Page 13 of Taking Jenny (Planet Orhon #4)

Malice

A fter a restless night of little sleep and erotic dreams that starred a sexy little human and hot Ladrian Orne that kept me tossing and turning, I was in no mood to be nice. How fortunate for me, Justice wanted to hold a council meeting. Niceties were optional there.

He hadn’t given much notice of the meeting. Must be something important. Or he’s bored. Could go either way . A shower and one all black suit later, I was on my way to the royal palace. Thankfully, the journey was short.

Summer wind blew over my face when I stepped toward the privileged entrance.

A solid gold arch marked the door a special few ever got to walk through.

The door itself was obsidian black and flanked by two guards at each side.

The four of them gave me a respectful bow that I was not owed, but everyone pretended I was.

I was young when I had realized it was all an act.

A sham. The finery, the rules, the respect demanded from those who were not us .

If I, a boy of no known classed blood, could be raised up from nothing to the highest plateau of the land with a single wave of Justice’s hand, then none of it was real.

It was all an illusion. But without the illusion, where would we be?

Chaos.

It had been a thought Longshot had given me when I was young and depressed and talking about revolution the way teenagers liked to do. I had been na?ve enough to believe that I could change the way Justice ruled the people and had become disillusioned when I discovered otherwise.

But Longshot asked me to think of where people would be without the illusion of order and control. How would people live, if they realized there was nothing holding them together but pretending the royal family and class mattered?

Lucky for Longshot, the question had kept me preoccupied for a few days.

By the time I came up with an answer, he had finagled a position on the council for me.

Justice said it was an honor to be the youngest person to ever serve on the council.

Longshot said the work would enhance my philosophical wonderings. I was sure it was a punishment.

After I had served on the council for a month, I gave Longshot my answer. Without the illusion, the people would live freely. As they should.

I could never forget his smile, as he mumbled, “Yes. They should. But as long as Justice is alive, they never will.”

I shook free of the unpleasant memories as I walked the long corridor to the council chamber.

My new Italian wingtips were the only sound in the marble hall outside the door, but behind it, there were echoing voices.

Upon walking into the council chamber, a hard knot formed in my gut.

I knew Justice’s expression before I looked at him.

His lip would curl in annoyance at my tardiness, and he would say something cutting about me being late. Again.

I exhaled a breath before I sat at his right hand. “Good morning, Justice. Good morning, everyone else.”

When I glanced at Justice, though, there was no sneer, no annoyance of any kind. In fact, he looked amused. Gleeful, almost. “Long night of torture?”

Long night of knowing Jenny had chosen Tiger’s bed over mine. “Yes.”

Justice nodded, clearly believing I’d spent my evening abusing my prisoners, and that delighted him. “Glad to hear it.”

I leaned closely to him for privacy. “Have they found him yet?”

Justice whispered back, “The magicians have collected him in an orb.”

“Will the project be ready in time for him?”

“They assure me it will, and they know the consequences of failure.”

I nodded in response and sat up straight again, eyeing the nosy councilors. Let their curiosity eat them alive . I refused to give them a hint of our discussion. “Then I am glad I came today.”

Justice smiled, a true one, and turned his attention to the rest of the room, earning their silence. “Unlike the rest of these degenerates, you never disappoint me, Malice.”

I nearly smirked at the other councilors because that was hardly true.

“You could show a little respect, Justice,” Boxer said with exasperation. “At least we showed up, and on time.”

Gray-haired, tan-skinned, and chronically irritated, Boxer was in charge of overseeing the prisons and always complained he didn’t have time to attend these meetings.

Justice merely arched an eyebrow at him, and the man closed his mouth.

“We could have just… not received the meeting notice,” Craven teased with a shrug.

As Councilor of the Ports, Craven Filliate was rarely in one place for long. Constantly traveling, constantly avoiding responsibility. No one would have been shocked if he’d skipped the meeting altogether. It would not have been the first time.

Justice’s mouth curved into a sly grin. “Craven, we had supper only just last night. Do you think I would have accepted a refusal?”

The other man ran his fingers through his black hair and chuckled. “Accepted? No. Hunted me down like the Illiamor avatar? Also, no.”

Justice actually cracked a genuine smile, and I knew what had him in such a good mood as to tolerate their backtalk. The holiday.

“Perhaps not,” Justice replied. “Though if this year’s avatar fails as hard as I expect, then we may need a new quarry. I’ll take that comment as your volunteerism, in the case that I’m right.”

Craven laughed. “You wouldn’t hunt a hunter now, would you?”

“If he irritates me further, perhaps.” Then he turned and asked, “Pleon, what is the word on Halla?”

The bookkeeper read a message from his gauntlet driver. “The council of Faithless has admitted no wrongdoing in the final death of Rex Terian.”

Justice waited for an uncomfortable minute. “That is all?”

