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The Scarlet Empress
By Susan Grant
Dorchester Publishing
Copyright © 2004
Susan GrantAll right reserved.
ISBN: 0-505-52597-6
Chapter One
"Your Highness. The pilot has been located."
Prince Kyber, ruler of the Han Empire, lifted his gaze from
the shapely woman soaking his feet in a bowl of hot water to
meet the gaze of his chief of security. Nikolai Kabul
appeared somewhat breathless. It wasn't at all typical of the
all-business, ascetic man he'd known since they both were
boys-a friendship between a child of royal blood and a
street-wise commoner that had somehow survived the years.
"Excellent, Niko. The news pleases me. I'll read the full
report tomorrow at the morning briefing."
A single sapphire on Nikolai's fez glittered in the war room's
cold overhead light, but the man said nothing. "Your silence
tells me that I did not give you the response you expected,
Niko."
"I assumed you'd be ... more surprised."
"I'm simply glad the situation is over."
Nikolai pressed his lips together in another gesture of
frustration.
"But of course, it displeased me greatly, losing a top fighter
pilot in a midair collision caused by human error. And over
the Himalayas, no less, making it difficult for search and
recovery to do their job. Difficult but not impossible. It's
why I appear more relieved than surprised by this swift
conclusion to the affair. Pass along my praise to the team
for a job well done. And assoon as the pilot is healed, have
him sent to me for a little career counseling. He is due for
a change of vocation, perhaps as a street-sweep driver in
Macao. Fighter craft are tools of defense, not play toys."
Speaking of play toys ... Kyber exchanged a smile with the
pretty woman massaging his right hand and forearm with
fragrant oils. She had a way with her fingers. Had he
invited her to his chambers before? He couldn't recall. He
pulled her down for a kiss. No, she didn't taste familiar,
but it was hard to be sure. There had been a parade of
females warming his bed-and his dining table, swimming pool,
and baths since Banzai had disappeared into the ether.
Kyber set the woman back on her feet to find Nikolai watching
him, his eyes ablaze. "What is it, Niko? You appear fairly
ready to explode."
"Not the downed YR-55 pilot. The one who has evaded us. You
know of whom I speak. I cannot say more until we are alone."
Banzai Maguire! Prince Kyber heard a thud to his right,
accompanied by a small whoosh of wind and tinkling jewelry.
He realized that in his shock, he'd thrown the manicurist to
the floor.
Grabbing the woman's hand, he tugged her to her feet. "Are
you certain?" Quickly, he locked his jaw. He despised the
anger in his tone as much as he did the hope. Banzai ...
She'd routed him, that one, knocked him out with a nerve
stunner. And then she'd disappeared with that imperialist
jackass pig Armstrong.
Kyber rubbed the back of his neck. Perhaps it was best that
his memory was wiped clean of the encounter itself. All he
remembered of that day was waking back in the palace with an
aching head and double vision, surrounded by attentive
servants and a very angry Nikolai. Rebels had gotten Banzai
out of the kingdom, he'd learned that much, but where she had
gone after that, he didn't know. She'd been missing ever
since, but, thankfully, hadn't shown up in the UCE. It would
be a mistake, a deadly mistake, if she defied his advice and
did so.
"Off with you." Kyber waved the servants away. Suddenly, the
company of a female, any female, felt like a sliver under his
skin.
As soon as the servants were gone, Kyber turned his attention
to his security chief. "So you found the wayward American.
Where was our Banzai hiding?"
"No, Your Highness, the wingmate has been located. First
Lieutenant Cameron Tucker."
Kyber recoiled. "These woman-legends from the past who seem
to be infesting abandoned underwater caves, they're a plague,
I tell you. A plague!"
Nikolai started to say something and then stopped.
"What, Niko? You have never held back your opinion from me.
Don't start now."
The chief stiffened his back. "I thought you would have been
more excited by the news."
