Queen of Candesce

Grabbing him around the shoulders she kissed him, feeling her nipples tease the hairs on his chest. All their movement was making him slide against her wetness and suddenly he was inside her. Venera gasped and reared up, pushing down on him with all her weight.

She leaned forward until they were nose to nose. “My bed,” she hissed, gri

They were locked together now and each motion by one made the other respond. She had a hand behind his neck and his were behind her spreading her painfully as they kissed and the bed shook and threatened to collapse. She bucked and rode him like the Buridans must have ridden their horses, all pounding muscle under her until wave after wave of pleasure mounted up her core and she came with a loud cry. Moments later he did the same, bouncing her up and nearly off of him. She held on and rode it out, then collapsed on the bellows of his chest.

“See?” he said. “You can share.”

Well.

Venera wasn’t about to dignify his statement with a response; but this was certainly going to change things. Now sleep really was coming over her, though, and she had no ability to think more about it. She nuzzled his shoulder.

Damn it.

The Spyre Council building was satisfyingly grandiose. It sprawled like a well-fed spider over an acre of town wheel, with outbuildings and a

She was aware of many eyes watching her. Word had gotten around quickly of the events last night, and Lesser Spyre was quietly but visibly tense. Shops had closed early; people hurried through the streets. The architecture of the spider did not permit large assemblies—Spyre was not the sort of place to encourage mass demonstrations—but the people were a presence here nonetheless, standing in groups of two to ten to twenty on street corners and under the shadowy canopies of bridges. It was their presence, and not memory or reason, that convinced Venera that she had today done something highly significant.

Her own appearance must confirm that. She wore a high-collared black leather coat over a scarlet blouse, with her bleached shock of hair standing straight up and silver trefoil-shaped bangles the size of her hand hanging from her ears. Her make-up was dark—she’d redrawn her brows as two obsessively black lines. Trailing behind her in a V-formation like a flock of grim birds were two dozen people, all similarly startling to look upon. Some appeared pale and unsteady, their faces and exposed hands bearing bruises and burn marks. Others attended these souls, and marching behind like giant tin toys were soldiers of Liris and various preservationist factions. Venera knew that Bryce’s people peppered the crowds, there to listen and give an alert if necessary.

“Do you think Jacoby Sarto brings his gun to council meetings?” she asked off-handedly. Cori

“Here,” she said, handing Venera a large black pistol, “try to take this in and see what happens. No, seriously. If they don’t stop you, then he’s probably got one too. You may need to get the drop on him.”

“I can do that.” She took the pistol and slipped it into her jacket, which promptly dragged down her right collar. She transferred it to the back of her belt.

“Not too obvious,” said Cori

A preservationist ru

“What have they got?” she asked. “Artillery?” He nodded.

“We’re moving to secure the elevator cables, but they’re doing the same thing,” he continued. “There’s been no shots fired yet…”

“All right.” She dismissed the details with a wave of her hand. “Let me see what we can do in council. We’ll talk after that.” He nodded and backed off.

The big front doors of the building were for council members only. The ceremonial guards there, with their plumed helmets and giant muskets, raised their palms solemnly to exclude the people following Venera. She turned and gestured with her chin for them to go around the side; she’d been told there was a second, more traveled entrance there for diplomats, attachés, and other functionaries. She strode alone into the frescoed portico that half circled the chamber itself.

The bronze council chamber doors were open, and a small crowd was milling there. She recognized the other members; they were just filing in.

Jacoby Sarto was talking to Pamela Anseratte. He looked relaxed. She looked tense. He spotted Venera and, surprisingly, smiled.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, strolling over to her. Venera glanced around to see what other people—pillars or statues to hide behind—were nearby, and started to reach for the pistol. But Sarto simply took her arm and led her a bit to the side of the group.

“The preservationists and lesser countries are following you right now,” he said. “But I can’t see that continuing, can you? The only leverage you’ve got is the name of Buridan.”

She extricated her arm and smiled back at him. “Well, that depends on the outcome of this meeting, I should think,” she said. He nodded affably.

“I’m here to engineer a crisis,” he said. “How about you?”

“I should have thought we were already in a crisis,” she said cautiously. “Your troops are on the move.”

“…And we’ve seized the docks,” he said. “But that may not be enough to serve either of our interests.” She tried to read his expression, but Sarto was a master politician. He gave no sign that Spyre was balanced on the edge of its greatest change in centuries.

“Our interests aren’t the same,” he continued, “but they’re surprisingly… compatible. You’re after power, but not so much power as you’d have to have if you used the key again. It’s difficult—you possess the ultimate weapon, but no way to use it to get what you want. But the blunt fact is that as long as we hold the docks, the little trinket you stole from us last night is even worse than useless to you,” he said. “It’s an active liability.”

She stared at him.

Apparently oblivious to her expression, Sarto continued as though he were discussing the budget for municipal plumbing contracts. “On the other hand, the polarization of allegiance you’re generating is useful to us. I’ve been impressed, Ms. Fa

“You want it back?”

He nodded.

“Go fuck yourself!” She started to stalk toward the giant doorway but couldn’t resist turning and saying, “You tortured my man Garth! You think this is a game?”

“The only way to win,” he said so quietly that the others couldn’t hear, “is to treat it as one.” Now his expression was serious, his gray eyes cold as a statue’s.

It was suddenly clear to Venera that Sacrus already knew what she had been pla