Knight Protector: a Star Kingdom novel

by Buroker, Lindsay

  “I’m not that into making money. Having enough to live off is plenty. It’s more than…” Tristan glanced at his hands, or maybe the pertundo he’d maneuvered into his pod. “I just want to be good at my job. That’s all.”

  Nalini sensed that he would have said more if they’d been alone—he probably didn’t want to risk giving Killer any verbal fodder to use against him—and it disappointed her that they weren’t.

  As Jenna took the yacht through the promised curves, their sense of gravity shifting with the shifting acceleration, Nalini settled back into the protective embrace of her pod. She wouldn’t risk walking through the yacht to her cabin now. Later, she would escape to privacy. And send messages to her family and the servants until she found out what had happened to Devi.

  6

  Once the yacht was sailing through open space and accelerating toward their destination, the deck shifted so that the force acted like gravity, pressing them downward, and they could walk about the ship. Tristan had previously only flown on ships large enough to spin and create a uniform gravity on their own. He was thankful that his stomach was taking the variations on the yacht in stride. Sebastian had admitted to having a horrible time with motion sickness in space.

  A few hours into the flight, Nalini squeezed out past Tristan and headed toward the back. He didn’t know if she was simply going to the lavatory, but all it took was Killer leaning into the aisle to watch her butt to ensure Tristan strode after her.

  Nalini was wearing a galaxy suit, as they all were, with retractable helmets and the ability to protect them during a spacewalk if they added an air tank, but the form-fitted SmartWeave material looked a lot better on her than on any of the men. And hers was a lot more vibrant than theirs.

  Most galaxy suits, despite the lofty name, were a boring gray, blue, or black, the capabilities of the garment considered more important than its fashionability. For most space farers. Nalini’s suit featured a rich blue galaxy full of stars and a pale purple nebula swirling around her chest and legs. It was hard not to look at, and even harder not to notice how the nebula curved to accentuate certain female body parts, but Tristan would do his best to keep the others from gawking at her. He also wouldn’t allow himself to gawk.

  Nalini passed the lavatory, opened the next hatch, and walked into a recreation cabin with game tables and chairs locked to the deck. Tristan remained in the passageway and took up a position against the opposite wall, intending to wait while she passed the time, but she turned, a pensive expression on her face, and waved for him to come in.

  Tristan stepped inside warily, hoping she didn’t plan to instruct him on finances. He’d never minded the math that went with talk of investments, but the math problems tended to be buried in walls of text that made his eyes cross. He usually got by by having the computer read to him, but he didn’t want to do that in front of Nalini.

  “Shut the door, please.” Nalini waved toward her chipped temple. “I’m waiting for a response to a message, but in the meantime, I’d like your opinion on something.”

  Tristan wanted to be helpful, but he hesitated before closing the door. “Won’t your sergeant think it’s… inappropriate if we’re alone in a room together?”

  Maybe it was silly to object, since they were both living in her suite in the palace now, but he had that little butler’s room, or whatever it was, and she had a bedroom on the other side of the sprawling domicile. There was also Devi, and he had no trouble imagining the salty android in the role of disapproving chaperone.

  It was just a guess, but Tristan assumed Habib was someone who might report to her father if his soon-to-be-betrothed daughter enjoyed her bodyguard’s company in a private capacity.

  Not that Tristan believed she wanted to do that. So far, Killer had given Tristan a more open appraisal than Nalini had.

  He told himself that wasn’t disappointing. He was here to make sure her wedding to Jorg went off without a hitch, not earn her lustful regard. But it did seem a little unfair that her sisters had been interested enough in his assets to storm into the male servants’ bathroom, and Nalini… All she wanted was to be a Good Samaritan and help him with investments so he wouldn’t be a pauper all of his life. He supposed he should consider that a kindness, but he didn’t want to be placed in a situation where he would give her proof of his ineptitude at reading.

  “Inappropriate?” Nalini stared at him as if the words had come out of his ear instead of his mouth. “Who I have sex with is none of Habib’s concern, and if I wanted to spend the whole trip in bed with you, that would be considered normal in my family, not odd.”

  Tristan’s cheeks warmed as he couldn’t help but imagine the scenario. “But you’re engaged—supposed to get engaged to Prince Jorg.”

  She hesitated, so maybe that was on her mind, but she lifted her chin and said, “I’m twenty-five. If Jorg is expecting a virgin, he’s going to be disappointed.”

  Tristan mouthed an “Oh,” feeling that he’d walked face-first into a wall of culture clash.

  In the Kingdom, noblewomen were supposed to wait until they were married to have sex. Even if that didn’t happen, everyone pretended it happened. The rules weren’t as stringent for commoners, but the older generation would gossip if a couple moved in together when they weren’t married. His mother had been called a tramp, he remembered bitterly, for having a relationship with his father out of wedlock. Tristan still didn’t know if she’d been aware at the time that his father was a criminal. He liked to think not, that his mother wouldn’t have intentionally chosen someone who ignored the law for his own gain, but by the time Tristan had been old enough to be curious, she’d been gone.

