Authors: Devi Mara
“And?” Candace urged.
She shrugged. “We lived together for about ten months. I worked at a deli in Queens and did some part-time modeling while he tried to get a job. He did.”
“And?”
“And I couldn’t afford rent after he moved out.” Abby smiled wryly. “I eventually got a job working at a bakery and living in the apartment upstairs. Then, two days ago Agent Jackson showed up. End of story.”
Candace nodded with a slight frown. “He just showed up?”
“Yep.”
“That’s…”
The car turned into the parking lot before she could finished her thought. Abby leaned forward to peer out Candace’s window at the two story triplex. Cookie-cutter, white with grey shutters, it looked identical to the other three along the sidewalk.
“Here we are,” Candace said, as she opened the door.
Abby followed her out of the backseat and stood on the sidewalk while the other woman spoke to the driver. Her gaze wandered over the identical buildings and crowded parking lot. It was a far cry from Queens and an even further cry from small town Missouri. She rolled her shoulders and raised her head.
“Come on,” Candace tossed over her shoulder, as she strode past her toward the closest building.
She stopped at her apartment to drop her purse just inside the front door and gestured for Abby to proceed her to the center unit. The keys jingled on the nearly empty keychain, when she slid the key into the lock. Braced for the worst, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The entryway was a pleasant surprise. A breakfast nook sat to her right, with a padded bench tucked under the oak table. Two matching chairs sat on the side closest to the door. She stepped into the nook to look around the kitchen. It was far larger than she expected.
A peninsula separated the kitchen from the dining room and living room. A small table with four chairs sat just outside the kitchen and a couch sat further to the left, marking the separation between the dining and living space. The wall on the far left held a large TV. She did not recognize any of the furnishings.
“Where’s all my stuff?” She looked over her shoulder to see Candace shrug. Frowning, she peeked in the door under the stairs to see a two-piece powder room.
She climbed the stairs quickly and found a large master bedroom with an attached bathroom and a full closet. None of the clothes looked familiar.
“These aren’t my clothes,” she tossed over her shoulder as she looked over the suits and dresses.
Several of the dresses looked like something she would wear to a dinner party or black tie affair. The fabrics were lustrous and obviously expensive, but the clothes were not hers. They were the opposite of what she would wear. She found herself scowling, as she left the bedroom and crossed the hallway to find a smaller bedroom.
Four boxes sat in the center of the room. A fraction of the amount she had packed, all of them were labeled bathroom or personal effects. She wondered what the agents would consider personal effects. She considered all of her possessions to be personal. She put her hands on her hips and glared at the boxes.
“Is this how they usually help someone move?” she muttered.
“I don’t know. I moved my own stuff.” Candace stopped next to her. “How much is missing?”
Abby sighed heavily. “Like, all of it.”
She whirled around and stalked out of the room. She stomped down the stairs and collapsed on the couch, refusing to acknowledge it was actually comfortable. They had gotten rid of all of her things. Even as she thought it, she looked up and saw one of her photographs on the wall beside the TV.
Kicking off her heels, she walked over to look at the framed picture. She had not looked at it since it was displayed at her old roommate’s art show. Candace reached the bottom of the stairs and headed toward her. She started to sit on the couch, before she moved to stand beside her instead.
“Is that you?”
Abby nodded. “My roommate took it two years ago.”
She could still remember the exact moment he snapped the picture. Their old apartment was a loft in a partially remodeled warehouse. It was all old brick and glass. They were on the third floor and the front wall of the apartment was full of large windows.
She had just taken a shower and was sitting on the edge of the kitchen table to look out the window as she dried her hair with a towel. The thin, white button-down shirt she wore had been her mother’s, one of her favorites. She felt a twinge of pain when she realized it was probably gone with the rest of her clothes.
Leo, her roommate, had walked out of his room with the camera as the clouds parted to splash sunshine through the windows. The sun had been so warm on her face, she closed her eyes to enjoy it. The sound of the camera brought her out of her enjoyment, just before the clouds hid the sun again.
Looking at the picture, it was difficult to believe the woman was her. The sunlight
brought out strands of gold and red in her dark hair. The way she was partially turned toward the window cast half her body in shadow, the bare skin on the other half nearly glowed by comparison.
