Page 20 of Defiance (The Intersolar Union #7)

The Medial Palace was ostentatious in a mathematical way. Novak admired the perfectly square tiles intersected with circles and the arches over polished floors that cast a shadow in one direction and an orange glassy glow in the other, creating a lattice of light textures. It was a wonderment, each room edged with a white porcelain gutter filled with colorful seagrass and trickling water. Curtains of the stuff hung from banisters, droplets falling to the gardens in the terraces below like a curtain.

What Novak admired most was the predictable layout with mesmerizing features. Every room was a perfect square, and every hallway was straight. The crescent balconies had three sizes but the same railings. If you learned the layout of one courtyard, you knew the layout of the next.

But the doors were designed to be missed and mistaken, never looking grander than the rest. The halls between courtyards were cut at a diagonal from the wall so that from a distance, no entrance could be seen at all. Exhausted soldiers and pursued trespassers would miss the genius simplicity and get caught in the unassuming maze. Even if a covert elite saw a blueprint before planning an operation, it couldn’t prepare them for this.

The perfect place to make someone disappear.

Someone laughed. Not Charlie, but a woman sitting near her. The other guests had begun to arrive for the main event in the two weeks since their arrival, so the mulling voices over the first official dinner belonged to a variety of species rather than hjarna alone. Shilpakaari guests sat with misters at their backs to keep their skin hydrated, and Charlie sat near them trading animated stories. The first time she’d snagged her hand with a fishing hook made them wince, but the ahktopis that stole the rainboot off her foot made them laugh.

And she listened with her whole body. Her brows spoke louder than her mouth, following along with each tidbit of information she soaked up. She squeezed her arms beneath her chest and leaned as far over the table as her bowl of fresh cave clams and reighi mushrooms would allow. Her eyes would widen, her mouth would turn soft, and she’d twirl a bident in her fingers, enraptured by the stories and knowledge they shared with her.

Someone said something funny and Charlie smacked the table with a guffaw, throwing her head back. Novak found himself smiling, his tail swaying gently behind him. She soaked up each new experience like a sponge, always in the moment and never anywhere else. Maybe it was a symptom of the pain she’d suffered, taking nothing for granted.

Despite the greedy reasons he’d chosen her for their mission, she was a good representative for humans. When someone confided in her, she really listened. Her investment in their stories and life’s work was genuine.

When Charlie smiled, the stars aligned and all was right in the world.

But guarding her had been torture.

Sath La?we might have been an obnoxiously good-natured man but his mind was sharp and skeptical. They watched each other more than Charlie knew. HIXBS’s host couldn’t hear or smell like an advenan, but those eyes saw a lot more than they let on. Temperature shifts, extremely minute adjustments to Novak’s scales, the flare of his nostrils. Though they didn’t see the visible light spectrum, hjarna vision was so refined that the wind looked like an ocean current to them. A well-trained hjarna rifleman could shoot a coin out of the air a mile away without target assist or optics.

Which meant Novak couldn’t breathe Charlie in. He couldn’t watch her too closely either, or show how furious he was each time La?we bowed and dusted her with his crest’s expensive powder. Hadn’t she realized it was a proposal to dust her with his crest like he wanted to paint her skin with his milt?

Novak milked his fangs daily thanks to the invisible pissing match. He thought about what she’d said in the restroom every day as his helices spun together, crushed in their cloaca and desperate to sink inside her again. That maybe advenan men didn’t want to disappear on their quarries. Maybe they’d been forced to. Because his instincts sure as shit thought Charlie was his. If anything, he wanted his fang marks to be permanent.

Novak’s only consolation prize was that HIXBS’s supposed golden boy couldn’t see how Charlie’s silk burned like the setting sun in visible light. Her coppery red plait and the speckles of spice on her cheeks were for Novak only. Something La?we could never have.

Even if Novak could never have her.

At least he could look his fill from the discretion of the potted ferns along the wall.

Charlie was wearing her silk in a low, twisted bun at the nape of her neck. The tabard she’d chosen for dinner was sleeveless and sideless, exposing muscular arms and the curves of her hips. Her middle creased with a round, soft dimple that made him salivate. Her ribs slid beneath her skin as she stretched her in chair, and when she picked up her glass of water, he glimpsed the side of her breast. Full, low, and much paler than her arms and cheeks. Their points pressed against the length of Yaspurian linen, and Novak wished he could bite them.

