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to have hurt when she dumped him. His family had molded his life with one goal in mind: he would become the consort of a powerful woman. They achieved the pinnacle. He literally couldn’t have done better; the only more powerful woman was the Pharaoh herself, and she had to marry within her family, an arcane law that had managed to survive our legal system for millennia. Dayj had done exactly what he was supposed to do, and it had collapsed on him.
    I had landed in one holy mess. To solve this, I had to talk to the Majda princes, who would know aspects of Dayj that he probably never revealed to the women of the household. A million ways existed to trespass on the honor of the Majdas. One misstep could embroil me in more trouble than I’d ever seen. I disliked jobs from crime bosses, but even that would be easier to deal with. All criminals had to worry about was the law, or more accurately, not being caught when they broke it. Majda was a law unto itself. The police would look the other way if the Matriarch decided to take that law into her own hands.
    If I botched this, I was, literally, royally screwed.
    * * *
    Prince Paolo had married Colonel Lavinda Majda, the Matriarch’s youngest sister. A son of the Rajindia noble House, Paolo had led a relatively normal life prior to his marriage and earned several university degrees. Gods only knew why such a man would agree to live in seclusion, but even I wasn’t blind to the benefits of marrying into the House of Majda.
    I couldn’t see him alone, of course. Four male guards accompanied me into his study, led by Duane Ebersole, a retired major from the Pharaoh’s Army, a powerfully built man who projected a sense of self-assured authority. His people were recording this meeting. A female guard remained outside, Captain Krestone, another former officer who headed palace security and missed nothing. One thing I’d say for the Majdas; they chose their staff well. Both Krestone and Ebersole impressed me with their calm authority and a situational awareness that I recognized only because I’d also been taught to keep that same alert attention to all details, large and small.
    Paolo was seated behind his large desk. A clutter of data spheres, holosheets, and light styluses lay strewn across its surface, which consisted of a glossy black holoscreen. He leaned back as I sat across from him in a wing chair with smart cushions.
    “My greetings, Major,” he said.
    “My greetings, Your Highness,” I answered.
    He studied me with dark eyes. Of course he was handsome, even including the streaks of gray in his hair and fine lines around his eyes. All the Majda men I had seen were unusually good-looking, every one of them dark, well-proportioned, and undoubtedly fertile. The Matriarch might consider Dayj shallow, but maybe she ought to look at her own values. Majda women hardly seemed to choose their princes for depth. Then again, maybe there was more to it. Paolo Rajindia Majda was no fool. Before his marriage, he had earned a doctorate at the Architecture Institute associated with Imperial College on the world Metropoli, one of the most elite academic institutions in the Imperialate.
    “You’ve come to ask about Dayj,” he said.
    “That’s right.” I had intended to talk with Dayj’s parents first, but they were both at the starport with the police, trying to find out if he had gone offworld.
    Paolo rested his elbow on the arm of his chair. “Do you think he left Raylicon?”
    “I’ve no idea.” I tried a probe. “It depends how much help he had from inside the palace.”
    Paolo didn’t twitch. “What help?”
    “To escape, he needed the aid of someone inside.”
    His voice cooled. “Why? You don’t think he could figure it out himself?”
    Interesting. Paolo didn’t like hearing his nephew’s intellect talked down. “I’ve no doubt about his intelligence,” I said. “However, he has no experience outside the limitations of his life here.”
    He spoke dryly.