Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,134

through the gigantic domed concourse, which was packed with passengers, port workers, and vendors selling last-minute food and goods for travel.

Finally, they emerged from the building and into the bright Sol-light. The first thing Marcellus noticed was the weather. It was as warm and as pleasant as the interior of Ledôme, the sky as bright and blue as the TéléSky, but everything just felt so much fresher. More authentic. He took in a deep breath, suddenly understanding how Thibault Paresse, the founding Patriarche of Laterre, could have started a five-hundred-year-long grudge against these people. They lived in a paradise. A paradise that Laterre had lost and Albion had won.

He pulled his gaze from the skies just as a black-domed aerocab pulled up in front of them. The door of the vehicle eased open like an insect’s wing unfurling, and out stepped a woman in a purple knee-length jacket trimmed with white fur. Her monoglass gleamed in the late-afternoon light as her gaze swept over each one of them before finally landing on Marcellus. She flashed him a broad smile.

“Officer Bonnefaçon, welcome to Albion. I am Lady Alexander, High Chancellor to her majesty, Queen Matilda Bellingham, and your grandfather’s primary liaison on Albion.” She spoke in a silky, flawless accent that sounded deceptively soothing to Marcellus’s ears. This must have been the person he had overheard his grandfather talking to in his study.

“Nice to meet you, your …” Marcellus struggled to remember the greeting the admiral had used on the ship. “Your Grace.” He gestured toward Alouette, Gabriel, and Cerise. “These are my … um … associates.”

Gabriel stepped forward and dipped into a low bow. “Your Grace.”

Cerise grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him back, whispering hotly in his ear. “You only bow to the Queen, you idiot.”

Lady Alexander smiled politely at Gabriel, but Marcellus could see the tug of annoyance at the corner of her lips. “My most humble apologies for the … how shall we put this? The confusion concerning your arrival. We were not expecting the general or any of his ambassadors. Up until this moment, all of our communications have been conducted remotely.”

Even though her words sounded vaguely suspicious, her smile never faltered.

Marcellus cleared his throat. “Yes. I apologize for our surprise visit. My grandfather dispatched me fairly last-minute. We would have sent word of our arrival but … but …” He started to falter, the words feeling fat and clumsy on his lips.

“But we recently detected a breach in our normal communication channels,” Cerise stepped in, offering Marcellus a reassuring nod. “We had to sever all outreach until the breach could be remedied.”

Lady Alexander studied Cerise for a long moment, looking both thoughtful and apprehensive. Marcellus held his breath.

“I suppose that makes sense,” she concluded after far too long a pause. “It has been a few days since I’ve heard from the general.”

Marcellus swallowed hard. “Exactly. Apologies again for not keeping you better informed.”

Lady Alexander nodded. “Not to worry. We are very pleased to welcome you to our planet.” She gestured to the idling vehicle. “Shall we proceed to the laboratory?”

* * *

After sweeping over the dense and bustling parts of the capital, the aerocab glided onward, toward the less populated outskirts of Queenstead. Marcellus watched through the window as they passed rows and rows of what looked like fabriques and other industrial buildings.

Then they were flying out over the city walls and into the countryside beyond. Streams weaved and sparkled through meadows of grass. Forests and small villages dotted the landscape. To the left, the Sols were beginning to set behind a ridge of mountains that had loomed up nearby, and the sky was turning deep shades of violet, purple, and fiery gold.

Dangers aside, Marcellus had to admit that the sight was beautiful. Just as Alouette had said. Breathtaking, even. It reminded him of all the old stories he’d heard about the First World before it was engulfed by fires.

“Would you care for tea?” Lady Alexander asked. She pushed a button on her armrest, and from the floor of the aerocab, a titan tray glided upward, holding a set of porcelain cups and saucers with a matching teapot.

Marcellus exchanged confused glances with the others, and everyone hastily shook their heads.

“No, merci,” said Marcellus.

With another push of the button, the tray disappeared beneath the floor again.

Finally, the aerocab banked to the right, and as they descended over a bluff, an enormous compound emerged in front of them. Albion’s Royal Ministry of Defence.

Encircled in a glowing