A Treason of Truths Page 2

  “If your shell is still bothering you, you should tell the medics,” Lyre said as a gem of condensation slid off the glass and jeweled Sabine’s rich skin. It hung there, like a star against a night sky, before disappearing over the crest of her cheekbone.

  “It’s not. The new fitting is fine. It stopped itching months ago,” Sabine lied. Lyre didn’t bother to point out that the tic restarted again with the denial.

  “You should cut your appointments. Skip this summit at the Vault, maybe. Lady knows it’s not a good idea—”

  “I’m not cutting anything.” Sabine didn’t quite sulk, but her other eye squinted open. “It just requires a lot of concentration to focus. I’m not used to it yet. I’ll get used to it.”

  “You’ll get exhausted, is what you’ll get. And then I’ll have to deal with a tired empress getting sloppy, making mistakes.”

  “But that’s what you do best.” Sabine hummed as she pushed away from the wall and joined her in the seating area. “You always take care of me.”

  An unsettling sensation rose in Lyre’s chest, one-part warmth, one-part warning. She shifted her attention to her drink. “That’s a full-time job.” She quickly moved the topic of conversation to safer ground. “I need to talk to you about the Cloud Vault.”

  “Bother. There will be arrangements to be made. I’ll have CHARIS call Galen and Liv back.” Sabine perched on the arm of the couch behind Lyre, hip nudging her toes for room. “Sometimes I think a war would be easier.”

  “Don’t let Senator Macejen hear you say that. She might expire from shock. Besides, we should handle the Vault...” Lyre hesitated “...cautiously.”

  “You’re right.” There was a shuffle and Lyre nearly got a splash of liquor in the face as a heavy weight flopped onto her stomach. Lyre cracked open an eyelid as Sabine wiggled around on the couch, trying to find a comfortable angle for her long limbs before giving up and dropping her head back to the pillow of Lyre’s stomach again. “It’s annoying, your rightness.”

  She was like a gangly vine, like this. It was a losing struggle, resisting, so Lyre didn’t. Her fingers traced the fine hair at Sabine’s brow line, ghosting strokes over her temples until she could see Sabine sigh into the touch. Sabine’s hair was silky and likely to tangle in the buttons of Lyre’s uniform if she wasn’t careful.

  This was not being careful, on many levels. Sabine was enticingly warm and pliant, half sprawled across Lyre’s legs. This was dangerous. Lyre’s eyes found the ceiling, allowing her mouth to run on autopilot. “Doubt I’d be much good to you if I was wrong.”

  “Please. You’re invaluable to me. The best I have. I couldn’t do without you,” Sabine muttered into Lyre’s shirt, breath and words stirring gooseflesh across Lyre’s arm. A hollow space in Lyre’s chest clenched. No, this was definitely inadvisable.

  She cleared her throat and tried to figure out how to dislodge an empress from her lap without being rude. She was saved by a chime and a cool automated voice, “Lord Galen and Lady Olivia request audience.”

  Sabine deflated. “Blast. Thank you, CHARIS.” She drew herself up and retreated to a sitting chair. There was no empress mask and performance for her brother, but the fine muscles in her neck tensed again as she straightened the wisps of hair behind her ear. “Send them in.”

  “All I’m saying is this is an opportunity.” Olivia’s voice was lazily combative as it drifted from down the hall. “That floating barge lurches around half the world. Even the Syn was afraid of it. Who knows what we could learn with a little poking around. Liar will back me on this.”

  “Because that’s her job. A spy’s job.” Galen’s rumble held that languid indulgence.

  The couple emerged from the hallway, Olivia storming ahead with Galen and Zahira following at her heels.

  “I could still go.” Olivia picked off her gloves one finger at a time. Galen watched her with an appallingly open reverence. They were in that adorably stupid stage that the newly mated got, and Lyre suspected they’d never leave it. “You are dealing with the Syn, after all.”

  “Which is exactly why you will remain behind at court. Last we knew, you were still being painted as a traitor to the Syndicate,” Sabine reminded her. “I doubt the prime minister would warm to me flaunting a defector in his face.”

  “I didn’t defect, I got sold out,” Olivia muttered.

