Axel stroked her knuckles with a beautiful callused finger. "You really need to breathe, Princess, or you'll asphyxiate before the day's out." A dangerous smile. "Unless that's your plan, of course. It would certainly make marriage and babies moot, wouldn't it?"
Lynx stabbed his hand with her fork. Apart from anything else, the bugger hadn't answered her question.
Axel jerked back, laughing. "Really, Lynxie, you are totally wasted on my cousin." He stood, swept her a bow, and strode off toward the guardsmen. He was halfway across the hall when he shouted, "Oh, and by the way, a couple of drops of oil usually does the trick."
By every Wind that blew, Lynx longed to bury her face in her hands as every head turned to look at her.
Instead, she ignored her fiery blush, straightened her back, and watched Axel intercept the guardsman. The soldier pointed to the doorway, where Count Felix stood, a furious expression on his waxy face.
She wondered what Axel had done to incur his wrath.
Chapter 20
Operation Treven was poised to shunt into full steam.
Axel offered no resistance when Count Felix Avanov, his father, gripped his arm. Meek as a lamb, he let his father lead him to a private chamber, buried in the bowels of the palace. Called the lair by the few who knew of its existence, it comprised his father's office, a dungeon, and a series of security monitoring rooms. It was here that he created the Dreaded.
His father pressed his thumb on a metal plate next to the doorjamb. The steel door slid open and then closed behind them. He surged ahead along a stark white passage and opened yet another steel door with a thumb stroke. He gestured Axel into a small office.
Axel pulled his shirt away from his body. Thin as the cotton was, sweat prickled on his back and chest. A heater pumped hot air into the windowless space night and day, regardless of the season.
Incandescent lights flickered on, casting a broad sweep of yellow light over an antique rosewood desk, a matching drinks cabinet, and three leather armchairs. An electric kettle-as far as Axel knew, the only one on the planet-and a couple of bone china cups sat on a silver tray on a small table next to the desk. His father loved hot chocolate and kept a private stash in his office. He had commissioned his bevy of scientists and engineers to make him the kettle to support his addiction.
He didn't offer Axel any hot chocolate today.
In fact, Axel's backside had barely hit the overstuffed chair when his father hissed, "What are you playing at? Flirting with Lukan's betrothed. I saw you almost kiss her cheek, there at the table. Have you lost your mind?" He sank into a chair on the opposite side of the table and scowled at him.
Axel suppressed a smile that his flirting had hit a nerve.
A credible start to Operation Treven.
Axel plonked his boots on his father's desk, just one more act designed to infuriate. His father was almost as protective of the furniture as of his children-and that was saying something. That stifling love, coupled with his brutal disregard for all other life on the planet, made for a complex relationship. Most often, it was fraught with conflict only people with diametrically opposing views could appreciate.
"Off!" A mucus-flecked handkerchief flicked Axel's leg. "Now."
Axel dropped his feet onto the worn leather squab on the chair next to him. "No, Father, I haven't lost my mind. I assure you, my flirting with Lynx was all very calculated."
His father leaned over, pushing his waxy face right up to Axel's. "Do you know why I kill so many people?"
"Because it helps you cope with your stress?"
His father's glower deepened. "I kill people so you can sleep peacefully, knowing you'll have an empire to rule after my death. Still, I could wipe out thousands, but it would do no good if you choose to undermine us in public."
"My, you are in a mood this morning."
His father coughed into his handkerchief. A smear of fresh green phlegm, streaked with blood, gleamed on it when he pulled it away from his mouth. "Axel, do you, with all your talents, really want to spend the rest of your life living like me?"
"With chronic sinusitis? Not really."
Bloodless lips quivering, his father snarled, "Never forget, you are not Mott's son, only his nephew. Lukan and Tao are weak and spineless, but you will always rank lower than them."
Axel's hand drifted to his ruby. "I think I'm aware of that."
"Are you? Then why did you argue with Mott about his order to attack the Norin?"
"They were the wrong orders. He disagreed. I obeyed. I still wear my head on my shoulders, so he must have accepted my objections."
His father gave him a tired sigh. "You know Mott as well as I do, so why you insist on dancing with death, I will never know."
"What's life for, if not to enjoy the challenge?"
Given the puckering of his father's face, it was the wrong answer. "Stop messing around and take life more seriously!"
Axel snorted. "I do take life seriously, far more than you could ever imagine."
"Then why did I have to endure Mott bellowing at me moments ago about my son flirting with Lukan's Norin bitch? He saw the two of you in the great hall, tittering together like lovers! Not even your smooth-talking tongue will protect you if you antagonize him like this."
Axel folded his arms behind his head. "Shocking! You mean to say the emperor saw us first? What is your surveillance system coming to?"
His father's eyes bulged. "Listen, my arrogant son. Your mad uncle has an agenda with Lynx that does not include you messing with her. Although with Lukan playing fast and loose this morning, who knows how that will work out for Mott."
Axel hadn't come here to talk about Lukan. It was time to move Operation Treven into the spotlight. He rose, his tall frame almost filling the room. "Father, has it come to your attention that we're losing the war in Treven?"
His father's eyes flashed, and Axel knew he'd hit another nerve. His father stumbled to his feet. "What does that humiliation have to do with you and Lukan's Norin bitch?"
"Bombs filled with noxious vapors, launched by crude hydraulic catapults. Very advanced science for the Free Nations-"
"Given enough time, even savages can advance," his father interrupted. "That's why we don't permit learning in our empire."
"I seem to recall mentioning in a pre-invasion strategy meeting that Chad had a stockpile of those. I also seem to recall making a case for sending in a small hit team to assassinate Chad rather than a regiment of foot soldiers. ‘Too risky, sending in ordinary infantrymen to take on his noxious vapors,' were the words I used. ‘So, let's crush the head. Assassinate Chad and all his heirs,' I suggested. But someone shot me down." He glared at his father, allowing his anger to bleed into his expression and into his voice. "I wonder who?"
"You know exactly why I persuaded Mott and Raklus to send in the grunts."
"Yes," Axel said, "because I would have led the hit team. Instead, that moron Azan got my command, even though he leads from behind his chenna flask."
His father gestured to the chair. "Axel, sit. I told you then, and I'm telling you now: You are not going to Treven to die like some vermin grunt."
"Vermin?" Axel tensed. "Those so-called ‘vermin' are out there dying, so you can sleep peacefully, knowing you can kill whomever you want, whenever you want."
"Enough with your melodrama, Axel. Those grunts are slaves, born to die for us, for you, for me, and there are plenty more where those came from. With time and patience, Treven will be ours."
"At the cost of how many men? This is not how an intelligent leader conquers hostile nations."
His father waved his hand, brushing away Axel's objections. "You say you want power. That you want to lead millions, but you worry about the lives of a few thousand vermin?"
Axel's face hardened. "They are my men. Your men, too. They expect us to use them wisely. If they die in battle, so be it. As you say, our empire is not short of men, so there are plenty more who will replace them. But to be squandered . . . that is untenable. To them and to me. If I cannot protect them from that kind of abuse, then what good am I as a general? As an heir to the throne?"
His father sighed. "Axel, you have the makings of a great emperor-if you learn to control these base emotions. I can help with that."
Axel grimaced. "I'm sure you can, but yours is not the kind of help I seek. I am quite capable of conniving my way to whatever I want. I learned at the knees of the master. You."