Brevan
The office door’s locking mechanism was sophisticated, but not designed to stop someone like me. It was built to keep out staff, not a specialist. The slicer spike slid into the access port, fed it junk data for three seconds, and the lock clicked open.
I slipped inside and sealed the door, engaging the lock from the inside.
Tarsus’s office was exactly as advertised. Expensive. Ostentatious. And, just as Carys had predicted, the obsidian sculpture was sitting right on his desk.
It wasn’t under glass. It wasn’t in a vault. It was just... there. Displayed on a simple velvet cloth, the centerpiece of his private collection. The ultimate flex of power. He felt so secure in his own villa that he didn’t even need to protect it.
Thal’reth female figure. Forty centimeters. Fourth Dynasty period.
And hollowed out to hide the fourth Regalia.
I’d memorized every detail from Varrick’s intel. The smooth curves of the stone. The delicate features preserved across centuries.
I moved to the desk and pulled the padding from my jacket pocket. My pulse beat steadily. The chaos from the ballroom was a distant, muted roar. Carys had done her job perfectly. Now I had to do mine.
I carefully lifted the sculpture. The obsidian felt heavier than it looked, and cold. I wrapped it in three layers of impact-resistant padding, sealed it, and tucked it into the interior pocket I’d had custom-made for this.
The mission was complete. The sculpture was secure.
But standing in Tarsus’s office, holding the thing he’d murdered for, I felt something shift in my chest. This wasn’t just another artifact. This was justice. Payment for the Sovereign’s death. Proof that the Conclave’s careful plans could be torn apart by people they’d dismissed as irrelevant.
Now came the tricky part. Getting out.
I moved back to the door. I couldn’t just walk out. I needed to reset the lock, make it look like I’d never been here. Give us time to get off-planet.
I inserted the slicer spike back into the panel. The reset sequence was slower than the breach. It had to rebuild the access codes it had scrambled.
Sixty seconds.
I watched the door. Listened. The gala’s chaos was holding, but it wouldn’t last.
Brilliant woman. The thought came unbidden.
Unexpected. I’d worked with dozens of partners over the years.
Competent people who understood their roles and executed them properly.
But Carys was different. She hadn’t just followed the plan.
She’d made the plan possible, using her own resources to create chaos I never could have.
And she’d done it while wearing Tarsus’s collar.
That memory surfaced again. His hand on her shoulder. His fingers tracing the platinum edge. The casual ownership.
I forced the image away and focused on the panel. Forty seconds left.
The reset sequence required absolute stillness. Any disruption would flag the system. My hand remained steady, watching the progress indicator on the spike’s small display.
Twenty seconds.
My comm necklace vibrated against my chest. Once. Twice. Three times.
Danger signal.
I pulled the civilian comm relay from my pocket. The one I’d used to coordinate with Carys. The screen was lit.
It wasn’t a voice. It was a data burst. Flinx. He must have hacked my comm.
TARSUS COMING. WITH CURATOR. GUARDS. 90 SECONDS.
Every plan I’d made was worthless now.
I tapped the comm twice. Acknowledgment. Flinx would relay that to Carys through their link.
Getting out wasn’t an option. The only exit was the door, and Tarsus was already in the corridor. That left hiding.
I looked around the office. Limited options. The desk had no bottom panel. The artifact displays were too exposed. Behind the door would be obvious the moment someone entered.
The maintenance shaft.
I’d noticed it during the consultation. Standard building infrastructure. Located behind a decorative panel in the wall opposite the desk. Big enough for repairs. Big enough for a person if they didn’t mind uncomfortable positions.
Ten seconds left on the lock reset.
I watched the display. The molecular structure rebuilding itself. Almost complete.
Five seconds.
The reset finished. The lock clicked. Secure.
I pulled the spike free and shoved it, with the comm, into my jacket. I crossed the office in two strides.
The decorative panel came free with minimal pressure. The maintenance shaft behind it was exactly as cramped as I’d expected. Metal walls. Exposed wiring. The kind of space designed for maintenance drones and very desperate people.
I climbed in.
The panel clicked back into place just as I heard the office door’s lock disengage.