The shirt stopped at
mid-thigh and was only partially buttoned, falling open to reveal one shoulder. The towel lay forgotten on the table beside her. It was a brief moment of beauty. The picture looked staged. Only the two of them knew it was not. She sighed and turned away.
“One of the modeling pictures?” Candace asked, as she studied the photo.
“An accidental one. My friend, Leo, hung it in the gallery for his first show in New York.” She walked past the shorter woman and dropped down on the couch. “I forgot I had it.”
…
He felt her approach and his words tapered off mid-sentence. He ignored the knowing look his second gave him.
“Your Majesty, you have someone seeking an audience,” Konani called, the humor obvious in her voice.
He met her gaze through the small crowd and her eyes sparkled with amusement. He gave her a bland look.
“Sir?” Abigail’s voice flowed over him like a wave of heat.
He gestured for his guards to move out of her way.
“Miss Ashley.”
His eyes roamed over her, hungry to take her in even after such a short time apart. He forced himself not to meet her bright gaze. She may not know the significance of such familiarity, but he did.
She frowned for a moment, before giving him a carefully neutral expression.
“The president would like to meet with you next week.”
His guards shifted at the mention of the human leader, their dislike obvious in the air. Abigail turned her attention to his guards. He watched her notice the female guards among the males. She seemed surprised. He frowned. Perhaps, humans did not allow females to serve as guards.
Nitya sent him a quick look, clearly thinking something along the same lines. She shook her bright, golden hair back over her shoulders and raised her chin proudly. His eyes wandered over the rest of his guards, wondering what Abigail saw when she looked at them.
Roshan and Desta exchanged a glance, Desta clearly pleased with the situation. Her lips curled up into a smile, sharp, white teeth flashing against her dark skin. Roshan returned the look with a sedate curve of his lips, giving her a curt nod.
“I have no interest in meeting with him,” Edric answered, drawing Abigail’s gaze away from his guards and back to him.
His eyes met hers for a fraction of a second, and the same jolt of pleasure shot down his spine. The edge of pain was absent, unlike the first time. The dazed look on her face, gave him hope that she felt a fraction of the draw he felt toward her. She nodded.
“Right. I noticed you don’t get on too well.”
A gross understatement. He loathed the man, but he would not tell her that.
“What gave you that impression, Miss Ashley?”
She cleared her throat.
“The barely concealed hostility mostly.”
His eyebrows shot up at her bluntness and he bit back a surprised laugh. Her behavior in the meeting had concerned him greatly, as she was not quiet or subservient by nature. It was a relief to see she felt comfortable enough to show her true personality.
“You have a very disarming way of speaking your mind, Miss Ashley.”
“Yeah, it gets me in trouble.”
He frowned when she glanced over her shoulder to check that the hallway was still empty behind her. As if anyone in the building had the right to chastise her.
“So, how about that meeting, Your Majesty?”
Another meeting with the pompous, megalomaniacal leader. He growled quietly.
“I could take your party on a tour of the grounds, afterwards? Or the city. Whichever one.”
Time spent with her would be worth the time wasted in the meeting, but he doubted the humans would allow her to travel far from them. Not when she was so valuable. He did not realize he was staring at her, until she spoke again.
“Lunch?”
He could not stay away now that he had found her. He nodded. “Agreed.”
Her lush lips curved up into a pleased smile. He sensed the agent’s presence, before she heard him. The smile immediately fell from her face, a nervous grimace taking its place. He wanted to break the man. He mentally sighed and turned his gaze to the irritating man walking down the hallway toward them.
The agent’s face was arranged in a mask of neutral politeness, but his eyes were cold when they landed on Abigail. Edric reconsidered his vow not to commit violence toward a human in front of Abigail. The man had the gall to glare at her. He bared his teeth.
The agent gave him a tight smile, but he saw a flash of fear in his gaze before it was hidden.
“Your Majesty.” He ducked his head in a quick bow.
The man stood far too close to Abigail. Edric was sure his face spoke of violence.
“You have work to finish,” the agent told Abigail, dismissing her.
He could barely contain his fury. He kept his face carefully neutral when Abigail looked at him. She gave him a weak smile.
“It was nice to meet you, sir. I look forward to seeing you next week.” The sincerity took the edge off his anger.
The agent cleared his throat, interrupting their conversation, “I’ll meet you in my office.”
