Chapter Text
Heinrix keyed the code into the pad next to his quarters. The door remained shut. He tried again.
Access denied!
“M-M-Master v-van Calox, sir!”
“What?!”
“T-this… The way to your cabin is that way.”
Fixating on a spot past his ear, the steward pointed down the corridor. Heinrix picked up his luggage, which now weighed as much as a coffer filled with stones, and slung it over his shoulder.
“Then, show the way.”
Anxious to keep at least a few paces’ distance between them, the attendant hurried down the hallway. He trotted after him until the luxurious guest tract of the ship gave way to the officers’ quarters and a nondescript row of anonymous iron panels. There, the steward opened one of the cabins. The odour of disuse leaked into the corridor. Without waiting for him to offer an opinion on his new lodgings, the man scuttled away.
Shutting the door behind him, he switched on the lumen. It cackled to life with the smell of burnt dust. He looked around. No better way to announce his demotion in status than to downgrade his loggings from lavish to utilitarian. He was no longer an honoured guest but a regular member of the crew. He had fallen out of favour with the Lord Captain. He folded down the collapsible table, fastened to one of the walls, and heaved his luggage onto it. It would do.
I should have seen it coming… I must have lost shower privileges, too. He checked for a bathroom and found a bedroom with a bunk to one side and a washstand. As expected, I must update my routine. I don’t want to share the head with a complement of officers during shift change.
He stifled a yawn. Despite fatigue settling in his bones, he couldn’t retire for the night just yet, although it must be long past midnight. The dossier on Lady von Valancius awaited his attention. After stripping down to a white linen vest and trousers, he sank onto the bed and shifted around, a comfortable position eluding him. He keyed in his cypher. The data-slate lit up. Once he had located the file, his finger hovered over the filename. He hesitated mid-click. What secrets would he behold? Secrets that Isha didn’t wish to share, secrets he wasn’t privy to? Secrets of her past, of that lost decade, he had been fantasising about in moments of weakness. On the wall opposite the bunk, a faint crack in the iron panelling snaked like lightning from the ceiling down to form multi-branched, minuscule fault lines. Would reading the dossier reveal the fault lines in Isha’s personality? The fault lines of their non-existent relationship?
A cold breeze caressed his neck. The air recycling unit rattled and clattered in a steady backing to his thoughts. He opened the file. Her name was Isidora Ravia Atella van de Leuven af Calixis. She was, without a doubt, the woman from his dreams. Had he been granted a third and final chance?
Don’t be silly, van Calox!
He continued reading. To his satisfaction, the dossier did not contain much new information about Isha… Isidora. Her age was stated as 37. He had guessed it to be 35. Two decades separated them. She had been 25 when he had first met her on Malfi. It felt like a lifetime ago, not twelve years.
I am too old for her… for that sweet liability getting involved with her would create.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he massaged the building pressure threatening to blow up his forehead. Where was that sentiment stemming from? Isha was a temptation he couldn’t succumb to. He returned his focus to the data-slate: her place and date of birth were stated in Terran fashion. She had been growing up in the Calixis Sector, and, according to the information in the Inquisition archives, hadn’t left the sector until a decade ago. The doubly encoded message at the end alone kept his attention from wandering. He keyed in the code.
Access denied. The two words blinked at him in green script on the green screen.
Focus, van Calox!
Trying another combination, the cypher was accepted. Why had the Lord Inquisitor decided to hide this information behind extra security?
The file contained the ancestral line of Isha’s family. Her mother was a distant second cousin twice removed of Theodora von Valancius. From what he could glimpse, the von Valancius Rogue Traders had ties to numerous noble houses in the Calixis Sector, among them the van de Leuvens of the Fydea System. Without Isha’s presence in the Koronus Expanse, she wouldn’t have been considered a prospective heir. Fate was a fickle thing. Whatever had brought her to the Expanse had also brought her back into his life. Should he ask Isha outright if she remembered him? Or confront her about that one night on Malfi?
He leapt from the bunk and stumbled against the bed stand. His gaze bounced from place to place without finding a spot where it could alight to stop his head from spinning. He couldn’t act on this infatuation; he shouldn’t act on it. Damn! He punched the crack in the wall. He must bury his desires under layers of ice that a single glance would fail to thaw. Dallying with the temptation Isha represented was madness.
“Duty before desire. Duty before desire,” he recited like a prayer, but his surety melted with every shuddering breath.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and the world vanished behind snow-blind whiteness.
What to do now?
Nothing.
