All right, maybe it wasn't the best way to start off a conversation. He's given strange orders before, but this… David Lysis battled panic. "But, Sire, I can't just—just—"
"I have the utmost faith in you." The hologram of Emperor Desslok flickered. "You fought at my side when others cowered. You aided me in bringing hope to a world shrouded in despair. You can accomplish this task."
David rubbed tired eyes. Dirty dishes littered his table—placed conveniently out of the Emperor's sight—and a pile of unfolded laundry sprawled over one end of the couch. A red dot blinked beside the Emperor's face—one hundred unread personal messages clogged his inbox, and four unfinished mission reports loitered below the message notification. "I've never—I don't know—I'm not qualified."
Emperor Desslok didn't waver. "Every resource, and all information regarding this task is yours, General Lysis. Potential failure must not dissuade you, for no matter how inadequate you perceive yourself to be, I have chosen you. Remember that. Use this foray tonight to gather as much information as possible. Upon your return, report to Prime Minister Talan."
David's stomach grumbled, dinner time long passed. Half an energy bar crumbled in the uniform pocket he'd shoved it into thirty seconds ago to answer the Emperor's call. "Yes… Sire…" He bowed as Desslok ended the call. Seventeen years, and still I don't understand everything he does.
He waved a window-pane clear. Here, twenty floors up the palace tower, the capitol's lights dimmed enough to reveal the brightest stars. The winked at him, worriless.
David trudged from living area to bedroom. He rummaged through the disorganized wardrobe in the dark and tossed his darkest shirt on the bed. How am I supposed to—He snorted. This is insane. Under the window, in a wrinkled heap, he found matching pants.
His communicator chimed, and David opened a transferred file labeled "Restricted." The tunnels under the city. I thought Desslok sealed those to anyone without high-level security credentials. He traced the main passage with an unsteady finger as the image shed faint light on his unmade bed. Didn't realize they ran so close to the palace.
A spot near the center of the network blinked. That's near one of the old labor camps—from the Bolar occupation. Why would the Reshali meet there? And how did Desslok get this information? Inside informants? Scouts? Black-market trades?
David put the map away and checked his gun's charge. Nearly full.
He compared the new clothes beside his old ones. Not as much contrast with these. He checked his hand beside the darker clothes—a deep blue gray. I suppose there is something to be said for blue skin. Harder to spot in the dark. He sniffed the shirt. Better toss this in the laundry afterward.
He changed. The energy bar in his uniform pocket bounced onto the bed. David grabbed it and stuffed the other half in his mouth. Two seconds of chewing later, he coughed it down and hurried out of his apartment.
The palace halls echoed, empty except for the night guard.
Soft, yellow lamps lit the way down a gently sloped ramp to an elevator landing just past the next two suites.
Every floor David passed on the way to the palace's secondary, below-ground exit brought another wave of unease. Just a scouting trip. I don't have to do anything yet, he repeated to himself at least two dozen times before he entered the underground hangars surrounding the palace.
Night crews crawled the area servicing giant multi-deck carriers and at least twenty destroyers. One group had half a gunship gutted and were tinkering with its engine. Several thousand tiny parts littered the ground and filled two hover carts. Two men and a woman sorted both piles into smaller bins on the floor. Each click and clank ground his nerves, and the odor of fuel permeated everything.
All those pieces… One wrong placement, and—He focused on his destination. What have you thrown me into this time, Desslok?
David checked the time. After midnight already. He hurried through the rest of the docks.
When he found the hidden entrance to the tunnel network—exactly where the map said—his boot caught a loose plate. He reeled and crashed into the wall with a grunt. Blood salted his tongue. Just what I needed, a split lip…
He slipped into the tunnels, unseen. A series of doors, most bent beyond repair, led him farther beneath the capitol.
Inside the sixth broken door, the sparse trail of dim lights, amply spaced by broken ones, ended. Black, suffocating darkness engulfed the rest of the way. Shattered bulbs sparked, like drowning men who fought for one last breath only to find the air snatched from their lungs.
