Page 128 of Warrior's Reign
:Reign!: Martha hissed. :Statusssss.:
“I’m on Anthhori, Martha. With Vykhan.”
Icolo’s cool voice swept through the device as he spoke the three different challenges they’d long ago devised for potential hostage and other sticky situations. Reign answered patiently.
:Very well,: he said. :Do you require back up?:
Reign glanced at Vykhan, who merely looked at her. “The situation is complicated.” She briefed them rapidly, knowing they were running out of time even though Vykhan stood with the calm of the dead.
:We’re coming,: Icolo said.
Reign grinned. “I hope you like the color red.” Icolo cut the comm, Reign almost bouncing on her toes with renewed energy. She loved Vykhan, but her team—with them here, she would feel more like herself. Their silence had been like the loss of a limb.
She strode to the door, Vykhan falling in at her side. “Tell Lohail I need clearance for a transport. I have backup coming.”
46
This wasthe first time she’d seen the deck’s center lounge cleared of tourists and guests—but it wasn’t empty. Lohail’s red and black liveried guards stood at attention throughout the room, looking decorative. On couches, at the bar and booths more warriors lounged in plain clothes, drinks and food in front of them, the music as pulsing as ever.
She hadn’t realized the extent of his security force, frowning as she craned her neck up to observe the crowds on the balcony level. Narrowing her eyes, she slowly scanned a few faces, studying them for moments at a time before her growing suspicion was confirmed. Holos. Filling in the majority of the crowd were holos.
Lohail stood at Vykhan’s side, dressed all in black except for his red gloves, hands clasped behind his back. The high collar jacket and short cloak offset his silver hair, the only other color on him his eyes.
Vykhan, by contrast, had donned his customary Yna Ipaluk gray. Tunic, half robe and pants tucked into boots, his sword strapped over his back. Under that he wore the thin body armor, and his wrists still sported the gold and silver cuffs she hadn’t seen him wear until Anthhori. He’d braided the top half of his hair away from his face, watching the large circular front entrance with calm eyes.
Reign’s custom armor fit her like a black glove, and she’d braided her curls back into a tight braid. At Lohail’s insistence, she’d slicked red color over her lips and lined her eyes—but not an inch of skin showed anywhere but her face.
Reign pursed her lips. She had to admit—the three of them were hot. If she were a ménage kind of woman, she could do worse.
Vykhan glanced at her, expression inquiring. “Yes?”
She shook her head. “I’ll tell you later. How many stormtroopers are you expecting?”
“One day you’ll tell me what a stormtrooper is. Your inflection is interesting. I surmise it is an insult.”
She swept her arm in a grand gesture. “One day, I will regale you with Middle Earth’s fairy tales, but it will not be this day.”
“At least one battalion,” Lohail said, voice flat.
“How does she expect to get docking permission for a hundred troops?” Reign asked.
“She’s transporting them in a cruiser, disguised as tourists. She’ll come separately with a small contingent of guards to make us think those are all she brought.”
Vykhan glanced at Lohail. “That lacks subtlety.”
Reign pursed her lips. “Only if she booked it in the last few days. Did she commandeer an already booked cruiser?”
Lohail’s smile was thin. “No. This was booked in advance through a shell company. She uses it to smuggle in her spies. It’s charming, really. We let them play and occasionally lose one for her so as not to rouse her suspicions.”
“Then she planned to snip you all along,” Reign said. “Loose thread.”
“Of course.” He gazed across the club floor, unconcerned. “She cannot leave me alive, doubly so now that you are in my possession.”
“I am not in your possession.”
“Semantics.”
Vykhan shifted slightly, gaze steely. “If you betray me, Lohail, I will destroy you.”