  “Be that as it may, this is too sudden. I need both you and Galen to stay here. Galen can keep the senate in line—”

  “Theoretically.” Galen looked like he was facing an execution.

  “—and you have your young Howls to shape up.”

  Olivia shrugged. “Sure. But we’re talking about the Syn, here. You should bring backup.”

  “I don’t need backup; I’ve got Lyre.” Sabine’s hand slid over on Lyre’s own, warm and possessed and tempting. Sabine’s skin was silk and heat; she wasn’t wearing gloves. Worse, she saw Galen’s gaze flick down once, then he started to smile. Everyone at court believed they knew what Sabine and Lyre’s long alliance was based on. Most assumed a romantic liaison. Lyre wished it were that simple.

  Lyre cleared her throat. “The Syn isn’t the only ones we should worry about. I don’t think this summit is a good idea. You shouldn’t go.”

  Sabine paused, tilting her head. “It’s not as if I can refuse now.”

  Lyre slid off the couch. Standing was safer. “We’ll figure out something to tell the senators. All that lot needs is a distraction. Throw a ball, propose a bill, something shiny—”

  “Nonsense.” Sabine was frowning at her, as if Lyre had turned colors rather than made a very sensible security recommendation. “Olivia was right when she said this was an opportunity. I don’t like parlaying with the Syndicate any more than you do, but this is an international stage to exact justice for Meteore—”

  “Or give them a chance to finish the job,” Lyre snapped.

  Olivia and Galen had fallen quiet, and when Lyre risked a glance at Sabine she had a frustratingly soft expression on her face. “Lyre,” Sabine said, “I know you worry but the Cloud Vault is as secure and neutral a territory as we’d be likely to find.”

  “The Vault is what I’m worried about. Fact is, we should be just as focused on the hosts of this supposed peace talk. The Vault doesn’t get involved with politics unless it wants something.”

  “They’re scientists,” Olivia piped up. “I assume they wanna be left to, y’know, science in peace.”

  “The Cloud Vault is more than scientists.” Lyre warmed to the subject. Dangerously close to some things, but she couldn’t let Sabine go to the Vault unprepared. She couldn’t. “They’re neutral. The largest archive of old world technology and new nanotech breakthroughs on the planet. They don’t care about the Empire, Syn, or provinces. Their only concern is what human ingenuity can do to push knowledge forward.”

  “So they’re nerds.”

  “Nerds can be very, very dangerous. The danger isn’t in the knowledge, but gather enough people in the same room who all think they are the smartest people in the room—any room—and you’re asking for trouble. They aren’t passive, and they’re more interested in world politics than they let on. They got enough of a technological arsenal to threaten any country, if they had a mind to. Almost as much money as the Syn. Almost as much history as the Empire. Spies too.” Lyre shifted and considered Sabine’s bored expression. She knew this already. She knew everything and she knew nothing, simultaneously. That’d been Lyre’s doing.

  “Which is why you’re going to be pulling whatever strings need to be pulled to come prepared. There’s no avoiding it, but we need to know what spurred the Vault to offer to host a summit, now. We’d been keeping negotiations quiet.” Sabine focused on her sister-in-law. “What do you know about the Syndicate’s new prime minister?”

  Olivia made a face. The same face she always made when asked to
weigh in on politics. “Minister Cian? Not much. He was only a minor media czar when I left the Syn. Occasionally made the news feed for holo crackdowns, new whiz-bang inventions, network regulations and the like. Stunningly uncharismatic for a holo wonk, honestly. Surprised me when I heard he’d made PM in less than a year.”

  Sabine pursed her lips. “That’s all?”

  Olivia gnawed on her bottom lip. “Yeah. No. It’s just—I wouldn’t underestimate him, Sabine. The fact that he was such a minor power—such a minor presence—and still landed the Ministry, in Syn politics? That says he’s a player. Probably with deep pockets and hidden backing of the Skin Princes. If he’s coming to play nice, he’s coming to win.”

  “He’s in a weak position, considering the crimes the Syn is guilty of,” Galen spoke up, gaze flicking uneasily over an invisible chessboard of strategy only he could see. “The Syn’s powerful but we have the raw strength.”

  “Yes, tell me, how often does raw strength win against your own personal Syn-Empire relations?” Lyre said, in part to see the red that flushed up the big duke’s cheeks. His mate laid a hand on his and squeezed.

