Perdition

  You didn’t need to be stronger. Or better. Because you’re smarter. Oh, well played, love. Even I doubted that you had a plan. Shouldn’t have. I’ll know better now.

  The Great Bear frothed at the mouth, blood pouring out, as he tried to remove the knife. It was madness that the beast wasn’t already dead. Also says something about how much he uses his brain. Dred snagged her chains and slashed Grigor’s feet out from under him, then she put out an imperious hand.

  “Tam! Einar’s axe. Now.”

  In a single, sweeping stroke, she chopped through the Great Bear’s neck—just as she had with Priest—and for a few seconds, the silence was absolute.

  43

  Complete Submission

  Dred fought the urge to drop to her knees. She had never been so exhausted; it felt like days since she’d slept. Might have been for all I know. Instead, she lashed her chains, giving the impression she could take on the rest of the Great Bear’s army. Grigor’s hairy head tumbled to a stop at her feet. All around her, the men fell silent.

  Then the first dropped to his knees. Others followed one by one, prostrate before her. She wanted to tell them not to bow, but it was an affectation Grigor had required from his soldiers, and she couldn’t afford to show a flicker of weakness in this moment. Gradually, she slowed the chains and wrapped them around her forearms. She didn’t look around for Jael; she could feel him behind her, a low hum of connectivity. That was a disturbing and unexpected development—one she’d deal with later. For now, she had two empires to carve up.

  “You have three choices,” she called out. “Serve me, serve Silence, or embrace death.”

  Options two and three were essentially the same, and by their gaunt, weary faces and hopeless eyes, Grigor’s soldiers knew as much. One lifted his head to speak for the others. “We are your men.”

  The others agreed with hesitant nods. Between the Great Bear’s mad confidence and his overweening ambition, they hadn’t expected to lose. Now you’re at the Dread Queen’s mercy. Fortunately for them, she needed bodies to replace those lost in the conflict. Since she recruited the best of the worst, her population had never been among the highest. Yet at this point, she couldn’t afford to be choosy, and these men should be grateful for their lives.

  She studied the new recruits, then said, “Row by row, deliver your weapons to Tam, all shivs, blades, clubs, everything. You won’t be armed for the first turn. Until then, expect to take on the shit jobs and earn my favor.”

  They did as she demanded with a flattering alacrity. Tam stared at the growing pile before him. She kept her feet until they finished, then she turned to Martine, standing behind and to her left. “Can you supervise them in getting this place set to rights? It looks as if a truck drove through here.”

  “You know I can,” she answered, looking pleased with the responsibility. “Leave a few men with me in case anyone gets truculent.”

  “Certainly.” She signaled ten Queenslanders to stay for backup.

  She summoned her remaining strength to stride from the hall, past the sentries. It was a measure of her exhaustion that she left all the details to subordinates, but all the fighting, Einar’s death, and the final duel with Grigor had taken its toll. All her instincts told Dred she was a few paces from collapse, and she couldn’t let anyone see it.

  How far am I from Queensland?

  Counting steps, she had to take frequent breaks. The wounds on her back, on her thigh, on her shoulder, burned like fire. Just when she thought she couldn’t go farther, Jael caught up to her. He had the good judgment not to speak; he merely put an arm around her and helped her the rest of the way. They cheered Dred and Jael at the checkpoints, but she didn’t stop to chat or give information. Tam would be along presently to do that, anyway.

  My quarters. Finally.

  Dred reeled against the wall as the door swished open for her. With Jael’s help, she stumbled inside. Her fingers were clumsy as she peeled the chains off her arms; she lacked the endurance to manage her boots. She fell into the nearest chair more than made the decision to sit down, then she leaned her head back.

  “You should let me clean your wounds,” he said.

  “I can’t move,” she admitted. “If you’ve been waiting for a chance to strike, this is it.”

  “The men won’t follow me.” Jael came toward her and knelt, not in obeisance, but to roll the thin leather of her boot downward.

