Chapter 1
Lady Taylor had bugs in her walls and not the kind with jointed legs and crunchy bodies. The tortured piano in the corner whined out something that vaguely resembled music as I fought the urge to pull out my com and track the signals to their sources. Three different broadcast frequencies meant at least three different agencies were interested in what happened at a Consortium ladies’ afternoon tea.
Or perhaps they were just interested in Lady Taylor.
My mind spun down that avenue, looking for motive, before I forcefully reined it in. I had to focus, dammit. If only these events weren’t so dreadfully dull.
A nearby conversation caught my attention. I smiled into my teacup as the two girls behind me debated in fierce, heated whispers whether or not I’d killed my husband. They didn’t realize the terrible piano music wouldn’t hide their discussion.
My youngest sister stiffened at my side as she overheard a particularly exuberant theory. I put a restraining hand on her arm. Catarina’s eyes flashed with fury, but I minutely shook my head and she settled down. She glanced behind us, no doubt cataloging the girls’ faces for future retribution.
Neither the words nor the speculation bothered me, and indeed, they gave me something to focus on. But my youngest sister had always chafed at the daily viciousness of Consortium life.
A quick glance confirmed the girls were from one of the lower houses. A brunette with straight hair, tan skin, and a face just a touch too narrow for true beauty sat beside a stunning young woman with ebony skin and black curls. We had been introduced at some point, but memory was fluid and mine more than most. I couldn’t recall either of their names.
This was likely their first social season—they hadn’t yet learned how to subtly skewer an opponent with a smile and a few well-chosen words. Even Catarina could probably send them from the room in tears with little more than a sentence.
Besides, the girls’ speculation as to how I could’ve killed Gregory provided some much-needed distraction. The formal sitting room was almost claustrophobically small, with no windows and heavy, ornate furniture. You’d never know we were in the penthouse of a thirty-story building.
The two dozen impeccably dressed, sharp-eyed women seated in little cliques facing the piano only added to the oppressive atmosphere.
“Bianca, why do you let them continue?” Cat asked in an exasperated whisper. I’d been on the receiving end of many exasperated whispers lately.
“What, you don’t think I paid Gregory’s mistress to get him drunk and push him down the stairs?” I asked, quoting the latest ridiculous suggestion.
Uncertainty flashed across her face as her mask slipped the tiniest bit. “Of course not,” she said stoutly. She shot me a sly smile and continued, “You’re a von Hasenberg—you’d do it yourself.”
That was as close as any of my sisters ever got to asking me what had really happened. And every time it caused a riot of emotions—fear, anger, relief, love—as I waited to see if this time would be the time they would ask.
I set my teacup on its saucer with precise, iron-willed control. The two pieces met without the telltale rattle that would indicate my internal turmoil. The interminable piano piece finally came to an end, saving me from having to respond.
“—was poison—” the curly-haired gossip said into the sudden silence. She choked off the words on a strangled gasp. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her freeze as every person in the room turned her way. Her black curls trembled as she swallowed nervously. The sharks paused, smelling blood.
“What was that, dear?” Lady Taylor asked with false sweetness. She had a daughter—one who could not play the piano for love or money. If these two were shunned, her daughter would have a better shot at making a good match.
The silence stretched as the girl floundered. The second girl, the brunette, sat stone-still, doing her best to blend in to the furniture.
“She was asking if poison was the best option to remove a particularly stubborn weed,” I said smoothly. Lady Taylor’s laser gaze swiveled to me, but as the daughter of a High House, I outranked her, and she knew it.
“Is that so?” she asked.
I tipped up my chin a fraction. Ice frosted my tone. “You doubt my word?” When she took a second too long to answer, I stood. Catarina rose with me.
Lady Taylor paled beneath her flawless makeup as all eyes now focused on her. “Of course I didn’t mean—”
I would feel sympathetic, except she had meant to cause offense. She was conniving, and I’d let her get away with too much for too long because I just didn’t care. I’d already done my duty to my House, my position was secure, and I had no one I needed to impress.
But the moment she’d doubted my word, she’d taken it too far, a fact that was just now dawning on her.
“I realized I have somewhere else to be,” I said. I turned to the curly-haired gossip. She was as young as I expected, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. “Walk with me,” I said.
She rose but kept her head bowed. When the brunette started to rise, too, I shot her a quelling glare. She wilted back into her seat. She hadn’t attempted to bail her friend out, so she would have to fend off the sharks on her own.
I linked arms with the curly haired girl and swept her from the room over the protests of Lady Taylor. Catarina kept pace beside me. We didn’t speak until we’d cleared the front door.
“My lady, I’m so sorry,” the girl said miserably as I pulled her along toward the transport platform.
“You should be,” Catarina said.
I rolled my eyes. “What is your name?” I asked.
“Lynn Segura, second daughter of House Segura,” she said.
House Segura was a small house with modest assets, one of the many lower houses that made up the bulk of the Royal Consortium. “How did you manage an invite to Lady Taylor’s tea?” I asked. House Taylor was one of the more powerful lower houses.
“Chloe received an invite and brought me along,” she said. At my blank look, she blushed and elaborated, “Chloe Patel, first daughter of House Patel. She is the woman I was with.”
That made more sense. House Patel was also a lower house, but they had three eligible sons around the same age as Lady Taylor’s daughter. And their interests dovetailed nicely with House Taylor’s.
“Are you going to tell my father?” Lynn asked.
We emerged outside into the sun. The transport platform had tall glass panels to block the worst of the wind, but a breeze swirled gently, teasing the hem of my gray dress. Serenity sparkled under the cloudless sky. The only city on Earth and the heart of the Royal Consortium, Serenity was a hive of activity. Transports and ships crisscrossed the sky, glittering like jewels.
For all its flaws, I loved this city.
I let the girl fret in silence while the three of us climbed into the waiting House von Hasenberg transport. Catarina sat facing backward while I sat next to Lynn. I waved the embedded chip in my left arm over the reader. “Take us to Macall’s Coffee House,” I said. The transport chimed its acceptance, then slid off the thirtieth-floor platform and headed northwest.
The glass panel in the floor showed another transport in House von Hasenberg colors—black and gold—shadowing us from below. Our security detail was a new and unwelcome change, but three weeks ago we’d gone to war with House Rockhurst, so it was deemed a necessary evil.