He was sent here on a mission. Once the Lord Inquisitor deemed it prudent to send him on another, he would depart without looking back. His duty to the Inquisition must take precedence over everything else.
It.
Must.
***
“You have a most peculiar way to punish someone, Heinrix.”
With arms tied above her head, Isha luxuriated on his bunk. Naked apart from the smalls, he now tugged down her legs to reveal a mound of tiny auburn curls matching the locks framing her face.
“Isn’t this also a most unsanctioned use of your precious rosette?”
“Silence, woman!”
He sealed her mouth with a kiss. Her taste reminded him of ripe cherries devoured on a hot summer afternoon, and he desired more. His hands slid up from her waist to her breasts. The perky halves fitted neatly into his palms, and he thumbed the nipples until they hardened. Everything about her was perfection. Emperor, he wanted her! Badly! But he could pace himself. Patience was a virtue.
“Why don’t you untie me,” she moved a leg upwards to graze his erection, and he moaned into her neck, “and I can show you what those hands can do?”
“No. No, Isha,” he chuckled, his lips fluttering against her throat where her skin carried the salt of the ocean. “Tonight, you are mine to do with what I want.”
Fondling her breasts, he drank in her splendour: the rosette binding her slender wrists, her chest heaving, her tiny waist sloping into full hips, and the veil of curls blanketing her most holy place. He covered her jaw in kisses to trace a line to her ear. Then he allowed his hands to trail his gaze over her stomach to her thighs, which parted before him to reveal the sanctuary he longed to bury himself in later. He flicked a thumb over the pearl in its midst. Her gasps turned needy as she rocked her hips upwards to meet his caress. Circling her clit to the melody of her moans, he had to restrain himself from devouring her here and now. He broke their contact without breaking their look, and was met with lust-drunk anticipation. Writhing before him, a soft whimper breached her lips.
“Please…”
“Patience, my sweet temptation.”
Isha was his tonight, and he would savour every moment of exploring her body.
After another teasing flick of his thumb, his hands slid lower. When he met no resistance, he breached her with a finger, and her heat swallowed his digit. Continuing to rub her pearl, he thrust into her and was met with her hips swaying forward and backwards in the rhythm of his motion. His erection hurt. He longed to replace the finger pleasuring her with his cock. Badly. Dive into the hot wetness of her sex and satisfy his raging desire. Instead, he stroked his length with just enough force to take the edge off his own desperate need before entering her with a second digit. Her unrestrained moans greeted him. Her eyes shut, her face flush, her whole body taut, she heaved and shuddered under his thrusts. In a last exercise, he curled them both upwards. Circling the spot he had been seeking, he coaxed another whimpered “please” from her lips. She rocked against his hand, more demanding now. Instead of granting her what she most desired, he slowed to a standstill.
“That is mean.”
“Just punishment for your teasing, Isha.”
Despite his own need blazing in his lap, he removed one finger after the other. Slowly, oh ever so slowly. Licking salt and tangy musk off his digits, he desired more.
More of her taste! More of her heat! More of her kisses!
“Patience is a virtue, and its reward is–”
A stifled moan swallowed his words. Her foot had found his cock, and she rubbed the instep over the hard length. Up and down at a leisurely pace. Her gaze challenged him to remove her leg and resume his “just punishment” of her.
“You were saying?”
Unable to resist her charms, he yielded to her temptation. Kneeling before the altar of his veneration, he stroked her thighs, which blossomed open, mirroring the petals of a Janusian orchid, to reveal her innermost secrets. He kissed a line down her leg to the soft curls shading her mound. With salt on his tongue, he licked along the crooks of her lap until he reached her pearl. She bucked her hips into his mouth. Impatiently. Cupping her behind, he grazed her clit with his nose to elicit another moan.
Once he had found her gaze, her dilated pupils drowning out the green of her eyes, he flicked his tongue over her pearl. She bit her lip to stifle a whimper. Kissing along the outer folds of her sex, he sampled her piquant taste. When she rocked her head back and her hips forward in a most delicious offering for him to devour, he couldn’t hold back. Hands enfolding her, he sucked on her clit to savour her wetness. Despite intending to show restraint, he continued pleasuring her to coax the sweetest gasps and moans from her lips, as she ground against his face.
Emperor, he couldn’t wait any longer!
Dragging himself away from his worship, he rested his knees between her thighs and kissed her protestations away.
“Take me,” she breathed, after she had wiped the taste of her arousal from his lips.
