Page 93 of Warrior's Reign
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“Be wise, my son,” Aanyah warned when they strode from the informal audience chamber. “This is as good as we could have hoped.”
“TheEyahunwill have her killed if she returns.”
His mother stopped, gaze flinty. “You gave your word, as did I. You areAdekhan. Reign isAdejahnaand must now take up the responsibilities of our house. She will not be killed, we will not allow it. Now bring my daughter home.”
Vykhan returned to his private quarters and the unregistered console. He would obey, but he would use every resource at his hand.
Lohail lounged in a pool, ocean green tiles sparkling under the clear water, his hair rivulets around him. “Vykhan.” For once his expression was absent mockery, anger, or sensual tease. “I was informed Reign Obe’shan fled the palace under threat of execution.”
“She sprung the trap. I am sworn to hunt her down and bring her before my Lord.”
“If she returns to the palace before the true traitor is exposed, she will die. She could not be allowed to live.”
“I cannot offer her aid. I must keep my word.”
Lohail rose, water sliding to his waist, and walked from the pool. “I will do as you ask, but there will be a price, ‘ashara.”
“I will pay it.”
He smiled, exquisite, satisfied. “Not from you. Perhaps not even from Reign.”
The comm cut off.
* * *
Martha and Icolo kept her contained one more day.
31
Holingup was driving her mad. She didn’t know if Ibukay had survived the poison. There were increased calls for her to turn herself in and no word through any of the dark channels Vykhan or Tai’ri or Evvek might have tried to use to reach her. Sitting still and waiting accomplished no purpose if there were no lines of communication.
Reign handed Martha a thumbnail sized case containing a single chip. “If they kill me, the chip will activate and release my will, send access codes for my personal accounts to my family, and give overall control of my business assets jointly to you and Icolo.”
Martha took the case and set it aside.
“This is foolish,” Icolo said, lips twisted as he stared at her. “Reign, you will never advance if you don’t learn to control your impatience.”
“I can’t bunker down forever, this is driving me insane.” She stretched, one last delay tactic, then straightened. “You two—bail ship if the stormtroopers get too close.”
Icolo gave her his back while Martha frowned.
Reign shrugged. “He’ll explain stormtroopers, it should take a good day or two.”
“I have no interest in recounting fairy tales.”
Reign slipped out of their concealed headquarters with Martha’s quiet worry and Icolo’s withering disapproval at her heels. She’d chalk it up to one more failure on her path to Silence. They really shouldn’t have expected her to sit still even this long.
She’d taken an hour to apply her facial prosthetics and straighten her hair. Between that and the skin tint, she’d avoid eyeball detection from the average citizen while walking the streets. She’d have to avoid Imperial sensors and scanners, but she knew where many of the blank spots were in the city. If Martha’s scramble failed, Imperialsensors would pick up her identity chip within minutes.
So she just had to be sneaky and move fast. The first order of business was to get a communication channel open between her and Vykhan.
No one on the streets looked her way twice. Slightly shorter than the average Yadeshi, with her hood pulled up she could be mistaken for a teenager. The messenger bag slung over her chest cheerfully encouraged that misconception. She slouched slightly as she walked, head down as she scanned her tablet, the picture of a bored young adult grudgingly making their way to in person classes. Worn but high-quality clothing completed the image. Not a street urchin here, people. Not a fugitive from Imperial rule. Just a bored Mid-Tier esque kid on the way to school.
Reign entered a skymall three kilometers from the palace complex, taking a lift to the rooftop food court. She’d scouted the location weeks ago for its magnificent table top view.
A view angled toward the palace. She chose a table and set her tablet down, ordering a plate of fried things using one of Icolo’s throwaway personal accounts. Squinting up at the bright afternoon sun, she reached in her pack and pulled out a pair of darkened goggles and slipped them on, casually angling her head towards the palace, the high-powered lens zeroing in on the palace. Today would just be reconnaissance, testing the waters so to speak. She wasn’t fool enough to try and break onto the grounds—yet.
