The Seer (Tellaran Series) (31 page)

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to do that at all.”

Jasa frowned, searching his face. “You wanted him to kill you.”

“Hard to keep those good souls fighting in my name after you’ve shot their prince.” Jolar gave a sardonic smile. “Without me your whole scheme is fucked, isn’t it?”

“Then how fortunate I was here to save you, darling.” Her blue eyes narrowed. “I’d forgotten how stupidly self-sacrificing you can be. And—just in case you think about doing that again—remember that you’re leaving your little bedmate to my tender mercies when you go.”

Jolar felt the blood drain from his face.

“I see. You thought that, with you dead, I’d have no use for her at all and I’d . . . what? Let her go? Oh no,” Jasa purred. “If you do succeed in taking yourself off the playing board, I give you
my
word, you’ll hear her screams all the way from the spirit world, Jolar.”

Thirty-two

Arissa came to, groaning.

She tried to bring her hand to her throbbing head and discovered she was tied to the chair she was sitting in. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision.

“What—?”

Kemma stood nearby, her body half turned away, her arms folded, her brow creased with worry.

Lian’s face was grim, a blaster held at his side.

“What—” Arissa shook her head. “Gods, what are you doing?”

“Actually that’s a good question, Lian,” Kemma said tightly. “What
are
you doing?”

“What the hell was I supposed to do?” Lian demanded. “She knows!”

Kemma ran her hands through her russet hair. “And now what? You’ll kill her?”

“Wait.” Arissa wet her lips. “Wait, please. You don’t want to do this.”

Lian’s face was taut. “Of course I don’t! But your husband, or
whoever
he is, is an investigator of some kind. So who is he? Military? TelSec? You know about Kemma—that’s why you came here. You came to blackmail her—or worse—because she’s a Seer!”

“No!” Arissa shook her head sharply. “Because I am!”

Kemma’s head whipped around. “What? What did you say?”

“I’m a Seer!” Arissa cried. “And I came here, Kemma, because I thought you would be the one person in the Realm who
wouldn’t
kill me!”

Lian took a half-step forward and Kemma quickly put her hand on his arm. “No, Lian, she’s telling the truth.”

“She can’t be, Kemma!” he insisted. “There aren’t any other Seers except you!”

“Oh, this is just fucking incredible!” Arissa choked out. “I hide my whole life and when I finally admit what I am, you don’t
believe
me?”

Kemma knelt to look up at her, her hands resting gently on Arissa’s knees.

“Hiding?” she asked urgently then, in a tender, sisterly gesture, Kemma brushed the ringlets out of Arissa’s eyes. “Who? Who hid you?”

“My parents. They figured out what I was. They hid me.”

“You really are, aren’t you?” Kemma searched her face and Arissa felt the lightest of brushes against her mind. “You’re a Seer too,” she whispered, her green eyes wide with wonder. She wet her lips and stood. “Lian, untie her.”

“Kemma she knows about you!”

“And I know about
her
! Lian, don’t you understand? She’s like me.” Kemma looked back at her, shaking her head. “She’s like me.”

“I can prove it,” Arissa said to Lian.

“Okay,” he snapped. “Prove it.”

“Think of somewhere you’ve been.”

Lian and Kemma exchanged a glance.

He handed the blaster to her. “Watch her,” Lian warned. He gave Arissa a nod. “Go ahead.”

Arissa shut her eyes. Her head was pounding and she was parched but somewhere whoever killed all those people at Bruscan’s might have Jolar too. She steadied her breath and mentally reached toward Lian.

“Snow,” she murmured. “There’s snow everywhere. Children laughing, racing sleds. There’s someone, another boy, with you. Your brother. He’s older and he takes you down the hill because you’re too afraid to go alone.”

“Xeltan,” Lian said, shaken. “That was Xeltan. My parents took me when we were kids. And yeah, I was thinking of when Naran took me on his sled.”

“Can we untie her now?” Kemma demanded.

“Yeah,” Lian said. “Sure.”

He bent to undo her bonds and Kemma snatched them from him.

“My favorite silk scarves,” she muttered.

“I was in a hurry,” Lian retorted. “It’s not like I hold people captive often enough to invest in tarasteel cuffs.”

“I need your help.” Arissa rubbed at her wrists. “Jolar is in danger.”

“Who are you?” Kemma asked. “Really?”

“My name is Arissa Kassar,” she said, standing. “He’s Commander Jolar d’Tural of the Tellaran Fleet. I saved his life on Tellar and he promised me a non-telepath ID if I helped him. Someone was poised to seize control of Sertar and we were sent here by the Zartani Councilor to find out who.”

Their astonishment reverberated through the room.

“Seize control of—?”

“It was Danlen Mirat,” Arissa interrupted Lian.

Kemma blinked. “Wait—the man Jolar wanted to meet at the party?”

“But Danlen’s dead. Someone killed him and everyone else at his home while we were there.” She swallowed. “And I think Bruscan Milin is dead too, everyone at his house was when I went there tonight. I came here because I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Why don’t you contact the Zartani Councilor for help?” Kemma asked.

Arissa shook her head. “Councilor de’Par is dead. He was murdered a few days ago on Tellar.”

“That’s right,” Lian said slowly. “I remember hearing about that.”

“And the Acting Zartani Councilor is part of whatever this is. Jolar sent me to the Zartani embassy and Councilor d’Barat tried to hold me prisoner there.”