He clutched his rock-hard cock and grazed her entrance with the tip. She shivered with every pass of his head over her throbbing clit, spreading her legs further in an irresistible invitation. Kissing her senseless, he lowered himself onto her. The stretch of her heat took his breath away. She was so wet. Tracing a thumb over her chin upwards to her swollen lips, he trailed each of her gasps with his mouth. He pulled back, only to sink into her velvety embrace again. And again. And again. A hand nestling in her hair, he cupped her head, and they fell into a shared rhythm. Much too soon, she hurried him on to drive into her faster. And this time, he didn’t let her wait. His arousal had built up to impossible heights.
“Come undone for me, Isha.”
As if on command, she tightened around him and the spasms in her body spilt over onto his. Against her pants, he set a carnal pace until sweet release overcame him. Hot spurts moistened his stomach. He opened his eyes into pitch-black darkness to brush over the rumpled sheets and metal frame of his bed. Of course, Isha wasn’t with him. He sat up. His spend trickled down into his lap, catching in the hairs on the way before curdling into a lukewarm testament to his embarrassment.
Emperor, that’s disgusting! I’m not a boy experiencing his first crush…
Brushing over his face to wipe away the remnants of sleep, he stumbled to the washstand in the dark. He poured cold water over a towel and dabbed his stomach to erase the traces of his deed until only a chilly trail remained. He wasn’t so successful with his mind. Every graphic detail of his dream felt like reality: her taste on his lips, her tiny moans, her shivers in her climax. He leaned his forehead on the wall. Unimpressed by his nightly adventure, the air recycling units churned above him. Hot skin sweltered against cool metal. He filled his palm with water and splashed it into his face, but the coldness brought little relief.
At last, he returned to his bunk. Feeling around in the dark, he didn’t discover another wet spot on the mattress and clambered into bed. Tossing and turning, sleep eluded him, and he rolled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling. His first dream in forever not featuring cherry blossoms, and it was still about Isha – and worse.
Or better?
Although nobody could hear him laugh in the dark, he stifled the chuckle behind his fist. He would be lying if he claimed he didn’t wish to sleep with her; he desired nothing more than to make his fantasy a reality. And Isha? She had invited him to her chambers with a directness that was unheard of for a woman of her station. More than once. Was her teasing interest in him genuine, or was she trying to curry favour with him?
The longer he ruminated, the more he leaned towards the latter. To exploit that notion for his gain was anathema to him. It shouldn’t be. Emperor, it hadn’t before. His mission’s primary objective was to extract as much information as possible from and about Lady von Valancius. Not his pleasure, not his desires, but to fulfil the wishes of his master. To fulfil his duty in service of the Holy Inquisition.
***
The digits on his chronos flashed green as Isha’s eyes in the darkness. 04:09. He massaged his forehead. The bunk reeked, his hand reeked, the room reeked – a testament to his nightly embarrassment. It was no use. Sleep still eluded him. Switching on the tiny light welded to the wall above his berth, he blinked until his pupils had adjusted to the new source of illumination. Time to establish a new routine. A shift change at four in the morning was unusual. He would be alone in the shower stall. Simply washing himself wouldn’t do; he needed to cleanse himself of his dream.
He dressed in yesterday’s uniform, slipped the rosette over his head, and left the cabin. In the corridor, the lumen stripes cast large shadows on the walls as he inspected the panelling for access points to the vox-system. A whisper brushing his ear whipped him around. The hallway behind him was deserted, only the ship’s machinery thumped and thrummed, chugged and chimed, buzzed and belched in a cacophony of noises. A cold breeze assailed his shoulder. They weren’t travelling in the Immaterium. What was this?
Laughter swelled and ebbed away, trailed by the sound of fire bursting from a promethium pipe. Rounding a corner, he collided with a crewman. He mumbled an apology. The man staggered backwards, then headed right past him.
Where was he?
A figure flickered in and out of reality to vanish through a wall. He tapped against the panel. Solid iron. Tracing over the burnished surface, frost bloomed under his fingertips.
A secret, secret, secret, the voice echoed. Your desire, desire, desire…
By the Throne, this was ridiculous!
His mind was now playing tricks on him even when he was wide awake. His fingers snagged on a slight indentation. The panel could slide to the side if one knew where the switch was. He investigated further without success. Something was behind that wall, and he had to know what it was!
“Have you heard of it?” a female voice said.
“The ghost on deck nine?” a man asked.
“Rumour has it, it’s Lady Theodora.”
Dampening his life signs, he merged with the shadows to observe the pair.
“I don’t believe it. That old hag is dead and good riddance!”
“Hector! The walls have ears. Don’t say that out loud.”
