Sitara hurried through the main halls of the Palace. She rarely ventured so far from the keisara's apartments in the Emperor's Palace, but the keisara wished to be alone, which gave Sitara the perfect opportunity to track down the one contact Bajaran had mentioned before he left.

It took an hour to escape the halls of the Emperor's Palace and reach the far simpler yet very functional Hallvarr Palace. The various palaces that made up the greater imperial complex were linked together above and belowground. She could have taken a shorter route through the Imperial Palace, the Great Dome, and then across the huge central courtyard, but the risk of being recognized would have been much greater. Besides, on this errand she felt uncomfortable walking through open sunlight.

Instead, she descended to the sub-levels that filled the plateau beneath the greater palace complex. Fewer people moved about, and she found the perpetual twilight of the lower levels comforting.

Sitara eventually climbed to the main levels of the Hallvarr Palace, where the diplomats, nobles, and administrators from Hallvarr worked and lived. She stopped before an ornate door on the third floor and knocked. A moment later it was opened by a page who politely inquired after her business.

"I need to speak with Remiel. Please fetch him for me."

"Yes, ma'am." He ushered her into a comfortably appointed sitting room and disappeared from view. They were in a wing of the palace where the ambassador’s staff worked.

If this is the wrong name, all is lost.

Before he left, Bajaran had mentioned that if she ever found herself in desperate need, she should come and ask for Remiel. He would know how to contact an ally. She tried to breathe normally and hold together the frayed edges of hope while she waited, for she desperately needed a friend.

The page returned a few minutes later, followed by a very handsome young man who walked with a confident swagger. He paused when he saw her and his eyes ran appraisingly over her figure before focusing on her face. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared into his dark eyes.

He brushed his jet-black hair from his face and approached with a smile that made her knees weak. "My lady." He bowed over her hand and kissed it lightly, as if he were a nobleman and she a lady of the court.

He straightened and added, "I am yours to command."

He was very smooth. He looked no more than sixteen, but she knew that to be misleading. Bajaran had warned her that he was much older than he looked. It had to be the right man.

"Is there a more private place to talk?" she asked.

"Of course."

She gratefully accepted his extended arm, and he led her to a comfortable sitting room with several overstuffed chairs, a long couch, and a fireplace with a large, ornately carved wooden mantel. She seated herself in one of the chairs while Remiel remained standing.

"What can I do for you, miss?"

Sitara opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. She suddenly realized the terrible flaw in her plan. Bajaran was a known traitor. Admitting association with him was tantamount to admitting one was a traitor.

Remiel faced the same risk she did. He didn’t know her, so had no motivation to take a risk to reveal his true loyalty. On top of it all, she had kept her relationship with Bajaran secret for so long, the thought of revealing the truth to anyone made her want to cringe.

When she did not immediately speak, Remiel gave her another confident smile. “Relax, angel. I have that effect all the time. You’re not the first.”

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Sitara laughed, which eased the knot in her throat. “I’m glad you impress yourself so easily. I hesitated only because I find myself in a delicate position. I was referred to you by a mutual friend, but the nature of that friendship prevents me from speaking their name.”

“What did she say I could do for you?” he asked, dropping into an overstuffed chair.

“He said you could put me in contact with a mutual acquaintance.”

Remiel rubbed his jaw. “Angel, you want me to contact someone who’s a friend of someone else that I might happen to know?”

“That’s about it,” she said. “Sounds crazy, doesn’t it.”

He laughed. “If you weren’t so good looking, I doubt I’d be able to help you.”

Sitara flushed, which only stoked his incredible ego. “I’m glad I’m so attractive.”

“Me too.” Remiel leaned closer, his dark-eyed gaze intent. “However, think about this from my perspective. Your secrecy suggests this person I’m supposed to know is currently out of favor with the authorities.”

She nodded, her heart in her throat. Even that much admission could get her into trouble, but she couldn’t think of any way to avoid it.

“You’re asking a lot,” Remiel said. “Asking me to trust that you are who you say you are. Yet no code words or other tokens are given to assure me that you’re telling the truth and you’re not a spy trying to trick me into a confession."

"Code words?"

"Of course. Assuming for a moment that I do know something about what you’re talking about, you’re nameless contact must have given you some code or phrase so I can know he really sent you."

She thought back to the night Bajaran had left, desperately trying to remember the conversation. She had been so distracted by his leaving, she had barely paid attention to what he told her about Remiel.

"I can't remember any special code word or phrase," she admitted finally in defeat, tears glistening in her eyes as she struggled to hold her composure together. "Nothing."

She couldn’t let the man leave without helping. She doubted she could persuade him with words. He seemed far too sophisticated. Her only other option was her best weapon. She settled her face into an innocent mask and pleaded with sweet sincerity, "Please help me."

Remiel slapped his leg. "By the Dark Lord’s fiery chains, you’re a rare one. Let's assume for a moment I fall for your excellent performance and believe you, that I am the man he sent you to and that I can, in fact, place you in touch with an ally."

She sat forward eagerly, grasping onto the thin hope his words dangled before her.

"And let's assume he either failed to give you a code word, or you forgot it."

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Then there’s only two things we need to settle. First, you have to say his name.”

“But I thought . . . “

Remiel shook his head, his expression hardening. “Say it.”

Sitara hesitated. Speaking it would prove her words to Remiel but leave her at his mercy. He still hadn’t actually admitted anything, but he demanded she do so.

“Bajaran,” she whispered finally.

The name hung in the air between them for a moment. Remiel did not speak for several seconds, and Sitara’s anxiety grew with every heartbeat.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, Angel?” Remiel said finally.

“Yes it was,” she snapped.

He grinned. “You’re right. That’s a dangerous name to speak these days.”

“I said it. Now help me.”

Speaking the name aloud helped ease some of her fear. She had declared her allegiance to Bajaran to another. It reinforced her commitment to him. He would be proud of her.

"One final item,” Remiel said. “Surely he told you what payment I would expect for my services."

"Payment?" She blinked a couple of times.

"Of course. You’re asking me to take a big risk by agreeing to help you. There has to be something in it for me. It wouldn't be fair if you benefited from the exchange but I got nothing."

"I don't have much money," she began.

He raised a hand to silence her, and stood. "No, I could never take your money, Angel."

"Then what?"

In answer, he slowly let his eyes run down the length of her body and back up again. When he finally looked her in the eye once more, he smiled invitingly. "I am a man of simple needs, Angel. What do you say?"

Understanding struck her like a blow to the stomach. She gasped and raised one hand to her mouth, unable to hide her furiously blushing face. His laughter confirmed her fears and only made her blush deepen.

"You can't be serious," she nearly shouted.

"Sure," he said, still smiling. "It could be a lot of fun."

She jumped to her feet, her embarrassment turning to outrage. "How dare you!" she yelled, not caring if anyone overheard them. "I came to you for help and you demand that I. . ." She paused, trying to collect her thoughts and give adequate voice to her anger.

Before she could do so, he placed a hand to her lips. She struck it aside, but he only grinned wider. "I like your spirit, Angel. I look forward to an arrangement with you."

He walked to the door and, with one hand on the latch, turned back. "You know my price. Were Bajaran still alive and able to guarantee some other payment, things would be different."

"But," he continued in a harder tone, "Bajaran is dead. My price stands."

She could only stare.

"Think about it," he said. "You know where to find me."