  “For the record,” Nalini said, “I would have taken you to my bedroom if I’d had that in mind. I haven’t heard back from my father yet—that’s not that surprising, since some of those meetings turn into marathons—but Tasha, one of the servants, went looking for Devi for me and found her deactivated in my suite. My suite that requires a retina scan to get into. There are two maids that have access to that door and myself. I haven’t even given you access yet.”

  Tristan nodded, having noticed, since it restricted his ability to leave and come back.

  “Security can override the lock, of course, but they shouldn’t have had a reason to.”

  Nalini paced, almost bouncing off the deck in the fractional gravity. That did interesting things to her chest, and Tristan made himself look away.

  “Not only was she deactivated,” Nalini continued, “but she was scuffed and damaged. She fought whoever came in to turn her off, and lost. She’s a good fighter, Tristan. There had to have been more than one person.”

  “Was your servant able to reactivate her and find out what happened?” Tristan asked.

  “No. She’s being taken to the palace mechanic.” Nalini pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and gripped it like a rope as she continued to pace. “I don’t know how those new men, Killer and Gutshot, could have masterminded this when they don’t seem to have more than three brain cells between them, but there’s definitely a plot afoot. I wanted to call back Sergeant Habib, too, but I’m not leaving my pilot alone with those two brutes.”

  Tristan could understand that, but he was surprised she’d chosen to confide in him over the sergeant. He didn’t know yet how capable a fighter Habib was, but she could have brought him back here and left Tristan to watch the other two. He would have preferred that she use him simply as a fighter and not as a confidant, since his loyalty was to the king. She could trust him… but only to a certain extent. Only insofar as it didn’t interfere with his oath.

  That bothered him, but there was nothing he could do to change it.

  “You mentioned wanting my opinion on something?” Tristan asked.

  “Yes.” Nalini stopped pacing and grabbed a tablet out of a drawer.

  Tristan groaned inwardly as she pulled up news articles and handed him the device.

  “Will you peruse those and tell me wh
at you think? Tensions have been high lately between my father and Prince Dubashi—our family controls the Far and Middle Belts, and his controls the Near Belt and two mining planets—and my father’s ships have caught some of their ships lurking near our territory. Those recent articles from system journalists talk about the Dubashis ordering extra ships built—not mining ships but warships. They also report that their ships have been seen heading into Shayban territory.” She waved for him to read the articles, though it sounded like she had already perused them thoroughly herself.

  “We have to fly through the Middle Belt—where only my father has major claims—to get to Oceanus, which has never been concerning before, but with these other matters going on—” Nalini waved toward the front of the ship, “—I’m wondering if some larger plot is afoot and that we might need to worry about ambushes. Am I someone worth kidnapping—or killing?—to keep my father from solidifying an alliance with the Kingdom?” She’d been speaking matter-of-factly, but her voice dropped to a whisper for the last sentence, and a haunted expression entered her eyes. “I don’t know,” she finished.

  “I will keep anyone from killing you,” Tristan said firmly.

  She smiled slightly. “No promise on kidnapping?”

  “Well, I’ll do my best.” He thought of Killer and Gutshot. Were they kidnappers? Could either of them fly a ship if they hijacked this one? Maybe they would simply force Nalini’s pilot to fly it somewhere. “An ambush of a rich family’s yacht seems like it might be something to worry about in most systems. Is this ship fast? And does it have armor and weapons?”

  Unfortunately, Tristan knew little about spaceships, especially luxury yachts from other systems.

  “Some, but System Stymphalia is generally regarded as safe. If weird things weren’t happening, I wouldn’t be thinking this way, but they are.” Nalini waved at the tablet. “Give me your thoughts on the articles, please. Am I overreacting? Normally, I wouldn’t consider myself that important—my father has lots of daughters, after all—but my father already warned me that this marriage and alliance will be considered a big deal throughout the system.”

  “Yes.” Tristan looked at the long columns of text on the screen. No helpful graphs or maps, alas. “No video version, eh?”

  Her brow furrowed in puzzlement.

  “Never mind.” Attempting to appear casual, Tristan leaned his hip against a counter and concentrated on reading the article.

  Nalini had summed up the main points, but one also reported that there were protests going on in the cities of Oceanus. Even though Sultan Shayban had nothing to do with the governments there, it seemed that nobody wanted the Kingdom to get a foothold in their system.

  Nalini went back to pacing while he read, glancing over frequently. Wondering why he wasn’t done yet?