“Why? It’s the truth. Have you heard about Depot 4? The new Lord Captain, now that’s a–”
Once the two crew members had passed him, he cleared his throat.
The crewman, Hector, halted mid-step. “M-m-aster Inqu-Inquisitor, sir!” he stammered. “P-pay us no heed! Please…?”
“That won’t be possible. You gossiped about a ghost.” He edged closer, a predator on the prowl, until he had herded them both against the wall. When he placed a hand beside the man’s head, Hector winced. “Why don’t you start at the beginning? And make it quick!”
“I-I-I know nothing about ghosts, M-master Inquisitor, sir! It’s just a rumour, sir! Please, please, please, don’t…”
The woman yanked his arm. “Let him go!”
He glared at her. The voice died down to a whimper as she stared at him wide-eyed.
“Do you have something to add, crewman…?”
“V-Val New… Newmac, sir,” she mumbled.
“Val Newmac,” he gripped her chin to lift her head, “who started the rumour about the ghostly apparitions?”
“I… I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t…” Her breath brushed against his cheek in halting spurts. It smelled of recaf and lho-smoke. “Don’t hurt me. Please, please!”
“I can’t allow you to leave until I receive a satisfactory answer; you must understand.” He quirked the corner of his mouth in the mockery of a sympathetic smile. “And I can extract that answer with your cooperation or…”
“It’s that Psyker,” Hector said.
“Which one?”
He already knew who the crewman meant, but wanted him to say her name.
“Mistress… Idira Tlass, sir.”
He released the grip on Newmac’s chin, and she scurried to her partner.
“When did the rumour start?”
“I don’t know, I swear. It was… It was on the lower decks,” she said. “That woman is always sneaking around there. Drunk or worse. Spooking the workers, Master Inquisitor, sir! Can… Can we leave now? Please?”
He waved his hand, and they hurried towards the exit. Perhaps it was worth a shot? He resumed his inspection of the panel. Surprise mixed with relief often elicited the sincerest answers.
“Do you know anything about the space behind this wall?”
They halted on the threshold.
“Which space, sir?” Newmac asked.
“The compartment hidden behind that wall.” He pointed behind him. “Where does it lead to?”
“I-I don’t know, but the crew servicing the Lord Captain might.” Newmac covered her mouth as if she had spilt a secret. “What is it to you, sir?”
A second entrance to Isha’s quarters? Fascinating. Acquiring the access codes would facilitate planting the vox-bugs.
“I want a list of the service personnel waiting on the Lord Captain delivered to my cabin as soon as possible. Do not fail me, crewman Newmac!”
***
Showered and dressed in a freshly laundered uniform, he arrived at the mess hall at 04:45 and found it deserted, except for a lonely figure at the opposite end. Val Newmac had not yet delivered the list to him, although he was sure she would. She was too afraid of the consequences to refuse his request.
“Mistress Tlass, may I join you?”
The unsanctioned Psyker peeked at him with bloodshot eyes. A cloud of the cheap swill they brewed and traded on the lower decks hung over her. A half-empty cup stood on the table, beside an untouched meal.
“Would you like another recaf?”
“What do you want from me, Iceman? Shouldn’t you be in your cabin dreaming of the Lord Captain?” She scrunched her nose as if she were going to sniff at him. “The voices never lie to me.”
Returning with two steaming cups, he hooked a chair leg with his foot and dragged the chair closer. Wood scraped over metal, and the unsanctioned Psyker flinched.
“You couldn’t find much sleep, Mistress Tlass?” He nudged the recaf over the ring-stained table. “What’s keeping you up?”
“I don’t need a confessor, van Calox! Since you’re here, too, I guess you couldn’t sleep either?”
“I heard the ship’s haunted. Do you know something about it?”
Cradling the bitter brew, he studied the minute changes in her expression. Her cheek twitched. Her hand roamed to the collar of her shirt to trail along the seam until her fingers had unearthed an invisible flaw to fidget with. He had struck gold. Now, to press the question without revealing his true intent.
“Aren’t ships this old always full of ghosts?” She hid her mouth behind a sip. “What’s it to you? Do you want to perform an exorcism?”
“Don’t evade my question! You know who I’m talking about.”
“And what of it? Are you going to interrogate me, Iceman? I’m under the protection of the Lord Captain, I–”
Recaf still in hand, she rose. He grabbed at her, and she flinched as his fingers closed around her wrist. Her pulse quailed under his thumb pad.
“I don’t spot Her Ladyship, so why don’t you sit back down again and answer my question? Yes or no?”