Pleon gave a short nod. “That is the extent of the message.”

Justice huffed in exasperation. “Pleon, it is not my job to tell you how to do your job. It is my job to take the information of my councilors and decide what to do with it. So when my councilors merely recite what they’ve learned and offer nothing new, I am forced to get…creative.”

He glared at the little man, and I would have sworn Pleon’s hair started to fall out. What little of it he had left.

Justice continued. “I don’t think you want me to be more creative than I already am.

I don’t think you want me to be unable to do my job, either.

However, I am in a generous mood today, and seeing as we are so close to Illiapol, I will grant you a reprieve.

Get me answers about what happened to my friend, Rex, or I will feed you your own cock. ”

“I will go to Halla myself,” he reassured our ruler.

The implication of his words floored me. “You haven’t yet gone?” I asked sharply.

His beady eyes glared at me. “I have other responsibilities, as Councilor of Manufacturing, Ripper .”

“Were I you, finding out who murdered this court’s ally would have jumped to the top of my priorities.”

I would have volunteered to go to Halla myself, had I known better. But we would soon have the truth of Rex’s demise, no thanks to Pleon. His assignment was for appearances only, a distraction to keep suspicion away from Justice’s secret project until it could be revealed.

Still, I hadn’t been able to resist goading the worm.

Justice regarded my words. “No need for you to trouble yourself, Malice. Not when Pleon will most certainly get to the bottom of things, now that he is better motivated. Won’t you, Pleon?”

“Of course, your highness.”

“And you will do it before Illiapol, or you cannot join the hunt.”

The other man’s eyes widened at the threat. “But…but there are to be seven hunters and I am one of them. How—”

“If you do not uncover the information that I have asked for, then I will be compelled to bring Malice along in your stead.”

My gut, already soured by a sleepless night, twisted harder. Being forced to join a ceremonial hunt, to chase down some helpless woman for sport, was not how I wanted to spend the holiday.

Still, I had to play along. “Dear Pleon, do fail Justice,” I said insolently. “I haven’t had a good hunt in ages and the idea of you eating your own cock is…well, just hilarious. Justice, how would you find the thing? A magnifying glass?”

The others laughed. Pleon’s face went crimson.

The insipid little man glared at me. “Just because you’re luckier than everyone else doesn’t make you better than us, boy,” he snapped.

I arched a brow. “I’m lucky?”

He stood, shouting belligerently now. “A lucky boy who sits at the side of the most powerful man in all of Ladrian history! You did nothing to earn your position. Not like the rest of us who had to work for it!”

Justice started to speak, but I cut in, seething.

“I lost all my memories before the age of twelve. I lost my entire family. I was half-starved under the rubble of my home. I was born with no tail. You know what I do for this council and what I’ve sacrificed, so call me lucky again, Pleon. I fucking dare you.”

The other man swallowed hard in the face of my rage and wisely sank back into his seat.

Justice cleared his throat. “Moving on,” he said coolly, not missing a beat. “Lady Bateen will not be attending any of the Illiapol festivities, as she has taken a turn for the worse. Do keep her in your thoughts.”

My heart sank at the news of Aphonic Bateen, Justice’s consort, falling so ill. “Is she…is it like with your father?”

Justice closed his eyes as if pained and gave a single nod.

“I am afraid so.” Then, in the next moment, the emotion cleared from his face.

“Her condition has put me in mind to truly enjoy the hunt this year. I could use the stress relief. No mercy as always, councilors, though we will need to make certain adjustments for the avatar I have chosen.”

Ravager Qayout quirked his head to the side, letting his shaggy blue hair fall into his eyes.

Tanned skin, muscle bound, and trained by Longshot himself, Qayout was a menace even Justice respected.

His reputation was almost as tumultuous as my own.

I’d never quite figured out if he had a soft side, though I doubted it.

“Why would we make adjustments?” Qayout asked. “Is it not the point of Illiapol to keep with tradition?”

Justice smirked, like he was sitting on a secret. “As traditional as I may be, there are exceptions to every rule. Considering who I have selected for the avatar, it would be unsporting of us not to give her a leg up and a few advantages.”

Boxer scowled. “Have we somehow run out of healthy unclassed women? Why not hunt one of them? Are we down to the dregs of those filthy wretches? Is she feeble in some way?”

“Nothing quite that morose, Boxer. But don’t you ever get tired of the same thing every year?” Justice sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Your ruler yearns for innovation and a little excitement now and then.”

“Are we to be surprised, or do you intend to tell us about this new innovation and what advantages you have in mind?” Ravager asked.

A slow smile spread across Justice’s face. “We will have to give her a slightly longer head start than normal, because humans are slower than Ladrians.”

Everything went stone cold inside of me, because I knew exactly who Justice had in mind as tribute for Illiapol.

Jenny Hollinger.