Stories from the War: Military Dystopian Thriller

No Quarter

  August 2064

  Derrick pressed his back into the demolished building. Instincts from fighting with the Guard kept him from rushing forward. Instead, he looked for escape routes and scouts hidden in the jumbled shadows. There was no backup here. He was not a soldier. Not anymore.

  But he should notify them. And he knew it. If the five men he’d seen slipping through Libourne’s streets were FLF, they most likely weren’t alone. He should call the Grey Guard to alert them. And then he would go back to his politician’s quarters embedded within a small Guard base. The thought was worse than the five unknown men. He could not take another night of sitting and waiting for the war to end. He watched the soldiers train and leave on missions daily until the sight drove him mad.

  Running into five strangers dressed in black while out riding seemed a godsend.

  “Did you get it?” one of the men hissed.

  Derrick had just been thinking that his need for action was overstimulating his mind. The men he’d tailed couldn’t be FLF. Not this close to a Guard base. But with the sound of a heavy backpack settling on dusty concrete followed by the chink of metal, Derrick froze. There was only one reason for the FLF to be here. They wanted to take the base out.

  Dammit, he should have told someone where he was going.

  Derrick didn’t carry one of the comms he’d pestered Parliament so hard to be given to the troops. Nor did he have a gun. Those were in too short of a supply, just like electricity. But he did have the sword he’d claimed the time he’d fought with Jared in Voltzcrag. In that fight, he would have risked attacking these six men, hoping for an advantage in terrain and timing, and that there were only six. And that they weren’t carrying guns. Even the FLF was a little low on ammo these days.

  But that was nearly three years ago and before the injury that had led to his withdrawal from the Guard. Only the weakness of his wounds had allowed the combined forces of his father, Renault le Marc, and Renault’s daughter, Danielle, to convince him to join Parliament. He’d tried to make the choice count. But what he did wasn’t good enough. This moment proved it.

  “Only four?”

  The whispered words blended into the rustling of leaves.

  “That is all we got through. How close can you plant them to the base?”

  A snort accented the answer. “Right where they need to be. I have a way in.”

  Derrick had to do something.

  He slipped back to where he’d tied his horse in deeper shadows and on soft grass. Petting her muzzle, Derrick felt a twinge. He was fond of the mare. Hopefully, she’d find her way back to the stables on base. Preferably with a few FLF chasing her down right into a night patrol.

  Derrick led her through the grass to the far side of the building where the FLF hid. The wide front windows held broken panes. The mare’s shoes would reverberate in the canyon choked with rubble. It would help. He smacked her rump with a branch.

  She whinnied and kicked before taking off in a bucking trot. Her startled cry brought moving silence as the men whisked forward to peer at the galloping horse. She was already too much in shadow, hiding that no rider guided her race toward the Guard base.

  “Shit.”

  “I thought you weren’t followed.”

  “Just go and take care of whoever that was!”

  The order sliced through the babble. Three men peeled off on horses that hit a full stride before reaching the road. Three gone, which left at least three remaining. And the bombs. They wouldn’t have risked those in a mad dash toward base. Derrick drew his sword and edged into the building’s shadow.

  “Where are you going?”

  “We were seen. I can’t risk being caught here. You have the package and your orders.”

  A figure hesitated in the darkness along a rent in the building’s side. With swift movements, it detached and hurried in a limping gait along the rubble strewn alley. Stocky and shorter than Derrick’s height by a head, he recognized the figure without needing to see his face. Which made the choice of tracking down the man with connections to the FLF or staying with the explosives that much easier. And better. Now he wouldn’t have to kill someone who held information the Guard would find valuable.

  Derrick waited until the man had disappeared around the dark edge of the building. Then he waited a minute more. No more talking came from within the building, but scuffs and soft grunts told Derrick that the men were still inside. Packing, hiding the bombs, or rigging traps, he couldn’t be certain. But they were busy and hopefully wouldn’t notice as he slipped into the same gap the limping man had used to exit.

  Barely seen in the darkness, two figures dug rapidly at the dusty debris against a wall. Pushing aside a block of concrete, one paused. “It’s here,” he said. The other swept small stones from something that sounded like canvas. Together they hauled out a sack the size of a body. One flipped open a corner.

  The glint of oiled metal shone despite the dim light. Derrick’s heart sank. He should have dealt with them while they were still busy. Before they pulled out a bag full of guns. Now the best he could hope for was they weren’t loaded.