He would kill him, he decided as he stared at the man. His rudeness toward Abigail was unacceptable. He would have to make sure she did not find out, as she may frown upon violence toward her species. He was still pondering the man’s demise, when Abigail looked at him. He did not look at her, afraid she would see the darkness in his eyes.
He did not let his gaze wander to her until she turned away. Taking in her slumped shoulders, he said her name before he could stop himself.
“Miss Ashley?” It came out with a touch of a growl, and he feared he would frighten her. He heard her breathing pause, before she glanced over her shoulder at him.
She licked her lips. He watched the unconscious gesture and had to take a deep breath to reign himself in. He gave her a small smile.
“I enjoyed meeting you, also.”
She had no idea how much he meant it. She bobbed her head in a quick nod and limped away. He could not watch her, because the agent stepped into his line of sight. He would kill him slowly, he decided.
“Your Majesty,” he sneered. “I assume you will be attending all of the president’s meetings in the future.”
“You assume much,” Limek snarled, surging toward the man. Konani, grabbed his arm to hold him back.
Edric gave her a quick nod of thanks. He turned his gaze back to the human to see him looking at the captain of his guard with disgust.
“You should learn to control your dogs.”
Konani bared her teeth. “You will not insult my arammu, human.”
The agent gave her an unimpressed look. “Or what?” He gestured toward Edric and smirked. “Your leader has to play nice with us.”
Konani gave him a chilling smile. “Insult my mate again and I will remove your skin. While you are still living.” She cocked her head to the side and one red curl fell over her shoulder. “I will ask my prince for forgiveness, afterwards.”
He fought the urge to laugh at the effect of his guard’s words. The human immediately paled and his eyes darted left to right, as if looking for an escape route. He smiled.
“Until next week,” he told the panicked man.
As his guards fell into formation behind him, Limek apologized in their native tongue.
“Think nothing of it, my friend. When the time is right, you may have your pound of flesh.” He glanced over his shoulder to see his second smile.
“Love is the only reality and it is not a mere sentiment.
It is the ultimate truth that lies at the heart of creation.”
-Rabindranath Tagore
Agent Jackson ignored her presence, continuing to fiddle with the projector on the back wall. She took the time to examine the room. On the second floor, it was no larger than an office, holding a table for six people and the projector screen on one wall. She sent the agent a quick glance and mentally shrugged, dropping into the chair closest to her.
She was not in the best of moods after being awakened before the sun. The rude blare of a cell phone woke her at six o’clock that morning. She had nearly fallen out of bed, as she blindly reached for the noise in the darkness of her bedroom. It had been hidden in the top drawer of her bedside table. She was amazed it had not rung in the past week.
To add insult to the rude wake-up call, Agent Jackson’s voice had sounded just as crisp as usual when he told her to put on a dress from the closet and be ready in twenty minutes. She barely remembered her shower or putting on make-up, but a quick glance in the mirror inside in the front door proved that she had done something to look presentable.
She sighed
and looked around the room again. Curious against her will. The curiosity kept her awake after the large breakfast the kitchen had made for her. The cooks had been almost too nice. They made her enough food for two people and hovered to make sure she did not need anything.
The two cooks, Sophie and Christian, looked strangely familiar. She spent her entire breakfast time trying to figure out how she knew them. After an hour of sipping orange juice, she slid her glass away and turned her attention to the two people standing to her left. She knew them from the bakery in New York.
It was far too early to explore all the possible reasons for their presence in two completely different places. She had walked from the kitchen with nothing but a quiet thanks. At eleven o’clock, Agent Jackson had wandered past her chair in the hallway and silently gestured for her to follow him. He had not even looked up from the tablet he was reading.
The projector screen filled with eight thumbnails. She watched Agent Jackson click the first picture and a family portrait filled the screen. Two people stood on a platform in front of a wall made of intricately carved gold. Two massive pillars bracketed the pair, the black stone veined with gold. Her eyes drifted to the subject of the portrait.
Abby blinked to be sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. The woman was wearing armor. A long, flowing silk-like material pooled on the ground around her, but her upper half was covered in silver armor. The metal plates covered her from neck to waist.