“Some say Lady Theodora’s ghost has been sighted on the lower decks.”
“And you have nothing to do with this apparition?”
“Me?! Why does suspicion always fall on the witch when something unnatural happens? Maybe it was you who summoned her from the warp? There’s enough pent-up energy around you that could span a host of daemonettes.”
She yanked her hand away, but he tightened his grip. Her wrist would snap easily.
“Mistress Tlass, a word of advice, if you allow. You are playing a dangerous game. That ghost is not the late Lord Captain but a spawn from the warp. I am not threatening you. However, I might have to resort to other means if you fail to control your powers. While a Rogue Trader is protected by the mandate of their warrant, you, or anyone else on this ship, is not. It would be prudent if you follow my advice, for both our sakes.”
When he released his iron grip, she jerked her arm away as if she had burned herself on a stove and stormed out of the mess hall. Almost out of earshot, she gulped back a sob. He must keep Mistress Tlass under observation; her uncontrolled powers posed a danger to herself and Isha (another item on his ever-growing list). He must also foster a closer relationship with Jae Heydari. She had been an unexpected addition to the crew and offered a fascinating glimpse into Isha’s past. Bugging the Cold Trader’s cabin would be infinitely easier than achieving the same in the Lord Captain’s quarters.
***
Riding the lift to Isha’s quarters, he checked his breath behind a sweaty palm and found it acceptable. He bounced a foot. Couldn’t that creaky old thing move faster? He cupped his cheeks. They were clean-shaven. Trailing a hand down his neck, his fingers snatched in a thick golden chain. He slipped the rosette under his jacket. He didn’t wish to remind his hostess whom he served; she knew well enough. After the demotion in his lodgings, he hadn’t expected to be summoned to dine with the Lord Captain. Another unconventional gambit. What was she trying to accomplish with this invitation? He tugged on the sleeves of his dress uniform to smooth out any remaining creases before digging his thumbs into his belt to keep himself from fidgeting.
At last, the lift stopped.
“Lady von Valancius?” he announced himself in a tone that revealed his state of mind to anyone who might be listening.
“Oh, you must not be so formal, Heinrix. Come in, please.”
Her buttery voice wafted through the hallway like the scent of freshly baked sugar buns. Checking the fit of his uniform one more time, he steeled himself, as though he were preparing for battle, and entered her study. With his eyes alighting on her figure, his heart skipped a beat. Although a raven-black dress obscured her body from his hungry gaze, he devoured the silk fabric caressing her svelte shape. For a moment, he wished that could be him. Tonight, her hair was braided out of her delicate forehead to spill down her back in a copper flood. No locks framed her face for him to brush behind her ears.
“Have you never seen a woman in a dress?”
“Not at all, Your Ladyship, I was merely enjoying the view.”
When she offered him her hand, the bell sleeve of the dress split, revealing a slender yet muscular arm underneath. Bowing low, he placed a kiss on her knuckles. Once again, she had forgone leather gloves to sheath her middle finger in a golden claw which was joined to her wrist by a fragile chain. His mouth connected with her skin in a moment of delectable transgression. He savoured the memory of a herb garden in full bloom on his lips until her dulcet laughter forced him to release her hand. Glancing up, the candlelight bathed her eyes in darkness.
“Or were you scouting for the best places to hide your tiny bugs? Once we have finished our meal, I can show you around and point out particularly well-suited ones.”
“I… I would never invade Your Ladyship’s privacy,” he lied, her accusation leaving a sour taste in his mouth. The equipment in his possession required no input from him once it was released into the target’s room. The vox-bugs were almost undetectable.
“Don’t pretend, Heinrix, I know you were sent back to spy on me by your master. The Lord Inquisitor’s letter, do you know what he alludes to?”
She pointed to the desk. Firmer ground, unless he imagined what he could do with her if he hoisted her onto the sturdy surface, bunched her dress around her waist and…
Throne take me, these images don’t improve my condition at all!
Heat surged from his lap into his chest to spill onto his neck and face. He was grateful that the room was dimly lit, or she would have noticed the fire smouldering on his cheeks. He cleared his throat but failed to clear the image from his mind.
“I do not. I am not privy to my master’s correspondence; however, if I must make a guess, it will pertain to my quest and why I wished to speak with you, in private.”
Although a rendezvous had not been on his mind when he had uttered his request.
