Page 45 of Revenge (Warriors of the Drexian Academy #6)

Chapter

Forty-Five

Sasha

I sat in the coffee shop, nursing a hot vanilla latte and watching the morning foot traffic through the large glass windows.

The rich aroma of coffee beans mingled with the scent of fresh pastries, creating an atmosphere that should have been comforting but felt oddly hollow given everything weighing on my mind.

I’d needed to get out of the suite to clear my head and focus on the mission. Whenever I was around Deklyn, the way he looked at me, the way he touched me, and the way he made me feel safe and desired consumed my focus dangerously close to forgetting that I needed revenge.

Not that I regretted how I’d been distracted by him the night before.

I’d wanted heated touch, every whispered word, and every throaty moan.

No part of me regretted waking up pressed against his solid warmth in the pre-dawn hours.

The only thing I regretted was slinking out of bed and leaving him to wake alone while I fled to process my conflicted emotions over coffee.

Still, I was grateful for the caffeine and the distance. Both had helped me home in on the reason I was doing all of this.

After reviewing the Earth delegation, I was certain that Chancellor Morrison was behind everything.

The man hadn’t come from a military background, like the rest of them.

He’d been elected because he’d been a podcast celebrity who’d gotten famous for being outrageous and taking wild positions.

He was all bravado and no substance, a politician who’d have no problem throwing a soldier to the wolves if he thought it would make for good talking points.

That made much more sense than someone like my father, who’d served his country faithfully for decades, doing something so callous as abandoning his own daughter. Dad might be rigid and disapproving, but he wasn’t evil.

The only thing I could admit as a possibility was that he might have known what Chancellor Morrison had done, or at least have had suspicions about it.

He was loyal enough of a soldier that he wouldn’t speak out publicly against a sitting chancellor, but I was sure I could get the truth out of him.

I just needed the right approach and the right pressure applied at exactly the right moment.

Then I would prove that Ariana’s accusations were untrue.

I took a sip of my sweet coffee and sighed, feeling better about my plan already.

Movement outside the window of the coffee shop caught my attention.

I’d been quietly observing the station rousing itself and tracking all the people walking past, but none of them had blue, vertical hair or wore brightly colored, form-fitting dresses like the Vexling wedding planner.

Reina spotted me through the window and changed direction, pushing through the door with a warm smile.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, already settling into the chair across from me.

I forced myself to smile. “Is it time for more wedding preparation? Please tell me Serge hasn’t thought of more things I need to choose.”

“No, don’t worry,” Reina said with a laugh.

“I told him you’d already picked the menu and music.

He was so relieved to have those decisions made he didn’t question the details.

” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“I picked everything for you. I didn’t think you’d mind, hon, since it’s not really your wedding. ”

The casual reminder sent a pang through my chest that I tried to ignore. “What did you choose? In case Serge mentions it, I don’t want to be totally clueless.”

“Earth delicacies mixed with Drexian favorites for the menu,” she said, ticking items off on her fingers. “A chocolate fountain, which sounded delightful, filet mignon with gourmet mac and cheese, and a ‘sliders’ station that I thought sounded appropriately festive.”

I had to smile at her earnest planning, despite the eclectic choices. “And the music?”

“All eighties pop played by a full orchestra,” she announced proudly. “Very dramatic, very romantic. You’ll be walking down the aisle to ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.’”

I tried not to laugh at the mental image of a formal wedding processional set to Cyndi Lauper, but the absurdity of it all suddenly hit me.

Here I was, planning the most elaborate fake wedding in galactic history, complete with orchestral versions of pop songs and a menu designed by an alien who thought “sliders” sounded festive.

“Thank you,” I managed, meaning it despite everything. “That sounds perfect.”

But even as I said it, I couldn’t help feeling a stab of regret that none of it was real. That I’d never get to have an actual wedding, with music I’d chosen because it meant something to me and food selected because it was my favorite.

I pushed the melancholy aside and leaned forward. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I have a plan to get the truth from my father, but I need your help.”

Reina’s enormous eyes lit up with interest, and she leaned closer until her towering blue hair almost brushed against my head. “What’s the plan, hon?”

“I need to get him alone, away from the other Earth officials and away from the cameras,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Somewhere he’ll feel comfortable talking freely. And I need you to help me create that opportunity.”

“What kind of opportunity?”

I took a sip of my latte, using the moment to organize my thoughts.

“My father is old-school military. He believes in the chain of command, proper protocols, following orders even when you disagree with them. If Chancellor Morrison had ordered him to abandon me, he would have followed those orders even if he hated them.”

Reina’s face twisted in obvious judgment, but I ignored it. She didn’t understand what it was like in the military, what he was like when it came to following orders.

“I think he knows who gave the orders, but he needs someone to give him permission to tell the truth.”

“And how do we do that?”

I pulled out my wrist communicator and scrolled through the wedding schedule Serge had loaded onto it. “The rehearsal dinner is tonight. All the Earth officials will be there, including my father. Before we walk down the aisle to rehearse, it will just be me and him standing in the back.”

Reina’s eyes widened. “The perfect opportunity for a private conversation.”

“I need you to make sure we aren’t disturbed. Maybe create a distraction to delay the actual rehearsal?”

Reina’s smile was triumphant. “I can definitely do that. Serge loves a good crisis to solve, and he’s the one we need to distract; otherwise, he’ll lose his mind that we’re running late.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind getting involved in this?” I asked, feeling guilty about dragging her deeper into our deception. “It might not work, and you might catch some flak for creating a crisis.”

“Hon,” she interrupted gently, “the people who should have protected you abandoned you. If your father knows who did it, you need to help him find his courage.”

My throat tightened. After my fallout with Ariana, having someone unequivocally on my side felt like a gift I didn’t deserve.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Reina replied with a wink. “Wait until you see how Serge handles wedding crises.”