Vercia’s honor guard turned as one and exited the stage, heading down the bridge, past me, toward the portal. She looked after them, looked at Kosandion, then back at the screen where pieces of Pivor littered the alley. Desperation twisted her face. She marched to the bridge at a near run. Nobody except me paid her any mind. There was no need to arrest her or charge her with anything. She was a dead woman walking.

Vercia saw me and swallowed. “I want a room.”

“We have no vacancy.”

She spun around and waved at the arena, incredulous.

“We are full, Lady Denoma.” I pointed to the portal. “Please, return to the Dominion.”

She clenched her hands and fled to the portal. The green glow swallowed her.

Good riddance.

I took a moment to savor the cleaner air and turned to the arena. We needed to wish the Murder Beaks goodbye, put everyone else back into their quarters, and prepare for Kosandion’s date this afternoon. He would be having a one-on-one with Cyanide, and I had no idea how it would go.

21

In our last thrilling instalment, the identity of the pirate prince was finally revealed. He was exposed and purged from the inn to Baha-char, where the woman whose family he murdered exacted her revenge. It wasn’t swift, but it was bloody.

Vercia got her just deserts when Orata dumped the entire responsibility for the Muterzen pirate prince into her lap. Vercia realized that she has a space cruiser sized target on her back and attempted to request a room at the inn. The request was denied. Mmm, so satisfying.

Now the guests are in their chambers and the long-awaited date between Cyanide and the Sovereign is beginning. Are you suffering from sweltering summer heat? Read on, for relief is only a few words away.

Gertrude Hunt had a dozen branches. Some we used often, like the one leading to Baha-char. Some, like the desert door, were used once in a while. The rest stayed mostly shut, and half of the time I forgot we even had them. However, today one of those forgotten branches got its chance to shine.

Cyanide made three requests with regard to her date: she wanted to be up high, she wanted a new view, and she wanted something soft to lie on. Like most big cats, she didn’t fancy walks unless it was the only way to get a delicious snack. We managed to deliver on all three counts.

Kosandion surveyed the rustic alpine lodge. To be honest, rustic was a relative term. It wasn’t rustic as in “Grandpa built a little cabin out of whatever timber he found handy.” It was the luxury kind of rustic, a modern homage to a Renaissance Jagdschloss that sometimes occurred when too much money met the need to roleplay as a medieval Bavarian aristocrat hosting a hunting party.