Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

always in my thoughts. I even took your middle name to christen my sword."
    "Thanks a whole lot," said Evangeline dryly. "Other lovers get gifts of flowers or jewelry. I get a sword named after me."
    "It's a good sword—"
    "And that makes all the difference." A cloud fell across her face, and she pushed herself away from him. "How's your wife, Finlay?"
    He blinked uncertainly. "Fine, as far as I know. We don't see any more of each other than we have to, these days. She has her life, and I have mine, and as long as we don't actually have to meet each other, we get along great. What brought this on, love? You know I never loved her, or her me. It was an arranged marriage to consolidate a business deal. I'd divorce her in a minute if I thought there was any way you and I could be together. Why are you asking me about her now?"
    "Because you and I are going to be at the wedding this afternoon. Our presence is required. But what about her; what about Adrienne? Will she be there, too?"

    "Yes, she will. But knowing dear Adrienne, she'll get stuck into the booze the minute she gets there, and will quite probably be entirely potted before we even get to the ceremony. Don't worry, my love; we'll have our chance to be together, as long as we're careful. Very careful. They must never know about us, Evangeline. I know you hope things will change between the Clans, but they won't. They'd fight a war over us, if they knew."
    "Worse than that," said Evangeline. "We'd never see each other again."
    He took her in his arms and stopped her words with his mouth. And then for a long moment they just stood there together, holding each other tightly, so tightly no one would ever be able to tear them apart.
    The most mismatched and politically sensitive wedding of the Season was held in a ballroom belonging to Clan Wolfe. Given the complicated web of deceit, intrigue and vendetta that connected the Campbells and the Shrecks, it was as near as they could get to neutral ground. Both Families had longstanding arguments with the Wolfes, but they weren't actually openly fighting at the moment. They weren't allies, and probably never would be, but it was a case of better the minor enemy you know than the friend who might turn on you. So the Wolfes hosted, for an extortionate price, and the Campbells and the Shrecks promised to be on their best behavior. The Wolfes posted extra guards, just in case.
    Both Families brought with them a small army of guards, protectors and back-watchers, along with a not so small army of cousins, sycophants and hangers-on. In high society, the size of one's entourage in public was vitally important. It showed one's strength. It wouldn't do for one's enemy to get the idea one couldn't command loyalty among one's retainers. It wouldn't be…
    healthy. Besides, all the Families loved a show.

    The ballroom itself was large and ostentatious, decorated on walls and floor and ceiling to the point of overkill. This was nothing unusual. There were pillars of silver and gold, draped with delicate strands of ivy carved from jade, and the floor was a single huge mosaic of major Wolfe ancestors and triumphs, composed of simple slabs of marble exactly an inch wide. One square inch being all most people could have afforded. The walls displayed ever-changing hologram scenes, chosen at random by the House computers from whatever exterior views were currently considered interesting or fashionable. The ceiling was a holo of the night sky, with stars scattered thickly like diamonds on black velvet. Few of the guests noticed. They were more interested in watching each other.
    Finlay Campbell was there with his wife, as required. Neither of mem were particularly happy about it. They'd had a blazing row on their wedding day, and things had gone rapidly downhill ever since. They'd only agreed to the arranged marriage under the greatest of pressures, and a few not terribly discreet threats. They would have had each other assassinated long ago, if they could only figure out how to get away with it, but the Imperial espers had taken all the fun out of inter-Family murder. So the marriage continued, under protest.
    In the meantime, they kept as far apart as possible and met only on formal occasions that demanded their presence. Like this one. The only things they had in common were their two children, five and six years old respectively, already holy terrors by all accounts. The product of laboratory conceptions and births, they spent their