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Seraphina watched oldrecordings of Jarad during speeches, public appearances and official political meetings. There was a practiced air to how he talked and associated with those around him. Every gesture and nuance led one to believe he cared or had genuine empathy in the subject matter, whether it pertained to a country’s financial struggle on his home world or a group wanting an investment in a new medical or technological advance.
When he wasn’t surrounded by family or allies of the House of Oolun, his behavior shifted. An aggressive edge, just slight enough to be misconstrued or ignored by those around him came about. His posture also changed, the arrogant jut of his jaw, shoulders back and stride widening instead of the humble stroll he normally used.
On screen, his facial expressions at family events ranged from kind, congenial and understanding. Outside that sphere of engagement, he tended to wear a sneering, dismissive look.
Not for long though. In the morning, she’d be on a transport heading back to Pi Vista. Jarad was going to die and Coco would be avenged. In order for that to happen, there could be no mistakes in this. She hit replay and watched again and again until she’d memorized every bit down to the last detail.
Her stomach grumbled. She’d missed breakfast and lunch. Hours of focused work would do that. With a sigh, she pushed away from her comp station and glanced around her home. Since she’d returned after the Niehl incident, she hadn’t been as diligent about cleaning.
Discarded cups created a pile of untidy dishes at her elbow, across the room freshly laundered clothes sat folded and forgotten on her lounge. She rose on another exhale and began cleaning, her mind full on other things.
Selecting something easy to eat in the processor, her mind settled on the subject she’d gone out of her way to avoid. For the most part. She couldn’t really ignore the man who starred in her late night dreams.
She eyed her comm and nibbled her bottom lip. Her fingers flexed and she resisted the urge to snatch the portable unit from the table.
Why had he given her his comm code? What did he expect her to do with it?
The processor beeped and she grabbed the steaming plate, returning to the table. Her fingers tap tapped on the top again as she mechanically scooped food in her mouth. Did Rook want her to call? And if so, why?
She groaned and palmed her forehead. Too much confusion. She finished eating, shoved the plate to the side and stared at her comm. Time ticked by and her stomach knotted. It wasn’t hunger this time.
Snatching up the comm, she enabled the secure blocker and stabbed out the numbers she’d memorized. Five, Seven, Three, Zero. It buzzed twice and she contemplated ending the call before it connected. On the third buzz, a deep voice answered. “Who is this?”
Her heart pounded. Nerves prickled down her spine and she sat upright abruptly. “You gave me your comm code.”
“Wait. I need a minute.” Silence hovered over the line and she stood to pace from the table then back to the window. A door clicked in the background. “Fina?”
Hearing him say the shortened version of her real name hit her gut in an unexpected way. She blew out a breath. Trembling, she threaded her fingers through the ends of her hair and said his name softly, “Rook.”
“Are you alright?” he asked in a lower voice.
She swallowed past the lump his question caused. “Yes.”
It wasn’t what she wanted to say. She wanted to let him know that she was scared. That she couldn’t sleep and more importantly...she wanted to ask why he’d let her go. Wondering left her confused and up at night. Hoping, wanting it to be more caused an ache in her loins she couldn’t ease.
“Fina, are you still there?”
Rook’s sharp tone pulled her back. She cleared her throat. “Yes. Sorry. Just a lot on my mind.”
“Are you still planning to go through with...your thing?”
Her brows slammed down and in that instant her stomach settled. Her thing? This wasn’t a thing. It was a matter of honor, of retribution. She thought she’d made that clear. Anger a slow boil in her blood, she said, “I am. I meant what I said, Rook. He has to die. You made me think you understood.”
“I want to see you while we talk. Give me access to your visual feed.”
At any other time, the demanding tone would have normally raised her hackles. She didn’t respond well to demands but she wanted to see him too. She made her way back to the table and took a seat against the wall with no deciphering details behind her. She kept her location blocker running but activated the screen and set her comm on the table in front of her.
In seconds, the black square transformed into a familiar face on the other end. Broad shoulders almost took up the whole frame. His inky black hair lay in waves about his head, his brown eyes narrowed as he stared at her. She swiped a shaking hand over her own hair again and hit the lopsided ponytail she’d thrown together this morning.
“You’re beautiful like this,” he whispered in a husky tone.
The blood drained from her face as she realized she hadn’t thought to morph into one of her alias. She sat before Rook with her natural hair and eyes. Her slender imperfect nose, her bow shaped lips and her rounded cheekbones were on display for him to see. If he decided to betray her, he could tell his military organization what the assassin, Tempest, looked like.
From there, they could run searches, facial recognition software and identify her. It wouldn’t matter that she’d ditched the Tempest identity and anything connected to her. This was how she really looked. Hiding her true appearance was ingrained in her as an Allagi from long ago in her childhood. Outside of family, rarely did they drop their prominent morph identities.
And she’d shown Rook without thinking. Panic sent her heart racing. Her chest grew tight as she worked frantically to compensate. Her skin tightened, responding to her instinct to change.
