And in the distance, above Annemasse’s DropPort, an Overlord now rose on majestic flame. Too far away to make out any crest, she had no doubt the splash of red on its side would be the bloody field on which a golden dragon reared.

“Tango-one to base,” she said, toggling over to the channel she shared with the DropPort control authorities. “My compliments to the Dragon’s Pride and the Coordinator, and we apologize for the delay in his schedule.

“I hope he enjoys Nihon.”

The long-rumbling echoes of battle barely reached back to the Annemasse DropPort, sounding like distorted thunder by the time they found the Monolith Lines DropShip, Argent Beauty.

Caleb actually dismissed them as such for a moment, even though he stood under a blue sky without a dark cloud in sight. Of greater concern to him were the hot gusts sweeping the DropPort’s black tarmac, tugging at his gold-trimmed range rider jacket and mussing his hair.

The scent of scorched ferrocrete, from the DropShip’s landing, still hung heavily in the air. Caleb wrinkled his nose as the scent burned up in his sinuses.

He’d left his sunset orange Stormfire off the foot of the Beauty’s main cargo ramp, the sports car growling on the tarmac as its powerful engine idled high enough to compete with a CargoMech unloading pallets to a waiting flatbed. A few dockworkers glared at him for interrupting their routine, but Caleb’s gold dignitary’s badge and the nearby quartet of security service men in their dark jackets and darker glasses put them in their place.

They gave him a wide berth as the young lord walked directly up the middle of the three-story ramp.

Surprising him, Danai suddenly appeared at the ramp’s head. The dark-haired beauty stepped from the shade of the cargo bay right into the path of a custom’s agent, who cornered her with his noteputer at the ready. She brushed the DropPort officer aside with a gesture back into the bay, nodding him ahead of her, but then paused to study the nearby cityscape, hands on her hips, a frown settling over that elfin, exotic face.

Half a dozen shared dinners over as many different star systems, and Caleb still had no idea who she was. Just that she was one of the most self-confident women he’d ever met. Though comfortable around the trappings of money and power, ranks and titles apparently meant nothing to her. If she had found out his identity, in fact, she never remarked on it. He had watched her take dinner with a Capellan officer one eve. Stroll comfortably with a newsvid journalist the next. And had even caught her—in passing—in the Stargazer’s small gym, trading jokes with three ships’ crewmen she’d joined for a workout.

It had been one of the hardest decisions in his life, not to ask one of those men later—in a passageway—just who the infernal woman was! Harder still not to put one of his security agents on her. They’d have done it, had he asked.

He didn’t.

Pride, fortunately, was a very strong force.

Though not so strong that he hadn’t driven from his Triumph–class DropShip straightaway to the Argent Beauty, hoping to catch her one last time before she debarked for Geneva and who-knew-where.

“If you are wondering where the best restaurants are,” he called up to her, still at least one story below, “I might be convinced to share information.”

Danai tore her gaze away from the city. In her red jodhpurs and a matching suede jacket, she looked both comfortable and stylish. Earrings dangled almost to her shoulders. At the end of each swung a golden supernova with a yin-yang symbol etched into the center.

Something familiar about the design…

“Actually,” she said, cocking her head to one side as a new deep rumble echoed over the tarmac, “I’m more interested in what’s going on than where to eat.” She waited, but obviously saw no gleam of understanding from him. “That’s weapons fire, Caleb.”

“Of course it is,” he said, covering the awkward moment.

It was weapons fire. How had he missed that? He stepped up next to her, looked out over Annemasse for himself. There really was nothing to see. And the echoes seemed to roll in from far outside the city proper, in the direction of Geneva.

“Hardly our concern,” he said.

“You think so?”

He shrugged, then removed his sunglasses. The day seemed blindingly bright after guarding his eyes behind the dark lenses, but he wanted her to see his eyes. Soft brown with gold flecks. They were among his best features. Everyone said so. “Not unless you are Republic military,” he said.

A guarded look crossed her face. A tight smile that did not quite reach sloe eyes. “No. I’m not Republic. Citizen or resident.”

He knew that much. And given the cruise line’s route, she could have been of the Federated Suns, Confederation, or any of the old Free Worlds League realms. Which hardly narrowed it down at all.

“Then we simply avoid it. What happens on Terra hardly matters to the rest of the Inner Sphere.”

Her sidelong glance spoke for her. The same question she had asked earlier. You think so?

“The universe does not revolve around Terra or The Republic of the Sphere,” he said defensively. In fact, in Caleb’s mind, very little mattered that happened off New Avalon. The capital of the greatest realm in history.

His realm.

His capital.

“Yet we are both come to Terra,” she said, speaking up louder as an Overlord on the far side of the tarmac lit off its engines and rose under hard thrust. She could be fishing for more information about him. She could be trying to simply argue her point.

“A matter of family obligation,” Caleb said, brushing over the entire situation with Victor Steiner-Davion and his own father’s need to pay final respects.

It still bothered him that his father had not waited for Caleb, so they could arrive together. But then his aunt Amanda, in a couriered letter, had mentioned some trouble on New Hessen and other Davion worlds. Better to arrive quickly and deal with the situation from planetside, he supposed.

Anyway, that was more Julian’s purview. His cousin was certainly a hands-on personality.

The magnificent roar of the launching DropShip’s fusion drive made further conversation difficult at best, so both watched the rising vessel, as improbable as it was graceful, like a thirty-story skyscraper suddenly deciding to bend the rules of gravity to go in search of a new city. The Draconis Combine insignia was four stories high and clearly visible to the entire field. Caleb frowned at the crest.

And as the noise of its ascent faded, both realized that no more echoes of battle pounded through the city.

“Well,” Danai finally said, “it seems to have stopped. Which means we can leave the DropPort without fear of being blown up.” She reached over and flicked the badge clipped to his jacket. “Gold, eh? Nice. A free pass through all security.”

“Perquisites of the position,” he said, his eyes narrowing. Certain she was fishing now. She didn’t know!

But she could hardly miss the security service agents standing post at his car, where Mason also waited, or at the foot of the DropShip ramp, or the one who had followed him up and now stood a respectful distance away at the opening to the cavernous cargo bay.

“Makes up for all the nuisances.”

“I hear you.” Danai nodded. “Unfortunately, this trip, I’ve earned a less-than-optimal welcome.”

“I can’t imagine anyone not being glad of your arrival, Danai. Though if there is some trouble, perhaps I can move things along a bit. I have some influence.”

“I’m sure. But there isn’t much you can do to free up my cargo. It’s heading right into customs lockdown. I just need to oversee its handling.”

A merchant, then? Or the daughter of a shipping magnate, at least? Either way, Caleb felt a moment of letdown. He had imagined her a much more exotic figure. The truth, as it often happened, did not quite measure up.