The Dark Prince's Prize

Prologue-1

PROLOGUE

Curizan Airspace: Yardell Spaceport

Ten years ago

“You made the wrong choice,” Adalard Ha’darra said in a low voice as he shoved the reptilian man away from him.

The Bovdean assassin stumbled back and gripped the dagger protruding from his chest.

“The Ha’darra family’s rule is over,” the man asserted in a guttural voice. “The new order will be more powerful. So powerful that not even the Ha’darra family can… stop… us.” The assassin’s voice faded on his last breath.

Adalard dispassionately listened to the man’s final words. “Unfortunately, you won’t be around to see our supposed demise,” he replied. The dark green man’s eyes rolled back into his head and his body limply slid down the wall.

Adalard pulled his attention away from the assassin and half-heartedly scanned the dark corridor for the informant he had been following. He uttered a low curse when he confirmed that the spooked Tiliqua had run off.

He gingerly touched his throbbing left cheek and grimaced when his fingers came away wet with blood. The Bovdean had been aiming for Adalard’s informant but ended up slicing Adalard’s face.

He sent an impatient wave of healing energy to his wound, just enough to stop the bleeding, while he knelt and searched the assassin. As he had suspected, the man carried no identification.

Retrieving his dagger, he wiped the blade on the man’s clothing, stood, and surveyed the alley. Yardell Spaceport was home to mostly criminals because it was on the outer rim of the Curizan-maintained shipping channels.

As long as Adalard was here, he wouldn’t be able to lower his guard. It was likely that a few of the groups he had angered over the years were around here somewhere. They certainly wouldn’t mind finishing what the Bovdean had started.

He turned and set off in the direction the Tiliqua had fled, then slowed when he saw his General, along with two additional warriors from the Rayon I, enter the alley. His rueful smile pulled at the deep cut on his cheek. He twirled his dagger and slid it into the sheath at his waist.

“Prince Adalard,” General Tiruss greeted.

“Did you find the other two rebels?” Adalard responded.

Rimier Tiruss shook his head. “Not yet. They escaped through the underground maintenance tunnels,” he replied. “Do you need a medic?”

Adalard raised an eyebrow. “No. I need the other two assassins. This one died too quickly,” he said with an annoyed glance over his shoulder at the dead man.

“We’ll locate them. I’ve ordered a search of all ships before they depart. Any who try to leave without permission will be boarded—or blown out of space,” Tiruss replied.

“Good. I want to know who is working with my half-brother. I will meet you back on the ship later. I need to find the informant,” he said.

“Be careful. I’m almost certain I saw a wanted poster with your image on it in one of the shops,” Tiruss jested.

Adalard raised an eyebrow. “Only one? I must be losing my touch,” he replied with a sardonic smirk.