Kemma paled. “How bad is this?”

“It’s bad,” Arissa said, pushing her hair away from her face. “When Jolar called to tell me to go to the Zartani embassy he said he’d already given all our evidence to Councilor d’Barat.”

Kemma and Lian exchanged a glance.

“So what do you want from us?” Lian asked. “We aren’t FleetSec or commandos.”

“Actually you’re better because I don’t think I can trust any of them. Besides all I’ve got to go on is what I know telepathically; you two are the only ones who believe me
and
won’t kill me for being a Seer. I think I know where d’Barat was headed. I think that’s where Jolar is.” She looked at Kemma. “And I’m going to need your help to get him out.”

Jasa, ever the well-bred hostess, had food brought in along with the Niman brandy.

Jasa and Rekan left him in the sitting room and withdrawn, intent to finish destroying everything he’d worked his whole life to defend. Jolar sprawled, his legs stuck out, in the chair that Jasa had so thoughtfully had copied for his comfort and regarded his Utavian guard. Apparently this man was Jasa’s creature, not Rekan’s, and had strict orders to protect His Highness at all costs.

Protect him by being sure he didn’t go anywhere.

She wouldn’t leave him alone not even with two other Utavians outside the sitting room door—he was far too valuable to her as sire for all the princes and princesses she planned to bear—but Jasa wouldn’t offend his dignity with restraints.

Odd, what Jasa was willing to do and what she wasn’t. It was quite a pile of bodies that Jasa was willing to climb over to place that blood-soaked crown on his head. Bruscan, Dacel, Danlen, Cenon . . .

Arissa.

He clenched his fist, his jaw so tight it hurt.

Jasa was right, as long as they had her, they had him.

How could I be so godsdamned stupid? I sent her right to them.

Rekan said he had her locked safely in the embassy. But that didn’t mean anything. Rekan sent assassins to kill him – kill
them
– two days ago. His Utavians would have cut her down without a thought.

So many deaths, so many more to come, and all for—

His eyes burned.

Jolar thought those long talks in his boyhood just his father daydreaming about what could have been. Instead his father meant them as lessons, splendid tales to fire his son’s ambition, justification for the treason he was committing . . .

And if his father had been working toward this since he was an infant that meant everything he’d believed about his father, about Zartani honor itself, was a big fat fucking
lie
.

All those arguments about his joining the Fleet, the maneuvering to gain his promise marry Jasa, all those manipulations, all that deceit . . .

All for a crown he had never wanted—
still
didn’t want.

Father, how could you have thought you were doing it for me? Didn’t you know me at all?

The Realm was about to be plunged into another blood-soaked civil war but if he survived the next few days he would be crowned on Zartan.

Jasa truly believed he would feel obligated to keep their marriage contract. That their heritage was one of sacred honor and benevolent sovereigns. She conveniently forgot about the purges by paranoid despot princes, the injustices of absolute rule, how the many labored to provide glittering lives for the few . . .

Jolar’s mouth took a bitter curl.

Maybe we are a match. Gods know she’s as great a fool as I am.

But he knew one thing. If that crown did touch his brow, Rekan and Jasa would be sorry they ever put it there.

As Prince of Zartan his rule would absolute. Jolar would have the power to banish those two to live out their days on that miserable research facility with the blood plague. He could order them infected with the blood plague if he liked. He could chain them to the wall of the palace’s dining hall in Kev-Zartan and throw feasts while he enjoyed watching them starve.

If
he were crowned but he probably wasn’t going to live that long. Clearly Rekan had already realized he couldn’t afford to let him take the throne. And that meant someone was going to kill him very, very soon.

And if he died . . .

His father and Jasa had taken his faith in his heritage, in Zartani honor, and they might succeed in destroying the republic he pledged to uphold but there was no festering way he was going to let them take Arissa too.

And to save her I have to get out of here.

Jolar’s measuring glance went over the guard. The man’s blaster was holstered, the traditional Utavian weapon, a dagger, strapped to his left arm. This man, and the Utavians outside, had been tasked with both protecting the Zartani prince who they would pledge to follow as supreme king over all and keeping him prisoner.

Apparently the absurdity of it was lost on them.

“I met your prince,” Jolar said, shifting to sit up. “He seemed like a fine man.”

The guard gave a spare nod.

“I seems you and I are to be allies — Your new prince and I, I mean. The boy’s how old now? Eighteen?”

“His highness, Prince Brotar, is seventeen,” he replied, his voice gravelly, his tone respectful as he addressed the Zartani prince.

Jolar gave a faint smile. “Oh, I guess I was misinformed. Of course I don’t expect I will live long enough to meet him.”

The guard frowned. “I do not understand, Your Highness. You will be Tellaran king. Even our prince must swear fealty to you.”

Jolar leaned forward to look over the spread that Jasa had brought in. Meats, bread disks, vegetables cooked in glistening tarva sauce, sweet puddings.

Jolar’s mouth took on a bitter curl.
Of course, all traditional Zartani fare.

Except the Niman brandy. Knowing Jasa it probably was excellent. He reached across the table and poured two snifters.

“Want some?” Jolar took an appreciative sniff and held a glass of the amber liquid out to the man. “It’s the good stuff. ‘Course it’s probably poisoned.”

Surprise flickered across the man’s face.