Did whoever vandalized these tunnels not believe in seeing where they were going? He fumbled for his communicator to use as a light. And dropped it.
The device bounced once and tumbled into darkness with fading clunks.
They'll hear! He whirled toward the exit. No! If the Reshali find that comm before I can get it wiped… And, I need that map. David patched his courage and faced the void.
Long, dark stairs led another half mile beneath the docks.
Walls hovered just outside sight. At the bottom of the stairs, David dropped to search for his comm. What's that smell? It's like… rotted meat. Each imperfection in the floor gave false hope, and he scoured almost twenty feet until his comm's thick case peaked from a shallow lip at the base of one wall.
A trench? At his touch, the device lit a coated trough. Different color than the walls. Yuck! What's on the case? A quick analysis sent him scrambling away. Blood! He furiously wiped the comm on his pants and rubbed his palm clean, but the sick stink clung to his hand.
The comm lent a little glow, enough to illumine the next few steps. Got to get there and out before morning. David checked the map, but not before wiping his hand on his pants again.
Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe.
Not once did he stop to see if the bloody trail extended from the base of the stairs farther into the tunnels, but the stench of rot followed him.
He reached the marked place, but no doors or breaches marred the passage. Chanting, muffled, bled through the silence. How…? He pressed an ear to the near wall, careful to stand several inches from where the blood-filled trench might lie. Along that section and the next he searched. No door lent passage through the wall.
So close. Only two hours before sunrise. Got to find them!
Footsteps.
David froze. Ahead of him, two shadows approached. A torch's orange flicker danced in the darkness right before the strangers turned a curve in the passageway. Hide! He hugged the wall and shoved his comm away, covering it so the dim shine wouldn't betray him. No night-vision tech on them at least.
The pair, a man, hand clasped around something hung about his neck, and a woman, who held the torch and brandished a rifle half her height, approached a portion of the wall just after the tunnel bend.
The man lifted his closed hand, and the silver chain he wore glinted. As he murmured in a tone that could chill a winter's night, one wall segment was replaced by a swirling portal, almost like a window to another world.
That's new.
Once the pair stepped through, David crept after them and slipped inside the wall an instant before it sealed. Foul air assaulted, and he tucked mouth and nose into his shirt. That's worse than the tunnels! Wait. I recognize that stench…
Down a short hall and into a large room, David followed. Razor-topped gates, now flung open and bent into grotesque shapes, guarded the entrance. A dozen torches cast writhing shadows on the thirty-foot-high ceiling, and past the gate, the path turned down sharply. Anyone not expecting the drop might have taken a hard tumble.
A slave corral.
Chains, some still clutching remains, circled the room.
David ducked behind one of the thick gate pillars as the man and woman cut through a crowd who bowed to them.
A short platform jutted from the middle of the gathering, and the man climbed it, the armed woman a step behind him.
"My fellow Reshali," he said, arms open. "As long as this world is ruled by a blasphemer, we cannot bring Queen Guardiana's order and peace to our planet. We must dethrone this outsider—this Desslok of Gamilon. He and his people, though they shared our blood, do not share the long-held faith of our former kings. We must return leadership of this empire to one who listens to the bidding of the Queen. In denouncing Her, the interloper Desslok's life is forfeit."
The crowd murmured agreement.
That explains the smell… They use a blood trail to mask the shroud of death's reek. Guardiana cultists, masquerading as just another terrorist group. No wonder we could never find them among the other militant cells.
"I, Zekkar, of the Reshalian Order, swear on my blood I will force this false Emperor's last breath!" He raised a silver amulet. "Queen Guardiana, we offer you a token of our sincerity, our love, our devotion."
From a door near the back, two men dragged a third, dirty and thin, shabbily dressed. A few scraps of garbage tangled his hair.
Zekkar looked to his amulet and chanted, "Queen Guardiana. Queen Guardiana!"
The crowd joined, and a woman's image rippled the air. Her black dress and red-brown hair accented skin the color of clean sand. Violet eyes burned with madness.
