took away his hand and pulled her clothes into place. “Time to meet the emperor-bey.” He’d let her have this extra day to think. To ache. She would be dying for release after that.

He’d always liked hunting, and Sofia was the most delicious prey he’d ever sought.

Chapter Six

Her blood was still knocking rapidly in her veins when she stepped out after Dankyo. One advantage of playing the slave was the view of his back. Big, broad, sexy. The way he’d looked at her in the car from inches away…after he’d kissed her. Her lips remembered how that had been. Dankyo of House Kevonis wanted her.

Little me—who’s never done anything more exciting than study too late at the university library
. Half of her was ready to dissolve at his feet. The other half was appalled that she’d even think it. Bad, scandalous, maybe even promiscuous, were all labels that might fit.

This is not the path I planned
. Father, and her brothers, Louis and Hector, would be disgusted. Her brothers liked to pretend the same outrage as her father. It was hard being the eldest girl, especially when all the men in the house thought you should be either making money being yet another shopkeeper, or married to someone solid.

Was Dankyo solid? Perhaps, on the outside, but even her pretending to be his slave would give her father a heart attack. Not that she cared what he thought anymore. Being told your father has washed his hands of you tended to do that. Galling, but she’d tucked it away, and it no longer hurt like it had once.

A stray thought popped into her head, and she almost smiled. Mother would wink and ask what Dankyo looked like naked.

“Come.” He motioned her forward.

The limousine had been drawn up beneath a broad roof big enough for a train station. Guards were everywhere in their antiquated but eye-catching chain mail and leather. Teamed with modern firearms, it made for a quaint look. Another group of people were ahead and being allowed through the double timber doors set into the wall of stone. A guard near them unslung his FREN rifle. She admired it. The gun would look good on the wall of her dorm room along with her Bedouin musket and sword.

Her subconscious poked out its nose and jolted her. The men, the maintenance men—the miniscule bulges under the overalls, the glimpse of shapes within the bags—the outlines came together in her mind like a jigsaw floating into being.
Weapons
. Her attention snapped back to Dankyo.

“Wait. Wait!”

He half turned. “What? You look pale.”

“Please believe this.” She talked staring at the ground, hoping no one thought she was being forward for a slave. “I have this…this thing I do. I solve puzzles. I see things others don’t, and they fit together in my head.”

He grunted. “Yes, I gathered this. Go on.”

“The maintenance men, at the airship, they were carrying weapons. Lots and lots.” When he looked skeptical, she bit her lip but then hurried on. “Please. I know this. Do you think it means something bad?”

She watched him from beneath her brow.

Nothing of Dankyo moved as he studied her for a long while. “Yes. If true, then yes. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I didn’t
know
.” Helpless to explain further, she pleaded with her eyes.

“Okay.”

He swiveled on his heel, went to the nearest guard, and had a terse conversation. The guard hurried away, and Dankyo returned to her. He shielded her with his body and spoke quietly.

“There’s too many people close, so listen but don’t reply. I’ve done what I could. They’ll send out some soldiers to check. From what I saw of Sten, if they were enemies, he’ll stand a good chance of besting them. Now, put this out of your mind.” He flexed his knees and bent down to whisper even softer. “I need you totally steady. When I hear more, I’ll say. Okay?” He looked in her eyes.

Forget what might be happening to those on the airship? To Sten, when he seemed so nice? Hard to do. Yet an idea hammered at her—Dankyo trusted her? Not many would have paid attention to her flimsy facts. Her heart seemed glow with warmth. She nodded and smiled.

“Good. You’re next. They want to put you to the sniff test.” Dankyo twitched his eyebrows upward. “Stand still.”

The what test?

A guard led forward a rotund clockwork creature like an anteater made from metal and wood. The creature unrolled its segmented nose and probed her all over, sniffing loudly as it went, sometimes suctioning the fine material to its snout. She jumped when it ventured too close to her crotch, and the guard chuckled.

“A sensitive one,” he said in Greek. But he called back the clockwork sniffer. “Done. Not many places to hide weapons and poisons on her, is there, sir? You’re clear.”

A distant series of booms made Sofia flinch again. The guard looked upward, then shrugged. “The Tuesday propaganda bombardment. You’ll get used to it. We’ll be scrubbing walls and stomping the clockies tomorrow. You may go.”

“Thank you.” Dankyo strolled on.