He offered her his arm. A cloud of fragrant roses engulfed him. The scent rode on the ocean wave he had grown to link with her in his mind. They passed the lounge corner with the regicide board, where the letter from Evayne Winterscale still waited to be read, to reach a table set for two. The train of her dress rustled over the carpet with every step. Apart from the tick-tock metronome of the grandfather clock, it was the only sound in the frozen silence. He helped her settle into her chair before taking his place opposite her. Her skirt spilt off her seat in cascading waves of shimmering mystery to be joined in its play by the floor-length sleeves. It was mesmerising to observe.
With his heart buffeting in his throat, he waited for her to address him again. He didn’t bother employing his Psykana to tamper with his heartbeat, because that would reveal his state of mind far more noticeably than suffering through this evening with his willpower alone. And he would survive with his honour intact. He had survived far worse. He must only conceal his emotional state behind an impenetrable fortress of ice. Imagining the walls rising around his heart but failing to build his defences, he felt helpless in the presence of her myriad charms. Isha could have demanded everything from him tonight, and if it were remotely possible, he would have granted it to her, including the stars twinkling outside the windows of her study.
“You are unusually quiet, Heinrix. What is on your mind?”
You! Only you! You drive me insane, Isha! Am I on your mind? I must know! Do you remember me?
“My mission.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
She pressed a button on a black cube, and the ship’s background noises vanished. Then the wait staff appeared. One poured gold into two glasses as the other placed plates with a petite filet garnished with nuts, a dot of green purée, and tiny leaves in front of them. The scent curling up from the artistically arranged food reminded him of fresh fish, although he found it hard to imagine where the Lord Captain might have acquired such a rarity in such a short time. But as with her dress, nothing was impossible for a woman as formidable as the one sitting opposite him.
“You may speak your mind. Nobody can overhear us in here. And let me reiterate, I do not object to you personally. However, I find the continuous presence of the Inquisition aboard my ship unnerving. It is as if I have already been found guilty of a crime I have not yet committed. And have no intention of committing.”
“Your concern is unfounded, Isha. As long as there is no substantial reason for it… I hope there won't be one.”
“Ah, there’s the subtle threat again. How I’ve missed it… What would my life be like without an agent of the Inquisition judging my every move, I wonder?”
“Let me explain it thus: you may think whatever you want of me; however, my goal is not to hinder you or paint you in an unfavourable light. I’m here to support you in your endeavours, so please allow me. You did ask me to stay once, didn’t you?”
When she leaned back in her chair, he grabbed her left hand. Intent on memorising the hills and valleys forming the landscape of her palm, his thumb pad brushed over her skin.
“I did appreciate your warning regarding the refugees from Kiava Gamma. Let’s see if your predictions prove true.” With her look hardening, she withdrew her hand. “To business then: the Cult of the Final Dawn and Kunrad Voigtvir’s involvement. Have you received any new information since we last discussed the topic?”
“The members of the cult are no more than brainwashed livestock, ready to lay their lives down without a second thought. You have seen that play out first-hand. As for those at the top of the cult’s hierarchy, the leadership remains elusive. One of their leaders could hide on Kiava Gamma, so I must request to travel there at your earliest convenience. As to Voigtvir, the former Master of Whispers of Lady Theodora is still a phantom. Either he excels at his job, or the true culprits behind the mutiny have already disposed of him.”
“What do you mean?” Halting mid-bite, she set the fork down on the plate. “Are you still insinuating that I am the instigator of–”
“No. No, Isha, far from it. However, history has shown that for a heresy to spread this far, it needs protection from above. Governors. Commanders. Rogue Traders.” He glanced at her, but her expression stayed as unaltered as a fresh blanket of snow. “Your predecessor had a certain predilection for methods that would be considered heretical in anyone but a Rogue Trader.”
“A chaos cult in my protectorate…? Heinrix, are you accusing me or my dynasty of harbouring worshippers of the Ruinous Powers?”
The roses fashioned from metallic yarn sat atop her shoulders, caught the candlelight, and reflected it as a spear of silver fury into her dark eyes. Again, he placed her hand in his and curled a fist around her fingers to trap them there. Her claw stroked his palm. Each featherlight graze poured Promethium on an already blazing pyre. He lowered his gaze. His meal remained untouched. How should he manage to eat even a bite with her this close? His mouth ran dry, and he emptied his glass without a mind for the wine’s creamy aroma of pears and vanilla.
“Chaos treads softly. Cults are akin to seeds that sprout their flowers of evil after lying dormant for decades at times. Lady Theodora was absent from her protectorate for a long time; this is an indisputable fact. Another fact: the Koronus Expanse had not had the attention from the Inquisition it might warrant, so all kinds of heresies could flourish here unopposed.”