I went still. Controlled my breathing. Slowed my heart rate through sheer discipline.
The shaft’s ventilation grate gave me a narrow view of the office. I could see the desk. The empty velvet cloth. The door.
The door opened.
Tarsus entered first. His posture rigid. His expression dark. Behind him came two guards. Mondian. Armed. Alert.
And between them, one guard’s hand gripping her arm, walked Carys.
Her silver dress caught the office lighting. The platinum collar gleamed. Her hands were free but her face was pale, composed.
Flinx followed at her heels. His synthetic black form moved low and tense. His eyes glowed warning red. Every line of his body screamed threat assessment and rage.
Tarsus moved to the center of the room. His gaze went straight to the desk. To the empty velvet cloth where his prize had been. His expression didn’t change, but a muscle in his jaw jumped.
“He’s in here,” Tarsus said, speaking to the guards. “I know it. Search the shaft. Search behind the—”
A loud BANG erupted from a control panel by the door. Sparks showered onto the carpet as the panel smoked, the acrid smell of ozone filling the room.
The two Mondian guards spun, weapons instantly trained on the new threat. Flinx, a blur of black, was already diving behind a different cabinet, hissing.
Tarsus didn’t flinch. He just smiled. “A distraction. How predictable.” He turned his attention back to the desk. “I knew you’d come here. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t see through your pathetic little diversion?”
Carys didn’t speak. Didn’t react.
“The system failure,” Tarsus continued. “The ‘containment breach.’ So perfectly timed. So... specific.” He moved closer to the desk, running one finger over the velvet where the sculpture had been.
“I’ve been letting you build your escape plans for months, my dear.
I wanted to see how far you’d go. I’ve known since the moment that Vinduthi arrived on Valyria. ”
He moved closer to the vault. Examining it. Looking for signs of tampering.
I barely breathed. The shaft’s metal walls pressed against my shoulders. My legs cramped from the angle. But I didn’t move. Didn’t shift. Any sound would give me away.
“Where is he, Carys?” Tarsus turned to face her. “Where is your Vinduthi partner hiding?”
She met his eyes. Silent. Defiant.
One of the Mondian guards unholstered his blaster and pressed it to her throat. Carys didn’t flinch.
“I could make you tell me,” Tarsus said quietly. “I have tools in the lab. Methods that leave no permanent damage but guarantee cooperation. Or...” He smiled. “I could simply kill you now. A lesson to anyone else who thinks they can steal from me.”
Flinx’s eyes burned brighter. His body coiled. Ready to attack despite the obvious futility.
“But that would be wasteful.” Tarsus circled around her. Studying her like one of his artifacts. “You’re valuable. Trained. Rare. Even if you betrayed me, you still have uses. So I’ll make you an offer.”
He gestured to the office. “Tell me where he is. Tell me everything about your plan. And I’ll consider this a failure of judgment rather than treason. Your contract remains intact. Your collar stays locked. But you live.”
Carys didn’t answer. Didn’t move.
“Or,” Tarsus continued, “you stay silent. Protect your partner. And I’ll make you watch while my guards tear him apart when we find him. Which we will. This is my villa. My security. He has nowhere to go.”
The shaft’s metal was cold against my back. The tools in my pocket pressed against my ribs. I measured distances. Angles. How fast I could move if I needed to.
Not fast enough. The guards were armed. Alert. I’d make it maybe three steps before they fired. Carys would die in the crossfire.
Unacceptable.
“Senator.” Her voice cut through the silence. Clear. Steady. “If you knew about the plan, why didn’t you stop us earlier? Why wait until now?”
Tarsus smiled. Pleased. “Because I was testing the limits of your ambition. What you were capable of. Consider this a test, my dear. One you’ve failed spectacularly.”
His gaze went back to the empty velvet cloth.
His expression went cold. Flat. The kind of emptiness that preceded extreme violence.
“He took it.” Not a question. A statement. “The sculpture is gone.”
No one answered.
Tarsus turned back to Carys. His hand moved to his belt. Drew a second blaster.
He pointed it at her chest.
“Last chance,” he said quietly. “Where. Is. He.”