  “How we going to carry them, just you and me?”

  “We’ll take them out front and wait for—”

  The man died on Derrick’s sword as he turned to nod toward the front door. “Fuck,” the remaining man cursed. He didn’t reach for the weapons at his feet, but pulled a handgun from his belt. Derrick dove as the man opened fire.

  His landing nearly jarred the sword from his hand, and knocked his arm numb from the shoulder down. He kept hold, knowing the gun would run out of bullets. His sword wouldn’t lose its edge. He just needed to stay alive long enough.

  Having the upper hand, the man stalked Derrick around the rubble pile that shielded him, firing recklessly. Derrick waited for the click of the empty cartridge. When it came, he leapt to his feet. The FLF agent was reaching for a new clip when Derrick’s sword pierced his heart. From outside sounded the stamp of horses.

  “Shit,” Derrick swore, looking for new refuge.

  “We have the building surrounded. Drop any weapons and step forward toward the front of the building.”

  The voice washed a rush of relief over Derrick that weakened his knees. “Lieutenant Averys, it’s Derrick Eldridge. I have two FLF soldiers down. There are three others—”

  “Yes, we caught them chasing down your horse,” Lieutenant Averys said, dismounting. In charge of the base, Averys took his duty of protecting its denizens seriously. Of course he would know Derrick’s mount and that he’d left the base without checking in. “Secure the surrounding buildings to be sure,” Averys ordered over his shoulder before sending in two soldiers with drawn weapons. Averys walked in behind, glancing over the scene casually. “We feared the worst, my lord Earl.”

  Derrick frowned at the title, glancing away involuntarily. He didn’t need the reminder of duties and position. He’d be hearing it soon enough from his father.

  “There is one more, too. Lennet, the tailor in town, was here. He delivered the bombs,” Derrick said, nodding to the satchel in the center of the room.

  “You’re certain?” Averys asked, tense once more.

  “Positive. I know his limp and girth.”

  Averys nodded to a soldier at the door. “Take five more men and pick up Lennet for questioning. Hold him in detainment until I return.” Averys turned back to Derrick, gaze sweeping the room with its small bag of explosives and canvas sack of guns. “You did well. We owe you,” he said.

  “I was with the Guard ... three years back.” Derrick answered, warm pride tingling in his chest. He never should have left.

  “I wasn’t aware of that,” Averys said, scratching his chin. “You sent your horse running on purpose then?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t think six to one was that good of odds. You find her? She’s a nice mare.”

  “Out front. We didn’t waste time when she came galloping with men after her. You leave the
Guard for Parliament then?” Averys asked conversationally.

  “Nah. Took a wound when the PM died,” Derrick answered. “Better now though.”

  “Well, we still need good men. The war isn’t over. If you want to come back, send me word.”

  The idea raced through Derrick like lightning, stirring life and light. “Thank you. I will.” He just needed to find a way to enlist before his father found out.

  —

  “Your father will have the Lady Grey bundle you up and send you back,” Byran said, his concerned expression on his face removing a bit of the sting in his words.

  “My father cannot rule my life forever. I’m thirty, almost thirty-one. I want to make my own choices,” Derrick argued, wishing the war hadn’t made good alcohol as scarce as bullets.

  Byran leaned back from the table, brown eyes shadowed. “You really feel like you’ve done nothing since joining Parliament?”

  Derrick heard the hurt tone in Byran’s voice. Damn Byran that he believed in the system for some reason. A reason that lay beyond Derrick’s ability to understand. Decisions were made in battle. Even their government, formed from war and tragedy, spent too much time debating meaningless tripe like percentages or representation. All it did was talk about solving problems that would come after the war ended. A war the representatives did not choose to fight in.

  Derrick rubbed rough fingers across his eyes, uncertain how to explain without insulting his oldest friend. “It’s not that I feel I haven’t done anything, but that I could be doing more.”

  “By being one of ten thousand soldiers?” Byran asked. Derrick shot Byran a hot glare for sounding too much like his father. “You’ve made a difference here. Embedding Parliament with the Guard was your idea. And the comms!” Byran said, searching for a different vein to prove his point.

  “I know. I just ... can’t explain. I liked being a soldier. It felt important. More important than debating over words on paper.”

  “Yeah, being filthy while the FLF shoots at you and all you have is a sword sounds really difficult to give up,” Byran drawled.

  Derrick knew his friend was teasing by the spark in his eye. He snorted, reaching for his glass and remembering it held only water as he picked it up.