  “Only as much as you can give Sabine lip,” Olivia shot back breezily, ignorant of how Lyre’s stomach bottomed out at the jab.

  But Sabine’s laugh was indulgent, and she easily diverted them back on topic. “Rest assured that my plan is to wrest every concession from your scheming homeland before we agree to any truce. I haven’t forgotten Meteore.”

  It would be difficult for anyone in the Empire to forget the fallen city of Meteore. The Syn had provided the decimating weapon to conspiring factions that had turned Meteore to so much red dust. They would be sifting through the ruins and burying bone fragments for years. Sabine’s gaze had the gleam of vengeance whenever it was discussed. Lyre didn’t envy Cian the position of trying to satiate that injured pride and bloodlust.

  “Which is why we have to go. This summit is important for all of us,” Sabine continued, sparing a glance for Lyre. “I want your full attention on the Syn retinue while we’re at the summit. Afterward we need to dissect any clues for the state of their internal politics.”

  “Afterward,” Lyre echoed.

  “Yes, after the summit.” Sabine’s attention was on her slate. Her hands drew graceful patterns across its surface, an empire at her fingertips. “I am willing to sign a treaty if certain concessions are made, but we will not be toyed with as part of some Syn glory scheme again. Once this nonsense is done, I want more eyes and ears inside the Syndicate. I know you have contacts; after the summit you will propose what resources you need to move forward. You will have whatever you need.”

  Afterwards. Even if she managed to keep Sabine safe during a summit on the Cloud Vault, there would be no avoiding the fallout. Too many people at the Vault who would recognize Lyre would recognize Scarab. And if even one whisper got back to the senate... No, Sabine had to be ahead of it. Had to...

  Had to be distanced from Lyre. By the time that happened. Or rather, Lyre would need to distance herself. She’d had a plan for this, naturally. Lyre had never expected her past to stay in the past forever. It was a simple enough exit strategy when she’d made it, years ago. She needed to protect Sabine from the Vault, but she needed to also protect Sabine from herself. There was only one way to do that.

  She had to disappear.

  She’d put it off. There had always been time, Lyre had always made more time. Stolen time from anywhere, to stay by Sabine’s side. But time had run out.

  It was time to protect Sabine. Everything in her strategic mind said so.

  In the next breath she took, it felt like a wound. She always knew she’d have to leave, but she’d not expected to care so much. Her chest ached even as her brain clicked the plan together in an instant. It didn’t help. She wasn’t ready. “After the summit. Yes, I’ll make sure my successor has all the necessary contacts.”

  Sabine’s fingers paused, a hovered breath over glass. In the well of silence, it was Olivia, sharp-eyed to the ways of self-preservation and betrayal, who caught on first. “Successor? Nuh-uh. No way you’re getting out of the game, Liar.”

  “Even liars deserve a retirement, kitten.”

  “A spy doesn’t retire,” Galen pointed out, half frowning.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not planning to off myself.” Lyre’s lips twisted into a crooked tilt out of habit. She relied on the rest of her expression to follow suit. Even Sabine wouldn’t be able to read her eyes as long as she kept her distance. “Been meaning to bring it up for a while, really. It’s time to pass the reins. Keeping these two brats out of trouble has been a full-time job for a while now—but that’s your job now, eh? Figured I’m overdue to go home, take some—”

  “Out.” Sabine’s voice was velvet ice. Barely above a whisper, but cutting everyone it touched. She raised her chin toward Olivia and Galen without breaking her gaze from Lyre. “You two—out.”

  Galen tilted his head, brow furrowed. “Sabine—” He stopped when Olivia squeezed his arm. An unreadable beat fluttered between them before he bowed and they made their way out. Olivia hadn’t bowed, of course. Considering the atrocious state of her curtsey, that was probably for the best.

