He surprises me with a kiss, but I roll with it. Surprising how real his lips feel against mine, how natural the hair between my fingers. He is a good mimic; his mouth presses with authority. It’s not a deep kiss, but convincing enough for our purposes. The driver is watching through the small gap in the security panel. When the vehicle stops, we break apart.
Vel guides me out of the aircar. “Come, my sweet.”
Right. The chauffeur will tell the rest of the household that we couldn’t keep our hands off each other on the way back. The staff has to think he’s insatiable since we’re in his bedroom all the time. But there’s nowhere else to talk, here.
“Is the kissing weird for you?” I ask, once the door closes and locks behind us.
“In what regard?”
“Does it feel abnormal?”
“It is not natural to my people, so in that respect, yes.”
“On Gehenna, you said when you kissed Adele, you felt nothing but pressure.”
He nods. “There are no nerve endings in the faux-skin.”
This isn’t relevant, so I shut down my curiosity and move on. “What did you want to talk about?”
“What Leviter proposed…can you do it?”
“I think he was into Mishani at the party. It’s not a question of whether I can.”
“But you don’t want to.”
“It just…it seems wrong to make him fall in love with me, then beg him to save me from you. The kid’s here because he fell for the wrong person once already.”
“For Leviter’s plan to work, he must believe joining the resistance is the only way to keep you safe,” Vel says. “And he must be willing to do anything for you.”
“Yeah, that’s the part that bothers me.”
Vel may be able to get access to the information on his own. In time. But using Gaius as my cat’s-paw will get the job done more efficiently. Leviter is known for such strategies. He isn’t overly burdened with human empathy though his relationship with Tarn attests to the fact that he’s not without emotion entirely.
Vel studies me. “Your call.”
He won’t make me do this. If I ruin this kid’s life and break his heart, it’s on me. Then I recall the La’hengrin starving in the provinces, “protected” by those who haven’t lifted a finger for their welfare in fifty turns. My resolve firms. Yes, I’ll sacrifice one for many.
This is war.
CHAPTER 41
It’s easy to fall into a routine.
To forget the people you haven’t seen for a while.
A month after my transformation, I realize I have no idea what the squad is doing, if they’re safe, or if the mission—whatever it is—has been successful. That makes me feel like a traitor to the cause. I’m here in this fine house, plenty to eat, while they suffer. I’ve forgotten that Timmon is dead. Eller is gone as well, and the memory hits me like a punch to the gut. Surely it’s not normal to adapt as fast as I do. But frag, when did I ever claim to be? Whatever, I have a job to do. If there’s guilt to be dealt with, I’ll ball it up and look at it later.
Today, I have my fifth meeting with Gaius. I ran into him by “coincidence” at a restaurant a few weeks back, after extensive research on his habits. I was careful not to offer too much or commit to anything. He has to believe that I’m being systematically abused…and that I’m too downtrodden to orchestrate my own rescue. If the boy has any chivalrous instincts, they’ll go crazy this afternoon.
I close my eyes, so I don’t accidentally dodge the blow. But it doesn’t come. “Go on, hit me.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“It’s part of the job description. Believe me, I can tell the difference. It’s the legate, hitting Mishani.”
When the blow lands, I’m glad I’ve never pissed Vel off. Not that he ever punched me…not even when he was hunting me. Still, my ears ring, and I see stars. I taste blood. My lip is already swelling, broken against my teeth. He had to do it right before the meeting, or my nanites will obviate the damage. Gaius needs to see that my situation is getting worse—that the legate’s violence has escalated.
“Thanks,” I say with a distinct lisp. “I’m on my way, then.”
This time, I “sneak” out of the town house, avoiding the legate’s aircar. Public transport carries me to the plaza, where I meet Gaius. En route, another young man watches me with a furrow of concern. He wears a uniform, which makes him a centurion, but he doesn’t look old enough to have served ten turns on Nicu Tertius. That means he’s a legacy, somebody’s child born on La’heng, and his father is sufficiently well connected to get him hired on without any test of skill.
There’s not a lot he can do without my permission, so he sits back. I disembark a short time later, and by the time I reach the rendezvous point, the blow looks a day old; my lip has scabbed over, and the soreness dissipates somewhat. Shit, if he’s late, I’ll miss my—
“Mishani.” There he is, right on time. He’s taken care with his appearance; freshly shaved, dark hair waving down to his collar, he looks every inch the important young nobleman. When I turn, his breath catches. He takes my hands with an impetuosity he’s restrained to this point.
After a moment of silent observation, he asks, “Are you all right?”
“Yes, fine.” I don’t meet his gaze.
“What happened?”
I offer an uncertain smile. “Things are not going as well as he wishes.”
“What does that have to do with you?” he demands.
“When he’s in a bad mood, I annoy him. It’s not his fault.”
“No man worth the name should ever treat a woman thus.” He’s quietly furious. With gentle hands, he touches my swollen mouth.
I can see in his boyish features that he’s totally enamored of the beautiful victim Mishani appears to be. She’s everything a nascent hero needs to feel worthwhile.