Chapter 19 – GEO
GEO
The line outside the palace stretches for what looks like half a fucking mile, packed with tourists chattering away in every language known to man.
I shift my weight from foot to foot, already regretting the decision to wear these damn robes. For one thing, I don't know how I'm supposed to reach my fucking gun.
I've got to find a way to get through this day without Cosima or Raven actually poisoning or kidnapping any members of the royal family, Nikolai letting his hothead tendencies get the best of him and starting a war, or Knight eating anyone.
Or maybe I'll get lucky and get struck by lightning.
That's a hell of a lot more likely than all of us making it out of here without an international incident.
The palace looms ahead forebodingly. It's somehow even more over-the-top than I expected.
The white marble stone gleams in the sun like it's been polished with angel tears, and every surface is covered in those gold-leafed geometric patterns the Surhiirans love so much.
Even more gold leaf covers every fucking archway.
A man like me can't help but wonder what treasures are in there. The royal family probably wouldn't miss a stray knickknack or two. Maybe a little statue of an idol, or one of those jeweled eggs I've heard about. Wonder if Cosima would be willing to smuggle a souvenir in her—
"What is this, a pre-war amusement park?" Nikolai grumbles beside me, adjusting those stupid red glasses for the thousandth time. They looked better in a display case along with my other trophies. "Look at all these tourists."
"Surhiira is the safest country on the planet, as far as anyone knows," I say, watching a family of betas snap pictures with some oversized ancient camera that probably cost more than my entire market brings in during a slow month.
"So it attracts rich tourists looking for a kick. Is that really such a surprise?"
"I'm going to die of boredom," Cosima mutters from where she's leaning against Knight's massive frame. "And my feet hurt."
She's wearing an emerald green outfit with a veil that makes her violet eyes stand out like jewels in candlelight.
The silk clings to her curves in ways that make my mouth go dry, and I have to force myself to look away.
As much as the rest of us stick out for looking rough—especially Knight and me—her beauty is equally distracting in its own way.
Every head turns when she moves, whispers following everywhere she goes.
"Allow me, goddess," Raven says, and before anyone can protest, he's scooping her up in his arms.
The tourists around us immediately start whispering and pointing. A few even pull out cameras, probably thinking we're some kind of street performance.
So much for blending in.
"We're supposed to be not attracting attention, remember?" I growl to him, my voice coming out rougher than intended. "It's hard enough with Knight."
Knight lets out a growl of his own at the mention of his name. Although this one's more of a low, irritated rumble than the usual feral sounds I'm used to. Even with the tactical jacket and scarf covering most of his bulk, he looks like what he is. A walking weapon.
We shuffle forward in line at a pace that would make a snail look speedy.
The sun climbs higher, turning the white stone into a fucking oven that reflects heat from every angle.
My eye patch is damp with sweat, but I resist the urge to start fucking with it.
Once I start adjusting it instead of putting it out of my mind, it'll drive me crazy.
The scar tissue beneath it always aches in heat like this.
Cosima runs her fingers through Raven's golden hair as he carries her, the gesture so casual and intimate it makes something twist in my gut. She's humming some Vrissian lullaby under her breath, completely at ease in his arms.
Nikolai, on the other hand, looks like he's about to have an aneurysm. His jaw is working so hard I can hear his teeth grinding from three feet away.
"Keep that up and your jaw's going to snap off," I tell him.
"Shut up," he snarls, but he isn't actually pissed off for once. It's just the frustrated rage of a man watching someone else hold what he wants.
Join the fucking club, I think, but keep my mouth shut.
Another hour crawls by before we finally reach the entrance. A cheerful beta in pristine white robes beams at us like we're her long-lost family instead of a ragtag group of obvious outsiders.
"Welcome to the Royal Palace of Surhiira!
" she chirps, adding in a few words of accented Vrissian.
She must peg us as tourists from that region based on the appearance of Cosima, Nikolai, and Knight.
"I'll be your guide today as we explore the public wings of Their Majesties' residence.
