Fated Blades (Kinsmen #3)(36)

“Did you feel . . .”

She nodded.

“Is that synchronization?”

“I don’t know.” She stared at him helplessly. “It’s as if the seco recognized each other. It’s like an electric shock going through my arms, and suddenly I feel you. I know how you intend to move. I . . . to think that of all the secare in this universe you are my perfect match. We can never tell anyone. My family will disown me.”

He wanted to feel it again, the invisible current that bound them into one.

“We need to try this with seco,” he finally managed.

“Not yet.” She grinned at him. “I’ve grown fond of you, Baena, but slicing off parts of you to keep as souvenirs would be a step too far.”

He motioned to her with his hand. “Come.”

She laughed softly and raised her arms above her head.





CHAPTER 8


Karion stared at them from the screen of Ramona’s tablet. Matias had managed to rig a makeshift terminal using her tablet and the portable power supply. The signal was weak, but it was better than trying to carry on a three-way conversation via messages through the implants.

They had just finished almost five hours of dancing. Matias’s face gleamed with sweat. His hair was damp—he had emptied his water bottle over his head. She knew her own face was flushed. She sat on the edge of the terrace, clearly out of breath.

Her brother raised one eyebrow at her. Of all of them, he resembled their mother the most, with nearly black hair, narrow features, and a dangerous edge.

He glanced at Matias, then back at her. His face remained neutral, but she saw concern in his blue eyes. Ramona hid a smile. No matter how old she was, Karion would always see her as a five-year-old tagging along with him on his older-brother adventures.

“Would you like me to give you two some privacy?” Matias asked.

“No,” she said. “We’re in this together.”

Karion looked directly at her. Having come to terms with Matias’s existence, he decided to ignore him. “I found the assholes. You were right—they booked an entire hotel.”

“Which one?” Ramona asked.

“You’re going to love this. They’re holed up in the Kamen.”

She laughed.

Adra was full of hotels. From small and seedy to huge and palatial, they dotted the city, but the Kamen was special. It was the smallest of the seven hotels in Stone City, the historic district where buildings were carved into the red stone cliffs.

The screen split, and the Kamen appeared on the right side. The front wall of the hotel emerged from the living rock of a towering mountain, fifty meters tall and consisting of three oversize floors. Ornate columns flanked the two entrances and rose high to hug a third-floor balcony large enough to host a small wedding. Those entrances were the only way in or out of the hotel. Everything except the front facade was blocked by the mountain.

Two walls, each thirty-two meters tall and six meters wide, thrust from the sides of the hotel, cut into the mountain. A stone plaza lay between them. Each of the seven Stone City hotels faced one, flanked on the sides by tall walls. During the festival, the plazas hosted the dances, a different dance for each hotel. Dancing groups made their circuit, moving from one location to the next, while tourists watched them from the walls and VIPs viewed their performances from hotel balconies cut into the living rock.

The Kamen was an easy place to defend and a horrible place to escape from. It was also in high demand during the festival, booked months in advance.

“How the hell did they book the entire place?” she wondered.

Karion looked at Matias.

“Drewery.” Matias spat out the name like it tasted rotten.

“He made some sort of deal with the owners. They canceled all reservations, citing ‘state needs.’ They’re likely regretting it now, since the senator’s dirty laundry is being aired over every news channel. Two Senate investigations have been announced.”

“The Vandals must have paid an exorbitant amount for the hotel,” she guessed.

Matias leaned forward. “Did they book the walls?”

Karion kept looking at her. “The Kamen is privately owned, but the walls belong to the city. Those spots were booked directly through Adra’s festival commission. Some of them were awarded as prizes for cultural achievements and contributions to the city. Drewery couldn’t touch them.”

Her brother allowed himself a narrow predatory smile. “It gets better. During the festival the two tunnels leading to the walls to the hotel are closed. The spectators have to enter from the street via a staircase, and the city’s security forces keep the foot traffic out. Unless you’re on the list, you’re not getting on those walls.”

That meant no Vandals would be shooting at them from the top of the walls.

“However, there are sitting galleries on both sides of the plaza, on the ground level,” Karion continued. “They are reserved for guests of the hotel. If you enter that plaza, you will be fired upon from both sides and the hotel itself. It will be a killing box.”

“Can we get a spot on the walls?” Ramona asked.

“Are you worried about the spectators?” Karion asked.

“I’m worried that the Vandals will try to shoot their way to higher ground once we start killing them. The city’s security is expecting drunk tourists trying to crash the party and dance with the pretty people. They’re not prepared for mass murderers in combat armor carrying burst rifles. I want to put someone on those staircases.”