I kept a smile on my face as I asked about fashion. Discussed galactic art trends. Got quotable opinions about the Impossible Collection. All without losing the fake enthusiasm I’d practiced or letting my frustration show. Some guests I spoke with could buy Earth and a dozen planets like it, and they used their farcical wealth to celebrate stolen art.
The Hive’s servitors moved through the party with an effortless grace, as though they shared a single mind. Not too farfrom the truth, perhaps. I moved around too, staying far away from Varok. It would be a terrible idea to try to interview the ‘master artist,’ and likely to end with me punching him.
And in breaking my hand,I admitted to myself with a wince. I’d felt his muscles and hitting him would be only slightly better than punching the wall.
Anyway, getting close wouldn’t have been easy even if I’d wanted to. He stood at Collector-Candidate Attrobi’s side, chatting amiably with his fans. He looked secure and in his element, which just pissed me off more.
“I know your secret,” a silky voice said at my shoulder, grabbing my attention as surely as if she’d emptied a pitcher of ice water over my head. “You’re not here as a reporter.”
The speaker was tall, thin, and graceful. Her skin was a deep green, her dress a blue so pale it looked almost white, and the jewels in her flowing black hair were either excellent fakes or worth more than I’d ever made in a year.
My heart pounded so loud that I was sure she’d hear it, and I struggled to keep my expression calm and bemused.
“I’m Penelope Halford from Earth News Central,” I told her. “And reporting on events like this may not count as journalism to you, but I assure you it’s every bit as real as any investigative reporting.”
She kept her grin and shook her head. “Lady Amyral, Scion of the Protectorate. And whatever yourjobis, we’re both here for the same reason—catching a suitable mate.”
My first reaction was relief, followed by dawning horror as I realized why she’d come to that conclusion. My cheeks burned as I very carefully didnotlook in Varok’s direction.
“I don’t know what you’re?—”
“Shush.” She waved off my protests. “Don’t worry, I won’t spoil your hunt, now I see who you’ve set your eye on. I amsoover artists, and my family needs a reputable noble match, so?—”
“I am not—”I caught myself as half the room turned in my direction. Varok among them, damn him and his smile.You aren’t supposed to be looking at him, idiot.“I’m not after Varok for anything more than a story, and I don’t care who you’re interested in, lady.”
She raised an eyebrow, calling me on my bullshit more eloquently than words could have. I narrowed my eyes and tried to vaporize her with a glare.
In defiance of all justice, she failed to burst into flames. Worse, I felt the useful anonymity of my cover melt away as people started paying attention.
While I struggled for self-control, my accidental tormentor snagged a pair of drinks from a passing servant. To my surprise, she handed one to me, and I stared at it dubiously. Fancy, pink, and trailing sparkling smoke. I had no idea what was in it, and I’d never have risked drinking it by choice.
“Okay, fine. You’re not interested in the artist. You just can’t keep your eyes off him,” she said, clinking her glass against mine. “Whatever, not my business. You can still help me pick my prey. A professional gossip should have a lot of juicy secrets to inform my choice.”
Fuck.I bought a few seconds by sipping the drink I didn’t want. Fruity and sweet, it left my lips and tongue tingling in an enjoyable but worrying way. My preparation for the mission included studying the likely guests, but my research didn’t focus on the details Amyral wanted to hear. If she realized how uninformed I was, it risked giving the game away.
I’d spent an hour gossiping with the other guests, though, and adding that to my research gave me plenty to work with. So I pulled together some choice details and started filling in the gaps with whatever sounded scandalous. “Where do you want to start? Prince Galliap is a poor choice, I suspect, since his dealings with Guildfather Urson are about to come to light…”
The rumors don’t have to betrue,I told myself.As long as they fool Amyral for a couple of days.And it seemed I’d hit the sweet spot. Amyral listened avidly and shared her own gossip with me until a delicate chime announced the meal’s arrival. Rather than ending the conversation, she linked arms with me and guided me to a seat beside hers as masked servitors brought out the feast.
I had the sinking sensation that I’d made a friend.
6
VAROK
The feast was a curious experience, one I should have paid more attention to. A swarm of masked servitors carried dishes from a dozen worlds, each with an ornate hologram listing which species could eat it safely. They set the dishes down on a long table according to some arcane algorithm that the guests immediately ruined. In theory, we had assigned seating, but many of the guests ignored that and sat wherever they liked.
I didn’t get that choice. As an artist, I had a place of honor beside Driin. The Collector-Candidate, of course, had the best seat in the house, and the servitors showed him extra deference.
Meanwhile, a Protectorate noble snatched Penny away to sit at the far end of the table. I didn’t like that, and not just because I wished to examine Penny’s choice of dress in detail. The Protectorate was a new power in the Reach, a collective of pirate lords merging to make their territory official. If Penny was working with this Scion, she had powerful backing. The pair sat too far away for me to hear what schemes my rival was hatching.
All I could do was ignore the danger and try the food. Every dish was a fresh delight, and everyone ate with joyous gusto.Everyone aside from our hosts; Collectors joined us at the table, speaking with their guests but ignoring the food on offer.
“I will miss eating,” Driin said, lifting a cube of something crimson and pulsing from a platter and staring at it. “Crystal immortality is a wonderful thing, but a body without use for food? That will be tough.”
“An eternity without tasting a meal?” The thought made me wince. “I’d go mad.”
“I shall gain other senses that more than make up for it.” He didn’t sound totally convinced. Flicking the red cube upward, he bit it cleanly out of the air and hissed, his eyes closed and an expression of bliss on his face.
