On Mission Page 5

  “I hope so.”

  That didn’t sound great. “Okay.” I wanted to believe him, but there was something in his tone. Something I couldn’t identify.

  His grip on my head loosened a little as he pulled back. “Tonight.”

  “Okay,” I said again, because it was the only thing I could say.

  He brushed a quick kiss on my lips, and then turned, nodding to Ashino—his head guard—and Fynea to follow him as he made his exit.

  I closed my eyes. Just for a moment. Just to catch my bearings.

  Lorne had left the room without me. He’d never done that. But now, I was alone with the High Council, and I knew what that meant.

  Did he just leave me in charge?

  Yes. Yes, he totally left me in charge.

  I straightened my shoulders and quickly decided my next move.

  If the choice was to cull the Council or get rid of it, I was totally getting rid of it.

  He’d said I could, but did he mean it?

  Ice it all. I might regret it, but who needed these people?

  Not me, and clearly not Lorne. Because he’d just walked out of here like he planned to never come back.

  Roan had been helping me gather evidence for the past couple of weeks, and we’d made three different plans. Plan A got rid of the worst of the worst in the room—those who were nearly as bad as having a SpaceTech officer on the council. I had suspicions that they’d been leaking information to SpaceTech, but not clear evidence. But what I had was enough for me to get rid of them.

  Plan B was a little deeper dive. It got rid of everyone from Plan A, but then weeded out a few more that had some pretty strong ties to SpaceTech and included a few that had been leaking information to the media.

  Plan B was the one I’d been planning to go with. It felt like it got rid of the worst offenders, but it wouldn’t cause such a stir among the Aunare.

  But I had one more aggressive plan.

  Plan C was the nuke-the-entire-bunch-of-jerks plan. It not only fired all of the members, but it dissolved the council for good. There would no longer be a High Council at all. This was my last resort because there were a few people that I felt could be helpful in the future—the main one being Councilwoman Yneia ni Shanam. She was the council’s chief science advisor and was heading up research on lucole. If she was fired, then getting more information about what SpaceTech could and couldn’t do with lucole might slow while we found someone new.

  Losing her would be unfortunate, but I had no choice. The council was causing all kinds of problems, and keeping it going because of one person didn’t make sense. Not even the science advisor.

  I motioned to Roan, and he got up from his seat at the wall.

  “Plan C,” I said softly to Roan as soon as he was close, and he gave me a nod.

  “You got it,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was sending packets to every media outlet and offering up a very brief interview to Himani to follow before the end of the day. I wanted my information hitting the media before any of them had a chance to say anything.

  The packet Roan was sending out was massive. It had all kinds of proof to back up why each of the council members needed to get gone, along with why this High Council wasn’t needed anymore at all. No one was going to turn this around on me.

  Because I wasn’t going to replace them. I was getting rid of them all.

  Roan nodded at me. “Done.”

  “Excuse me,” one of the council members said. “What’s done?”

  I scanned all of their faces. Most of them already hated me—that didn’t bother me—but now I had to find the words to tell them that they were no longer needed.

  I’d never fired anyone before. This was either going to be fun or a complete disaster.

  Who was I kidding? Of course it was going to be a disaster.

  Chapter Five

  LORNE

  Twenty minutes into my last of the scheduled ally meetings, Fynea interrupted, saying that I had something urgent come up, but that was a lie. I knew from her tone that it was made up, and I knew why.

  I had been beyond testy and all the diplomacy I had left inside me were just wisps of smoke. I wasn’t just bad at my job today. I was botching it horribly.

  What was I even doing anymore?

  I sat at the desk in front of a blank vidscreen, with my elbows on my legs, head in my hands, and I was trying to figure out what I needed to do.

  Everything that I thought up wasn’t good.

  A hand pressed against my back. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know anymore.”

  “My dear friend.” Fynea sounded worried. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you’re a mess.”

  I laughed and sat straight, rubbing a hand down my face. I met Fynea’s clear blue gaze. “You think?”

  “Yes. Truly. What was that?” She motioned to the vidscreen.

  “I don’t even know what I said.”

  She raised a brow at me, giving me a look that told me she was about to give me hell for what I’d just done. “Shall I refresh your memory?”

  I groaned. “No. Please, Goddess. No.” A man could only take so much humiliation.

  “What is going on in that head of yours? You look exhausted. Is something wrong with Amihanna? Is she having nightmares again?”

  “No. She’s been sleeping. As long as I’m with her, she sleeps.” I wasn’t sleeping, but she was.

  The pressure to do the right thing—the best thing—for my people was so hard. I wanted to start the war, attack, fight, but I was battling every instinct I had to make sure I was making the smartest choice possible.

  I couldn’t afford to make a mistake. Mistakes meant that lives were lost, and after what my father had done to us, I had to do better.