"Why, so I can repeat what was an unpleasant experience?
Banzai took advantage of my generosity only to cast me aside
with little more than a few hollow words of thanks. Prince
Kyber of the mighty Han Dynasty, ruler of all Asia, does not
offer favors for nothing, Nikolai. From Banzai, that is
exactly what I received." He spat out a curse. It was a
weakness on his part, forming an attachment to Banzai Maguire.
A foolish error. He never should have allowed himself to
feel affection for her. One thing he could say, however, was
that he never made the same mistake twice.
"I do have some intelligence images I would like to show you
in more secure quarters, my lord. Minister Hong will join us
in the war room." The security chief's eyes tracked down to
Kyber's feet. "Will you be soaking much longer?"
That's when Kyber realized he was standing in a shallow bowl
of steaming water with rose petals whirling on top.
With disgust, he splashed out of the bowl. "Why do the women
always insist in dousing me with such delicate scents? I am
not a delicate man!" He was taller and more ruggedly built
than even his father and grandfather. His mother claimed he
owed his build to his Scots genes; his father, back in his
lucid days, would argue that the Mongol Khans had provided the
DNA in question. While Kyber considered Genghis a few too
many generations removed to make an appreciable impact on his
bloodline, he was certain that neither the clan chieftains nor
the Mongol warriors in his family tree would approve of him
marinating in flower petals.
He strode to his bathing pool and dove in, eager to rinse off
the perfume. The water was crisp and cool, and it braced him,
erasing the last traces of mental dullness left from the plum
wine the women had poured for him. Surfacing on the opposite
side, he pushed on extended arms out of the water. Without
slowing, he grabbed a fresh robe off a hook on the wall of
mirrors, wrapping it around him as he walked up to a wall-and
through it. It was an illusion made by a computer-trillions
of them.
Nikolai followed him into his private chambers, leaving the
mirrored wall rippling like the Lake of Heaven near the palace
he maintained in Paekdusan, far to the north. Kyber preferred
his summer palace to this grander one in Beijing. There, he
enjoyed the sharp scent of the forests and the seclusion of
the mountains. Yet, Beijing was where the seat of the
government conducted its business, and where his subjects
expected him to be. Out of a royal obligation to serve his
people, and out of respect for the long line of courageous
ancestors that got him here, he found predictability
translated to stability, necessary to ensure the future of the
empire. It was why every autumn after Kingdom Day he
dutifully returned home.
Kyber burst into the war room, trailed by the security chief.
The quartz, glass, and steel décor, created to his
specifications, suited the room's use, lending it the cold,
powerful, and masculine atmosphere he desired. Monitors
covered the walls, giving views of international news as well
as scenes from around the palace, inside and out, from the
numerous security computers embedded in the structure.
"Hong," he said, acknowledging the ubiquitous presence of the
Minister of Realm Affairs Horace Hong before turning to face
his security chief. There were few in Kyber's life that he
trusted as implicitly as Nikolai Kabul. For God's sake, he
had his reasons for placing trust in so few. The emperor was
almost murdered while eating breakfast, and every time Kyber
viewed the now-wasted man, it reminded him that trust didn't
ensure long lives for emperors. It was wisest not to give it
at all. "We tore apart that cave searching for Scarlet, and
yet we found nothing. Banzai doubted me when I told her there
was no sign of her sister fighter pilot-not now or in the
past. And yet, Scarlet has miraculously appeared-and under
our very noses!"
"Not exactly. We found her in Mongolia."
"You're joking."
"I wish I were. Intelligence imagery pinpoints her location
in the village of Khujirt."
"Khujirt." Kyber frowned, concentrating. "I know the place.
It's near the springs." Old memories slid down behind his
eyes, of a vacation to the region as a child. He'd traveled
there with his mother, a devotee of hot mineral springs.