Aurelia. David gritted his teeth. Witch. Not even on the planet, and still you grow bolder with our every meeting.
The transient, sprawled on the floor like a dying sheep, wailed as the chant grew.
Torches flickered, dimmed.
"Give our Queen her just due," Zekkar prompted the gathering. "Worship, for She has given us purpose!"
David clapped his ears shut as an evil so deep it might drown him swelled to snuff each torch and embrace the wretch's screams.
Darkness swallowed every sound.
A presence lurked just inside the room, and David huddled behind the pillar, stuffed between it and the wall. You have no power over me, Aurelia. No power. Each breath resonated the thought, but when something brushed his shoulder, David almost yelped. He swallowed the outburst as the torches relit.
On the floor lay the cult's victim. Blood seeped from his ears. Blank eyes bulged; his mouth stretched in terror, dead.
Zekkar's guardian glanced toward David's hiding place. He ducked. Did she see me? A crack between the pillar and the wall offered a safer vantage. She's not looking this way anymore.
"Now, Reshali, go. Make Queen Guardiana known. And feared." Zekkar tucked his amulet under his shirt. "The interloper's time is short."
"Bless you, Zekkar, chosen of our Queen," replied the group before they dispersed. Two dragged away the corpse. Many Reshali left through five other exits, but at least twenty-seven men and women passed David. None saw him.
When only Zekkar and his guardian remained, David got a clearer view. She can't be any more than twenty-eight or twenty-nine—only a few years younger than Desslok.
The woman's glance flicked to David's hiding place twice more, but when Zekkar opened a new exit on the opposite side of the enclosure, she followed him. Before leaving, she snapped her fingers.
Every torch died, leaving David to find his way out by the light of his comm.
Less than an hour before sunrise, David sat at the small table in his quarters. He gripped a mug of the hottest coffee he could stand. "Want some? Masterson, you awake? Don't make me start calling you Prime Minister."
"What?" Masterson Talan jerked upright. Heavy lids and dark circles fringed tired eyes. "No, no coffee. I've been up too long already. A long nap is my preference." He eyed the vacant couch across the room.
David took another quick sip. The liquid scalded his tongue but muted the persistent stink of old blood. He set the mug on the table. Warmth infused his hands, but the chill of the tunnels pervaded everything else. "There're too many of them… I counted over two hundred Reshali. I can't get close to Zekkar, much less—" David growled. "Does Desslok expect me to stroll through a mob? Why didn't he pick you, Masterson? You have more experience with this—with them. Why me? And why in the middle of the night? He could've at least waited until morning—after I slept and ate."
Masterson leaned into his chair. "Long as I've known him, he's had a reason for everything. And now that we know what the Reshalian Order really is…"
"But I can't do it. I've never been on a solo mission like this, much less sent to—to abduct someone…" David muttered into his mug. "How do I–? Is this even right?"
Masterson set his communicator six inches from David's clenched hands. "The terror must stop." He opened a global news feed. "The Reshalian Order murders thousands every week. Many more suffer injury, sorrow, loss. Zekkar's sect steals homes, destroys families, and desecrates every haven we establish."
Another article posted. Two children, a girl and a boy, huddled in the rubble of an old temple. An explosion lit the image background. Fear colored both children, and tears streaked the thick layer of dirt covering their faces.
"This is our chance to stop the Reshali." Masterson nudged the comm toward David.
"But, I—"
"Trust Desslok. Trust me. Aurelia Guardiana brings only chaos. You've witnessed it. What happened twenty years ago could happen again."
A short video replaced the picture of the children. A group of men, wearing the Reshalian Order's cruel emblem, pinned a man to the ground and beat him until he slumped, alive, but too weak to fight. The Reshali covered what David now realized were hidden amulets and chanted until their victim screamed and tore his face.
"No! No!" the man howled and staggered up. He tipped and reeled toward a burning pile of street debris. With a shriek, he threw himself into the flames.