Please stay with the group and don't touch any of the artifacts. "
She launches into what sounds like a memorized spiel about the architecture, pointing out carved columns and painted ceilings with the enthusiasm of someone who actually gives a shit about this stuff. I tune her out, scanning the entryway for security cameras, guard positions, potential exits.
"Remember," I mutter low enough that only our group can hear, "we're just here to do reconnaissance. We figure out a plan once we know the lay of the place and where the Ghosts are."
"The Ghosts wouldn't be in the palace itself," Nikolai mutters.
"Obviously," I bite back. "But this is where the search begins. And Plague is a prince, remember? He's the one we need to talk to, so he's more likely to be here."
Nikolai can't argue with that logic, though he looks like he wants to try.
"This place makes the Reinmich state house look like Geo's underground cesspit," Cosima mumbles, still in Raven's arms like she's royalty herself as we follow the tour group deeper into the palace.
"If you keep talking like a brat, I'm going to put you over my knee," I tell her.
I'm joking—mostly—but the way her cheeks flush pink above that veil catches me completely off guard and I have to dig my nails into my palms to keep from reacting visibly.
Well, fuck me sideways. Maybe I wasn't imagining her reaction when I called her a good girl at the store after all.
Interesting.
I never imagined I'd want anything to do with an omega.
They're all way too high maintenance for my taste, at least for anything serious.
And Cosima? She's probably the most high-maintenance omega of all time.
Just not in the way I expected. Case in point—we're all here in the fucking Surhiiran royal palace, hunting down her ex's family like it's a casual Tuesday outing.
But I can't deny I'm drawn to her.
I tell myself it's not something I have time to sort out right now anyway. We just need to focus on finding this Azzhole of hers, and clearly, it falls to me to make sure we all get out of this alive.
Somehow.
The tour guide leads us through a series of increasingly opulent rooms. Each one is more ridiculous than the last. Walls covered in draping silk tapestries depicting Surhiiran victories and absolutely no losses, floors inlaid with precious stones in patterns that must have taken decades to complete, ceilings painted with scenes of their gods doing whatever the fuck gods do in their spare time.
Especially the ibis. That ibis they worship is everywhere.
No wonder Plague goes with avian motifs.
But there's no sign of him. Or of the rest of the royal family, which isn't really a surprise. The family's private quarters are probably in a completely different wing, far away from the grubby hands and eyes of tourists.
"We should split up. Cover more ground," Raven suggests, finally setting Cosima down when she taps his shoulder. She starts checking out one of the paintings depicting an overly muscled god with horns and leathery wings lounging on a stone throne. Guess she's a monsterfucker through and through.
"And what, exactly, are you planning?" I ask warily, recognizing that gleam in his eye. It's the same look he gets right before he does something spectacularly stupid.
"Oh, nothing much," he says, already reaching into his pocket to pull out a cigar. One of my cigars. "Just a little diversion."
My hands fly to my pockets and sure enough, the little shit somehow managed to nick it off me. When the fuck did he have time and how the hell did I not feel it?
Before I can tell him to stop, he's pulled out a match, struck it against his boot, lit the damn cigar he stole, and tossed it into a decorative waste basket filled with what looks like dried flowers and incense sticks.
The basket immediately starts smoking.
"That's a good idea," Cosima says brightly, like Raven didn't just commit arson in the royal fucking palace. "Raven, Knight, and I will take the west wing. Nikolai and Geo can search the east."
"Absolutely not," I growl. "I'm not letting you and Raven run off together. You'll end up burning the whole place to the ground."
The smoke is getting thicker now, curling up toward the painted ceiling. The tour guide hasn't noticed yet, still prattling on about some dead king's favorite concubine, but it's only a matter of time.
"Fire!" someone shouts from the back of the group.
And then all hell breaks loose.
The tour guide's eyes go wide as she spots the smoking basket. "Please don't panic!" she calls out, which of course makes everyone panic immediately.
Tourists start pushing and shoving, trying to get to the exits. Someone knocks over a porcelain vase that shatters on the marble floor and spills what I hope isn't royal ashes. The tour guide is frantically trying to maintain order while backing away from the growing smoke.
It's exactly the kind of chaos Raven was hoping for.