  “I’ve been trying—and as you saw today—failing miserably—to get our allies’ support. Which is why I’ve been up all hours taking meetings, making friends, trying to find allies within the people that were already supposed to be supporting us. But it’s hopeless.” I waved a hand at the screen. “It’s all hopeless. We are way outside of the two-day time line since the latest attacks, and I know that I’ve failed for not declaring war when I had the chance. Twice. I can’t turn back the clock. I can’t go back to the day of the attacks, and it’s killing me. I’ve been trying desperately to fix my mistake, and nothing is working. All I’m seeing are dead-ends, and if I don’t do the right thing, I’ll be just as bad a High King as my father was.”

  “First off, that’s not true.”

  I started to argue against that, but Fynea put her hand up, cutting me off.

  “It’s my turn now,” she said as soon as I was quiet. “So, you didn’t declare war in the right time frame—we can’t change that now—and let’s assume the allies never come around because honestly, Lorne, it’s a waste of time.”

  She was right. I hated it, but she was right.

  “Given those two facts, what is the next best move we can make?”

  “I’m not sure. That’s the problem. I know we can’t keep waiting for another attack to happen so that we can rightfully declare war. We’re going to have to act soon, even if it means going against our alliance. But then there’s one more option. One that could lessen the war. Possibly.” It was the one giving me the most grief. I kept circling back to it, and yet, it felt was wrong.

  “What is it?”

  I hadn’t said it aloud to anyone, not even to Rysden, but it was time to really talk about it. Fynea had been a dear friend of mine for a long time, but she also had a unique perspective from her work with me, from her time as a royal guard, and from the fact that she, too, was royalty.

  I looked at her so that I could see her true feelings before she covered it up with any niceties. “If we say screw the alliance and go straight to the center of SpaceTech’s holdings on Earth, then we could possibly end the war before it starts.”

  Her eyes widened and she was quiet for a moment as she
considered. I could almost see her thinking it through, and I was grateful for it. I wanted nothing but her honest thoughts.

  “Yes. I love it.” She leaned closer to me, and I saw the fight in her eyes. She was ready to join us on Earth. “Why in bloody beyond aren’t we doing that?”

  There were a lot of reasons why we shouldn’t. Breaking the alliance was one. Another was that by going there, we’d possibly harm and kill innocent citizens, which makes us just as bad as SpaceTech. I also didn’t like that it felt vengeful. This was war, not my vendetta against the Murtaghs because of what they’d done to Amihanna and the rest of our people on Earth. If I played this personally, then yes, going to Earth would be my move. But I was the High King. I had to do better.

  And yet, none of those reasons were strong enough to stop me from acting on my instinct. Something else entirely was doing that. “You were there for the interview. You saw what I saw on the clips she played for Himani. I can’t force Amihanna to go back to Earth. I can’t imagine how horrific that would be for her. She survived so much to get away from there, and to ask her to go back with me… I might eventually have to do just that, but I can’t bring myself to even talk to her about it. Not yet.”

  The interview Amihanna gave to Himani weeks ago had shown me things I couldn’t unsee or unknow, and I wasn’t glad I knew them. But I needed to know them. Amihanna showed us the horrors that she had endured, the things she’d seen, the things she had to overcome. And it wasn’t just her horrors. It was every Aunare living under SpaceTech rule.

  I no longer had to wonder about the cause of the years of terror I’d felt from her, across millions of light-years. I remembered her fear, and I finally understood. With that understanding came the painful awareness of how epically I’d failed her.

  I should have saved her, I should’ve fought harder to get back to Earth, I should’ve done so many things, but I hadn’t done anything. I liked to blame Declan—my dearest friend, the man who was like a brother to me—for Amihanna’s time on Abaddon, but if I were being honest with myself, then I had to acknowledge that what I’d done was worse.

  I’d abandoned her on Earth.

  Maybe if I’d gone back with Rysden even once, I could’ve found her. I was her shalshasa. I had to believe that I would’ve found her.

  My skin brightened, and I breathed deep to keep control, because this time I would save Amihanna. Every day. I would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

  Taking her back to Earth now would be cruel.

  “I’ve been trying to find a way around it. Around all of it. The alliance. Our allies. The rules of engagement. War. But now SpaceTech is moving against us again, and I haven’t acted. It will be my fault if—”

  “Why haven’t you talked to Amihanna about going back to Earth? Because I have a feeling a lot of your hesitation comes from her past, and if that’s the case, she should get to have a say in it.”

  “No.” I’d done enough harm to her with my inaction for so many years. “No. I can’t risk bringing all of that back to her. She’s just getting better, and I want her to have the time to—”

  “She didn’t play that footage to upset you.” Fynea crossed her arms and gave me her you-better-pay-attention look. “She’s never said that she wouldn’t go back and fight on Earth. I’m pretty sure that the only thing she was trying to do during her interview was get through to the Aunare who didn’t understand her. And it worked. It was an insane idea, but it worked. She’s a little bit of a genius.”

  She was. She’d made everyone see, and I wasn’t going to add even the smallest bit of guilt because it had hurt me to watch it.

  So, I’d swallowed down the pieces of my broken heart—because it shattered seeing what had happened to her, to the Aunare—but shoving down the sharp pieces were shredding my soul.

  “No. She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need to talk it through with me. That would be cruel.”