"That's the least of their abilities." Masterson leaned over the table. "They'll try to kill Desslok soon—like every other time we've encountered Aurelia's followers."
"Zekkar… said as much tonight."
"If they succeed–"
"They won't." David terminated the scrolling havoc. "But I'll need your help."
Though long after midnight, lights illuminated most of the deserted street. David crouched inside the block's half-full compost container. A pile of rotted vegetables slid dangerously close. Why'd they have to empty the non-organic bin tonight? He held his breath as the remains of a small animal slicked his boot. This isn't the kind of observation post I had in mind. He shifted as a tiny device planted in his shoe came loose and pinched his foot. No room to fix it now.
His earpiece buzzed. "Found them. Three streets away," said Masterson. "They're hidden behind a stretch of simulated wall. Every time someone enters, I see a guard posted three or four feet inside."
"They're not using amulets to get in?" David rubbed a handful of spoiled fruit on his pants but gagged when he started to soil his shirt. He couldn't get a good breath without the bin's stink clogging his nose.
"No. That would take too long, and it might expose them. Their scouts are out of sight," Masterson said. "Are you ready?"
Footsteps scattered outside.
"No. Someone's in the street. Stand by."
A tower of muck and slime near the back of the bin toppled, covering his back in sticky wet. Some gunk slipped under his collar. Heat stretched his throat. Don't throw up. Don't do it. He concentrated on his objective: get inside Zekkar's operations post, observe as much as possible, and get out.
Another rotted stack hugged his leg and oozed into his boots.
He heaved but tried to cover the noise. Please, don't hear me. The retching stopped, but the stench of his own vomit combined with the stink of the refuse threatened to suffocate him.
No more footsteps outside.
"Going—in," David choked. He staggered from the bin to the wall where he dropped his earpiece and scuffed it into an alley where a scout would retrieve it after David left the area.
To suppress the tang of stomach acid and the urge to scamper home like a scared mouse, he whistled a medley of whatever he could conjure as he slipped into his prepared ruse. Even wandering for almost half an hour brought him to the dreaded street too soon.
David leaned on the wall, expecting with each step to lurch into a Reshali. Every ten feet, the little metal piece in his boot cut deeper.
Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe.
The wall vanished. "Aye, fren'." David grinned as he toppled into the Reshali watchman. "Got 'ny stardust?" He extended a compost-covered hand.
Hollow, hungry eyes studied David.
"Take ya outta this worl'—and ain't needin' no ship neither," he slurred.
A sharp crack to the head blackened the world.
When David woke in a small, dim room, Zekkar and his guardian stood ten feet away, and another Reshali was so close garlic on his breath clouded the cold air.
"Who are you?" Zekkar demanded.
"Me?" David scanned the room. "He talkin' to me?" he whispered behind his hand to the empty air.
"No. I thought I'd ask her." Zekkar indicated his guardian. "Yes, I'm talking to you." he growled.
"Jus' a man lookin' for some peace," David said. "Got some nice lights in here." He pointed at the two dull red lamps mounted near the floor. "Lotta colors goin' on."
Garlic-breath knocked David's shoulder with his weapon stock.
"Hi." David waved to the guard. "You see the dragon outside? He was mad 'bout somethin', but I told him –"
"He's out of his mind on dust," said Zekkar's guardian. "Likely he won't remember a thing once he's off the high." She advanced.
David's cheek stung with her slap, but he transformed a wince into a grin. "I think she likes me," he confided to the empty air again.
The woman rolled her eyes and shoved him with her rifle barrel. "Get up."
"Whatever you say." David staggered up from the cold floor.
"I'll get rid of this one. He's not good enough to gift to the goddess," she said.
David stumbled toward a dark doorway at the woman's hard shove.
Zekkar nodded. "Take the usual precautions. Perhaps a few more."
David stumbled but didn't fall as a kick knocked his shins before the woman herded him along a tunnel and into a maze of passages.