  “We’re winning now,” Byran continued, putting optimism in his tone. The idea of Derrick leaving to fight was not setting well with Byran. Derrick could only imagine what his father would do. “Hopefully the war will be over soon.”

  “Sure. That is why FLF soldiers are managing to sneak bombs a few miles from a Guard base for a strategic attack.”

  Byran did not argue the point or Derrick’s tone. There were times that Derrick believed nothing could ruffle his friend. He’d only seen Byran agitated on a handful of occasions.

  “Did Averys say anything about Lennet when you went in this morning?” Byran asked.

  “No. He wanted to have a discussion with me on leaving base alone and without notifying Command.”

  “Oh, no wonder you are in a foul mood. Not only can you not shoot anyone, you’re grounded!” Byran said, laughing, which brought a sheepish grin to Derrick’s face.

  “Basically, yeah. He said that even with my military training, I wasn’t to leave unescorted.”

  “No fun in that,” Byran said, slapping Derrick’s shoulder.

  Derrick choked down the desire to tell Byran what else had been said. Averys had taken away Derrick’s freedom, but had also offered him an alternative to sitting around like a caged animal. He could rejoin. Immediately. Averys had invited him to the training grounds the next morning, promising Derrick a chance to burn energy and restore some of his rusty combat skills.

  The invitation, both of them, burned under his skin. If he were on a different base than his father, it would be so easy. Blazes, did it piss him off that he was too much a coward to stand up to his father. He swallowed water, wishing it were vodka, and did his best to jump off the carousel of thoughts circling in his head.

  “How is Isabella? And your son and daughter?” Derrick asked, knowing Byran would happily chatter on about the last time he had seen his family. Derrick still couldn’t fathom Byran married and with children. The transformation in Byran when he spoke of them amused Derrick as much as placed him in awe. Byran’s eye might still wander, and Byran himself on occasion, but his heart belonged to his family. And Isabella was a lovely match to Byran’s fire, tempering his friend when needed.

  Byran’s animation of two-year-old Santi’s newest antics and Cerilla’s thoughtfulness at the age of four distracted Derrick despite a desire not to be. “When will you see them again?” Derrick asked, hearing the longing in Byran’s voice and wondering if it were the same tone Derrick had when he spoke of the Guard.

  “Every day the route to old Spain is getting safer. Merimarche is well built. But I worry. I just want this war over so I can be with my family,” Byran said and paused. Sadness misted his brown eyes before fading.

  “Soon,” Derrick said, feeding his friend hope.

  “Yes. With or without you, my friend,” Byran said, standing. “I want to check the reports. I will see you later?”

  Derrick nodded, amused that Byran checked in on the fighting almost as much as he did. It was an unfathomable quirk in his friend who tried so hard to keep Derrick from returning to the war. Though if Byran anxiously awaited the end of the fighting or was looking for reports of the FLF near Merimarche, especially on the road there ... well, it did make sense really. Derrick just hadn’t considered Byran’s family the cause until now.

  Alone, Derrick stared out the window toward headquarters. There was one other thing that Derrick hadn’t told Byran about the conversation with Averys. Derrick had mentioned that his father would stonewall any attempt to enlist at this Guard outpost. Hesitantly, Derrick had admitted to fighting with Captain Jared Vries in Voltzcrag, back when Vries had been a Lieutenant and Michael Prescot the Captain.

  Derrick and Vries had practiced sword fighting a dozen times following that, whenever battles had thrown them together. Vries would remember him, he thought – hoped. Averys said he could ask. With Averys’ recommendation and Vries’ permission, Derrick could go to a different post and start fresh. He just needed to tell Averys to go ahead. And then hope Vries recognized his name well enough not to be annoyed by the request coming in the middle of a war.

  Derrick choked on his last mouthful of water.

  —

  The base alarms sounded when Derrick was halfway to the training field. He ran the remainder. He shouldn’t have been allowed into Command, not in an emergency. But in the chaos of people entering, and Derrick’s rush as well, he walked in without question.

  Realizing what he had done but hesitant to undo it, Derrick paused at the edge of the room. Screens blazed on the wall, both a live shot of a rapidly changing landscape from a camera on a plane and a satellite map of Europe. Derrick stood transfixed by the first video displays he’d seen in years. What it was they displayed took a minute longer to process.

  Three bases were shown in red and under attack, two to the north and one in old Italy. All three were within easy journey of the coast or a river.

