Garnets or Bust by Joanna Wylde Page A

and
    certainly not to Tessa.
    As she read the analysis of her other findings, her ore processor chugged away
    quietly behind her. Occasionally it gave a little ping, setting her heart pounding. Each
    ping meant another garnet. She already had enough that she’d never have to work
    again, and that was without excavating at all. When she’d been assigned as a lowly
    clerk in the nearly defunct colonial geologic survey office she’d thought it was the
    worse thing that could have happened. Buried alive professionally, or so she’d been
    told.
    Fuck that.
    Tessa Marasdottir was about to rise from the dead. With this money she’d pay off
    her mother’s indenture and cover the immigration tax without even noticing. Within six
    months they’d be starting a new life in a new place. Hell, she might even be able to get
    married eventually, have kids.
    Tonight her new life could begin.
    Tessa flicked off the tablet and sat back in her camp chair, looking at the stars. Then
    she raised her glass of carefully hoarded Tyrian brandy and toasted herself.
    “To the future,” she said, and drained it down.
    “You got another cup?”
    It took every bit of willpower Tessa had to hold her glass steady at the sound of that
    penetrating, hated voice.
    Daaron Von Saur’rel.
    Her eyes darted, searching for him, hunting him in the dim darkness beyond the
    reach of her fire. What the hell was he doing here? And more importantly, did he know
    about the garnets?
    6

    Garnets or Bust
    Daaron stepped into the circle of light. The bastard looked just like she remembered
    him, but different too. Still tall, with unruly dark hair that played around his head with
    a looseness that echoed his morals. Still that hideously beautiful face. Sculpted mouth
    and cheekbones, heavy-lidded eyes that belonged in the bedroom. A casually cruel
    mouth capable of flaying a classmate alive if they spoke out of turn or didn’t do their
    homework. Muscle-bound body, like a great ape.
    But there were differences too. At university, he’d worn silken shirts that cost more
    than her mother’s indenture. Now he wore clothing that was still expensive but
    eminently more practical. She could tell even in the dim firelight that he had one of
    those fancy nano-shirts capable of shedding water, providing heat and even morphing
    shape as needed, the type used by the military. The same material in the form of pants
    cupped those lean hips she’d always tried so hard not to notice. She’d give anything to
    own a suit like that, far better than the cheap synth crap she wore.
    And in his hand?
    A blaster, pointed right at her.
    “The old Daaron Von Saur’rel wouldn’t have let himself get this far from a luxury
    hotel and an entourage,” she said, sounding far cooler than she felt. “What brings you
    to my campsite?”
    “The old Daaron Von Saur’rel is dead,” he replied, voice light but eyes deadly
    serious. “You still have your braids.”
    She started, off guard.
    “I am still unmarried,” she replied, choosing her words with great care. “That
    shouldn’t surprise you. I can only bring a man debt, not a dowry.”
    “Doesn’t it seem a little old-fashioned to you?” he asked, his tone conversational,
    almost friendly. The gun wasn’t friendly at all.
    “Our customs may seem strange to an aristocrat,” she replied, thinking rapidly.
    Where was he going with this? “But they serve a valuable purpose for my people. Of
    7

    Joanna Wylde
    course, we’ve had this conversation before. Without guns. I’m not going to change my
    mind about sleeping with you.”
    “Having sex,” he corrected gently. “I wanted you to have sex with me. Sleep was
    always optional.”
    He stepped farther into the light, and a crooked smile stole across his lips.
    “You’re always cold, aren’t you, princess?” he asked. “Always high above us
    mortals?”
    “Mortal?” she asked, her tone harsh and bitter. “You’ve never been mortal, Von
    Saur’rel. As far as I’m