They took so many turns, every new fork blurred into the last to create a dizzying web. By the time they reached a carless elevator shaft, the tracker in David's boot had worked from his heel to his toes. Hope it's still intact… He shuffled a little, tried to shift it up, but the little thing stuck right under the ball of his foot.
"Up," the woman ordered. "Or I'll toss you to Zekkar's pet snake instead."
"Pets? I love pets!" David gushed.
"Shut up and go," she growled and shoved him toward the shaft.
One foot slipped, and he toppled into emptiness. David's insides vaulted to his throat. He scrabbled for purchase. Nothing. No handholds. A ladder! He swiped at the metal rungs. Missed!
"Careful, Dusty," Zekkar's guardian snagged and hauled him close enough to catch the next-to-last rung. "It's a long way down."
All the way up the ladder, the tracker gnawed through David's sock and bit his foot. He tried to place each step carefully enough to avoid it, but no matter how he climbed, the device insisted he suffer.
The woman trailed him by two or three steps, but only slowed when he did. They never passed a waypoint marker or sign. Not even an engineer's stamp marred the seamless shaft. By the time they reached the surface, sweat poured down David's back and neck and each breath burned. His foot throbbed.
They emerged in an industrial district. Smoke choked the street as purifier units kicked on to suck the air clean. Their metallic howls and screeches masked everything, including the loud clunk as Zekkar's guardian knocked David into oblivion.
"She dumped me in a garbage heap." David plopped onto his couch; the itch of dirt still clung to his skin. His hair dripped from the longest shower he'd ever taken, and his old robe kept in a little too much heat. "Finally got all the stench off. How did we do this stuff every day during the rebellion?"
Masterson sat beside him. "They didn't kill you, did they?"
"If I have a concussion, I'm blaming you." David cradled his aching head. "The tracker's junked, and I couldn't take you back through that maze if I had to…"
"No, but this can." Masterson flashed a tiny silver disk.
"That's not my tracker. Who—"
"I had a… colleague ensure its placement—in case the first tracker failed. Ah! See?" Masterson displayed a holomap. David's route shone bright green.
"What colleague?"
"I don't believe you know them well. I'll be sure to introduce you once this assignment is over." Masterson enlarged a section of the tunnel network. Thick, chaotic lines wandered over top each other four, sometimes five times.
"No wonder it seemed so convoluted. She took me in circles," David muttered. "I… thought she might shoot me, leave me to rot in a tunnel somewhere…"
"She did her job." Masterson transferred the map data to David and then crushed the disk. "It's time you finished yours."
"But I can't waltz in and take Zek—"
"It's three hours before dawn. We can't risk waiting another night." Masterson pulled David up and shoved him toward his bedroom. "Get ready."
Ten minutes later, David was dressed.
"Take this." Masterson presented him an odd weapon. "Be careful. It's a stun net—needs a reload after each shot, so aim well."
"Again, why am I the one doing this?" David handled the net-caster and then swung it over his shoulder. The belt clip clicked to secure the weapon's sling.
Masterson gripped David's forearm. "I trust Desslok's appointment of you. The future rests in your hands, David Lysis."
David grasped Masterson's arm and met the other man's brave eyes. I hope my grip is as good as yours…
David's steps clanked as he descended the ladder into the abandoned elevator shaft. He used the map data to backtrack along the route Zekkar's guardian wove through the tunnels. The five times he almost encountered a Reshali, he squeezed into the tightest spot available until they passed.
An hour after he entered the old shaft, he found Zekkar, his guardian shadowing him. Twice David thought the guardian had noticed his presence as he followed the pair to a wide hall where ten more Reshali gathered around a table spread with food.
Awfully late dinner. David crowded behind a scraggly potted shrub that guarded the door. A two-foot lip circled the ceiling and held inset lights that pointed upward.
Zekkar approached the table's head and sat. His guardian poured him a full wine glass, which he raised. "To the Queen," he declared.
The group echoed, "To the Queen," and drank with Zekkar. The only one who didn't imbibe was Zekkar's guardian.
