Fated Blades (Kinsmen)

“Today has been full of surprises,” Matias said.

Drewery set the decanter down. Only two glasses, not three. Ha.

“I see you brought hired help,” the senator said.

So, he decided to bet on their animosity. Pit her and Matias against each other, then divide and conquer.

Ramona circled the body bleeding onto the plush rug and sat on the pale sofa, throwing one leg over the other. Everything hurt.

“Where is my wife?” Matias asked.

Drewery picked up a glass and sipped, looking out the window. “I had such high hopes for you, Matias. You seem to have all the right ingredients: intelligence, discipline, a capacity for strategic thinking, a good pedigree, and a background free of catastrophic sins. You lack in charm, but charm can be developed. With the proper coaching we could’ve made a provincial senator out of you, at least. Yet here we are.”

Matias, a provincial senator? She laughed.

Drewery ignored her. “Do you know what your problem is, Matias?”

Matias looked at him, impassive.

“You have no vision. All you want to do is to run your little family business. This province is the limit of your ambitions. My daughter tried so hard to push you to superior heights, but your inertia is simply too great. You will never soar.”

“You soared and landed in bed with the child killers,” Matias said.

Something was off. She’d seen the extent of Matias’s anger. She had expected to have to hold him back once they found Drewery, but now he appeared almost passive. There was no heat in his accusation. He seemed distracted.

Was he stalling for time? Why? A delay made reinforcements more likely. It worked to Drewery’s advantage, and the senator wasn’t dumb enough to miss the opportunity, which was why he’d launched into this ridiculous speech.

Drewery shrugged. “Child killers, devoted patriots. Our perception of things depends on the way they are labeled for us.”

“Why?” Matias asked.

“Money, of course. Why else?” Drewery glanced around his office. “My grandfather was a mayor. My father was a provincial senator. I am a federal senator. With each step, we climbed higher. And each step required an infusion of cash. Politics is my family business, and I am very good at it. Had you allowed Cassida to broaden your horizons, your child would have been a provincial governor.”

Quick steps echoed through the hallway. Cassida’s mother marched into the room. Lyla was past fifty, but her face was unlined, her golden tan perfect, and her makeup flawless. She wore a robe dress of pricy spider silk, and the nearly weightless rose fabric alternately flared and clung to her as she walked. She moved like a woman thirty years younger.

A C-class combat implant enhanced agility, reflexes, and hand-eye coordination. It shaved a few milliseconds off your reaction time and improved your accuracy. The caveat was you had to practice, preferably by sparring against a trained opponent. Lyla’s life was filled with charitable events and formal dinners, but she practiced religiously, several times a week, bringing in new opponents as she learned their moves.

“You!” Lyla pointed at Matias. “How dare you barge in here! How dare you destroy our house! After everything my daughter had to endure! You vulgar, immoral—”

“Your daughter is an adulteress and a thief,” Ramona said. “You have no moral high ground to stand on.”

“Be quiet!” Lyla barked.

Drewery smiled.

The rage that simmered inside Ramona flared into a blinding red inferno. Two marriages crushed, the efforts of so many people ruined, just for a bit of money, and the two of them dared to act offended, as if they were entitled to some outrage. She was so done with it. Just done.

“This has been fun,” Ramona said, “but I don’t think either of you fully grasps the situation. Let me help you gain some clarity.”

She rose and stepped toward Lyla. The older woman dodged left, yanking a small, elegant gun from under her clothes. Ramona struck, driving the heel of her palm from the bottom up into Lyla’s perfect nose. Cartilage crunched, the impact smashing two pressure points, one in the middle of the nose, the other in the philtrum, just above the upper lip. The secare rarely fought unarmed, but when they did, their attacks focused on knocking their opponent away so they could slice them to pieces.

Lyla’s head snapped back. The gun clattered to the floor. Lyla jumped back. She should have been out. Instead, the older woman spun around, snapping a lightning-fast angle kick. Ramona dodged right, but Lyla was too fast. Her shin bone smashed into Ramona’s ribs. A blinding flash of pain tore through her left side. If she hadn’t dodged, her ribs would have snapped like dry twigs.

Lyla lunged at her, throwing a devastating elbow strike.

Not this time. Ramona jerked a seco shield up. The elbow hammered the force field, and she smashed her right palm against Lyla’s ear.