The next morning their ship limped along under half power while the crew worked to fix damage to the hyperdrive.
Power remained down in the damaged sections, and with their wing off limits, crew quarters were tight among the octet. Kayla stayed with Isonde, a situation that pleased neither of them, but made the most sense considering they’d be sharing the small apartment allocated to them at the Empress Game soon enough.
Not only was Kayla now subjected to Isonde’s haughty disdain on an hourly basis, but she had nowhere to hide when the etiquette lessons began. Kayla came back from that morning’s training session to find Isonde seated in the cabin’s lounge area, apparently waiting for her.
Fantastic.
“We need to discuss the role you’ll be playing at the Game beyond the tournament itself,” Isonde said, her gaze sweeping over Kayla’s sweaty form as if cataloguing her faults.
“Can I shower first, at least?” Kayla asked. She walked off without waiting for a reply.
Isonde was sitting in the same spot when Kayla returned. The princess looked perfectly composed, sitting at ease without looking too stiff or too casual. Must be a royal talent of hers, that poise.
“As Lady Evelyn, you’ll be moving in some exalted circles, representing Piran while under a microscope. I need to know you can get on in such company without embarrassing yourself.” Isonde’s tone made it sound unlikely.
“If you’re going to tell me which fork goes on which side of the plate, I’m out of here.”
“I wasn’t aware pit whores used forks,” Isonde countered, in a perfectly civil tone.
So, the princess had claws. Kayla smirked. “I usually prefer to shovel food into my mouth bare-handed, but I suppose I could make an exception for the Game.”
Isonde was too well-mannered to roll her eyes, but Kayla sensed the impulse wasn’t far off. “Sit.”
Kayla hadn’t needed one gram of her royal court manners while on Altair Tri, but she was an Ordochian princess, and etiquette was bred in the bone. She sank into a seat opposite Isonde with perfect posture and schooled her features into an expression of bland politeness.
Isonde raised a brow. “Not bad.”
“Do your worst.” And so began her lessons on the social aspects of her charade as Lady Evelyn—in minute, excruciating detail. Isonde was an exacting instructor, annoyingly patient and obsessively thorough. Kayla took great pleasure in surprising the look of superiority right off Isonde’s face as often as possible.
The days fell into a pattern after that.
In the remaining week of their journey, Kayla focused all her energy on training, polishing her schmoozing skills, memorizing the names and faces of the empire’s leaders and studying their politics.
Somewhere along the way Trinan and Vid had become Corinth’s unofficial bodyguards. The two seemed to have bonded with her il’haar and spent most of their time with him. Much like Rigger, who visited in her free time, they kept up a steady stream of chat, including Corinth in the conversation without expecting a reply. They never questioned him directly, they never pressured him or made him uncomfortable, they merely… talked.
Corinth loved it.
He convinced Kayla to let him bunk down with the agents in their makeshift quarters beside Isonde’s. The men promised her he would be safe. Corinth echoed their assurance, and conveyed to her the protective feelings coming from Trinan and Vid. It was hard for her to argue with two impressive bodyguards, especially when she had so much else to focus on.
The IDC agents brought Corinth with them to the rec room while they sparred and worked out, and he was already starting to hero-worship them. The animation on his face, the engaged way he listened to the men, filled her heart to see. He looked alive. Alive in a way he hadn’t since they’d escaped Ordoch. It eased her mind, and for the first time in five years she was relieved of her constant fear for his safety.
While the guys sparred among themselves, Malkor became her training partner. Their sessions, sometimes three a day, were more intense than anything she’d experienced since leaving Ordoch. It was exhausting in the best of ways. He pushed her limits, forcing her to develop tactics she’d never employed before and find new ways to handle larger opponents.
He learned from her as well, and he was a quick study. They’d taken to hanging around after a session to discuss the tactics of the day, what worked, what didn’t, and why. Long after the others filtered out, when Corinth assured her he was fine and was off to tinker with the ship’s damage with Rigger for the afternoon, she and Malkor would sit and talk while the sweat cooled on their bodies. His analysis of fighting was impressive, their talk easy and natural.
Kayla sat with him now after a particularly fierce workout, each stretching tender muscles in silence. Across the length of the rec room Janeen heckled Trinan and Vid, much to Corinth’s delight. The woman seemed friendly enough with the rest of the octet, but Kayla had had enough of her sour looks. Kayla felt oddly competitive with the woman, driven to prove that she was the better choice even though Malkor had already rejected Janeen. She trained harder and spent that much more time studying imperial politics.
