Caleb had also spent some political capital on Khans Dalia Bekker and Seth Ward. He didn’t care for the elitist Clansmen, but he’d given them fair measure out of diplomatic politeness. He had not been forced into the company of Vincent Kurita again, studiously avoiding the coordinator of the Draconis Combine when he could and gazing through him when the press of dignitaries and diplomats forced the two into close proximity.

Only one time had the coordinator intentionally veered his direction.

Caleb quickly found business to discuss with the legate of New Home.

So to find the Dracs here, now, offering no apology for their earlier attitude and Callandre Kell simply granting them a familiarity they had not earned made Caleb flush warm with a stir of anger.

Anger he had to set aside as he lost his audience of young scions to the herald finally announcing Daoshen Liao’s arrival, and his sister, Ilsa Centrella (Liao), ruler of the Magistracy of Canopus.

It often surprised Caleb, the strength of a herald’s voice to lift above the din of music and conversation, reaching even this far corner of the ballroom. In this case, however, the announcement grew louder and more distinct as the herald continued with full titles, and a stunned silence swept the room at Daoshen’s audacity. The arrival of the man responsible for the first real war in two generations, like a raven plucking at the eyes of a blinded Inner Sphere? To actually set foot on Terra while his army continued to pound away at Republic defenses?

No wonder the Capellan people all but revered him as a god.

The Duke of Sian and Chancellor of the Confederation swept down from the northwest stage, followed by a small retinue of proud nobles and officers in their finest dress uniforms. Daoshen was easy to follow as he approached Exarch Levin and traded shallow bows with The Republic’s leader. More than two meters tall and skeletally thin, the chancellor stood a head and shoulders above most men. He also wore a bright, golden suit of Mandarin style, like a small sun adrift in the room.

It was no coincidence, certainly, that the outside display of fireworks quieted for Liao’s arrival. Or that the overhead holographic presentation strolled aimlessly among barren, icy worlds, lacking the grandeur of its earlier composition. The changes weren’t particularly subtle, yet Caleb thought them rather effective.

Though perhaps not in the exarch’s best interest. The downside was that more people watched Daoshen Liao’s arrival, and followed his progress as he led the Capellan delegation in a slow tour of the grand hall.

Caleb sipped at a new brandy, enjoying the hard bite and smooth, silky aftertaste. Watching the procession with clinical interest.

“His wife?” Nikol Marik asked aloud, jade eyes on the woman of poise and mature beauty who all but floated at Daoshen’s side. The woman’s dress had a flowing train that brushed the floor and hid her footsteps.

“Sister,” Caleb instructed the Oriente heir. An honest mistake, perhaps. Daoshen stroked the back of Ilsa Centrella’s hand as they walked, and gazed more often at her profile than bestowing his favor on the people around him. But how could one not recognize the leader of an Inner Sphere realm?

“So that’s how it is in their family,” Jasek said in a whispered breath.

There were chuckles, a few sounds of disgust, and one outright laugh. Callandre, of course. “Behave,” she mock-scolded the Stormhammer leader. A word Caleb had not been certain she knew. “What happens on Canopus, stays on Canopus.”

A play on the latest advertising blitz for the Canopian pleasure circuses, Ilsa Centrella’s most profitable “export.” Which showed a greater wit to Callandre than Caleb had originally—no!

“She’s here,” the Davion heir said. Pleasantly stunned and yet scandalized at the same time. “Mason…” He looked first for his friend, to point her out, but Caleb’s traveling companion had disappeared again. Instead, he grabbed his cousin’s arm. “Julian, she came.”

“Who?” Julian asked.

“Danai.” The woman Caleb had spiraled around Terra with, like two fire-moths avoiding the other’s flame. Her hair was fanned up in an avant-garde style, and she had accented her eyes with long, trailing slashes of eyeliner, but it was her. He counted. “Second… third from the end. On the arm of the Capellan sang-shao. The colonel!”

Staying at the Capellan cultural center… but an escort among Daoshen Liao’s royal party? Caleb’s head spun, knowing he had surrendered a few points in their game. Not yet realizing he had all but lost it.

“Caleb!” Julian gripped Caleb’s elbow. “That is Danai Centrella– Liao.”

Nikol Marik craned forward. “Danai? Didn’t she win the Ishiyama Open on Solaris two years back?”

“And was last year’s favorite for Grand Champion,” Callandre volunteered. “But she withdrew from competition because of the war.”

A Solaris champion? A MechWarrior icon? Caleb had pegged her for a media figure, recognizing her ease with the high-profile lifestyle. But not this. Never this.

Julian pulled his cousin back, fingers pressing painfully into the joint, breath a hot whisper in Caleb’s ear. “You mean to tell me that your mystery woman is Sun-Tzu’s youngest child? The chancellor’s sister? Have you… has your security team been that lax?” Julian’s fear was almost tangible. “Tell me you two haven’t—”

“We haven’t!” Caleb broke away from his cousin with a violent shrug. They hadn’t! Though not for his lack of trying. He took a healthy swallow of strong brandy, letting it burn up into his sinuses. Daoshen’s baby sister?

A Liao!

No! No… no… no…

Julian was still staring at him. “We haven’t,” he hissed. “You can ask Mason.”

“Mason? Who is—”

Caleb cut him off. “It’s been”—What? Innocent? Hardly—“casual.”

Most of the young group had missed Julian’s reaction, though a few stared over quizzically. Countess Campbell. Alaric Wolf. Caleb felt a sudden need to wash, as if caught at a high social function with mud caked beneath his fingernails.

Sandra Fenlon continued to watch the chancellor’s progress as he detoured by their southeast stage. She shuddered. “I hear that Capellan forces have struck as far forward as Tikonov. Into Prefecture IV.”

Caleb had heard the same rumors, though not bothered to follow up on them. Julian likely knew for certain. Countess Campbell, perhaps. “What should that mean to us?” he asked, dismissing her concern with a careful sneer. Trying to get his feet back under him.

Well, why should they care? The Federated Suns had controlled Tikonov for a few decades following the Fourth Succession War, but the world hardly had a long-standing tradition of House Davion rule. It was, in fact, one of the most-conquered worlds in the last century. Better that Caleb’s father focus more on planets such as Mallory’s World. Schedar and Caselton. Rio. Markab. Old Federated Suns worlds, gobbled up by Devlin Stone in his formation of The Republic. Worlds, many of which were now under control of the Swordsworn, and possibly leaning toward Davion affiliation again, according to Erik Sandoval-Groell.

Who cared for Tikonov? Or for House Liao, for that matter?

Julian, of course, stepped up for Sandra.

“For Liao to strike at Tikonov,” he said, carefully stepping around the fact that he would know for certain if it were happening, “they would necessarily move a great number of troops and logistics support through worlds close to New Hessen and Demeter. Chesterton.”

And Chesterton was the hereditary fief of the Fenlon dynasty. It would, in fact, be Sandra’s one day. Caleb wasn’t sure if he should thank Julian for providing a further distraction away from Danai’s presence, or curse his cousin for making Caleb look even more a fool for his lack of concern for Sandra’s future.