I knew there was going to be trouble from the start. The entire royal family of the Northern Continent was gathered in a room, all being made-up and powdered for the vid-viewers back home—which, as I understand it, is how most people on the continent get news of their monarch.
Just outside the staging room is this big balcony, where the Prince and his family all appear and below it is a courtyard big enough to hold around two or three thousand people. I knew there was a problem when I heard booing and shouting coming from that direction. But when I tried to point it out to Le’rank, he only laughed and shook his head.
“Don’t worry yourself, Mr. Sark. There are always a few malcontents. And besides, we’re well protected. See?”
He pressed a button on his belt and a vast, round, shimmering energy bubble suddenly expanded around him.
“Now try to hit me,” he told me. “Go on—try it.”
I threw a punch in his direction but I already knew what was going to happen—the bubble stopped my punch with no problem—my fist basically bounced off its surface.
“There—you see?” Le’rank smirked at me with that shit-eating rodent grin of his. “This is a maximum repellent Force Bubble—manufactured on Holdar Three. It repels all kinds of attacks—lasers, bombs, even old-fashioned projectile weapons and flame throwers. It can withstand heat up to five hundred thousand Nadirs. Nothing can penetrate it so I am perfectly safe inside.”
“Who else has this kind of defense system?” I asked, frowning. Isla hadn’t said anything about these “Force Bubbles” to me, but then we hadn’t really been talking defensive tactics during First Meal.
I thought of how she’d crumbled her toast to dust and bitten her lip so hard she made herself bleed when I’d asked her what Le’rank had done to try and make her glow. There was something going on there but it was a question for another time.
“Oh, my father, my brother and myself all have the Force Bubbles, of course,” Le’rank said, nodding at the other two males in the room.
His twin brother had the same smirking, narrow, rat-like face he did and their father just looked like an older version. Why they were so desperate to pass on their facial features was fucking beyond me, but that was their problem. At the moment I was mostly concerned with Isla’s safety.
“Why doesn’t Lady Le’rank have a Force Bubble?” I asked, nodding at her. She was sitting patiently in a corner with two make-up artists working on her. Le’rank hadn’t even acknowledged her presence when we came in. At least his twin brother had nodded at his wife when she entered—a tired looking female who was very obviously pregnant.
“Oh, the Force Bubbles are much too expensive to waste on a female,” was Le’rank’s answer to my question. “Why, a really good one costs as much as a space yacht!”
I frowned at him.
“And don’t you own a space yacht?”
“Of course I do.” He sniffed. “One of the finest in this sector, if I may be so bold.”
“Well if I may be so bold, you ought to sell your fucking yacht and buy a Force Bubble for your mate,” I growled. “Isla is going to be a target—her pale skin and silver hair are too damn eye-catching.”
“Sell my yacht? I don’t think so!” He looked at me as though I was crazy. “If I did that, how would I get around? Besides, it’s a matter of pride—I’m the Prince’s heir. I must have a yacht for the sake of my status.”
“Is your status more important than keeping your wife safe?” I demanded. I don’t usually question my clients like this, but Le’rank was really getting under my skin at this point! Why couldn’t he see how special Isla is? How she needs to be protected?
“She’ll be fine. I hired you to protect her—didn’t I? And while you’re not nearly as expensive as a Force Bubble, you’re certainly not cheap, Mr. Sark.” He made a dismissive gesture. “Look, if there’s nothing else, I really must finish getting ready for this appearance. The public likes to see their Prince and his sons looking well-groomed.”
Judging from the shouting and hissing I heard coming from beyond the balcony, the only way the public of the Northern Continent wanted to see their Prince and his sons was strung up from the nearest light-pole. But I didn’t say that because it wasn’t my business—and also because it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good. Le’rank had already wandered off to have a makeup artist touch up his face.
I would have been happy to touch it up myself—with my fist. But there was nothing I could do at that point but concentrate on keeping Isla safe.
I had a projector shield on my own belt that would throw up an invisible wall of protection in front of and also behind me. It wasn’t as good as the ultra expensive Force Bubble Le’rank had been bragging about, but it was definitely effective against most kinds of weapons. I could take it off and put it on Isla, I told myself. That way she’d at least be mostly protected from the crowd down below the balcony.