Page 52 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“So, if I were to request a summons of all the Warrior logs from last night…” Pyre looked at Argos rather than Venita when she spoke. “Those reports would match what you’re telling me now?”

Theora fought the urge to look at Argos and prove Pyre right. She fought to keep her expression neutral. She fought to keep herself calm.

Sentinels and plagues.

Venita never should have brought up the Warriors or reports—she should have let Argos handle it, as he was brought along in place of Boada, who had knowledge of those things. But of course she wouldn’t—Venita had no respect for Warriors. But perhaps if Theora had just let her in on the plan, she would’ve played along. The only saving grace was that there was no way the reports could be delivered in time to make a difference, not to mention that Boada could easily fudge something for Argos and solve their problem…Right?

Theora was relieved Argos was sitting beside her. Closer than those bleachers fifteen feet behind where she sat. Closer, to shield her from an attack she felt sure would come.

She forced her voice to sound unperturbed as she said, “Judge Imperium, can we move on from this nonsense and get back to discussing a peace between our people—”

“Our war commander was decapitated,” Pyre cut in. “The head was nowhere to be found. Warriors tend to keep trophies from their kills.”

“Your war commander,” Theora said, “was a venomous vulture who got what she deserved. She was, as I’m sure you’re aware, despised by many colonies other than my own.”

“That may be true, but no colony can fight the way yours can,” said Pyre. “And we know your Warriors like to hunt near our shared borders.” Pyre crossed her arms. “Your new husband is a Warrior, is he not?” She gave Argos a deliberate look. “Maybe he could tell us what happened.”

The judge sighed. “To be honest, Queen Pyre, I only allowed the subject to be brought up because I thought you would present proper evidence. After your colony conducts a proper investigation, I am willing to reopen this item. That means viable witness reports, DNA tests, true tangible evidence.” She gave Pyre a stern look, then turned to Theora. “And for your part, Queen Theora, Warrior logs from that day. Are we all agreed?”

Pyre gave an unsatisfied sigh. “Yes, Your Honor.”

Theora cleared her throat and nodded.

“Good,” said the judge, gathering her papers. “As it’s clear peace is dependent on this issue being resolved, this meeting is adjourned until tomorrow.”

Chapter 14

Argos

Argos was relieved when Venita—even if it was Venita, the headache—led them through the door from which they’d entered and out into the hall to a small tram that was waiting for them. He put his arm around Theora’s shoulders, feeling her nerves despite her stoic exterior. His nerves needed a bit of settling as well, and the sooner they were somewhere private, the better. He had to shake off the emotions from that room. Regroup.

He’d never realized that peace negotiations could be just as tense as war. If the judge hadn’t ended the session when she did, he was certain he would’ve found a reason to kill Pyre. Disappointing, but he had the rest of the week. It was better to observe his prey for a bit, anyway, before diving directly into a kill. Still, after that long train ride and no opportunity to exercise all morning, he was beginning to get bored.

The very idea that this place was considered something of a resort that tourists enjoyed visiting was…baffling. What was here for them to do? All he saw were endless pleasantly lit tunnels.

Tunnels that hid secrets.

Argos had a way of shifting his eyes subtly without moving his head, of observing while portraying little interest, and he had been studying the halls since they arrived—after all, he needed to know how to get Theora to safety if need be. But it was the scents that mattered most. With every door they passed, visible or not, he could smell whether it led to a room, a longer passage, or a storage closet—and whether it was connected to the outside. Sorting the scents into what was important to remember and what wasn’t was the challenging part. Especially since he didn’t know what he was looking for.

Not yet, anyway.

Finally, the tram dropped them off at the entrance to their private wing, where Apollo—the good-natured complication—was waiting. He unlocked the door and allowed them to enter. It was like walking into a small shopping square. Brilliantly realistic projections created a blue sky on the vaulted ceiling. There were trees, benches, and even a bike rack scattered throughout. A brick convenience store, a small library, a gym, an ice cream shop, lampposts. An occasional soft breeze, the sounds of birds, of traffic…Dark sentinels, please let those have an off switch, Argos thought. The only thing stopping this manufactured town from seeming real was the lack of sunlight.

“Welcome to your home for the week,” Apollo said with enough pride in his tone that one would think he’d built the place with his own hands.

“It looks just like uptown,” Venita said, nodding in approval.

“Forty years ago,” Theora muttered, crinkling her nose a bit, as if the distasteful atmosphere had a stench. She took Argos’s hand to lead him to their suite, and he adjusted the grip to make their contact look natural—he was much better at it than she was.

“Why does Apollo have the keys to our wing?” Argos asked.

“He just wanted to be helpful,” said Theora. “Be nice.”

He leaned closer, passing his words off as intimate whispers. “For a woman who preferred to mix her own drink rather than have any staff on the train, you’re awfully trusting all of a sudden.”

Theora gave him a warning look. “I’ve known Apollo since we were children. He’s not going to kill me.”

“Maybe not him,” said Argos, although he was the slightest bit disappointed that he had no valid excuse to dispose of the insect. “But how do we know he’s the only one with access to that key?”