Malloryn shut his eyes. "I'm the one who's supposed to be protecting you."
"And you have," Adele admitted. "Trapping you into marriage was the best mistake I ever made."
He couldn't help laughing. "I wish I could go back to that moment and tell myself not to be so bloody stubborn. We've wasted too much time."
"Well, you'll just have to promise me forever, so we can make up for it," she replied archly.
"Make up for it, huh?" He nuzzled at her throat, enraptured by the kick of her pulse against his lips. His cock was hardening again, and he felt the urge to explore her body. To revel in the simple affection of her touch. "You are very demanding."
"I'm a duchess, didn't you know?"
"My duchess." My hopes. My dream. Rocking against her, he felt her breath catch again.
"Didn't you call a meeting?" she whispered.
"The Rogues can wait. It will give them something to bloody gossip about. Besides, Charlie's not back yet."
And Adele laughed as he palmed her breast and bent his head to her nipple, the sound piercing straight through his heart.
Surrendering to his fate had never felt more right.
Dawn bloomed, bringing with it the hope of a new day.
And a certain sort of focus and determination Adele hadn't seen on her husband's face in weeks.
"Mowbray practically confirmed the metaljackets are the key to Balfour's attack," Malloryn began, the second all the Rogues were gathered around the table.
Adele frowned. "There are barely two legions of them left. The queen had most of them destroyed after she overthrew her husband, and maintained only an elite ceremonial guard."
"Jack?" Malloryn turned to the masked man who spent most of his days tinkering with his devices down in the cellars.
"Her Grace is quite correct. The populace disapproved of the metaljacket legions, and rightly so, considering they were once used to crush any dissenters. Her Highness had most of them broken down into scrap as soon as she took the throne." Jack leaned forward and sketched something on the sheet of paper in front of him with swift, brief strokes of his pencil. "What remains are the Firebird Legion and the Celestial Legion. The Firebird model is an updated, improved version of the spitfires that used to wreak havoc. Their flamethrowers no longer use Greek Fire, however.
"The Celestials are mostly ceremonial. Gold-plated and carry a saber attached to their mechanical arms. They're somewhat reminiscent of the Imperial Legion in China. Pretty and useless in a pitched battle. Too lumbering and slow, with no long-range weapons."
"Corvus said Balfour plans to tamper with the Firebirds." This from Malloryn. "He'll turn them against the queen."
"Of course he would," Byrnes drawled. "Why not set fire to everything? Everybody likes a good bonfire. It's not as though it could escape his control and burn half of London to the ground."
"I don't think he cares if half of London burns to the ground," Malloryn pointed out.
Adele watched as COR bantered back and forth about the best way to stop Balfour's latest scheme. She reached slowly for the pile of papers in front of Malloryn. The list of Rising Sons leapt out at her.
"It has to be the Prometheus Project," Gemma said, pushing forward the schematics she'd drawn from memory. "He's going to use this chip to assert control of the metaljackets."
"How does he plan to get at them though?" Kincaid mused. "I imagine they're stabled in the Ivory Tower and kept under lock and key."
"They are," Malloryn replied.
Jack frowned as he examined the schematics. "This isn't the sort of thing that can be simply removed and inserted. If Balfour's replacing the metaljackets' chips with this one in order to control them, then it would take him at least a week. He'd need a half dozen bio-mechanical engineers with a degree from the Royal Mechanical Academy, or a master smith in the least. It's not something your average blue blood lord could do. And someone would see it."
"It's complicated." Malloryn scrubbed at his mouth. "Time-consuming. Difficult. And the more difficult a plot is, the harder it is to pull off. It makes no sense."
Adele watched his mind ticking over. "Are you certain this is how he means to attack?"
Malloryn swore under his breath. "No, I'm not certain. This seems too easy for Balfour. It's practically gift wrapped."
And that was the problem.
"Devoncourt's known we had Corvus for days, and they'd be aware of the depth of his knowledge. So why would they continue with this plan if they thought we knew about it?" he demanded.
"It could be a decoy." Which, from what the Rogues had told her, sounded much more like Balfour's style. "Maybe he wants us to focus on the metaljackets?"
Malloryn started pacing, his hands clasped behind him. "So what is he hiding? What is he really planning?"
"Why wouldn't he use both metaljackets and Rising Sons?"
"He most likely will," Malloryn replied. "I expect a coup attempt, in the least. A two-pronged assault. We know who they are now, so the second they make their move I can arrest them."
"You have to convince the queen to cancel her celebrations," Gemma said. "I know you want them to make their move where you can see it coming, but you cannot control everything. One stray bullet and we lose her…."
"Convincing the queen may be easier said than done. I've practically locked down the tower," Malloryn growled, "and it's still not enough. She refuses to be cowed by the threat. Insists that the people need to see their queen hold her head high."
"This is madness, Malloryn," Gemma said. "The Ivory Tower's immense. There's not enough of us—or those Coldrush Guards we know to be loyal—to cover the damned thing."
"Then we focus on Balfour's potential targets," Malloryn countered. "You and Ingrid are going to make some excellent ladies-in-waiting."
"The queen can barely look at me after I nearly killed her," Gemma argued.
"If she wants her ball, then she will have you in her retinue. It is not negotiable."