As the men and women ate and talked, a shadow played overhead, and the lights flickered, as though intermittently smothered.
Power must be spotty down here. The air thickened, and a whisper made David's cheek itch. He scratched. Bad ventilation too.
Another tickle.
He swatted the irritant. Stupid bush.
A loud smack silenced the hall, and David whirled.
Two black eyes stared, lidless. A forked tongue flicked, and midnight scales glinted. The snake's body was wider than David's leg, and it hung from the ceiling lip by the tip of its tail.
David yelped and sprang away from the shrub. The snake dropped and darted after him, tongue flicking, eyes curious.
Chairs screeched and scraped on the stone floor as the Reshali left their table.
The snake slithered back up to its perch, spooked.
"Intruder!" Zekkar bellowed. "Take him!"
All ten Reshali swarmed toward David; the four women knelt and raised amulets high. "Queen Guardiana. Queen Guard –"
No, you don't. David fired at the chanters. A net wound around them, interrupting their summons with a stout shock. The six men didn't slow. David slung the net-caster back into its sling before he scrambled up and ran for the other side of the room as he drew his gun.
Zekkar's guardian urged the leader from the hall.
You are not getting away. David gritted his teeth and dodged the charging cultists. He cut right, toward the fleeing pair. The half-dozen Reshali thronged after him, amulets in hand, but they couldn't stop long enough to use them. David shot two pursuers, and they crashed into the stone floor with wails and shrieks clutching wounded legs or torsos.
Ahead, Zekkar rounded a corner, out of sight.
David sprinted to catch up, but just around the bend he checked and ducked the instant before he would have slammed a thick metal bar that spanned the passage at chest-height. He kept Zekkar and his guardian in sight while his four pursuers careened around the corner. The fastest two stumbled and skimmed under the bar, but the others gonged into it and hit the tunnel floor, out.
The last two grabbed David; one caught both his arms. The other grabbed his face and roared, "You will not escape the Queen. She sees all! Is all!"
David wrenched, but the man's rough hands sanded his face, forced him still.
"Your rebel soul may not cow beneath the Queen's might, but your body will scream for Her mercy." The man licked thin lips; his crazed eyes ripped into David like a razored sword.
Not today. David stomped so hard his teeth rattled, but the man clutching his face yowled and let go, leaving a sticky slick on his cheek. Wine's ferment watered David's eyes, but one kick to the nose finished the cultist.
"We are the will of Guardiana," the last man hissed in David's ear. His skin burned, and one hand numbed as the man wrested his arm. "Her hand will strike you, unbeliever! I feel your blasphemous soul –"
David dropped his weight and twisted; he dug one hand's fingers into the man's inner thigh and pinched.
His attacker shrieked and released David only to crash into the tunnel wall. A well-aimed punch knocked the man senseless.
Ahead, Zekkar and his guardian disappeared into the gloom.
No! David dashed after them and caught a dull glow and flicker as they ducked through a portal. David tumbled through the manufactured door and into an old expressway, empty except for one vehicle, much newer than its surroundings.
Zekkar's guardian shoved her leader inside, but just before she jumped in, David lunged. He caught her arm, and her rifle clattered as he jerked her away, snugged her throat deep into the crook of his elbow, and tucked his other hand behind her head.
She clawed to get free. Her nails scraped gashes in his arms, and guilt bit David, but he didn't let go as blood oozed from the cuts.
"Zekkar! Help –" The woman reached toward the vehicle, but Zekkar leapt behind the controls and gunned the engine. In half a second, he was gone.
An exhaust cloud irritated David's eyes. Could've had him! "Guess he doesn't think much of you, now does he?" David muttered and let go before the woman lost consciousness.
She staggered and coughed, wincing as he bound her hands.
"Get us out of here—and not through that elevator shaft."
The woman guided David to the surface via a route lit better than the first two he'd encountered. Once outside, he blindfolded and led her to his rendezvous point.
"Zekkar… got away," David said when Masterson arrived.