  “No, it’s not. I doubt she’d even mind. She’s your shalshasa. I’m sure she already knows something is wrong with you. Talk to her.”

  “No.” I saw something in Fynea’s gaze, and it looked like pity. I needed it gone. “And you’ll not tell her of this conversation.”

  “Fine, but as your friend, I have to say that this is a massive mistake. You’re being a stubborn idiot because Amihanna is your match in every way. By not talking to her, you’re not trusting her.” She paused. “Did you know she completely dissolved the High Council when you left?”

  Wow.

  Wow.

  I wasn’t sure if she’d actually do it, and now that she had, I was filled with pride. My bright skin started to dim a little, and I felt so much calmer knowing that she’d actually done it.

  I don’t know why it surprised me—nothing should surprise me about her anymore—but she always did the unexpected. It was one of the many reasons why I loved her.

  “How did she do it?”

  Fynea grinned. “Like she does everything else—epically. She even sent a release to the media before she began dismissing them. You should see the packet she put together. She must’ve been working on it for weeks, and she’s even given Himani a short interview. It’s only a couple minutes long at most, but still. Your girl is becoming a true queen.”

  Either Rysden and Jesmesha were wrong, or a few weeks had been ample time for Amihanna to become a politician. Because she didn’t need any more time to learn how to be the High Queen. In that one act, with all that planning, she’d proven that she already was the High Queen. All we needed now was the ceremony.

  Fynea looked at me, and I knew whatever she said next, she was going to gloat about being right about something. “The ex-councillors are all vying for media time, but Himani was the one who gave the first few interviews. Instead of letting the ex-councillors tell their story, he asked them about the document Amihanna sent out. It set the tone for every other interview on every outlet.”

  “Good.” That was better than I’d hoped.

  “What’s better is that a few of the former members refused to leave the council room. The media got some fantastic images of them being escorted out of the estate. One slipped. One was dragged. It was brilliant.” Fynea grinned at me. “And I say again, your betrothed is a genius.”

  “Agreed.” I couldn’t help but laugh. It was such a weight lifted that I couldn’t quite process it. “Well, that went much better than expected.”

  “Indeed. I couldn’t have planned it better.” That was a big compliment coming from Fynea. She tapped on her wrist unit. “Amihanna’s in the gym right now. I’m sure she’s got plenty of energy to work off from dissolving the High Council and dealing with the media. Go to her. Talk to her.”

  I rose from my chair because that’s what I wanted to do, but then I turned back to the vidscreen. I was pretty sure I had another meeting soon.

  “Go,” Fynea said without looking up from her wrist unit. “I’m cancelling everything. If something urgent comes up, I’ll come grab you.”

  I wanted to argue that these meetings were important, but they weren’t. None of them would change anything. “Thank you.”

  “It’s my job as your assistant, as your friend, to make sure you’re getting what you need. And tomorrow, I’m blocking out your evening.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes. I’m working it out with Roan. You two are getting a night off.”

  A night off?

  I hadn’t had a night off in… It felt like ages but I knew it hadn’t been that long. I glanced at my tablet on the desk, but I stopped myself from grabbing it.

  Fynea was right. I needed time with Amihanna, and I had to talk to her about Earth. It was the most important thing right now.

  I left before I could change my mind. I barely noticed my guards falling into place with me. I let my body move me through the hallways. I didn’t need to focus to know where I was in the estate. It’d been my home for so long that I didn’t need sight to guide me. The walls faded as I moved, and I t
ried to push away all the responsibilities.

  I thought I knew what I was getting into, but being the Aunare High King had been harder than I expected. I had so much work—so many calls and messages and everything else—that I didn’t feel like I had time for myself. I barely even had time to sleep or eat or breathe, which meant I shouldn’t take this time to seek out Amihanna. But I had to.

  I was barely hanging on.

  Fynea was right. I really needed to talk to Amihanna. Every time I refused to act against SpaceTech I could see her pull away from me a little bit more.

  I had to fix this.

  I could fix this.

  When I did, I would be better at my job because I would be focused instead of worrying about her and how my actions could affect her.

  I’d find a way to fix all of this without hurting her.

  Chapter Six

  LORNE

  I nodded at four of Ami’s guards that stood in the hallway in front of the gym doors. They pressed their fists to their hearts, bowing.

  I gave the signal to Ashino for the guards to split up. Some would stay out here, and Ashino plus three more would follow me.

  I stepped inside the gym, and all I could see was Amihanna. She was moving so impossibly fast.

  Her whole team attacked her with practice faksano sticks in their hands. She spun and flipped and ran to keep out of reach.

  She was working hard, but she wasn’t glowing. Which was odd. She moved fast—too fast for her skin not to be bright. When was she going to start pulling power and using it?

  Click, clack, clack.

  Click, clack, clack.

  Click, clack, snap.

  One by one, she whacked her guards on the arm, signaling they’d lost. I wanted to warm up and jump into the fight, but instead, I moved to the stands and sat in the front row. A moment later, Rysden sat next to me.

  “Everything all right?” I asked him. He should’ve been too busy coordinating our next move to be here.