Fated Blades (Kinsmen)

He gave her a sharp look. “You’re a spider. You sit in the middle of your beautifully woven web and pull the right strings until your prize lands in front of you.”

Beautifully woven, even. She wiggled her fingers at him. “Fear my spider legs, Baena.”

Matias shook his head. “It’s half fear, half admiration. Just so you know, we are partners. I won’t be owing any favors to you at the end of this.”

“That’s the beauty of it, Matias. None of them owe me anything. They help me because they consider me a friend. Being kind to people and paying attention shouldn’t be done with the expectation of repayment. I helped them because I could, and it made me happy.”

He shook his head again.

“To summarize,” she said, “your father-in-law is deep in the SFR’s pocket. The Vandals arrived to the system two and a half months ago, and a group of them requested asylum under the Political Prosecution Act. He arranged for their diplomatic warship permit, and he likely pulled some strings to expedite their asylum applications. Their IDs pass inspection because they’re real, and according to Immigration, there are at least forty of them in Dahlia, all coded as humanitarian refugees. The warship dropped them off, left the system for two months, and now returned, supposedly to negotiate another refugee drop-off, but most likely to pick up the so-called refugees after they obtain our tech and murder the Davenports. It’s not a buying expedition, it’s a mini-invasion, and your senator father-in-law is in this up to his eyeballs.”

Matias smiled. He actually smiled. It softened his harsh face and lit up his eyes. The effect was shocking. She had to fight herself to keep from staring.

“It sounds bad when you put it like that,” he said.

“There is no good way to put it.”

Matias rose. “Have you ever seen Senator Drewery’s summer home?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“I’ve been neglecting my son-in-law duties. I’m overdue for a visit. Join me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” She got up. “Before we go, do you want to warn the Davenports?”

She said it lightly, almost as an afterthought, and if he said no, she would walk away from him right there. The Davenports were competitors, that was true, and if they were eliminated, both of their families would gladly pounce on their orphaned territory and resources. But that was kinsmen business. All of them grew up under the same sky in the same province, they enjoyed the same food, carried on the same traditions, and laughed at the same jokes. Friend or enemy, they were part of Dahlia. The Vandals were outsiders.

Some things just weren’t done.

“I already forwarded everything we’ve learned to Haider,” he said. “I’ll call him when we’re on our way.”

She let out a quiet breath and opened the door for him.

The verdant gardens slid below the aerial, splashed with flowers in every color under the sun. Ramona sighed quietly. If she could open the window—an impossibility in an aerial—the wind would smell of summer: sun-warmed leaves, rich soil, and the layered aroma of flowers.

When she was a child, every summer as soon as school was out, the family would make the pilgrimage to the Adler summer home. Watching the gardens glide below meant the start of the holidays. Two months of swimming in a lake and splashing in the family pool, of climbing trees and eating fruit off the branch, of hikes in the orchards and berry fields that could almost pass for a scary ancient forest if one squinted just right. Long lazy days of reading in a hammock and long happy evenings watching the purple fireflies glow in the warm darkness as adults cooked food over open flames and sneaking off at midnight to catch star flowers when they opened to greet the two moons.

Back then time stood still during summer. Now it was just another season filled with deadlines. They were a week into it, and she’d barely noticed.

“Is something the matter?” Matias asked.

For a man, he was remarkably observant. Or perhaps he seemed so because Gabriel had been so completely disinterested.

“I miss my childhood,” she said.

“Summerhouse in the gardens by a lake? Evenings chasing purple fireflies and waiting for the two moons to rise so the star flowers would bloom and release the gala swarms? Climbing a tree to eat the orange cherries?”

She blinked. “I hadn’t realized the Baenas’ data gathering was so extensive.”

“No, I just described my own childhood.”

“You waited for the moons to rise so you could see the star flowers?”

“No, but my sister did, and she dragged me with her. Every time.”

It made sense. Most families either kept summerhouses if they could afford them, rented them if they couldn’t, or chose to raise their children in the provinces. Most children chased the fireflies and ate their weight in orange cherries and raspberries during summer.