"You did what Desslok asked of you, and you did it well." Masterson took the woman from David. "There's great honor in what you did today."
Right… I took a woman against her will and let a terrorist leader escape. "Careful. She doesn't go quietly." David rubbed the rakes on his arm as Masterson tucked the woman into a vehicle. Two armed guards sat, one on each side of her before they left.
A second vehicle, empty, waited for David. He shut the door and sat in the quiet. Alone.
Lights glared every ten feet along the empty street.
David's arm throbbed and the worst scratches bled into his sleeve. His foot still ached from earlier, but at least he didn't have to walk on it much more tonight.
He leaned into the driver's seat and started the vehicle.
Two days passed before a knock at David's door interrupted his morning coffee.
"Enter," David said as he scrolled through the news on his comm. Around his scratched arm wound a white bandage. "I hope you don't expect me to run any more errands for you any time soon, Masterson, or I'll start demanding hazard p—"
"I was under the impression you did receive hazard pay."
"Sire!" David scrambled to right the mess on his table as Desslok, not Masterson, circled the table. "I—I didn't expect you." Patchy scruff on his chin itched, and he appraised his plain shirt and pants in dismay.
"Please, do not concern yourself with trivialities," Desslok said. "I came as a friend, to thank you." He took David's unbandaged forearm. "And I am not the only one." He stepped aside, and Masterson escorted in a woman, dressed neatly in civilian clothes. Her hair tucked into a tight braid and brown eyes brightened with her smile.
Zekkar's… guardian?
"Hey, Dusty." The woman left Masterson and approached David hand extended. "Still like pets?"
"It's—it's David—General David Lysis." He choked down surprise. "Pets are still good, but… I'm not much for snakes."
"If I may offer a proper introduction, I am Aliyah Adina Nasheen. Zekkar called me Aliyah… but I much prefer Adina. I think you startled poor Kirsch more than he startled you." Her eyes laughed.
David took her hand. It was pleasantly warm, and she smelled of lilies. "He needs to find a better way to greet people." The place on his cheek still itched from the snake's flickering tongue.
Adina hid a smile. "He… wasn't used to visitors." She released David's hand. "I'm… sorry about that." She glanced at his bound arm. "I had to make it look like a good fight—for Zekkar's sake."
"Wait. You—you wanted to be taken?"
"Yes," Adina said. "You didn't know. You couldn't. Zekkar might have—" Tears welled, but relief dulled them. "A year ago, when I asked Prime Minister Talan for help to escape Zekkar, he assured me the Emperor would choose only the best to enact my rescue." Adina gave Desslok a shy glance. "He was right. Thank you, General Lysis. For all you did."
"You put that second tracker on me…"
Adina nodded. "At the elevator. I'm… sorry about that. I didn't mean to push you so hard."
"It's… fine… You caught me."
Adina bowed. "You are most kind. The Emperor's trust in you is well placed. I am in your debt. If I can ever lend you my help, I will gladly do it."
"Th-thank you. I'll remember that." David nodded.
After one last bow, Adina left, followed by Desslok, but when Masterson started out, David stopped him. "You knew all along."
Mischief filled Masterson's smile.
"And you let me sweat over it," David said. "Desslok told me to kidnap her. That order—with no explanation—scrambled every nerve I have."
"But aren't you glad for it now?" Masterson said. "She's free of the Reshali because of you. She'll have to live in the palace under guard until we catch Zekkar, but with her help we have a real hope of finding him."
The sun peeked through David's open window. "I suppose I am glad… Just a little."
Masterson assessed David's table and laughed. "Better clean up. Never know who might walk through your door."
David snorted. "You helping?"
Masterson waved at the mess. "No. I'll leave it to you."
"Again." David chuckled as Masterson left. Morning's light banished night's chill and embraced him. He sank into his chair and finished his coffee in peace.
Author's Note: Written for the WA Random Opener Challenge on fanfiction.net
This story was inspired by the hymn, "I Know Whom I Have Believed," by Daniel Whittle.