The palace of the emperor-bey was a maze of buildings and open gardens, promenades and water areas. Successive terraces led onward and upward. By the time they reached the portico of the Decagon, with the curved dome above and ochre walls below, Sofia was thirsty and tired, her feet were aching, and a fleet of ravenous bugs were whining about her ears. The orange sun at their backs was split by the horizon.

A soft-faced, plushly dressed vizier, a man with a voltaic trumpet, and a bevy of guards followed them into the foyer of the audience chamber. Here they were announced, examined again for armaments, and finally chivied between double gold doors. Another party, all men in Ottoman dress, arrived in the foyer as they left it.

At the end of the opulent room, past a double array of guards, was the Emperor-Bey Constantin XXV. He sat on his throne dressed in white silks and a gold brocade coat. A boy servant beckoned them and announced Dankyo. Being supposed a slave, she was ignored.

The trumpet blared as they approached the emperor-bey. Lean and alert in appearance, his black curls framed a smooth, pale face seemingly unmarked by more than twenty-five years—except she knew he was nineteen. Being the emperor-bey had taken its toll.

With Dankyo, she knelt, listening as he spoke.

“Your Serenity.”

“Dankyo of House Kevonis, you are welcome in my country.” While he spoke, the chamber was clearing of people. All methodically filed out save for the emperor-bey, the vizier, and two nearby guards—one man, one woman. Both guards were in immaculate polished armor, helmet, mail, and black leather with the saint and halo logo engraved on their breastplates.

When the room was settled again, the emperor-bey waved at Sofia and Dankyo. “Pray, have some wine and honeyed pastries. These are trusted people. There is no need for pretense here, Miss White.” Then he added, chuckling softly, while his gaze drifted from one of them to the other. “Come into my parlor, said the spider to the flies. I love your jokes. I give you leave to speak freely in my presence.”

Sofia noted they weren’t given leave to rise. But eating and sipping wine while on her knees gave her feet a rest, and she happily munched on a pastry and drank as Dankyo gave thanks for their invitation and a million other boring things.

“Of course,” the emperor-bey said abruptly. “Your thanks are accepted. Though I no longer need you to help organize the palace security or to find traitors. In compensation for your travels I will allow you to assist your countryman, Henry, in his delivery of arms for my soldiers. I believe he is being well paid by your government. The other matter—Miss White, would you like to see the tomb?”

She gulped a mouthful of pastry and set her glass aside. “Yes, Your Serenity.” Her sore muscles revived at the thought of finally seeing the tomb.

“Then tomorrow you shall do so. May I say how surprised I am, Miss White, at your appearance. Your beauty astonishes me. Dressed as you are, there can be no mistake. Your hand.” He smiled and reached toward her.

Is he flirting? My hand? Oh
. She offered the back of her hand, and he drew it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

“But first, you and Dankyo have a dinner to attend tonight at the house of Dimitri Heraklos. You must establish yourself as being, to their suspicious eyes and ears, a true slave before I will risk allowing you to enter the harem. My vizier will direct you to a place of refreshment so you may both bathe and make ready.

“I dismiss you.” He clapped his hands, and servants ran into the room from somewhere behind the throne area. Seconds later, the double doors opened, and the guards and other attendants returned, silent except for the scuffing of their shoes on the tiled floor.

What? They were going to a public dinner with his enemies? Now? Tonight? A whole field of butterflies swarmed, fluttering frantically, into her stomach.

Without a single protest, Dankyo bowed his head. “Thank you, Your Serenity.”

Even as she too bowed, thoughts scampered screaming through her mind.
But, but, but… Stop. No!

Yet there was nothing she could do. When an emperor said do this, you did. Maybe her head wouldn’t roll, but clearly she’d never get into the tomb if she refused.

She had to pretend to be Dankyo’s slave in front of the emperor-bey’s direst enemies. Being this up close and personal with them was not on her plan for Byzantium. She rarely swore, but now seemed a great time for it.

She sighed and let her shoulders droop.
How hard can this be? I’ll just be very humble. I can do that, can’t I?

As long as they didn’t make her kiss Dankyo’s feet, she could do this.

Ugh. Note to self. Make sure he cleans his feet really, really well.

As they were escorted away, Sofia heard the emperor-bey speak. “Bring Helena and Josephine to the Octagon bedchamber. I have need of their ministrations.”