How quickly did humans heal?

Did she still have a mark from the river?

Maybe she used a mediplasma…

He growled at himself and swore under his breath. She hadn’t used a mediplasma. He would have smelled it. The thought made his fangs throb, and a pulse of venom filled his mouth.

Sath turned towards Charlie’s laugh, balancing his hand on the back of her chair as he listened to her question. He leaned in conspiratorially, sharing an inside joke with the opposite side of the table. A venandi with grey plates and short spires chittered back and their host slid his hand down Charlie’s back as they all laughed. She glanced sideways at him, taken off guard.

Novak’s gaze darkened, the same tension he’d held since the river rolling back in, locking up his plume mail. He adjusted his fangs and squeezed his claws together where they were clasped in front of him.

He could kill Sath.

No one would know. They’d never find him.

Novak took a deep breath, wrapping his tail around the heavy potted fern at his side. It garroted the clay, plume mail cutting chunks out of the heavy maroon glaze.

A palace steward slipped through the courtyard door and tapped a small mallet to a bell hanging off a velvet cord. Conversation died down, people craning their necks to see who had arrived so late.

“Introducing Union Councilwoman Guei Boha, Chairwoman of Medical Innovation and Health Access!”

Many of the hjarna stood up, but Charlie was slow to join them, the color draining from her face. Some of it was fear, but anger too. Novak breathed in deep, focusing on the pulse in her neck and the whiff of sweat beading behind her ears. Guei was responsible for the human dolls that were seeping into the black market. Ones that looked like her.

The door swung open and Charlie glared, her fists clenched into white-knuckled weapons. Novak whipped the fern beside him, drawing her attention, then kept her stare. He nudged the air with his nose and gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Come on, sunset, you can fake it,”

he murmured under his breath. She blinked anxiously, putting on a bright smile, and set her eyes on the hjarna walking through the door.

“Boha! Such an honor, yes,”

Director Caher said with open arms.

“We didn’t expect you for another sol.”

“Bi?dou, it’s always such a treasure to see you, my old friend.”

They embraced, brushing each other’s hands and palms, catching up in friendly murmurs while the rest of the party sat back down and slowly started up conversation.

Guei was a regal woman with a crest decorated in gold leaf like a crown. Despite her advanced age, the fan above her head still hadn’t split, looking as supple and well-nourished as an ingénue preparing for her first spawning. Novak flattened his nostrils, offended by her innate charisma, good health, and expensive oils.

He’d never seen her as a neolate running through the halls of HIXBS headquarters on Huajile with Vindilus, but he’d smelled her. Her chemia haunted the conference rooms and auditoriums. It hadn’t been a striking or noteworthy part of growing up a lab orphan, but as an adult it soured his memories. Novak knew what sorts of programs she’d greenlit. Threshold experiments on children, sterilization trial runs, bilong breeding farms, all kept confidential because of their “sensitive” nature.

Many of Vin’s scars were from those experiments.

“You must be Charlotte Halloway,”

Guei said, sweeping towards the table. Charlie stood again, cheeks red, heart hammering. She bled cortisol into the air like it was perfume.

“Oh! Aye. Yes. Pleasure to meet you, Councilwoman Guei.”

Guei held out her palms, expecting Charlie’s hand. She swallowed, brow creased, then offered the woman that had stolen her genetic code her hand.

“I’ve only just arrived from Helion,”

Guei said, brushing her thumbs lovingly across Charlie’s knuckles.

“So… has the old ryhidon beaten me here then?”

La?we stood up slowly, a terse smile pressed into his thin, wide mouth.

“No, Councilwoman. I don’t believe Ferulis, hm, will be attending.”

Guei blinked with mild surprise. Several other people at the table, mostly HIXBS staff, made varying noises and expressions of displeasure. Novak’s ear twitched at that. As far as he knew, Ferulis had never received an invitation.

“Oh, that’s a shame, hm. I expected him to be here, but I suppose his office is quite disorganized. It’s a wonder he still holds stewardship over our protected colonies.”

She tsked, then slid her smile back into place.

“No matter. I’ll be happy to send him a report.”

