4
I’ll be damned. The old man was right.
Veta pulled Caoimhe into the hallway. Smoke filled the passage. The ship’s onboard climate sensors were down.
The vessel shuddered again when another essential part decided to explode.
“What’s happening,” cried Eleanor, shaking. Bianca guided the youngest girl, but she too was visibly upset.
Freya pushed Caoimhe along, the lady-in-waiting jumping and crying out with every bang and boom.
“It’s okay,” Caoimhe said. “It’s a malfunction. We’re going to be okay.”
A panel shorted out near them. Freya batted at the princess’s dress, wiping at the embroidery that the sparks had hit. “Must keep the dress—”
Veta sighed.
Shock.
They all were in shock.
Except Veta. She expected this.
But that’s what a good operative did—expected the unthinkable.
Veta pushed up pieces of bulkhead that had fallen in the halls to the nearest bank of escape pods. Whoever decided to put the escape pods all at one end of the ship was going to hear from her. That was an idiotic design.
“We’re under attack,” Veta said as she raised another piece. “We have to get off this ship. The damn Rhimodians double-crossed us.” She didn’t add that this was exactly what the Emperor feared would happen.
And why he’d so seriously opposed this attempt at a treaty.
The ship rocked, and everyone fell into the wall. Caoimhe stood, her headdress caught on a hook.
Veta and Freya worked to get it free.
“Stupid thing,” Veta muttered and yanked the piece.
Caoimhe cried out, and the piece flew across the walkway as Veta threw it out of the way.
The princess stared at Veta.
“It’s just a headpiece,” Veta replied.
Caoimhe blinked, and rational passed over her face. “Yes. We must get to safety.”
Veta worked her way through the hallway. They were close. So close. The hall was torquing left and right, sending them careening back and forth into the walls. Veta thanked her own paranoia for making sure they were stocked with supplies.
Just in case something horrible happened.
Well, something horrible happened.
“Where do we go?” Bianca asked as they reached the escape pod dock. “Back to the Empire?”
“We can’t,” Veta said, glancing back. “Not enough fuel. We’ll have to land here and call for help.”
“I cannot believe it,” Caoimhe whispered. “I just cannot. They wanted peace. Why would they do this?”
“Believe it, Your Highness,” Veta said. “Even your father knew it would go this way.” Because, really, the princess was a young woman. Too naïve to understand the ways of war.