Kyber recalled his fascination with the remote and rugged
scenery, taiga forest, the ibex and lynx he'd viewed there,
and particularly the ancestors of age-old nomadic tribes who
raised livestock at the edge of the forests. He'd never
forget the day he broke away from his bodyguards to chase
after a shepherd near his own age, scampering beside him and
his herd of stinking, flea-infested yaks through fields of
wildflowers before being rounded up by the Empress's angry
staff. For a few hours, he hadn't been the crown prince; he'd
been a boy. "They're farmers. Simple people. Impossible
that they revived her. They don't have the technology."
"Difficult, yes, but not impossible. This has contributed to
her less-than-ideal condition. Our first observations showed
her walking the paths in the area assisted by crutches.
Apparently, she is now walking under her own power, or
mostly."
"But in Mongolia. How did you learn of it?"
"Via a pair of Rim Riders."
"Good! Find out their names. Put them in for a bonus.
Better yet, send them to me so that I may praise them in
person. Now, tell me how this came about."
"There was talk of a woman new to the area-a badly injured
woman. That she was blond, unusual for someplace so distant
from an urban center, only intensified the curiosity. Rumors
started and spread. Our Rim Riders overheard them, of course,
and passed along the information to intelligence as part of a
routine report. I saw the mention, thought it was best to
investigate. We took satellite pictures over a period of
several weeks. But only yesterday could I say I was certain
of her identity."
"It's her, Your Highness," Minister Hong chimed in. "Her
likeness matches the file photo we have."
Kyber had seen the same archived photo as the men. He
summoned a mental image of Cameron Tucker. She shared little
in common with Banzai, physically. In fact, the second pilot
resembled more a hothouse flower than a warrior.
All the more reason to stay well clear of her.
Kyber opened a closet. Since his duties later that day would
take him outside, he donned black leather body armor trimmed
in furs. Nikolai was dressed in the identical way, as were
the rest of the soldiers and palace security. All that
separated Kyber in appearance from his men was the platinum
armband he wore around his upper right arm. The snake was a
symbol of the Han dynasty. Other than that one small
concession, of which he was proud, he abstained from the
fanciful trappings of royal garb. He left that to his mother,
Corrine, who loved to dress the part, going as far as
outfitting Kyber's father, daily, even as he lay in the far
reaches of the palace with no more awareness than a vegetable.
Kyber buckled his belt. "Why have we not known of the
existence of the second pilot until now?"
"Outside involvement," Nikolai guessed. "Someone took her
before we could."
"Why were there no signs of tampering in the cave?"
"If the cryopod was hidden in one of the more heavily damaged
areas, it's possible our search party overlooked it in their
haste to rescue Banzai. In the gap between their departure
and return, someone with the knowledge and motivation could
have gone in-and gotten Scarlet out."
"And brought her to Mongolia? Who dares to meddle so brazenly
in realm affairs, Niko? Tell me who they are!"
"They're farmers-"
Kyber gave an incredulous snort. "And I am Winston
Churchill."
"All we know so far is that they're indeed working on a
communal farm. Collectives like these are quite common in the
area, as you know. This one is small. Approximately a dozen
people living there as permanent residents, others coming and
going. Besides farming, they maintain a local hot springs and
a pay-as-you-go temple."
Kyber made a sound in his throat. "Paying for divine
intervention. If money could buy God's answers, I'd be a God
myself." And his father would be conscious and alive,
relations with his younger, half-brother D'ekkar would not be
what they were now, shattered by scandal. And Banzai would be
warming his bed, not Tyler Armstrong's.
"So far, I haven't found any connections between them and the
Shadow Runners-or any other rebel organization."
"Shadow Runners," Kyber thought with a growl. The radicals
with whom D'ekkar had became involved while in prison. They
were anti-monarchy, anti-tradition-anti-everything, it seemed.
Having never once stated clearly their objective-besides
wanting to make trouble-the Shadow Runners had so far done
little more than irritate him like a splinter not yet worked
close enough to the surface of the skin to be plucked out.