  “Dammit,” Averys snapped. “I thought the FLF no longer could manage a coordinated attack.”

  “Apparently they can,” a woman answered over the comm. “Did you really think they were only targeting you with the bombs you discovered, Lieutenant?”

  “No, my Lady,” Averys grudgingly admitted. “But it would have been nice if we’d gotten wind of this from Lennet.”

  “Keep questioning him. Learning how they are coordinating messages is important to ending this,” the Lady Grey replied to Averys. “Stay on alert. Report anything you find. Just because you thwarted one attack doesn’t mean the FLF is done with you. That base was one of those targeted for today.”

  Averys signed off, ordering extra men to double-check the safe zone around the base. Then he saw Derrick. Derrick winced, expect
ing to lose the chance he wanted to claim.

  “I could use you on the perimeter, but I suppose MOTHER summoned you?” Averys said to Derrick as he glanced over scrolling reports.

  His agreement to help was halted by the second half of the sentence. His hesitation brought Averys’ full attention to him. “I should check in with MOTHER, of course. But I’ll see if they can spare me,” Derrick answered.

  “Good man. Find me when you are free. Shaun, take the Earl back to MOTHER’s office,” Averys said to a young soldier.

  Shaun escorted Derrick out of Command along a back hallway. Soldiers dressed in bulletproof gear nicer than he had worn three years before dashed around them in the hallway. Questions percolated to Derrick’s tongue, but he hesitated to ask the silent man with him for fear of revealing how out of place he was.

  A new alarm sent soldiers scurrying faster. “Perimeter alarm,” Shaun said, eyes darting back the way they’d come. The same direction most of the Guard soldiers were hustling.

  “Go. Just point to which room,” Derrick told the young man.

  “Third door on the right at the next intersection,” he instructed, hesitating one more moment before dashing away.

  Derrick let out a relieved breath. Explaining his presence to MOTHER when it had not been requested had just been resolved. What MOTHER was doing operational despite having been dissolved some six years before was a little more difficult to work out. He headed against the flow of the armed soldiers to find answers.

  At the intersection, the hallway to the right stood empty. One doorway remained partially open as if entered and pushed closed in a hurry. He heard his father while still several paces from the room. Curious as much as cautious, Derrick approached and paused by the door.

  The view into the room through the narrow gap was of a smaller vid screen. The image was broken up into seven faces.

  “What do you mean she didn’t have time to give you a report?” one man asked, hair gray against his dark skin.

  “Her impertinence is getting worse. We need to know what is happening! The base here is under attack,” a woman said, German accent thickened with anger.

  “You spoke to her directly?” a man Derrick recognized asked calmly. Le Marc had aged in the last three years since Derrick had seen him, but his grey blue eyes and refined French pronunciation were unmistakable. As was the frailness written in pale skin and a slight shake to his movements.

  “No. I did not even get that far. The Chief Communications Officer relayed that they would give us an update as soon as the situation had been evaluated,” Derrick’s father, David Eldridge, replied.

  One of those on the conference snorted. “This is treason,” the woman snapped.

  “Responding to an attack is not treason,” le Marc answered.

  “Why are you protecting her?”

  “Because she is winning the war,” le Marc shot back, heat sparking his words. “When the war is over, then you can do with her what you will. I think you can appreciate that she is saving Europe.”

  “She is not saving Europe. The Grey Guard is saving Europe and Captain Vries is in charge of the Guard. We do not need her,” David said, enunciating each word. Derrick watched his father, surprised by the anger he saw. His father wasn’t fond of the woman they called the Lady Grey, but there was more than dislike in David’s tone. He hated her. And his father, with all of his political ambitions and aristocratic life, did not display hatred often.

  “You made her the liaison with the Guard and set her up for this position. The time to remove her was before Captain Prescot died, before she won Sofia. We are stuck with her now,” one of the men answered.

  “She can still be removed,” David pushed.

  “Don’t try it,” le Marc warned. “She knows we still control the government no matter what Parliament plays at. We do not need to make an enemy of her. You may not think she controls the Guard, but they follow her when she isn’t their sanctioned leader. If you can’t figure out how dangerous that is, David, then ask your son. I’m sure he can enlighten you,” le Marc said to Eldridge.

  One of the women laughed. Derrick wasn’t certain how his father held back the rage trembling through him.

