Scarlet

royalty—a room for important, high-society Earthens to muse over the philosophical works of their ancestors. Display cases had once held priceless art and bookshelves climbed two stories over his head. But the books were all gone now, rescued when the opera house had been taken over by the military, and a musty, mildew scent had settled into the pores of the surrounding wood.
    Jael was seated at a wide desk. Made of plastic and metal, it stood stark and dull against the extravagant décor. Ran was there too, leaning against the wall of empty shelves.
    His brother smiled. Almost.
    Jael stood. “Alpha Kesley, thank you for coming at such short notice. I wanted you to be the first to know your brother had made it back safely.”
    “I’m glad to see it,” he said. “Hello, Ran. You were not looking too well last I saw you.”
    “Likewise, Ze’ev. Your smell is much improved now that you’ve washed that human off.”
    Every muscle tightened. “I hope there are no hard feelings about what happened in the forest.”
    “None at all. You were playing a role. I understand you did what you had to. I should not have interfered.”
    “No. You shouldn’t have.”
    Ran hooked his thumbs over the wide sash around his waist. “I was worried about you, brother. You seemed almost … confused. ”
    “As you said,” said Ze’ev, tilting his chin up. “I was playing a role.”
    “Yes. I should never have doubted you. Nonetheless, it is nice to see you returned to your normal self, and that her bullet didn’t go deeper. I’d worried when I heard it go off that she may have hit your heart.” Ran grinned and turned back to Jael. “If we are through here, I’d like to request permission to report to command.”
    “Permission granted,” said Jael, nodding as Ran saluted him, a fist to his chest.
    Ze’ev caught a trace of Scarlet’s scent on Ran as he brushed past, and his stomach squeezed. He urged his body to relax, burying the animal instinct to tear out his brother’s throat if he found out he’d laid one finger on her.
    Ran listed his head, expression darkening with a withheld secret. “Welcome home, brother.”
    Ze’ev remained expressionless as Ran continued on, waiting until he heard the door close at the other end of the gallery. He saluted the thaumaturge. “If there’s nothing else—”
    “Actually, there is something else. A few things, actually, that I wish to discuss with you.” Jael sank back into his seat. “I received a comm from Her Majesty this morning. She’s asked that all packs stationed on Earth be prepared to attack tomorrow.”
    His jaw tightened. “Tomorrow?”
    “Her negotiations with the Eastern Commonwealth have not gone according to her desires, and she’s quite finished offering compromises that they refuse to accept. She has offered a temporary continuation of peace should the cyborg girl, Linh Cinder, be captured and handed over to her, but that has not happened. The attack will be centered in New Beijing, beginning at midnight their local time. We will attack at 18:00.” He tucked his hands into his wide crimson sleeves, their embroidered runes catching the light of self-sustained bulbs overhead. “I’m glad you’ve returned in time to lead your men. I want you positioned at the heart of our Paris attack. Will you accept this role?”
    Ze’ev clasped his hands behind his back, gripping his wrists until they ached. “I do not wish to question Her Majesty’s motives, but I cannot understand why she is calling us away from our initial objective of finding the princess in order to teach a petty lesson to the Commonwealth. Why the change of priorities?”
    Jael leaned back, studying him. “It is not for you to question Her Majesty’s priorities. However, I would hate for your mind to be clouded as we head into this important first battle.” He shrugged. “She is enraged with the escape of this Linh Cinder. Though she may be a mere civilian, she was able to see beyond Her Majesty’s glamour. And yet, she is not a shell.”
    Ze’ev couldn’t keep the surprise from his face.
    “We are not sure yet if this unusual ability is due to something in her cyborg programming, or if her own Lunar gift is exceptionally strong.”
    “Stronger than Her Majesty’s?”
    “We do not know.” Jael sighed. “What is strange is that this ability of hers to resist our queen is not unlike Madame Benoit’s ability to resist me. To find two nonshells with the same skill in such