CHAPTER 24
Hell’s Cross, Outpost Fisher Four
ANNOS MARTIS 238. 4. 0. 00:00
The queen sits on her throne looking down on Kuhru. The miserable worm, he has failed again. Such a disappointment. When she took the Dr?u in hand, she thought he would be the valiant, true warrior she could hold up as an example. His battle school record was stellar—freakish physical skills with an aptitude for sharpshooting and a thirsty ambition.
That’s probably where I failed, she thinks. I mistook ambition for intelligence and intelligence for the ability to follow simple, straightforward orders.
“What possessed you,” she says, pulling the dagger from her sleeve, “to attack Bramimonde? Your order was plain. Threaten her. Remind her that we were watching her every move. Remind her of the fate that awaits her if she dares to betray us. At what point did I tell you to chase her across the tundra like a pack of wild jackals?”
“The old woman slapped me, my queen,” he says, bowing, but looking at her through fierce eyes. “It’s was an insult. I had to save face before the Dr?u.”
“Your little feelings got hurt, so you almost killed my spy?”
“That was not my intention.”
“And that bullet hole in your temple?” she says, tittering. “Did you mean to get shot or was that not something you intended, either?”
Absentmindedly, he touches his forehead. “No, my queen. I meant to kill the Regulators.”
“The Regulators are nothing!” She takes the dagger, slides it into his cheek, and pulls. The razor edge of the blade slits the skin, and his mouth flaps open, blood pouring onto the floor as he groans and cups his hands beneath his chin. “Bring me Postule. And clean up that mess.”