KINSMAN’S OATH By Susan Krinard

Such drastic action proved unnecessary. The door opened, and a woman in a conservative suit spoke briefly to Lord Miklos’s people. They waved Cynara and Ronan through and into yet another room, larger than the first but still clearly an antechamber complete with a reception desk and potted plants. Cynara felt a buzz in her skull, and then the agents led them to another door.

Everything changed. On the other side was a room unlike the others, warm in tone and clearly designed for occupation by a person with a desire for comfort rather than consequence. Deeply padded chairs invited long talks, and the walls held shelf after shelf of old-style books.

The guards took up positions to either side of the room. Before Cynara could complete her internal debate as to whether or not to avail herself of one of the chairs, a wood-paneled door opened and a man stepped through.

She knew at once that it was Lord Miklos. The Challinor family was said to be extraordinarily attractive as well as gifted and much beloved by the Persephonean people, but she had seen the Archon and his family only at a distance. Those men and women she had dealt with during her briefings and layovers on Persephone had been less exalted lords, officials, and naval commanders assigned to the Pegasus Project.

None of those previous meetings could have prepared her for Lord Miklos Challinor. He was of middle years but still handsome, dressed in gray tunic and trousers with only a touch of braid to indicate his rank. She sensed immediately what Uncle Jesper had loved in this man, and why he was so confident of his royal connection.

Lord Miklos glanced from her to Ronan with keen interest, but it was Ronan’s face that caught him. He stared, and Ronan’s muscles tightened in a way Cynara had learned to recognize as portending trouble. If he’d possessed shaauri fur, it would have stood on end.

“Lord Miklos,” Cynara said quickly, “I thank you for agreeing to see us. It is a great honor.”

Blue eyes met hers with a trace of humor. “Captain D’Accorso,” he said, his voice deep and warm. “Ronan VelKalevi. I am Miklos Challinor.” He smiled at them both. “Please be seated. What would you care to drink?”

Cynara edged closer to Ronan. “Nothing, my lord.”

“I understand.” He glanced from Ronan to the guards. “I believe your friend regards me as an enemy.”

His bluntness surprised her, but it did not seem out of his character. She couldn’t help but like him. “Ronan has been through a great deal,” she said. “I don’t think he knows who to trust.” Including myself.

Lord Miklos gestured to his men, who hesitated a moment and then left through the front entrance. No doubt they would be waiting just outside, easily summoned by a hidden buzzer.

“We are quite alone,” he said, addressing both Cynara and Ronan. “No one outside this room will hear us. Now, sit.”

Cynara took the nearest seat, with a direct look urging Ronan to do the same. He obeyed with obvious reluctance. His muscles were bunched to launch him from the chair at the slightest warning of danger.

“Good,” Miklos said. He sat in one of the matching chairs next to the heavy wood desk and crossed his legs. “Now we may speak frankly. When Jesper first went to Dharma thirty-six years ago as part of the Concordat team assisting your government, he wrote to me many times about his experiences there. I remember well that he fell in love with the people—one in particular.”

“My late Aunt Donata,” Cynara said. “Dharma was deeply fortunate to keep Magnus Siannas after the blockade. Without him, I don’t know what would have happened to the Nine Worlds.”

“Or to any of the human worlds, considering the part your uncle played in—” He stopped, looked at Ronan, and continued smoothly. “I heard regularly from Jesper until the blockade, and very little since. But I knew he was fond of his niece, and of course I have had reports of your progress each time you’ve completed a run. I am delighted to meet you in person, Captain D’Accorso.”

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