Sweep of the Heart (Innkeeper Chronicles #5)(77)

Kosandion crossed his arms and gazed out the window. He’d traded his Sovereign robe for a two-piece outfit that reminded me of the stylish Senator-wear designs from Nigeria: narrow hunter green pants and a matching shirt with an asymmetric hem that ended almost at his knees. The Senator shirts tended to be cut a little loose, while Kosandion’s tunic, embellished with the Dominion’s geometric embroidery, was perfectly tailored to accentuate the breadth of his shoulders and his narrow waist.

Kosandion’s body looked elegant, but his face looked troubled. It wasn’t his expression, it was in the eyes, a kind of weary introspective distance.

“How much trouble will Vercia’s mess cause you?” I asked.

“More than I would’ve preferred,” he said. “The Muterzen fleet is an immediate threat, but the Murder Beaks should keep them occupied. Still, contingency measures must be implemented.”

“What about her family? Will they make things difficult?”

“The Dominion’s politics are complicated. There will be quiet inquiries. Those who are perceptive enough will discern that show for what it was—a good save and a swift punishment. In the immediate future, her family will lobby for federal protection.”

“Will you grant it?”

He shook his head. “The penalty for impeding a public official is a tiered charge. The more power one has, the steeper the punishment. An ordinary citizen shouting over Resven would have gotten a warning and a small fine, but Vercia was a highly placed officer in the Liaison Corps. If the Justice Corps proceeded with the charges, she could have faced a prison term. She resigned last night, hoping to avoid it. Now she is no longer a servant of the people, therefore she is ineligible for the additional federal security. This will not endear me to her family in the slightest. They will bide their time waiting to stab me in the back, and I will spend the next couple of years slowly removing them from positions of influence.”

He fell silent. First, Odikas and his Conservative Alliance looking for a leader, then the pirates, Vercia, her well-connected family, and all on top of the spousal selection and other matters pertaining to running the Dominion, which didn’t stop just because he was trying to find a partner. He had a lot on his plate.

“Her Grace asked me to tell you something. I meant to do it last night, but things were hectic.”

Kosandion raised his eyebrows.

“Olivio teseres tares,” I told him.

He smiled.

“What does it mean?”

“‘Fate needs a mason,’” he said. “It’s an old saying.”

She told him to become the architect of his own destiny. Interesting.

I felt Cyanide approach. It was time to put on a show for the viewers many light years away.

“Your date is here, Letero.”

The doors in the far wall opened, revealing Tony and Cyanide walking side by side. The big, white cat saw the winter outside, opened her blue mouth, and panted once. I didn’t know enough about the Higgra to interpret that.

“Greetings, candidate Cyanide,” Kosandion said.

“Greetings, Sovereign of the Dominion.”

Tony retreated and shut the door behind him.

Cyanide padded to the fire. I had made her a long, ergonomic version of a cushioned chaise lounge, large enough for her to stretch out. Kosandion got a comfortable stuffed chair. I had put a couple of small tables here and there, but I kept it simple.

Cyanide examined the lounge and looked at me. “Sit here.”

I glanced at Kosandion. He frowned.

I sat on the edge of the lounge. Cyanide leaped onto it and flopped herself on my lap, all two hundred and fifty pounds of her.

Ow.

Big golden eyes stared at me. “I require attentions,” Cyanide announced. “All of them.”

Kosandion raised his eyebrows.

“And the brush,” Cyanide said.

Whatever made this date go smoothly.

I reached out, and Gertrude Hunt pulled one of the brushes from the stables. They were soft with dense bristles, originally designed for the beasts of burden the Merchants sometimes brought with them, and I had sterilized them after each use. The brush landed in my hand, and I began working through Cyanide’s fur. Her eyes widened, flashing dangerous gold, then half closed, and she turned her head, presenting me with the corner of her jaw. Just like Olasard. Except he barely weighed seventeen pounds. If this went on for too much longer, my legs would go numb.

Silence ensued.

Cyanide made a soft rumble in her throat. It was too deep to be a purr and not violent enough to be a roar, more like an internal contented cough.

“Do you wish to tell me of your planet?” Kosandion asked.

“No.”

Well, this was going swimmingly.

He tried again. “What would you rather talk about instead?”

Cyanide turned over on her back, her fuzzy paws level with my face. I glided the brush along her chest. Long claws shot out of her paws and withdrew.

“If I marry you, can I bring this human with me to serve me?”

“No,” Kosandion said.

“A pity.”

Cyanide made her coughing noise again.

More silence. Kosandion really needed an image boost, and his spousal candidate was flat-out ignoring him. How to salvage this…

Kosandion pulled out a small gadget, squeezed it, and it projected a tablet in front of him. He began scrolling through the documents.