Read Plan B for Free Online

instance, however," Val Con said neutrally, "understanding may have fallen short. I assign no blame, nor does frankness offend." He reached out to capture Miri around the wrist and drew her lightly forward to stand at his side. "I present my lifemate, Miri Robertson Tiazan, Lady yos'Phelium."

    The gray eyes in their golden net of wrinkles went wide, then narrowed as they swept Miri from face to feet. The glance scathed, lingering longest on the leaf before whipping back to Val Con.

    "So! You discover a houseless favorite and you dare bring her to me ? I shall acknowledge her, shall I, and give her place among the clans? Korval presumes—and presumes too far. I will remind you that you guest with Erob. Your whim is not law here!"

    That was enough. Miri moved, deliberately turning her flank on the old lady and her rage.

    "I tell you what, boss," she said, in her flattest, ugliest Terran accent—one-hundred-percent Surebleak. "I ain't about to join this outfit, genes or no genes."

    "Ah," said Val Con.

    " What did you say?" demanded Emrith Tiazan, in Terran, though Terran slurred and softened and pronounced like Liaden.

    "I said ," Miri snapped, in the stiffest mode she could call to mind from the High Tongue, "that it is not the place of a high commander to reprimand another commander who is come to parlay."

    For the space of two heartbeats, Emrith Tiazan stood frozen, and then she bowed, very gently.

    "Forgive me—madam," she said, the High Tongue carefully conveying equality of rank. "You spoke of genes. I desire further information upon the subject as you believe it to concern yourself and—this outfit." She paused. "If you please."

    Miri hesitated, more than half determined to walk out the door and down that long hallway and out into the sunshine. Ought to be able to find the merc camp without too much trouble , she thought; get a hot meal and a place to bunk. . .

    "Miri," Val Con said softly. "Will you show Delm Erob your heirloom?"

    Damn him , she thought; and then sighed and worked the catch on her belt-pouch. She fingered the disk free and held it out to the old lady, belatedly remembering to bow.

    Emrith Tiazan glanced briefly at the shield, then turned to the obverse, frowning at the engraved genealogy. She looked back at Miri.

    "How came you by this?"

    "I have it from my mother," Miri said, matching the other's mild tone; "who had it from hers."

    "So." The old lady looked at Val Con. "This appears genuine."

    He lifted a brow. "Many clans possess—protocols—for determining authenticity."

    She stared at him. "Indeed. You will excuse me for a moment." She turned and marched out of the room without waiting for their permission.

    The door had barely closed when Miri swung around. "What is this? How come she thinks you came here for a contract-wife? If you're pulling one— one —of your damned Liaden tricks, that old lady ain't gonna have to bother taking you apart, 'cause I'll do it for her, you understand me?"

    "Yes, Miri," he said meekly, but for once meekness failed to gain her smile. She stood glaring, poised on the balls of her feet, a trained fighter, more than half-ready to fight.

    Val Con took her hand, led her to the couch by the refreshment table and sat down. "Miri." He tugged gently at her, patting the cushion beside him.

    For a moment he thought she'd refuse, yank her hand free and stomp away, as he had been certain she would earlier, and he with no choice but to follow his lifemate. . .

    "Hell." She flumped down next to him and dropped her head on his shoulder. "You're more trouble than you're worth, you know?"

    "Shan has often expressed that view," he said, sighing in mock remorse. "The two who know me best cannot both be in error."

    She snorted a half-laugh; stirred and sat up. "That kid who died—Kea? She was a pilot."

    "So are you."

    "Like hell—" The door clicked and she swallowed the rest of that argument.

    Emrith Tiazan stopped before the couch and held the