“The Lord Inquisitor spoke of grim portents in his letter. Do you know what he was alluding to?”
He paused. He did not. His master had informed him of his mission to Kiava Gamma in a few curt words.
“The Cult, the uptake of Drukhari raids, and other xenos threats,” he hedged his answer. “We witnessed the star of the Rykad System being stolen. The dangers in the Koronus Expanse are manifold. You inherited your warrant at an interesting time.”
“Yet Calcazar treats me as a trusted ally. Don’t you consider that strange, Heinrix, that he sends his favourite spy on a mission with me to a planet at the fringes of the Expanse?”
She bit her lip. That innocent gesture was enough to shatter the fortress of ice guarding his feelings. He released her hand to empty his refilled glass. The wine liquefied his volition as it blasted down his throat to set everything in its way aflame until it joined the roaring pyre of his desire. Crossing one leg over the other, he thrummed against the rim of his plate. He had no idea what his master meant by his insinuations; his orders were incompatible with the alleged contents of this letter.
Isha could not know that.
Never.
“Are you lost for words? You are spying on me; don’t deny it.”
“Well…” Sweat coated his palms, and he wiped them dry on his trousers. To hell with it! She would figure it out sooner or later, regardless of the lies. “I will, of course, continue writing my reports. I am staying with you at the Lord Inquisitor’s discretion. He will remove me from your presence if he finds my work unsatisfactory or considers my talents would be better utilised elsewhere.”
Emperor, that came out wrong!
Picking up her drink, the claw chimed against the glass. The sound jolted him upright. A chuckle bubbled over the rim as she sipped from the wine. He clung to her lips with the desperation of a man on the verge of starvation. These scarlet, glistening promises of his salvation invited him to savour her, to whisk the ruby stains away, to replace the colour with his fiery passion. Should he lean forward to apologise for his ill-considered words with a kiss?
“Tugging on my heartstrings with such a subtle threat, I didn’t know you had it in you, Heinrix. Touché. To set things straight: if heresy has taken root in my realm or dynasty, I won’t allow it to grow but will aid the Inquisition in any way I can to weed it out. However, I am not responsible for the sins of a woman I had no idea I was related to more than a month ago.”
Her keen gaze prickled on his skin.
“I will not lay your predecessors’ transgressions at your feet, I promise,” he muttered.
Let me lie there instead, Isha!
Emperor, help!
Please!
He was going crazy. Nothing in Isha’s behaviour tonight served to inspire such sentiments in him. She had acted with unparalleled restraint, as if there had never been any interest in him beyond polite banter. Waiting for her to resume their conversation, he rummaged in his brain for a way to keep their tête-à-tête going, buttressed by the alcohol coursing in his veins and his desire to stay in her company. He came up empty time after time. The seconds ticked away in silence as the chance slipped through his fingers like quicksand. He must say something! Anything!
“It is a commendable aspiration for a person who holds the fates of billions in her hands,” he mumbled. “I hope you can preserve your kindness while governing prudently. You cannot wane in your vigilance by showing mercy where it is not earned, Isha, as much as you might want to. Corruption wears many faces, not all of which are immediately recognisable.”
“Since I have an expert in uncovering heresies right here with me, I will consider your words.” This time, she reached for his hand. He greedily closed his fingers around hers until the sharp beak speared his palm. Tapping a leg under the table, he leaned back without releasing her, then leaned in again, unable to focus on anything but her. “So far, your advice has been prudent. I hope you won’t lead me astray in the future. And secondly, don’t lie to me. I know you must spy on me and my crew. I’ll openly share any information I acquire if you promise not to pry into my past. You can promise that, Heinrix?”
The rosette’s chain dug into his neck. Its savage weight threatened to bury him under falsehoods and deception. Unable to assure her of his noble intent, he pressed his lips together to keep the lie from escaping. The cough he produced hurt in his lungs as though he had spent the last minutes expelled into the void outside the windows, so he simply nodded.
“See, that wasn’t so hard. Will you sit with me, and I'll tell you about my meeting with Tocara? Since we’re both not hungry…”
She pointed to a couch opposite a parlour organ. Leaping to his feet when she stood up, he bumped his knee on the table. The cutlery jostled and jingled as the glasses clinked together. He hurried to her side. She offered him her hand, and he brought her fingers to his lips as if they were the lone sustenance he desired tonight—his one salvation from torment.