  “Speaking of which, there are decisions to be made once this is done. Some of the proposals Parliament has come up with need to be shut down,” she said. “They are discussing elections again. We don’t control enough of the senators to ensure we’ll keep power. Not yet.”

  “Call us when you have a report, David. Otherwise, we should speak tomorrow when this is over.”

  It was the threat of the call ending, and his father’s attention being free that woke Derrick from his shocked state. What he’d heard couldn’t be real. If it were, then truly all he’d thought he’d accomplished in the last three years since leaving the Guard had been an illusion. His father ruled him. More than that, his father was one of a handful that controlled Europe. Except for the Guard. And that was directed by a woman who had as little right to it as his father did to Europe.

  Shaking, Derrick backed down the hallway. The waste of the years mixed with the fury of too many manipulations. Outside, he heard gunfire. Turning, he ran to find Averys, burning to join the fight.

  —

  “You were fighting?” David shouted, storming into Derrick’s quarters. “What right do you think you have to pick up a gun and ...”

  “I helped save the base,” Derrick answered his father calmly. “They needed soldiers.”

  “You are not Guard!” David snarled. Derrick did not answer. David’s fury turned cold. “I will have Averys’ head.”

  “Why? It is my choice!” Derrick said, jumping to his feet though it strained his twisted knee. Derrick would limp for a month, most likely for the damage caused when he dropped to safety too quickly.

  “You are a member of Parliament and not a common soldier!” David said, retreating from the room.

  “Why did you bother to have me put in Parliament?” Derrick asked his father. “MOTHER controls everything anyway. I’ve made no difference.”

  David returned and stared at him. “How ... what do you mean by that?”

  That his father would continue to deny the truth to him lanced pain through Derrick with the heat of a bullet.

  “I heard you. Averys thought I was in command because MOTHER had summoned me, because I’m your son.” Derrick spat the last word like a curse. “Did you enact my suggestions to Parliament because you liked them or because you wanted me to feel useful, father?”

  David took a step toward him, reaching out a hand. Derrick jerked away, his glare angry enough to make his father keep his distance.

  “I can explain—”

  “I don’t care. Not anymore. Get out.”

  This time, Derrick turned his back on his father and limped away.

  Derrick knew it wouldn’t be that easy to be rid of his father. But the argument would buy him space. At least for a few days.

  Byran turned up late in the afternoon. “You didn’t come to session this afternoon. There were reports on the attacks at other bases,” he said referring to the afternoon meetings of all parliamentary members on base.

  Information and decisions made here were given to the other outposts housing senators via the Guard, or so Derrick had thought. Now he could believe MOTHER sent the information ... or not – or only what they wanted. Derrick almost told Byran the farce MOTHER made of Parliament, but looking at his friend he could not. He wondered if that made him as bad as his father.

  “My knee ... I’m not supposed to walk on it for a week,” Derrick replied, not actually lying. “So how did the FLF coordinate the attacks? It was just three other bases?”

  “Bombs at three and the gunfight here and it looks like it was old fashioned recon to pull it off. Maps, photos, all on paper with an imprinted code in Braille. They found the same in Lennet’s house hidden under a false step. It’s like something from a century ago.”

  Derrick
snorted. “Are you really surprised? Most of Europe is without power. There is a carriage maker opening outside of base for goodness sakes. We both own horses instead of cars. Maps and codes might be the best they can do.”

  Though not us, he thought, remembering the vid screens and satellite maps. The Guard had technology. Had he had any part in ensuring that?

  Byran’s silence pulled Derrick from his thoughts. Byran watched him, though he pretended to be enjoying the afternoon sun. “Well?” Derrick prompted.

  “You really enlisted again?”

  “Is it you asking or my father?”

  “Through me? Shit. Seriously Derrick, did you get hit in the head while you were out fighting the FLF?”

  Derrick looked away from his friend, swallowing a bitter taste. He was tired and in pain, feeling out of sorts in just about every way. “No,” he said finally. “I just helped out. There wasn’t time to join or anything. Lieutenant Averys didn’t ask. He just gave me a gun and told me who to listen to.”

  Averys knew of MOTHER and accommodated his father with a room and access to computers. That bothered Derrick. The Lady Grey might not obey MOTHER, but she did nothing to prevent the manipulation MOTHER had of Parliament. And Captain Vries listened to her. The betrayal hurt worse than his knee.

  They sat for another minute before Byran looked back over. “Are you going to?”