  Silence held until the door hissed shut. Sabine’s back was straight, jaw tight, one eye silver, one eye burnished gold. Both burned. Full empress mode. Lyre sighed and carefully slouched further against the wall, eyes on her toes. The plan. Stick to the plan. If she was lucky, Sabine would be too angry to ask questions. “I realize it’s sudden but I’ve made arrangements so nothing will be left—”

  “I forbid it,” Sabine said, full of command. And Lyre was not going to be lucky today. The hard veneer held a moment longer before crumbling. Her eyes softened, from fire to liquid, and if Lyre looked into them too long she could almost drown her misery. “I need you, Lyre. I don’t know why you’d ever think I’d give you up.”

  Almost. Lyre’s face stayed calm, her hands stayed steady, and she prepared to burn her heart as an offering. Throwing her life on the pyre was the plan, and the ashes would serve. “I’m retiring, Sabs. I’m leaving court.”

  The words drifted, meaning settling on Sabine’s face like first snow. Cold and shocking, then melting away against the fire. Her lips parted, petal soft for once. Sabine was soft rarely. Occasionally for her brother, but mostly for Lyre and Lyre alone. That mistake hurt the worst.

  Sabine stood, determination cresting like a tide in her eyes, and Lyre realized how much this would hurt. Leaving Sabine wasn’t a mistake; it was punishment.

  Chapter Two

  Have pride, Sabine’s tutor had whispered into her nineteen-year-old ear, ten years ago, when she had been hunched over and sobbing, too terrified of the new crown on top of her head to open the doors to her first senate meeting. You are the face of a brand-new ruling family, kiddo. You set the tone—for the meeting, for your rule, everything. They’re all going to underestimate you for that. So if you can’t have confidence, fake it and crush them with pride.

  Sabine understood now that what her tutor had really been teaching her was composure. Composure when the most powerful families in the land plotted against you. Composure when your soldiers were dead and your home was invaded. Composure when the stress of controlling your new silver augment gave you a slicing migraine. Composure when the single treasure in your world threatened to disappear.

  Composure when your heart abandoned you.

  “Explain yourself.” Sabine’s voice was steady; her tutor would be proud.

  “There’s nothing worth explaining. It’s high time. I am retiring.” Lyre lifted her chin. Freckles sprawled like stardust across her amber cheeks. Wild and barely contained like the thick, wiry twists of her dark hair. The sharp jut of her chin. Everything about Lyre was movement and shadow. Slippery and unattainable, even to an all-powerful empress.

  “Why now?” Sabine as
ked.

  Lyre rolled her shoulders, acting impatient. “The whole mess with the Syn conspirators is put to bed. You could handle the little senate plots in your sleep. Liv can hold the scouts under her thumb until you name a new intelligence hand. Galen’s the golden boy of the troops. Good a time as any to get someone proper in here.”

  “You’re proper.”

  Lyre’s face did something complicated, freckles dancing in a flinch of emotion—no one else would have caught it, but Sabine had made a study of understanding her brilliant spymaster. Even with her vision narrowed and swathed in shadow, Sabine could always see her.

  Lyre gave her a patently false grin. The grin hurt almost more than the words. “You know damned well I’m not. We’ll find you some young noble with the right friends and at least a couple brain cells to rub together and—”

  “You can’t.” Sabine had been trained to see words as a scalpel, a tool. Never to be wielded or applied without careful strategy and skill. But these words were on her lips before she had time to think through them. No, they were just right. Or right enough. It didn’t matter. “You can’t leave.”

  “It’ll be fine, you—”

  Impulsive action followed impulsive words. Sabine had crossed the room before the words were out of Lyre’s mouth. It was rushed, sloppy, disgraceful, a voice in Sabine’s distant mind said. But she wasn’t her grace here, not with Lyre. And she wouldn’t lose that.

  “I forbid it.”

  “Sabs, I’ll be around if you need me but think about this.” Lyre stayed slouched against the wall as Sabine approached. “You’re not an upstart heiress anymore—remember the Powder Princess days? I stepped up back then ’cause you certainly couldn’t trust any of those other jackals. Situation’s changed.”

  She still wouldn’t meet Sabine’s eyes. It pricked at her. She wasn’t used to being ignored, especially not by Lyre. Lyre was the one who saw her, the only one who saw her, and now she was looking away. Sabine had a sudden fear she’d disappear. A flutter of loss threatened to clog her throat. She stopped a breath away. “Yes, the situation has changed,” she said quietly. “Now, you’re irreplaceable. I could bear to lose anyone but you.”