  The slice was long but not deep, lateral across her thigh. It burned, but it wasn’t bleeding; during the long battle, the cut had clotted and sealed. She stared down at pale skin and the red scab, unable to believe her eyes. It hadn’t been long enough for the slash to be pink and puffy, or for red rays to be crawling up her leg. If she died of a putrid wound after surviving so much, that was incontrovertible proof that the universe had a sense of humor.

  “Is that normal?”

  Dred rubbed her eyes, confused. The wound shouldn’t look like this.

  “For me, the healing is.” He touched the streaks. “This definitely isn’t.”

  “I thought the effects from your blood were temporary,” she said, puzzled.

  “So did I. But I gave you an awful lot of it. We’ll be parsecs away from Perdition by the time I regenerate it all.”

  She laughed. “Still singing that tune? You should’ve given it up as hopeless by now.”

  “I don’t accept that. We’ve been a little busy of late, but I’ll get around to it. I’m not dying in here, and neither are you.”

  “You seem so sure. Sometimes certainty can sound an awful lot like madness.”

  “Then run amok with me.”

  “Why not? I’ve tried everything else.” She offered a crooked smile, mouth pulled sideways by the pain lancing through her as he took hold of her leg.

  “This will hurt,” he warned.

  “Don’t go soft on me. You’ve been so admirably implacable up ’til now.”

  “As you wish, love.” He handed her a strip of leather. “You know what to do.”

  Dred closed her eyes, biting down on the skin as he sliced her thigh. Pressure and pain followed, then the most white-hot agony imaginable as he cleaned it. More pressure as he worked the poison out of the wound. Teeth clenched, she panted around the leather, sweat beading on her brow, and by the time he finished, she was fighting the urge to vomit.

  “It doesn’t need stitches if you keep it covered. Let me see your ribs.”

  She didn’t have the strength to help or to fight him as he raised her shirt. “How bad?”

  “A couple of them might be fractured. Let me . . .” He leaned in, touching her gently, but she wasn’t sure what the point was, until he said, “Yes, broken.”

  “You could hear the difference?” Dred opened her eyes, gazing down at him.

  “I’m a handy freak to have around.”

  “Stop it. Anyone who thinks less of you because of how you came to be, well”—she donned her most ferocious expression—“I guess I have to kill them.”

  “For me?” He seemed . . . astonished.

  Which was strange. He’d seen how she treated her most trusted men. Jael had earned his place among them. He’d proven himself and he’d faced near impossible odds at her side.

  “For you,” she agreed. “You’re my champion, but if you need me to fight for you, I will. I am the Dread Queen, after all. You say kill, I kill.”

  A shudder worked through him, then he swallowed hard. For a few seconds, he lost his mocking edge, the keep-away charm—and sheer intensity shone from his blue eyes. His gaze held hers as he twined his hands in her braids. When he kissed her, there were no questions asked, only the same mad certainty he brought to their proposed escape. He didn’t draw her close, yet the kiss was so sweet and fierce that she didn’t care if he did, no matter how it hurt.

  Pleasure and pain, sides of the same coin. Jael ran graceful palms upward to cup her hips. She wished he’d touch her more. “So I say I’ll kill for you . . . and that’s what
you can’t resist?”

  “I’m a violent man,” he said lightly. “Look, love, you’ve got me aching for you.”

  Dred took that as an invitation to verify, so she closed her eyes. The field of snow had thawed, giving way to sparks of red and gold, shimmers of purple around the edges. He wasn’t lying; right now, he only wanted sex. There was no sorrow, no cold. Just desire.

  “You want it bad,” she said.

  “You’ve no idea. But I’m not sharing. I want my own night.”

  She arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Let me guess. Ike told you that I never sleep without Tam and . . . Einar.” But the big man was gone, so he wouldn’t be a factor, going forward. Her chest tightened, grief and pleasure twisted up into a Gordian knot.

  He paused, as if trying to recall what the old man had said. “That sounds right.”