Waist-length raven hair flowed around her shoulders, as if it were being blown by a slight breeze. It blanketed the toddler in her arms. The child’s dark curls surrounded his pink cheeks, as he held handfuls of his mother’s hair. Abby tore her eyes away to look at Agent Jackson.
“Why is it so grainy?”
Jackson scowled. “Our technology is somewhat incompatible.” He did not expound.
Abby nodded. “So, who is that?”
The woman’s face, while blurry from the poor image quality, was fine featured. Bright blue eyes stared at the camera with a hint of challenge, as if she were daring anyone to oppose her.
“Queen Loreet.”
Abby sent the agent a quick glance at the obvious disdain in his voice. “Queen of the Ghadrik?”
“Yes. And that,” he gestured to the child, “is Prince Edric.”
Abby’s lips twitched. She kept her thoughts about his cuteness to herself, sure the agent would not approve.
Jackson pressed a key on the laptop and another image filled the screen. A teenage Edric stared at the camera with a look of stoic detachment. His aquamarine eyes seemed to look through the camera to pin the observer in place. It sent a shiver down her back.
She noticed he looked much the same as he had when she met him, but his hair was shorter and his face had not completely lost the roundness of youth. The Edric she met had grown into his chiseled jaw line and strong features. His eyes, while the same color, were far deeper, as if he had seen far too much in his life.
“The Prince just after he became ambassador,” Jackson supplied, not even trying to hide his dislike.
Abby looked at him from the corner of her eye. “He looks really young.”
“He’s forty-eight in that picture.”
She jerked her head around to stare at him. “Seriously?”
The agent gave her a bland look. “Yes.” He tapped the keyboard to show her the next slide.
A familiar man and woman stood side by side facing the camera. The redheaded amazon she met yesterday and the severe-looking man who had been standing to the prince’s right. The woman’s left arm was bound to the man’s right, from wrist to elbow, with what looked like strips of leather.
“Limek, head of the prince’s guard, and Konani, the prince’s lead advisor.”
Abby glanced at Jackson, then back at the picture. “Looks like a ceremony.”
Her eyes wandered over the floor length, belted robes the two wore. Konani’s, a bright crimson, and Limek’s, black with crimson around the waist.
“Arammu ceremony,” the agent said.
She raised an eyebrow in question and he elaborated.
“Their version of a wedding.”
“Their version?”
“It’s a matriarchal society,” he answered, as if that explained his disdain.
She looked over the two of them, noticing the crimson trim on Limek’s robes was not matched by black on Konani’s.
“So, he wears her colors?”
Jackson gave her a curt nod and flipped to the next slide. It was similar to the first, an arammu ceremony, but the subjects were two different guards. The muscular, blonde woman and a lean, dark-haired man. She recognized both from the hallway the week before. The woman smiled widely at the camera, while the man’s gaze was fastened on his bond mate.
There was something sweet about the way he watched her, as if he adored her. Her smile seemed to hold all the confidence of a woman who knew she was loved by her mate. Abby found herself smiling at the image.
“Nitya, chief strategic officer, and her bond mate, Voski, head of foreign trade.”
Jackson tapped the keyboard harder than necessary an
d the image changed to another arammu ceremony. A dark-skinned woman and the other male guard, a man with sandy blond hair. Unlike the first two bonding pictures, the couple faced each other. The man’s large hand rested at the woman’s waist and her palm lay against the side of his face, cupping his cheek.
“Roshan, the prince’s personal physician, and Desta, master armorer.”
“And they are all members of his guard, too?” She turned her gaze to the agent to see his face clouded by irritation.
He scowled at her, obviously displeased by something. “Every Ghadrikan is trained in warfare from birth.” He punched the keyboard, still staring at her. His sharp gaze made her feel like she was under a microscope.
She looked away from him to study the projector screen. The picture quality was far worse than the other images. She could make out an immense white pyramid, a forest, and a sprawling seaside city, but not much detail.
“The capital city of Anshargal.”
She nodded. “It looks…nice?”
Jackson sent her an annoyed glare. “This is not a joke, Miss Ashley. You may not
care about any of this, but you will learn it.”
“I wasn’t being flippant, sir.”
He ignored her.
“Prince Edric was born and raised in Anshargal. I have assembled a packet of information on the six members of the prince’s personal guard, the queen, and Anshargal.”
She followed his gaze toward the back of the room and the thick legal envelope on the table by the door.
