“Krevs, Dex,” he told himself. “So many Krevs you could drown in them, and the glory of becoming reinstated as a Guardian.” He enjoyed being a rogue bounty hunter. It made quick money, but his whole life leading up to the moment he met Andi had been devoted to Guardianship over Mirabel. Now he had a chance to get the status he’d lost back, and he’d taken it. He had his last bounty in hand, and both the Krevs and his title were so close, he could hardly contain his triumph.
He actually smiled as he made his way through the narrow hallway, then hauled himself up the ladder and onto the level above. His muscles cursed him for the effort.
Dex passed through another narrow hallway, heading toward the meeting room. There were drawings tacked to the walls, mostly stick figures with heads blown apart, little red dots in the background that he assumed were splatters of blood.
He’d have to keep an eye on the smallest Marauder. And sleep with his pistol in his hand. And booby-trap his door with a paralytic fog. And not wander into dark corners where she might be waiting.
Dex entered the meeting room and slumped into the chair at the head of the table, trying not to grimace as he realized his old prized seat no longer conformed to his body the way it used to. How he felt out of place in what had once been his home.
He scooped up the Com Box and, with a sigh and a hell of a lot of reluctance, hit Send on the call.
General Cortas picked up immediately.
“It’s the middle of the night, bounty hunter.” His face, projected on the wall across from Dex, seemed to have produced more wrinkles since the last time they’d spoken. Why he didn’t take advantage of Arcardius’s facial rejuvenation procedures, Dex didn’t know. “This had better be urgent.”
Dex leaned back in his seat and crossed his tattooed arms over his chest. The white constellation of The Foxling seemed to peer up at him. “Hello, General. I’m alive and well. Thank you for asking.”
General Cortas was lying in a plush golden bed. Beside him, Dex could just make out the shadowy form of his wife. “My son,” the general said without skipping a beat. His graying hair was mussed from sleep. “Do you have him?”
Offscreen, his wife asked, “Is Valen safe? Is he coming home?”
Dex took his time responding, relishing in the fact that, if only for a moment, the tables had turned. Now the general was at his mercy.
“Speak, bounty hunter,” General Cortas said, “or I’ll make sure I cut your funds in half.”
Not quite turned, then, Dex thought. “We have him,” he said. He picked at a fleck of dried blood on his forearm. “He’s alive but not well.”
His wife burst into tears. Dex waited a moment while the general calmed her.
“Details,” General Cortas said when he turned back to the camera. He glanced sideways at his weeping wife. “Keep them delicate.”
Dex nodded. “It seems they had...less than pleasant ways of garnering information from him, all this time in Lunamere.” The general’s face twitched, but Dex went on. “He’s under Alfie’s watch right now. The AI has assured me, many times, that Valen’s health is of the highest priority.”
“Good,” the general said. Already, he was raising a hand, snapping his fingers at some hidden attendant just offscreen. The red-and-blue lights of a servant droid flashed as General Cortas addressed it. “Send a message to my office. Let them know that my team has rescued Valen. Begin preparations for his return at once.”
“We lost several hours in Lunamere,” Dex interrupted. “A few unforeseen problems, but we’re estimating no less than a day’s delay in returning him to you.”
“Make up the time,” General Cortas said, his pale eyebrows knitting closer together, “and I’ll add to your pay.”
Dex nodded. “I’ll do my best. If you’d hired me alone...”
“If I’d hired you alone, your head would be stuck on a spike in the darkest corner of Lunamere. I was right to bring in the Bloody Baroness.” The general’s voice turned acidic when he spoke of Andi. “Keep an eye on my son, bounty hunter. Don’t leave him alone with that girl for a second. His safety is of the utmost importance.”
Dex nodded again. “As you wish, General.”
“I don’t need to remind you,” the general added, leaning closer to the camera, “of your fate, should you fail to deliver him safely back to me?”
“I remember quite well.”
“Very good.” General Cortas lifted a hand to hover near the screen. “Don’t signal me again on this line. I don’t want Xen Ptera picking up on any transmissions.”
“Don’t you want to see him before you go?” Dex offered.
The general froze, his eyes taking on a strange haze. “I’ll see him when he’s safely home. Remember who you are, Arez. Remember that you’re nothing without me.”
With that, he tapped the screen. It faded to darkness.
Dex took a moment to gather himself.
Then he rose, remembering Androma’s promise to him back in Lunamere.
His heart in his throat, he slipped back out into the halls of the Marauder, walked the familiar path to his old quarters and stopped before the closed door.
Classical music spilled out from inside.
He sighed as he imagined her in there, alone, facing the ghosts of every man and woman she’d killed over the past several days.
He knocked. He knew she wouldn’t answer, even if the music hadn’t drowned out the sound.
But it was now or never, he supposed.
With a deep breath, Dex opened the door of the captain’s quarters and slipped inside.
Chapter Thirty-Five
* * *
ANDROMA
THE DEAD WERE watching her dance.
Andi closed her eyes tighter, willing them away. Though she sat in the darkness of her captain’s quarters on the Marauder, classical music blaring over the loudspeakers, her mind and her body were light-years away.
Arcardius. A planet adorned with glass that she had once called home.
She spun on the stage of the Academy, the domed ceiling overhead speckled with lights in the shape of Arcardian bursting stars. The seats that overlooked the stage were filled, though not with the living.
They were filled with the dead.
Her victims watched as Andi took the stage. As the music began, gentle at first, the tinkle of bells. Then a great swell of cymbals, and she took flight. Her body was a vessel, a conduit through which she allowed the music to move.
Her arms extended. Her toes rose to a point, and she spun, round and round, a planet in orbit.
When she opened her eyes, she saw the first man rise from his seat.
Blood pooled from a slit across his throat, red like a smile. Staining the Arcardian Patrolmen badge on his chest.
“I’m sorry,” Andi said. “I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t speak. The dead never did, and so she extended her hand to him. He took it in his featherlight grip, and together, they danced.
Round and round, they spun, gliding across the stage as weightless as two ghosts in the night. As they danced, Andi forced herself to look at him. Through the blood, through the mask of horror that he’d held in his final moments as he died by her swords, she saw the man she’d murdered.