::Kay?:: Corinth brushed against her shields. She dropped them just enough to allow him into her most conscious mind. She bent her right leg into her body and pretended to concentrate on stretching over her left.
::You were fierce today.::
She hid a smile at his pride. Am I not fierce every day?
::Especially today! He didn’t hurt you though, did he?:: She felt his intention to explore the rest of her body for injury. She held him in place, only allowing him access to her thoughts.
Never.
::Rigger’s going to check the progress the tech team is making on the engines and she said I could come along. After some lunch. Is it all right if I go?::
She hated being away from him, but the alternative was locking him in their room like a prisoner.
You still feel safe with them?
::Trinan thinks I need more meat on my bones and plans to feed me a shuttle’s worth of food when we get back, and Vid is trying to think of a way to get me to try some exercise without pressuring me.:: The surprised and delighted feel of his mental voice came through. Five years with no one to talk to besides her, no one else looking after him, taking an interest in him. No wonder the agents fascinated him.
You call for me the nanosecond you need me. Before that, if you even think you might need me. I’ll come running.
::I know you will.:: He swirled in her head, his mental hug, and withdrew as the agents packed up to leave.
How much trouble could he get into on a ship this size? She reasoned against her anxiety. He waved as they filed out, and Janeen was the last to go. It looked like she might hang around, watching Kayla and Malkor with that poorly hidden frown, but Trinan jibed her for slowing them down and she headed out, hobbled by her healing ankle.
The room settled into silence.
“We should be arriving in Falanar’s orbit by tomorrow night,” Malkor said, breaking the calm between them.
“So it begins then, the charade?”
“I’m afraid so. These are your last hours as Shadow Panthe.” He searched her face as if looking for a reaction.
Unexpected fear rose up. Shadow Panthe—the hated persona, the comforting disguise. The lifting should have been a relief, and it was, but she had worn the mantle so long. It had kept them safe until now. One mask ripped off to assume another. Was it opaque enough? Could she shield her il’haar beneath it? Could she stand the weight of it?
“I’m ready.” She would have to be.
She gained confidence from the certainty of his expression. He thought she could do this. Or at least, he didn’t consider the plan a total failure before it began.
“And we are agreed, Corinth will stay with Trinan and Vid for the most part, positioned as a refugee from one of our latest missions?”
That had been hardest to decide. Her role as Isonde’s attendant would leave her little time to watch over Corinth. In her absence, he was safest with the two agents and she had no one else she could trust him to. She couldn’t take him everywhere she went, and leaving him on the starcruiser, out of her grasp, hadn’t been acceptable even before it had been damaged. In the end, this was her only choice.
“Yes, provided I get to see him often.”
Malkor chuckled. “I doubt anyone could stop you.”
“What of you and the octet, once we land?”
“I’ll be with you. At least, as much as possible.” He shifted his weight. “I’m not leaving you alone in this.”
The words gave her an odd sense of relief. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I brought you into this mad scheme. What kind of man would I be if I abandoned you to it?”
Malkor might be IDC, but she trusted him on a superficial level. More than anyone else on this ship, and certainly more than anyone on Falanar. She could use his analysis of opponents’ techniques in the fighting to come. That and… it was perversely pleasurable to have someone—anyone—to talk to again. Someone who spoke out loud, who occasionally offered a wry chuckle. Someone with a sarcastic tongue who could give as good as he caught.
“My octet has duties during the Game, mostly of the diplomatic sort. Facilitating relations between visiting dignitaries, playing host to all of our foreign contacts, and of course, validating the ID of every Empress Game participant.”
“A full schedule.”
“I’ll make time. It’s not… unusual, for me to be seen in Isonde’s company.” He glanced away. “She and I… Ardin, Isonde and I grew up at the emperor’s court, for the most part. Her uncle and my father both sit on the Sovereign Council, and we spent the majority of our time on Falanar. It will not seem odd for me to visit with you and her.”
“Just how familiar are the two of you?” She could tell her question put an end to their post-sparring closeness.
“Why were you hiding on Altair Tri?” he asked instead of answering.
“We’re back to that, I see.”
“Always.” And she was back to hiding. As always.
“You’ll not get an answer from me.” Despite the distance now between them she wanted to stay, try to reclaim the few minutes of closeness she got to share with anyone. Instead she forced herself to stand. “Don’t waste your time. Or mine.”