In the Flesh Read Free Page A

the massive chamber brightened as the sun rose, spilling light through the domed skylights above.

    “Your Majesty.”
    She turned her head and saw the prostrated messenger by the door. “Rise.”
    He stood swiftly, straightening the blue and gold vest that proclaimed his position as a member of the royal staff. “I have a message for the king.”
    “You may tell me,” she said, needing the distraction. “His Majesty is occupied.”
    “A family near the border reported a disturbance they likened to blaster fire. A unit was dispatched to investigate and in the ensuing fight a mercenary was captured.” He paused. “It is Tarin Gordmere.”
    Brenna’s brows rose. Gordmere was a well-known irritant to Gunther. He had no qualms about raiding certain sectors, often costing the royal coffers a great deal of income. If she were to present the mercenary to the king, it would put him in a good mood, which could only be conducive to softening his feelings toward her, if only a little. “Where is he now?”
    “At the southern detention facility.”
    “Excellent.” She gifted the messenger with a bright smile. “I will see that the king hears of this. You are dismissed.”
    “There is more, Your Majesty.”
    “What is it?” Her tone was curt, an audible sign of her thinning patience.
    “Gordmere’s lieutenant approached the jail soon after the incarceration and offered an exchange.”
    “He has nothing we want,” she scoffed.
    “He claims he has Crown Prince Wulfric of D’Ashier.”
    She stopped midstep. “Impossible.”
    “The captain assures you that he would not bringthis information to the palace without proof. The mercenary carried a signet ring bearing the royal shield of D’Ashier.”
    Stunned, Brenna attempted to reason out the implications of this new development.
    Gordmere. Prince Wulfric.
    How delicious, if the tale was true. Certainly if she presented Gunther with the prince, he would admire her daring. She would prove to him that she was fit to be his queen and worthy of Sari. He would see what he’d been blind to all these years—that she was perfect for him.
    “Guardian,” she called out.
    “Yes, Your Majesty?” responded the masculine voice of the palace computer.
    “Inform my guards to prepare for my departure.” She strode past the servant, needing to change and depart before her husband was made aware of the day’s events. “I leave within the half hour.”
    Sari, the Borderlands
    Adjusting the train of her velvet robes, Brenna disembarked from the antigrav-craft. As she took in her surroundings, her nose wrinkled. The vast cave they’d been directed to made her skin crawl, and the smell of uncleansed air was offensive.
    “Where is he?” She was eager to finish the distasteful business ahead.
    The large sandy-haired man who waited at the end of the ramp bowed at the waist, a grave insultsince he should have dropped to his knees and prostrated himself. “This way, Your Majesty.”
    Brenna could order her guards to force Tor Smithson down and would have if the mercenary didn’t have something she wanted. But he did, so she followed, surrounded by her guardsmen. They traversed a long hallway, then turned a corner.
    The sight that met her made her gag.
    Covering her mouth, it took a few moments to find breath enough to speak. “If he’s dead,” she choked out, “you get nothing!”
    “He’s not dead.” Smithson shrugged. “I just had a little fun with him.”
    A little fun.
    Her stomach roiled violently. The man was mad. What she saw before her was near carnage. The stone walls around them were spattered with so much blood she couldn’t believe it belonged to one person.
    Hiding her nausea beneath chilly hauteur, Brenna moved forward. The man they said was the Crown Prince of D’Ashier hung unconscious before her, his wrists shackled and chained to opposite walls. The entire weight of his body was supported by those metal bonds. His powerful arms and broad shoulders were