"I am aware of that, First. But I have an order from Tybalt the Imperial Seventh. It appears that he considers your six hundred well worth the price to detroy the Lord Commander. My orders are to destroy the Seddi fortress. and I will do so. Get your people clear of the area, Sinklar."
"How ong?" Sinklar asked, voice hoarse.
"One Targan day," Rysta told him succinctly.
"But I—"
"One Targan day, Sinklar Fist. Take an azimuth because at this very time tomorrow, I'm blowing that mountain down there into dust!" Rysta smiled again and the monitor flicked off.
Chapter 32
The room where Tybalt the Imperial Seventh worked radiated the ornate splendor worthy of an Emperor: Gilded gold; fine Myklenian fabrics; holos of waterfalls; glittering star fields; and the planets under Regan rule filled individual niches in the walls. The high ceiling panels gave the impression of endless height diminishing into an eternal blue while the lush fiber-optic carpet created the illusion of a sea of molten gold that swirled and surged.
Tybalt's gold-inlaid desk wrapped around his gravchair in a semicircle. Holo monitors glowed with multicolored images and numerous displays that reflected the health and progress of the Empire. The polished sandwood top gleamed, the grain running deep into the wood, almost translucent.
"I will see Minister Takka now," Tybalt the Imperial Seventh told his secretary through the private comm. He watched in the monitor as the security officer smiled professionally and gestured Ily and the woman with her toward the door.
"So you're back, Ily," Tybalt whispered to himself. "And from that glint in your eyes, you think you've got everything under control. This will be very interesting."
Ily passed through the security fields before the double doors to Tybalt's office, and after she received security clearance, the doors swung open. The Imperial Seventh noted that Ily still carried her little pistol and security kit. She wore a formfitting black jumpsuit and a sable cloak of Myklenian silk that swirled about her. The woman following her, however, only wore a slave collar under a tan-colored gauzy gown.
Tybalt glanced up as Ily entered and casually removed his headset, thus canceling the holo monitors before him.
He settled back, gravchair automatically conforming to support his bulk. His black skin contrasted with the gleaming white robe he wore. A slow smile curled his lips and extended to his eyes. Yes, indeed, no matter what his anger and suspicions might be concerning his Minister of Internal Security, life had been boring with Ily gone.
"Ah, my sweetest Ily! How good to see you again!" Tybalt shifted his glance to the tight-faced woman who followed behind. His breath stopped in his lungs and his heart skipped as he caught sight of her fiery amber eyes and gleaming piles of auburn hair. Her beauty dominated him, leaving even the opulence
of his office drab in comparison.
"What have you here, Ily?"
"Greetings, Tybalt." Ily smiled, and he missed the gleam of excitement in her dark eyes. "Considering your trials and tribulations, Lord Emperor, I decided I had best see to my interests and come with offerings. I bring you a gift. She's yours. If it turns out you don't want her, I'll dispose of her with the slavers."
Arta Fera tensed, body radiating animal tension, eyes riveted on the Emperor. Hatred sparked feral-yellow in her animal glare.
Tybalt stood and took a step forward as he struggled to keep his breathing even. "My God, where did you find her, Ily?" His loins tightened under the fine Myklenian fabric of his clothes.
"Beware, Lord Emperor!" Ily held up a slim hand, eyes narrowing in warning. "This, Tybalt, is a Seddi assassin. Her name is Arta Fera. As an assassin, she is most skilled. Do not, I repeat, do not, underestimate her powers, Lord. Do you understand?"
Tybalt nodded, unable to teaT his eyes off those majestic breasts, now straining at the buff-colored fabric as the captive woman's breathing deepened.
"She's in the collar," he whispered, half-aware of Ily's warning.
"She's also psychologically triggered," Ily added. "Don't touch her. "
Tybalt nodded again, eyes caressing Fera's firm body. He marveled at the swell of her hips, the firmness of her long thighs. Then his gaze traced up the flat belly, past those
superb breasts, and stopped at last on her perfect face. "Oh, those amber eyes are magnificent. Look at the hatred and cunning in them, Ily!"
The Minister of Internal Security tapped a button on his desk. Two of Tybalt's guards entered. Ily handed them the collar control. "Remove her. Watch her. She's a trained assassin and extremely dangerous." Ily's eyes slitted as one of the guards took the control. "And don't lay a single finger on her either-she'll kill you."
"Wait," Tybalt lifted his hand, walking around the Seddi woman one last time. His blood raced. "I've never seen a woman like this."
"Lord Emperor," Ily reminded,*voice tight. "There are significant matters of state we need to discuss."
"Yes, yes, of course." Tybalt sighed, pulling himself up straight as the guards led Arta Fera out. His longing gaze lingered on her tight buttocks as she left. In his fevered imagination, he pictured his hands running over her smooth flesh.
"Most marvelous," he managed after the door shut. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to still the hunger of his hot body. Such magnetism! What it would be like to possess….
"I'm not sure I did myself any favor," Ily said tartly. But, Lord Emperor, watch her. She's trained to kill-and she hates Regans. Do you understand the danger?"
"Yes. Yes, I understand."
She pointed at his personal comm. "Please register that. If she kills you, I want it on record that you were fully warned about her capabilities and the threat she poses."
"What triggers her?" His glance drifted to the now closed door as he noted Ily's caveat and entered it. Damn the stirring of his manhood anyway!
"Sex, Lord Emperor." Ily smiled at him wickedly. "The Etarians trained her in the arts of love… to be a Priestess. The Seddi psychologically conditioned her-to kill the man who couples with her. Her motivation is hatred. She killed Sinklar Fist's girlfriend simply because she was Regan. She negated First Mykroft's security and coordinated the destruction of the Second Targan Assault Division in Kaspa. She worked with the assassin who killed Atkin and Kapitol. She killed scores of Regan soldiers on Targa."
Tybalt started. "You don't say! A woman with that incredible magnetism? What
an inconceivable… waste!"
"Perhaps," Ily agreed, steepling her long fingers. "You are warned. Now let's get down to business. You got my message that Sinklar has Staffa trapped on Targa?"
"Yes." He tore his gaze away from the door and tried to think through the rush of hormones deluging his brain. "I followed your recommendation on that matter. Fist has one day to clear his people and any equipment he wishes to save. Rysta will level Makarta from orbit."
"And my request for Sinklar's Lordship?" Ily strolled forward, hips swaying enticingly. She bent over the monitors, allowing her full breasts to rub over the duraplast; and the last of Tybalt's thoughts fragmented.
He looked up into her passionate black eyes, unsettled, hungry to fulfill his stirred passions. "That will be a little more difficult. The political situation here is very delicatewhat with the Sassan invasion planned and preparations underway. To simply make a new Lord would be-"
"Completely within your power." She leaned forward and kissed him. Tybalt reveled in the feel of her lips. Her tongue slid across his teeth before meeting his.
Breaking loose, he took a deep breath and leaned back, staring at her, realizing how he'd been manipulated. "Oh, I've missed your audacity." He chuckled. "Indeed. No one has the sheer unabashed gall that you do, Ily. You've been nothing but trouble. The military is literally foaming at the mouth over this Sinklar Fist. Half the Council is crying for your blood! What the hell have you been doing out there? Whatever it's been, it had better be good, because if you don't have answers, it won't be pleasant for either of us. "