  “No.” Derrick answered, the word taking away some of the weight smothering him even as it sparked moisture to his eyes. Byran hesitated, brows bunched and mouth parted. Derrick guessed the question. “Because my knee will keep me out for a month. And maybe because the Lady Grey’s Guard is not the same as Captain Prescot’s and I don’t think I want any part of her force. Maybe you’re just right. The war is nearly over. We’re down to tossing out random FLF, stopping incursions into Europe, and figuring out how to keep them out. There are even a few places rebuilding. By the time my leg heals, they won’t need me.”

  “So will you come back to Parliament?” Byran asked, sensing there was more unsaid.

  “I don’t know,” Derrick answered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to think about it. Don’t tell my dad that I didn’t enlist, all right? I want him to stew a bit.”

  “Fine by me,” Byran said with a grin.

  —

  The soft knock on his door was nearly drowned by the bustle of the base in the early afternoon. Four days after the attack, Derrick managed to get around with a hobble and a cane. The pain was less, but the sleep wasn’t much more. It was hard to put the idea of fighting again behind him, no matter that he knew he couldn’t go back. He wasn’t going to take orders from the Lady Grey or his father.

  When he opened the door, Danielle stood in the afternoon light, hair smooth and dazzling, and the color of a milky sun. Her grey eyes were all shadows though. His father’s plan had hatched. Derrick let out a slow breath then pushed the door open the rest of the way.

  “I heard you’d been injured,” she said, eyes wide with concern. “I had to come.”

  “Of course. Across country after an attack. That would be a wonderful time to visit. How is your father? He looked ill when I saw him the other day.”

  “You saw him?” she asked, appearing confused. “He has been tired ... drained really. The doctors are running tests. So far, they think it is just stress from the war.”

  “And not from running Europe without Parliament’s knowledge?”

  Danielle leaned away, innocent eyes wide. Despite the anger, he wanted to believe that shocked look and imagine that she hadn’t been part of the ruse to keep him from returning to fight.

  Before Danielle could answer, Byran walked in. “Would you believe someone drove a car to base? Even I don’t have the money for that.” Byran’s words and motion stopped at the sight of willowy Danielle with her long, pale blond hair and smoky eyes. Byran barely managed to pull his gaze away to glance questioningly at Derrick. Derrick fought a chuckle as he began introductions.

  “Byran, this is the woman with the car, I would wager,” Derrick said.

  “Byran? I’ve heard David mention you,” Danielle said, offering her hand.

  “David?” Byran said, floundering for recognition.

  “My father,” Derrick said, amused.

  Byran took a double glance at Derrick before turning back to Danielle. Byran’s natural affinity for women rose as he gently took her hand, sliding his fingers over her skin as he smiled at her. Derrick wanted to laugh. Byran had no control over it. It was how he responded to women.

  “And you are?” he asked.

  Danielle glanced at Derrick. “Danielle le Marc, Derrick’s fiancée.”

  Byran’s flirting fell into a pit. “You’re engaged?” he asked, rounding on Derrick.

  “Not exactly,” Derrick answered.

  “Yes,” Danielle said firmly at the same moment. Hearing Derrick’s answer, she turned soulful grey eyes on him.

  “I thought we agreed it was just to get you away from your father? We aren’t actually going to get married,” Derrick said to her in frustration.

  “For how long?” Byran asked, stiff with shock.

  “Almost three years,” Danielle replied, tears piling up behind her dark lashes.

  “There are times I don’t know you,” Byran said to Derrick before turning and leaving.

  “You didn’t tell him about us?” Danielle said, appearing truly hurt.

  Derrick walked after Byran, then turned back to Danielle. “Shit.” Decision made, he chased down his oldest friend.

  “It isn’t like you have never kept something from me,” Derrick said to Byran’s back as Byran walked out the door. Relief flooded Derrick to find Byran waiting on the other side, his expression troubled. Byran stood with his gaze on the ground for a moment. A trace of guilt tinged his gaze when he looked back at Derrick.

  “Arinna, the Lady Grey,” Byran began.

  “Is taking the role that belongs to Captain Vries. She isn’t even military!” Derrick snapped, frustrated by the change of topic. The openness in Byran’s eyes closed.

  “Never mind. When you are done making excuses, let me know,” Byran said as he stalked off.

  This time, Derrick let him leave. When he returned to Danielle, he expected haughty injury to cover the artifice. Instead, she dried her eyes, glancing away when he entered as a new shimmer of moisture spilled down her smooth cheeks.