“What about the prince?” She frowned. “Don’t I need to know information about him?”
Agent Jackson’s lips pressed into a flat line, but he nodded. “There is a small amount of information on him, as well.”
She tried not to think too much of the way the agent seemed to be analyzing her. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I will let you know when the meeting is over.” He turned back to the screen and tapped the keyboard.
A family tree filled the screen. She immediately noticed it looked oddly lopsided. She frowned as she stared at it, trying to figure out what made it different than usual.
“The titles are passed down the maternal line,” Jackson said.
She nodded. That explained why only the maternal parents were shown. Immediately above Edric’s name, his mother Loreet was paired with Gol. It then branched to Kiana and Ekur, Loreet’s parents. As she followed the family tree, she found herself fascinated by the society.
“Why is Gol’s name in a different font?” She scanned the other names to be sure she had not missed anything.
“A treaty marriage. King Gol’s kingdom was at war with Ghadrik.”
“I thought they had the arammu thing?”
“An exception,” Jackson said, clearly finished with the subject. He brought up the next slide.
It was a complex chart labeled ‘Arammu Relationship Flowchart’. She raised her eyebrows at the title.
“Why do I need to know—
”
“The a
rammu bonding is the center of Ghadrikan culture. If you understand it, you understand everything.” Jackson sent her a cool look. “Any other questions?”
She shook her head and gestured for him to continue. She leaned back in her chair and he began to speak.
“The first six to eight decades of life are spent learning a craft and searching for the arammu.”
“The a
rammu? They think there’s only one person?”
The agent glared at her for the interruption. “Yes. As I was saying, the craft learned is representative of the Ghadrikan’s personality.”
“So, how does a doctor fit with an armorer?” she asked, remembering Roshan and his mate, Desta.
He ignored her question and continued with his explanation.
“When the male Ghadrikan has identified his arammu, he approaches her and makes his intentions known. Usually with an offering of some kind. It varies from bond to bond.”
“What if she rejects him?” Abby interrupted.
Jackson gave her a cold look. “That never happens.” He held her gaze a moment, before he continued.
“If she accepts the offering, he is allowed to court her. Courtship can last for decades.”
“Why so long?” She could not wrap her mind around it.
“Ghadrikan’s live three times longer than humans. The Prince is almost ninety years old.”
Abby blinked in surprise. The man did not look a day past thirty. “Really?”
The agent ignored her and started to speak, again.
“Wait,” she interrupted, ignoring his frown. “I thought you said they are supposed to find their bond mate person by eighty.”
“What is your point, Miss Ashley?”
“Well, I mean, is the prince bonded?” She hoped she sounded properly disinterested.
“No,” he answered flatly. “Anything else?”
“Nothing.” She gestured for him to go on.
“Good. The president is expecting the prince’s party to arrive at precisely fourteen hundred hours. You will not be sitting in on the meeting.”
Abby opened her mouth to argue and caught herself. She nodded.
“What will I be doing?”
“Giving Limek a tour of the White House.”
She fought not to frown. “I doubt he would leave his ambassador on foreign soil.” She shifted at the look Jackson gave her. “Besides, I don’t know where anything is.”
“Get a map from the lobby, Miss Ashley,” Jackson said, as he pushed back his chair.
She followed his example and followed him to the door. He stopped to snatch the envelope off the table by the door and thrust it toward her.
“Read that. I want it memorized by next week.”
She looked down at the packet in her hands. Not likely, she thought. She tried to keep her doubt off her face. As Agent Jackson opened the door, her hands tightened on the envelope.
“Sir?”
He paused, but did not turn. “What is it?”
“We are a foreign nation to Ghadrik. Why would they give us so much information?”
He turned his head away, but not fast enough to hide his smirk. “We have our sources. You have an hour until the meeting. I suggest you clean yourself up.”
She looked down at herself as the door clicked shut. She was wearing another government approved outfit. The black, sleeveless dress was comfortable in a very fitted way. It fell to her knees in a structured A-line. The matching jacket was equally fitted, a single button defining her waist. She felt overly put-together.
Another pair of high heels adorned her feet. Even after a week of walking in heels, she still hated them. She sighed and left the conference room in search of the ladies room. Candace had told her not to bring a purse to work, because it was too much trouble to have it searched every day.