“Chairman Ferulis has been a staunch protector,”

Charlie stated loudly enough for the room to hear.

“So much so that perhaps mundane tasks have fallen off his radar. Opening the mail, attending fancy dinners… But his old, belligerent heart’s in the right place.”

Her expression was a beaming challenge as she slid her hand from Guei’s clutches.

Novak smirked. She really was a terrible actor, but not from lack of social grace. The woman just couldn’t help herself.

Guei smiled slowly.

“I am very glad to hear it. Have you been to any of the galleries? Keuduk in the Southern Quarter would gladly, hm, open early for us tomorrow.”

“Apologies, Councilwoman,”

La?we cut in, brushing his hand across Charlie’s back. The move was possessive, setting Novak’s teeth on edge, but the envoy was stiff. The agent’s ear twitched.

“Ms Halloway, yes, is predisposed tomorrow morning.”

“Oh?”

She tilted her head and Novak felt her attention split, eyes observing their faces and La?we’s hand at the same time.

“We’ve a, mm, private brunch on the dunes. To observe Tailu outside of the city.”

La?we stood his ground graciously, bowing his crest, though without the proper flutter of his hands. One remained behind Charlie while the other hung loose. It wasn’t a snub exactly, but it meant he wasn’t apologetic either. Novak opened his colear? fully, focusing in on La?we’s bitter scent beneath the powders and perfume. Their envoy was angry. He didn’t like Guei quite as much as his colleagues.

Perhaps because Charlie was the one standing next to him and not a different human he cared less about.

Novak’s red pupils narrowed. La?we knew something unsavory about Guei and he didn’t want Charlie near her.

“In that case, don’t let an old art enthusiast stand in the way, yes, of such a special treat. We will have many opportunities to get to know each other, hmm?”

Guei turned towards the door, raising her arm to call someone inside. Her venomous gaze landed on Novak. Of course she knew who he was. Her smile remained, but her glare was hateful as she spoke over her shoulder.

“Pioden, come.”

Novak’s pupils dilated, ears swiveling to the door in surprise. A fellow advenan walked in, hard gaze scanning the room as he breathed in deep to absorb the scents. Their eyes met—Novak’s red for his yellow—and his plume mail shivered in a bronzy black cascade down his thick neck and tail in territorial displeasure.

Novak nodded to the man named Pioden without emotion, then trained his eyes on the table as Director Caher guided Guei to a seat at the other end. He was stocky with stacked muscle hardwon through rigorous training. His ears were shorter than Novak’s but straight and proud. He wore a thin gold merit collar that would no doubt stun him if he “behaved poorly,”

but the concession to his freedom was common among the few advenans that served the upper class with more privilege than lab orphans from Huajile like him.

He’d applied for one before Ferulis picked him up but was denied due to his “uncertain past.”

In order to qualify for work in private security firms like the one that probably employed Pioden, he’d have to have one. Their contract would then stipulate that they gain full access to its features. Citizen number, live location, vitals, and a proverbial kill switch.

Novak thought it was worth it when he was younger. Maybe a merit collar would gloss over the uneasy looks and erotic disgust. Maybe he’d be a better role model that could negotiate for his guildmates’ contracts with more legitimacy. He poured every cent of his income into the guildhall so that they kept their noses clean.

After Charlie, that delusional dream faded. She hadn’t once looked at him like an animal. None of the humans had. He was just another man that didn’t look like them. A visitor, a brother-in-law, an uncle. Someone they trusted.

Someone they trusted.

Hundreds of sex-trafficked women saw him and felt safe. His heart pounded at the realization. No merit collar could ever compare to that.

But Pioden didn’t know that. The Union had worked perfectly for him. He probably had his own home unit and pension with private donor appointments instead of open cattle calls, auctions, and bullpens. All advenans born in the Union were lab orphans, but perhaps he’d willfully forgotten those early years.

So Novak kept one ear on Pioden, and surely the bodyguard did the same. Two highly trained men on opposite sides of the threshold. He tempered his breath and smoothed down his plume mail, discreetly blinking on his own vitals deck so he could monitor his pulse while surveying dinner.

Because not even a kidnapping was as dangerous as Pioden. If the other man recognized how Novak burned for Charlie…

He’d be dragged away in cuffs.

And she would disappear for good.