Raklus helped himself to another glass of chenna before mumbling, "He believes Treven stands a chance of beating us in the war."
"Yes!" Mott's arm sent Raklus's chenna glass flying. "And why would he think that, Raklus? Is it because you're the most useless Lord of the Conquest in the history of the empire?"
Raklus's face tuned puce. "That isn't my fault, sire," he stuttered. "I've done my very best to wage that war, but the noxious vapors, they-"
"Count Raklus," Mott interrupted. "I pay you handsomely to counter things like noxious gas. Or aliens falling from the sky. Or monsters rising from the sea." His brother punctuated each word by pounding his dagger onto Felix's desk. "It's your job to anticipate the impossible and then to defeat it."
Raklus thumped his hands down onto the desk. "Sire, the wrong general is leading our troops in Treven. Azan may carry the title of Warlord, but he doesn't know the first thing about waging war."
Felix grimaced as Raklus shot him an apologetic look. Raklus was aware that Felix had prevented Axel from spearheading the invasion. Under the circumstances, Felix didn't resent the betrayal. Knowing Mott, Raklus was fighting for his life here.
"Then kill Azan," Mott yelled. "Why do I have to tell you this? And then send in the right general." Mott sneered at Felix. "Ah, but that's not possible, is it? Because the general we need is being hidden behind his father's cloak here at the palace." His brother's dagger gouged a chunk of wood out of the desk.
"I take it you are referring to my son?" Felix said, trying to ignore the conflicted poundings of his panicked heart. He certainly didn't want Axel going to Treven, but if his son replaced Azan, he would be the youngest Warlord in the history of the empire.
"Who else but Axel?" Mott's hand drifted to the informa lying on the ravaged desk.
Without a doubt, his brother was blackmailing him.
It confused him. If Mott were planning to promote Axel, why show those damning images of his idiot son kissing that Norin bitch? Even though Raklus was his oldest friend, Felix could not bear to have Axel's reputation sullied.
He spoke quickly. "Mott, I told you, I'm handling Axel. I've decided to put him on the Treven command team here at the palace. He will have access to the threat-boards and will be able to advise the commanders on the ground on a moment-by-moment basis on how best to manage the campaign. It will keep him so busy he won't have time to think about other . . . distractions."
"Not good enough." Mott callously stroked his thumb against the informa.
The image of Axel kissing Lynx burst open before them.
Raklus gasped.
Blackmailed. Again. Felix couldn't stop a vein from pulsing in his temple. There was now only one way out of this crisis Axel had plunged him into. Voice filled with resignation, Felix said, "Axel has earned his place back on the battlefield. I will instruct him to leave today."
Raklus threw up his hands in obvious relief. "The Dragon has finally heard my prayer. I'm sorry, my friend," he said to Felix, "but the needs of the empire must surely take precedence over individuals." Raklus leaped up, bowed to Mott, and started for the door. "I'll go and issue the orders for Azan's arrest and execution. Then, I'll promote Axel to Warlord."
Mott grabbed Raklus's cloak, pinning it to Felix's desk with the dagger. "Sit. Stay. I said nothing about promoting Axel to Warlord." His brother gave Felix a withering glare. "Yet."
Knotted in his cloak, Raklus sat, his face a mixture of puzzlement and fear. Mott snatched the crystal decanter and slopped more chenna onto the desk than into his glass. Felix resisted the urge to mop it up with his handkerchief.
With infinite slowness, Mott sipped his drink while Felix-and Raklus-waited. To hide his fear and anticipation, Felix pulled out his handkerchief and made a show of blowing his nose.
Finally, his brother slapped his lips together and announced, "There must be no doubt in anyone's mind that siding with our enemies leads to annihilation. To that end, Axel will remain here until after the wedding festival. Then, using his current rank, he will head a campaign to Lapis. Should he meet my battle objectives, I will promote him to far greater things than just Warlord."
There was only one military rank higher than Warlord, and that was Lord of the Conquest-Raklus's job.
Sweat broke out on Raklus's forehead, and Felix wasn't sure if he should commiserate with his friend or rejoice for Axel. This was certainly a strange prize for messing with the crown prince's betrothed. Felix opened his mouth to speak just as the office door slid open again.
So much for all his security.
Once this meeting was over, he'd change those access codes, and no one-no one-he didn't authorize would ever enter his lair again.
Framed in the doorway, Lukan stood, disheveled, still wearing his clothes from the ball.
Chapter 31
Every muscle quivering with tension from maintaining his nonchalant façade, Axel brushed his teeth as his father sailed out of his apartment. It was only after the door crashed closed that he relaxed. Marginally.
His toothbrush dropped into the porcelain washbasin, and he thumped his forehead against the mirror.
He'd been an idiot not to anticipate the additional monitoring, especially considering his father knew Axel was wooing Lynx as blackmail leverage to force his deployment to Treven.
He grunted with grudging admiration as he spat tooth cleaning powder into the basin. His father knew him better than he liked. It would serve him well to remember that in future. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and ran the conversation with his father back through his head.
Even on closer inspection, Axel knew his reasoning had rung true. His father's knowledge of his and Lynx's tryst was of little consequence because information was only useful when one was prepared to act on it. His father wouldn't do anything that threatened Axel's standing with Mott.
That didn't stop worry biting him. Thoughtful, he rubbed the stubble on his chin, barely conscious that he needed a shave. Although Axel had tied his father's hands, Felix was unlikely to do nothing about Lynx's knowledge of the Dmitri Curse. The risk would be too great for Chenaya, the Dragon, and the crown. His father would never tolerate an attack on any of them. Remembering that was rule number one when dealing with Felix Avanov. To him, anyone who threatened the establishment, royalty or not, was expendable.
That meant Lynx was in danger.
And it was his fault. That called for an urgent strategy to protect her.
Axel frowned at the mirror, barely conscious of his reflection.
How would telling help her?
It wouldn't, he decided, so rushing to her apartment was not his priority. Securing her powerful allies was. Allies who would put themselves at risk to protect her if his father moved against her.
He knew just the men for the job.
Small in number, their ranks filled both the high-born and the guardsmen With his total lack of regard for the "vermin" who served Chenaya, his father-and many of the Chenayan generals-didn't know that a small percentage of guardsmen didn't respond to the chips. Axel had never planned on passing that information on. Now, he had even less incentive.
Happily, Axel knew exactly to whom these clear-thinking guardsmen gravitated: the one high-born who effectively balanced loyalty to an Avanov and sympathy with the masses.
Axel reached into his pocket and pulled out his informa. Finger scrolling the air, he pulled up the screen showing the location of every high-born in the palace. A smile played on his lips; he'd been a child when he'd first memorized the serial number of this person's ice crystal.
Stefan Zarot was in the great hall.
Axel dropped the informa back into his pocket and went to find his closest friend.
Stefan sat at his usual table, eating breakfast, but he was not alone. Malika perched opposite him, regaling him with some story, if her knife and fork waving in the air were anything to go by. If someone cut Mali's hands off, she would be incapable of speaking. Stefan's dark eyes were riveted on her as if she were the only other person in the world.
Axel smiled, genuinely pleased. He had done the right thing letting Stefan court Malika. In fact, he should have given his permission the day she started puberty. Although now nineteen, his sister had only had one serious boyfriend-the beau Axel despised. Axel was certain she had dated the creep to annoy him and his father into easing up on some of their protection. Axel had the good grace to admit that he was as bad as his father where his little sister was concerned.