Sitting down again, he made a point to keep a proper distance from her, then he closed his eyes to concentrate on her delectable voice. After visiting Janus, they would forge their way to the Cranach System, where Kiava Gamma was located. He congratulated her on a shrewd business deal and meant every word. Few could best two Rogue Traders at once. If she managed to establish a stable food supply for Footfall, she would have a mighty ally in Vladaym Tocara, one who was not only the liege of the most crucial trade hub but a leader of the Kasballica.
“What do you think of Incendia Chorda? You complimented me on a well-made business deal. What about her? Her cousin was murdered when he was trying to come to an agreement with House von Valancius on who supplies Footfall with food.”
“Chorda, hmm.” He rubbed his chin. “A most influential Rogue Trader dynasty in the Expanse. However, the house fell from grace under Aspyce Chorda. She was rumoured to serve the Ruinous Powers, which her successor tries to compensate for with extreme piety. Incendia would have liked to impose her strict rule on Footfall, yet her position as leader is still weak.”
“Should I request the Drusians to send preachers on my ship?”
Placing a hand on his forearm, she leaned in to him. Her scent caressed his nose. His fingers trailed the collar of his uniform, fumbling with the top button until he had nudged it through the buttonhole. The tiny gap failed to cool him down.
“What do you mean?”
“Since Theodora did not demonstrate much reverence for the teachings of the Ecclesiarchy and with the news of cults and Sanguinala behind us without much celebration, I considered it prudent to shore up the belief in the God-Emperor among my crew.”
“It would be an excellent idea!”
With her this close, he couldn’t think straight. Her sigh reminded him of the moans of pleasure his mind had conjured up in his dream. Blood rushed to his lap. He crossed a thigh over the other to hide his growing arousal. Now, she replaced the hand on his forearm with one on his knee, and a jolt of excitement raced through his body.
“I… If I’m honest, sometimes I don’t know how I… You have been an immeasurable assistance in the last weeks, Heinrix, and the thought of never seeing you again…”
Whenever she uttered his name with such adoring allure, the two syllables slithered into his brain to short-circuit his willpower. Glancing at him under long eyelashes, she licked her lips. He could kiss her if he reached out now to cup her cheek and pull her in. He shouldn’t abuse his position, shouldn’t yield to temptation, but by the Throne, was she making it hard to resist!
“If there is anything you desire from me,” she purred.
“Isha, you don’t have to curry favour with me. I’m merely fulfilling my duty towards you.” His voice became hard-edged as he shored up the last vestiges of his resolve. “I don't need, nor do I want you in this way.”
She was so, so close now. His fingers hovered over her face to brush an errant curl behind her ear. Heat radiated between his palm and her temple. Her breath grazed his wrist in fitful spurts. He reached out to caress her, and his hand was slapped away.
His cheek blazed with fire.
He blinked.
Her brows knitted together, her mouth an ice-kissed line, she stood before him the picture of furious anger.
“Isha?” Blood draining from his face as fast as from his lap, he bound to his feet. “What have I done wrong?”
“Must you ask? Do you truly believe what you said, that I would prostitute myself to gain favours with you? That I would want that?”
Emperor’s tits, that was not what I meant.
“I… No, Isha… I’m sorry. Believe me, I’m deeply…”
Against the pulse battering in his temples, he grasped her fingers to kiss each one, to lavish his attention there in an apology for his careless accusation. With a few thoughtless words, he had ruined his dream. She yanked her hand out of his caress and crossed her arms. Her eyes glinted in the candlelight. If tears were gathering there, he couldn’t say. When she reached for his face again, he braced for another slap. Instead, she cupped his cheek. Cold metal scraped over sweltering skin, and he shuddered under her touch.
“How can it be that an Agent of the Golden Throne knows so much yet understands so little?” She withdrew her hand as fast as she had placed it there. “Dismissed, Interrogator!”
Her words stabbed him in the chest. He was discharged. Discarded. What a fool he was. Without looking at her, he bowed low as if to unearth a hole to hide in on the iron floor. Mumbling another apology, he left. On his ride up the lift, it took every bit of his willpower not to punch the walls.
“Master van Calox, I never knew Isha socialised with such… distinguished servants of the Emperor. I’ll bet it takes someone truly remarkable to warrant such eminent and close attention,” the smuggler quipped, but one look at him and the laughter stuck in her throat. “Oh, did the dinner not go as expected? Then pay me no heed.”
She hurried past him towards the platform.
“Mistress Heydari, ever since my first visit to Footfall, I have been hearing about your talents. However, I never had the pleasure of sitting down and chatting with you about your trading activities. Would you satisfy my curiosity and answer a few questions?” He glared at her until she shook her head. “Well, I thought so. Goodnight, and a word of advice: don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong!”