  “But did he ever mention sex?” Dred sighed, knowing how Ike loved screwing with new fish. In a place like Perdition, the little things got you through.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “It was for my protection, after the coup. Artan had a few loyal men, and they were afraid somebody might come after me. I got used to having them in here.” She shrugged, not having cared until now what anyone thought about the arrangement.

  “So the Dread Queen’s without a man in her bed? They must all be neutered.”

  “I wasn’t in the mood,” she said. “I had a lot on my mind.”

  “And now?”

  “I have broken ribs and a slashed thigh. What do you think?”

  He stroked her knee, her hip, her shoulder. “I can be gentle.”

  “That’s the last thing I want. Swap seats with me?”

  For once, he didn’t argue or offer a clever retort. If he had, she might’ve changed her mind. She wanted, but there were ghosts and echoes, demons in her head; it was different the last time because he’d caught her fresh from sleep, defenses down. He only helped her to her feet and sank back. As she unlaced her pants, she said, “Get ready.”

  “I’ve been ready since the first time I saw you.” And his fingers shook as he unfastened.

  There were no pretty words or preliminaries. Her leg burned when she sank down on him, and it wasn’t smooth. She was too tense to be fully engaged, but he sensed it and kissed her, his mouth clever and hot, hands working down her hips. She found a rhythm, and by the sound he made into her mouth, it felt good. His hands cupped, tightened, dragging her down harder. The movement jolted her ribs, sending a sharp wave of agony through her, and she went taut.

  “Dear Mary,” he whispered into her mouth. “Tell me you like it, or I might just die.”

  “I thought you couldn’t,” she taunted softly.

  “Little deaths, all the time, every second I’m alive.”

  “But some deaths are good ones.”

  He gasped in answer, head thrown back, and his obvious pleasure did what touch couldn’t when she was wide-awake. She lost herself in him, sensation blazing through her in whorls of amber light. Some ached; some glowed; and she melted into him, kissing deep into his mouth as he arched, as she bowed.

  Afterward, his arms came around her. “I hope you still respect me.”

  Before, she might’ve offered a cutting comment in reply, maybe about how she never had. Instead, Dred kissed him on the brow. “Absolutely. Bind up my ribs?”

  “You’ll make me feel guilty for taking advantage of a wounded woman.”

  “Who’s on top of whom?” she asked with an arch of a brow.

  “You make a good point. Get off me, love, unless you want to go again.”

  44

  The Sound of Silence

  “Not just now, I think. There’s work to do.” Her response might’ve been painful for someone else, but Jael took it as reassurance.

  Though he wouldn’t call what they had a relationship, he trusted Dred. Since the moment he’d stepped off the prison transport, she’d proven that she wouldn’t turn on him, wouldn’t offer him up for any payout, and she’d fought for his life like it mattered. And now, he felt the same. That was further than anyone had gotten with him in fifty turns.

  “Damn,” he said, feigning disappointment. “And here I could sleep for a week.”

  “You can sleep when you’re dead.”

  “Promises, promises.” Despite his lazy words, the black core at the bottom of him had gone; he no longer courted death like the one woman who would never love him.

  She didn’t reply, then the san-shower kicked in. Jael lounged on her bunk waiting for his turn. No point in getting dressed since she didn’t seem to mind sharing her facilities with him. There were perks to being part of the Dread Queen’s inner circle. He contemplated the revelation that she wasn’t shagging Tam and vowed to get even with Ike. Rotten old bastard. It was Jael’s fault, however, for not asking pointed questions, but he’d been unwilling to display that much interest. Maybe if you cared less about the look of the thing, you’d have been in her bed sooner. Once she finished cleaning up, he took his turn, then they joined the spymaster in the main hall.

  “Are you two ready?” Tam asked.

  Dred nodded. “Let’s go finalize our arrangement with Silence.”

  Ike caught up to her in a rush, then handed her something. She exchanged a long look with the old man, who simply nodded. Then she stuck whatever it was into a pocket. Jael tried to ask her what that was about, but she shook her head. He took that to mean there was no time to talk, but he didn’t take it personally.