Yet, he wasn't complacent enough to dismiss them. If they
ever became better organized, the group could prove to be a
problem.
"I'm relieved to hear rebels aren't openly behind this,
Nikolai, but now that the woman is mostly healed, why has she
remained in such a godforsaken place? Is she hiding from me?"
He'd meant it as a joke, but Nikolai replied, "Most likely,
Your Highness."
"She hides? From me?" Kyber heard outrage creep back into
his voice as his mood darkened. "Has Banzai woven lies of
exploitation at my hands? I treated her with the care
befitting the cultural treasure she is, better than she
apparently deserves. The only crime I'm guilty of committing
was not bedding the woman when it was clear she needed it."
"We have no evidence of any communication with Banzai. Tucker
has been in Khujirt for some time. It is possible, though
unlikely, that she was taken from the cave even before
Armstrong discovered Banzai."
"Armstrong." Kyber poured himself a hot coffee and inhaled
the fragrant aroma. "I should have executed the man while I
had the chance. A bad habit, I have, Niko, preferring to play
with my prey before killing it, no different from the cats
inhabiting the alleyways in the Quarter." The disreputable
Serpent Quarter, where he'd like to be at the moment,
disguised as his shadowy alter ego Kublai, enjoying a drink in
total anonymity. "You say you have images? Show them to me."
Nikolai slipped a computer from his thigh pocket and unrolled
a thin screen. Kyber took the device, scrolling through the
photos as he sipped coffee. The images were crisp and clear,
though taken from a great distance. They were of a woman,
tall and slender. A glimpse of blond hair under a hood in
one, and there, a better view of her struggling with the
crutches on a rutted trail. Another showed her trying to
stand after a fall, her frustration and determination obvious.
Raw willpower.
A powerful feeling of solidarity filtered through him, and he
couldn't pull his attention from the image. He knew the
torment that gripped her, because he'd been there. He knew
what it was like, driving on when all you wanted to do was lie
down and wallow in self-pity. The bleak days after the
almost-assassination of his father the king had been riddled
with such struggles for him. He wasn't sure if he'd come
through it all stronger, or only colder. Banzai's appearance
in his life had been a welcome diversion from the day-to-day
realities of royal life, but now she was gone. He'd be
smarter this time. No woman warrior from the past would be
allowed into his life or-curse the very thought-his heart.
"These last images were what decided it for me," Nikolai said.
"They were taken yesterday by one of our transport crews.
Since they were over-flying the area, I thought why not get
some close-ups?"
"Close-ups, indeed ..." Kyber paused at an image of Scarlet
standing in the middle of a dirt road, her head thrown back,
her face directed at the sky. Her hair had come loose from
its braids. Floating in an ethereal cloud, the golden strands
framed an expression of wonder that captivated him. So
unselfconscious in her hope and unfettered joy was she that he
had to pause to catch his breath.
Women had spurred him to do many things over the years for the
sake of happiness-his and theirs-but none had ever left him
winded.
Scowling deeply, he thrust the device back at his security
chief. "I do not want her near me. Making my life difficult.
Distracting me! I am, as you know, a very busy man." He
stalked to a screen depicting a wintry street below his
bedroom balcony. A cheering crowd braved an unseasonably
early onslaught of sleet, awaiting his morning appearance.
They loved him his people, as they had loved his father before
him. He ruled with a heavy hand, yes, but like little
children his subjects appreciated knowing their limits.
Within those limits, they had the highest level of education,
the longest lifespan, and the lowest suicide rate in the
world.
"I have an empire to rule." He touched a panel that allowed
his image to appear on the giant screen above the street. The
roar that followed rumbled through the speakers embedded in
the walls. "And a people to inspire!" He raised his hand and
the cheering increased a thousand-fold.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Scarlet Empress
by Susan Grant
Copyright © 2004 by Susan Grant .
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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