Spy (Battle Born Book 8) by Cyndi Friberg

Author:Cyndi Friberg [Friberg, Cyndi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anything-but-Ordinary Books
Published: 2016-10-20T18:30:00+00:00

* * * * *

Ulrik Tandori stepped off the shuttle and looked around. The landing bay was unremarkable. The Relentless, however, fascinated him. This was the second time he’d been allowed on the ship, but it was the first time the vessel had been visible as he approached. Covert shields not only made the ship undetectable to sensors, it was invisible to humanoid eyes. Remarkable. The Relentless was smaller than he’d imagined, built for speed and agility rather than overt aggression. Or maybe it just seemed small after some of the mammoth ships Garin Nox had stashed on Lunar Nine.

Garin Nox. Just the name was enough to tense every muscle in Ulrik’s body. The self-appointed leader of the battle born rebellion was arrogant and narcissistic. He ran roughshod over anyone in his path and never thought about consequences.

A tragedy had brought Garin into Ulrik’s life and the insufferable jackass compounded the loss and insulted Ulrik horribly. Ulrik’s older brother, Vinton, had been murdered by that whore Milanni, yet Garin refused to make her pay with her life. Then, to add insult to injury, Garin claimed Berlynn, Ulrik’s beloved niece, as his mate. Ulrik would still like to know what sort of sorcery the bastard had used to bewitch the poor girl so quickly.

And Berlynn was one of many females the battle born had stolen from Tandori Tribe. Ulrik’s hands folded into fists as he thought of all the ways the battle born had wronged Tandori Tribe. It was inexcusable. The rebels claimed to be fighting for freedom after generations of mistreatment, yet they took from fellow refugees without conscience or regret.

“Mr. Tandori,” an unfamiliar crewmember hustled toward Ulrik with his hand proffered. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, but the proper way to address me is High Councilman Ulrik. I am the highest-ranking member of Tandori Tribe after all.” He ignored the stranger’s hand, but followed him from the landing bay. “Where’s your commander? He should have been here to welcome me himself. This doesn’t bode well for our negotiation.”

“I apologize, High Councilman, but this morning has been particularly hectic.”

That was no excuse. A good leader could multi-task and delegate however many tasks were thrown his way. With a frustrated sigh, he strode along at the lackey’s side, chin raised, shoulders squared.

He was taken to a small office on the command deck. Fyran sat behind the desk and didn’t even bother to look up from some sort of report that was displayed in midair above his desktop. Like most Rodytes, he had dark wavy hair though his was cut so short the curl was barely noticeable. His phitons were purple, the most common shade for battle born children. He was much too young to command a spaceship, and worry lines were starting to form around his eyes and mouth. He looked like a precocious child pretending to be a powerful adult.

“Shall I return when you’ve finished?” Ulrik snapped, already tired of the disrespect.

Fyran held up one hand, index finger raised, but kept right on reading.

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