Page 30 of Only Hard Problems

Jorge shrugged again. “Yes and no. The tech could help me win the contracts, but I don’t understand why the Techwave would want it. According to the gossipcast reports, the Techies usually steal weapons, or designs for weapons, or materials to make weapons. Not climate-control tech.”

He rubbed the holoscreen on his wristwatch, making it flicker and flare with light. After a few seconds, his fingers stilled, and his shoulders sagged. “It doesn’t really matter what the Techwave wants with my designs. No one will give House Rojillo a contract or want to buy our products now. Not after tonight. I’m ruined, and my House and family along with me.”

Jorge’s gaze dropped to the watch again. An angry snarl spewed from his lips, and he tore the device off his wrist and hurled it across the room as if he couldn’t even stand to look at it right now. The device tinked off a wall and dropped to the floor.

Once again, my father laid a sympathetic hand on the other man’s shoulder. “The attack wasn’t your fault, Jorge. The Techwavers are vicious, determined terrorists who delight in torturing others. They would have gotten what they wanted one way or another. At least no one was killed.”

Jorge nodded, but disbelief filled his face. We all knew exactly how quick the Regals were to blame one another for the smallest infraction—and this wasfarfrom a small infraction.

The other Regals would openly shun the members of House Rojillo, along with their products and services, while the gossipcasts would rip Jorge’s reputation to shreds. As for Callus Holloway, well, there was no telling what kind of punishment he might inflict on Jorge personally or what sanctions he might slap on House Rojillo.

Jorge was right. Tonight’s attack was exactly the kind of scandal that could destroy a Regal House.

“House Zimmer will stand with you,” Wendell said. “Perhaps we can work on your temperature-shielding technology together. Figure out why the Techwave stole it and what they plan to do with it. Perhaps we can even find some way to improve the tech and make it valuable enough that the other Regals can’t help but buy it, along with your other products.”

Jorge nodded again, but lines of worry, fear, and doubt cut deep grooves into his face, making him look a decade older.

“Come on,” my father said in a gentle voice. “There’s nothing more you can do in this lab tonight. The workers can help you clean up the mess in the morning.”

Jorge gave an absent nod, then shoved the table back into its slot and locked the grate. Wendell steered the other lord out of the R&D lab.

I started to follow them, but then a thought occurred to me, and I headed to the opposite side of the room. I crouched down and grabbed the climate-control device that Jorge had ripped off his wrist.

Despite being thrown against the wall, the device was still in one piece. Wide silver band, a small holoscreen, tiny bits of lunarium and sapphsidian glinting here and there. Once again, it reminded me of an old-fashioned wristwatch instead of the advanced technology it truly was.

I twirled the device back and forth in my fingers, wondering why the Techwave had gone to so much trouble to steal something so small and seemingly harmless—and what deadly thing they were planning to do with it.

CHAPTER TEN

ZANE

Jorgepostedafewguards outside the R&D lab, but the spaceship was already out of the docking slot, as the old saying went, and it was nothing but a futile show—

Ding!The familiar shrill whistle sounded from my tablet.

Communications in and around the castle had been restored quite some time ago, and I was surprised it had taken Holloway this long to message me. Given the attack, I had no choice but to see what he wanted, so I pulled the device out of my pocket and read the message.

Handle this. Now.

Holloway’s short missive included a link toCelestial Stars, one of the most popular gossipcasts in the galaxy. Several Regals had already contacted Artemis Swallow, the gossipcast’s head producer, to give their eyewitness accounts of the disastrous solstice celebration. I bit back a groan.

“Something wrong?” my father asked.

I slid my tablet back into my pocket. “Time for me to face the gossipcasters. Holloway wants me to spin the story.”

Jorge nodded and straightened his spine again. “Then we will face them—together.”

My father returned to the lawn while Jorge and I made our way to the front of the castle. An army of gossipcasters were camped outside, dozens more than those who had originally been here covering the solstice celebration, all of them breathlessly reporting about the Techwave attack. I ground my teeth. The gossipcasts were a useful tool, but at times like these, I wanted to drive my stormsword into every last camera and microphone.

Jorge flinched, but he yanked down his tailcoat, girding himself for battle. I unclenched my jaw and did the same thing. Jorge nodded at me, and together the two of us stepped out of the castle and stopped in the designated media space. Had it only been a few hours since I’d last been here talking about my shampoo commercial? Right now, it seemed like days.

The gossipcasters surged forward, yelling questions and jostling for position behind the pink velvet ropes.

“Zane! Lord Zane! Who was the target of tonight’s attack?”

“Was anything stolen? Was anyone killed?”

“How will you guarantee the Regals’ safety moving forward?”

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