Hotbloods 5: Traitors

“It’s okay,” he replied, pressing a hand to his heart. “She’s always here. I don’t need to see her hologram to remember the woman I love. It’s just a nice reminder, sometimes.”

Navan skidded to a halt in front of the vessel he’d come to the wedding in, only to realize that we didn’t have a way of opening it. He slammed his hand against the hatch panel, but it just gave a sad beep. The chauffeur was still inside the chapel, and Kaido’s ship would be locked, too.

“Are you looking to journey home?” a voice asked in the darkness.

“Kaido, is that you?” I asked.

He stepped out of the shadows, wielding a small silver disc. “I thought you might be eager to return to the cottage when I saw you rush out of the chapel without saying a word. I realize how utterly mortifying this must be for you, Navan. That was a very public humiliation. You have my sincerest condolences.”

I gripped Navan’s wrist, holding him back. “He doesn’t mean anything by it,” I whispered.

“Anyway, I thought I would offer you the key to my ship, so you might take it back to the cottage and hide there until the embarrassment eases. I will join you there soon, but Mother must be returned to the hospital, and I was the only one who volunteered to go in the ambulance with her,” Kaido explained. “Do not drive my ship too recklessly. I still have several plants that are averse to sudden movements in the cargo hold.”

“Thank you, Kaido. I will be sure to drive safely,” Navan said stiffly, as he took the offered disc out of Kaido’s hands.

He smiled, pleased with himself. “I can concoct some Elysium for you, if you wish.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Navan grimaced, his mouth set in a grim line.

“That is likely a wise option,” Kaido mused. “Memory serums are not my forte, and they are temperamental at best. You might end up losing years instead of hours!” Chuckling to himself, he blended back into the shadows, returning to Lorela and the rest of the Idrax clan. I felt sorry for him, knowing he was only caring for Lorela because of what he felt he “owed” her, even now. Surely, it was time one of the other Idrax brothers stepped up to the plate?

“How come nobody else looks after your mother?” I asked, as we headed for Kaido’s ship.

Navan gave a wry laugh. “They’ve gained everything they can from her. She gave birth to them, raised them, watched them fly the nest. Now that they’re no longer at home, she isn’t their concern anymore. Jareth still offers money and reputation, which is why they’ll never stop pandering for his attention, but my mother serves no purpose to them.”

I didn’t have any particularly good feelings toward Lorela, but it still seemed tragic that the rest of her children had all but abandoned her. Kaido was the only exception, yet she didn’t even view him as one of her own.

“That’s so sad,” I said.

Ronad shook his head. “No, that’s Vysanthe.”

After reaching Kaido’s ship, we clambered aboard, Navan taking up his position in the cockpit. A moment later, with the silver disc in place and the coordinates typed in, the ship rose, and we left the soft glow of the chapel behind us.

I caught sight of another building, not far from the chapel. Its ramshackle roof was barely visible in the silvery glow of the moonlight. I guessed it was the groundskeeper’s hut, where Navan had instructed the darkstar seller to bring the item so we could make the exchange. I had a bad feeling about leaving without the item we’d come for. But there was no way I could persuade Navan to turn around now.



Forty minutes later, we arrived at the mountain range that encircled Regium. I’d expected Navan to set the ship down somewhere outside it, or even within the city’s natural walls, but instead the vessel rose, surging through the clouds.

A spinning glass station appeared in the sky, turning slowly. I realized that an image of the skyscape had been projected onto the underside of the building, to keep it hidden from sight. Through the glass panels, hunched figures pressed against the outer panes, their eyes staring mournfully out at an endless sky. A few stood as we passed, banging their fists against the glass, their mouths open in silent screams.

“Are these the dungeons?” I gasped.

Ronad peered over my shoulder. “Doesn’t look too shabby for a prison, right?”

“Why have it way up here? Can’t they just escape and fly away?”

Ronad shook his head. “Not all the prisoners here are Vysanthean, and those that are—they clip their wings with metal clamps, to stop them from breaking out. It’s easier to keep them up here, out of sight of the ‘good’ civilians below.”

I was about to ask more when the ship began to descend, heading for a flat expanse of metal jutting from the side of the spinning circle. It landed with a jolt, and I braced myself against the curved walls. Up ahead, armed guards stood in front of a heavy door, their pikes crossed, their faces streaked with black and red.

As the cockpit door opened, I stared in disbelief at Navan, who stepped out shirtless, halfway through strapping his injured wing to his side while he tucked the other one away. Now that he had the artificial attachment, the injured wing no longer slid under his shoulder blades, unless he removed the fixture first. Knowing he might need to fly at a moment’s notice, he had taken to binding it instead. With that done, he slid two blades into the bandages, then threw his suit jacket back on and buttoned up the front.

“You two still have your weapons, right?” he asked casually.

“You can’t be serious,” I replied, aghast. “You want us to fight our way into a prison?”

He grinned. “I’m not waiting around for them to let us in.”

With that, he punched the button that opened the main hatch and strode down the gangway. Ronad and I exchanged a worried glance before hurrying after him. As we approached the glowering guards, I’d never been more conscious of having a gun strapped to one leg and a set of knives strapped to the other. It almost felt like they could see right through my dress, which definitely wasn’t fighting attire. Had I known there was going to be a brawl, I’d have changed.

“State your business,” one of the guards demanded.

“I am here at the behest of Queen Gianne, to speak with Jareth Idrax. He signed a document, and the queen wishes to know when the prisoner signed it,” Navan explained.

The guard frowned. “We haven’t been told of any arrivals today.”

The other guard shoved him in the arm. “Why would anyone tell us? Everyone else is home with their families, cozy as can be, enjoying the ceasefire. Meanwhile, we’re standing here like idiots, running a skeleton crew.”

“Shut up!” the first guard snapped, glaring at his colleague. “For Rask’s sake, your mouth is going to get us in trouble one of these days!”

“Sadly, that day is today,” Navan said with a grin, and he punched the first guard hard in the face. He grabbed the second by the neck and slammed the side of his hand into a nerve, where his shoulder met his spine, rendering him temporarily unconscious. It was an Aksavdo move I knew well, though it only worked if you managed to take your victim by surprise. Judging by the still-shocked expression on the crumpled guard’s face, Navan had done just that.

While the first guard tried to scramble for the alarm, Navan gripped him around the waist and turned him upside down, slamming his head on the solid metal ground. For a moment, I thought I was back at home watching wrestling on cable TV, but this was very real. The guard’s skull thudded as it hit the floor, and the vibration of it shivered through my legs. It sounded nasty, but it wasn’t an Aksavdo move that was intended to kill. Even so, I knew the poor guard would have one hell of a headache when he woke up.