  The mood was much different than the first time they’d made this trek—and they didn’t use the ducts. They marched boldly through what had been Grigor’s territory. Silence’s people paused in their cleaning and watched them pass, but they didn’t take action. Jael wondered if the alliance would hold, now that the initial agreement had been executed.

  The Speaker met them at the border and escorted them to Silence personally. Silence’s man wasn’t much for conversation, so it was a quiet walk. Dred fell in beside Jael naturally, Tam walked ahead with the emissary, and Jael took quiet pride in her choice. His title as champion felt more vital, now that she’d chosen him on a personal level, too.

  Death’s Handmaiden was waiting on her grisly throne when they arrived, and Dred strode toward her, one queen to another. In that moment, Jael knew a flicker of unexpected pride, as if he had the right to take credit for anything the princess in chains did. He mocked himself quietly as he folded his arms.

  Silence signed rapidly to Skullface, then he turned to interpret. “The truce between us is formally at an end. This is the last time you will be welcome in Death’s territory. Should you or any of your people trespass, you will be ushered into His kingdom.”

  That’s plain enough. No more alliance.

  “I understand.” Dred didn’t bow, but she did dip her head.

  Then she led the way back as they’d come. Nobody spoke because of Skullface dogging their heels, but once they passed the final checkpoint, and the Speaker retreated, Jael glanced at Tam to take the spymaster’s temperature on their current situation. The alliance with Silence had bolstered their defenses, no question, but now Queensland stood alone again.

  To his surprise, Tam looked visibly worried. “She cut us loose too fast with no further demands, no references to her desire to get her hands on you.” He jerked his head at Jael.

  Yeah, something’s off.

  Dred increased her pace until she was nearly running. “We need to get back ASAP.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Tam agreed.

  Though he wasn’t sure what they were worried about, Jael caught the mood. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to attack on her home ground? There were only three of us against her collective might.”

  Tam nodded. “Easier, yes. But remember, she has a sense of rightness and ritual.”

  Dammit.

  “And she’s devious,” Dred added grimly.

  She glanced over her s
houlder as she ran. Jael didn’t think whatever Silence had planned would hit before they got back. Maybe he was giving Silence too much credit, but after the way she’d planned and executed the assault on Abaddon, then the decimation of Grigor’s forces, he could almost believe she served Death itself with ruthless efficiency and raw cunning. He didn’t know what experience Dred had in planning actual campaigns; from what he’d seen, she took a lot of advice from Tam, but the man wasn’t infallible, and he couldn’t see in all directions. He’d proven that—at great cost. Jael listened for the distant whisper of careful feet, scented for a stray smell that reeked of death, but nothing drew his notice.

  “They’re not following,” he said.

  That didn’t mean he thought they should slow down. Instead, Dred quickened the pace further; she didn’t stop until they sprinted past the first checkpoint into Queensland. The four sentries on duty gaped when they blew past, but nobody wasted time on explanations.

  A guard called after them, “Trouble incoming?”

  “Maybe,” she yelled back. “Stay sharp, keep the turrets hot.”

  “Already done.”

  In the hall, Jael skimmed the scene with a measuring eye. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. The men who weren’t patrolling, as usual, were playing cards, drinking, gambling, or talking shit. At the far end, two men exchanged a flurry of blows, but since nobody was bleeding, it couldn’t be a serious altercation. Probably just sparring to keep in shape. Dred’s territory was big enough now that a man could actually go for a run for exercise if he wanted.

  Provided she can hold the new ground.

  And that was the question that had everyone on edge. Things weren’t nearly settled yet. Patrols hadn’t been established in a routine fashion, and defenses hadn’t dug in. If I intended to attack, it would be now, while we’re settling in. Beside him, Dred vibrated with tension. Part of him wanted to take her hand, but the rest of him scorned the gesture. She would give him that icy look if he tried—and for good reason. The Dread Queen required comfort from no man.

  “Everything seems to be in order,” Tam finally said.