  “I’m sorry. It was a mistake to come here. I was worried ... I needed to get away. It was foolish.” Danielle stood, gathering her handbag.

  “No. I’m the one who needs to apologize. I’ve ... not been myself. Stay. You’ve driven all the way here. You needed to leave your father’s estate? Something is wrong?” Derrick asked.

  Danielle remained standing, not looking at him. He placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder, surprised at how slight she was under the silken shirt. Of the few occasions they had spent time together over the years since their “engagement,” Derrick could not remember having touched her other than when she had held his hand when he’d been injured. The pressure of his fingers on her arm finally brought her eyes, swimming in tears, up to his.

  “I know you only accepted our engagement because you thought to spare me. It isn’t love. But ... you are the only one who understands what it is like to have such a father. I trust you. I want you to know that. And I do like you, a bit,” she said with a glint of a smile. It faltered.

  “It’s silly, but it is nice to pretend this is something more when I’m trapped in that house of his. And ... it is changing out there. Did you know? That line our fathers fed us of ‘joining houses’ or such isn’t so alien to the world now. Being engaged gives me status and protection.”

  “Being Count le Marc’s daughter does not?” he asked, though he kept his tone gentle to smooth the less than kind words.

  “Do you prefer the status that comes with your father’s name?” she asked, not nearly as defenseless or naive as he imagined her.

>   “No,” he answered with a cough.

  She was right that he understood what it was like to be the child of a powerful man, one with expectations and whose orbit was difficult to escape. Byran’s parents had been gone since he was a teenager. Raised by an uncle more absent than not, Byran had never understood the times Derrick had hesitated to disobey David Eldridge. At least he’d had Byran. Danielle had been alone.

  “Stay for a bit. My father will want to see you before you go. Can I make you tea?” Derrick asked.

  “Coffee.”

  He knew so little about her. She sat while he busied himself, waiting until the scarce and expensive coffee that he kept for Byran’s benefit was done, and he could sit across from her before speaking what else was on his mind.

  “And you really did not know that our fathers still ruled Parliament and Europe through MOTHER despite everyone’s belief it had been dissolved?”

  “It is our fathers,” she answered with a sigh. “I had hoped not ... but am I surprised? No. I thought they would feed their ideas to Parliament through us. Not use us for what? Information?”

  She looked sincere. To emphasize it, she reached across and took his hand. “Have you really enlisted?” she asked. “I will worry so, but I understand the desire to escape. After all, I’ve come to see you. I’ve come how many times over the years when I needed to escape?”

  “The injury to my knee will keep me out for a month or more. I have time to consider my options,” he said, hedging. He heard his father’s tone in her words.

  Danielle nodded, picking up her cup as she sat back. Savoring its warmth, she held the rim against her lips.

  “What does your friend Byran think of MOTHER still controlling Parliament? He is a Senator too?”

  The question was too innocent. Derrick looked out the window and shook his head. “Are they worried I’ll tell him and ruin their little game?”

  “If we can’t trust each other,” Danielle began.

  “Then tell me what you know, dammit. Don’t be their spy.”

  Coffee spilled over the rim of her cup as she set it down with a clink. Danielle pressed her lips together, fighting tears as she searched for words. “He frightens me. That is the truth, the most important truth. Before I met you, my brothers were the only ones who were kind to me. And ambition drove one away to die as a soldier and the other was killed fulfilling my father’s dreams. I know your father is sweet to me as a ploy to learn about mine. But you ... you’ve been kind because you are good and decent. And that is a truth too. You are stronger than me. I can’t fight my father without you. He’ll use me up like he does everyone else.”

  Derrick wanted to yell as much as he wanted to sweep her up and offer to protect her. The Guard was gone from him. Parliament was a ruse. But Danielle truly was afraid of le Marc. Every word was manipulated by her father. She was a pawn like him. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he couldn’t even shake himself free from David Eldridge, much less protect her from Renault. She looked that desperate for any hope.

  “I’ll get a room ready for you. Stay for a few days, until you feel strong enough to face your father.”

  She took his hand as he turned to walk away. Her smile glowed. “Thank you.”

  She’d said kind – that he was kind. Her look said it too. Of course, his father had raised him to be so. Derrick felt old cage walls pressing close. Just as suddenly, a word came to him offering him the freedom and refuge Danielle claimed she sought from him. It was a link to his mother and heritage that his father had no tie to.

  Kesmere.