  Tristan wrestled between the desire to pretend he was finished, so she wouldn’t think he was dull, and wanting to know what the articles contained. As usual, the letters seemed to jump around as he focused on them, and he wasn’t always sure if he was guessing the right word.

  “Are you moving your lips?” Nalini sounded startled.

  Heat rushed to his cheeks.

  “Yes, it’s important to exercise them in low gravity so they don’t atrophy,” he said, hoping to distract her with humor.

  Not that it had ever worked on his teachers. Sebastian had been the one to eventually point out that Tristan could have the computer read to him. But that only worked when he was alone or didn’t care if someone heard him listening to audio.

  Nalini’s forehead furrowed at his lame joke.

  “Are you on the second article yet?” she asked. “They also report that Prince Dubashi has recently hired a bunch of new pilots and ex-soldiers. It sounds like he thinks he’s going to have to defend his territory soon. Or maybe he plans to invade someone else’s territory.”

  A thrum went through the ship, and the gravity shifted.

  Tristan gripped a handhold on the bulkhead. “We’re decelerating.”

  He stuffed the tablet in a drawer, relieved to have an excuse not to admit he was only halfway through the first article.

  “We shouldn’t be, not for another day.” Nalini stepped past him to tap the comm panel by the door. Her ponytail tried to float free as the gravity lessened. “Jenna, is something wrong?”

  The pilot didn’t answer.

  “Stay here,” Tristan said grimly.

  He reached for his pertundo but caught himself. As far as he knew right now, the fighters on this yacht worked for the sultan. He couldn’t use deadly force against them. He grabbed the stunner and opened the door.

  Killer crouched in the corridor and sprang straight at him. Two pairs of flex-cuffs jangled on his belt—they hadn’t been there before.

  Tristan jerked the stunner up, but a foot came in from the side, kicking his wrist. Gutshot.

  Tristan snarled and tightened his grip against the pain, not letting go, and lashed out with his other hand. He slammed a palm into Killer’s chest, halting his advance, but Gutshot leaned around the hatch jamb with a stunner of his own.

  Cursing, Tristan leaped to the side. More afraid for Nalini than himself, he used his body to block her from the two men’s sights. Gutshot fired the stunner. The nimbus caught Tristan’s left side, and an angry buzz lit up his nerves.

  He thrust his stunner into Nalini’s grip, then reversed his momentum and launched himself at the two men.

  His left arm wouldn’t move, but he punched with his right, determined to keep them from coming in. Gutshot tried to fire at him again. Tristan shifted to use Killer’s mass as a shield, kicking him to keep him from charging into the lounge. But his left leg was half numb, and he wobbled as he tried to put weight on it. Killer took advantage and kicked him in the knee with a boot like a jackhammer.

  Gutshot rushed in. Tristan threw elbows, ducked punches, and refused to feel overwhelmed as they backed him toward a corner. Unfortunately, the low gravity threw him off as much as the partial stun, and he wished he’d had the opportunity to train more often on spaceships.

  As they pushed him farther and farther back, he feared this wouldn’t end well. The flex-cuffs jangled as Killer kicked again. Tristan eyed them. Did he also have the key fob for the locks on him?

  Tristan blocked the kick with his good leg, then pushed off the wall and rammed into Killer with all of his weight. He risked getting in Gutshot’s sights again to grapple with the big man while trying to stealthily slip a hand into his pockets to search. He kept Killer too distracted to notice the clumsy search, but Gutshot found an opportunity to slam the butt of his stunner against Tristan’s head.

  He tumbled back, cracking his shoulder against the wall. At least they were focusing on him instead of Nalini.

  She stood behind them, her stunner pointed at their cluster of writhing limbs, and he realized she was hesitating because she didn’t want to hit him.

  “Shoot us all,” Tristan blurted, clenching a fist around something hard he’d extracted from Killer’s pocket. “Then get your sergeant to help tie them up while we’re out.”

  Even as he spouted the words, Tristan realized that Habib might be in on it—someone from the palace had to be in on it. But before he could amend the words, Nalini firmed her jaw and fired.

  Killer and Gutshot were her targets, but the beam also caught Tristan. This second shot was enough to knock him unconscious, and his last thought as he tumbled toward the deck, Killer landing on top of him, was that he’d failed Nalini. He should have seen this coming sooner.

  7

  Nalini woke up angry and far more clearheaded than she expected. For the second time in her life, she’d been stunned. The first time had been when she’d been eleven, when she’d been kidnapped and held for ransom for weeks before her father’s operatives located her. Funny how she hadn’t forgotten the feeling at all.

  Her sense of hearing came back to her first, and she listened without opening her eyes, trying to figure out where sh
e was. She already knew Sergeant Habib had betrayed her. When she’d run out of the lounge for help after stunning the three men, she’d almost crashed into him. For a split second, she’d thought him a savior, but then his face had gone grimly blank, and he’d fired.

  “This was a dumb move,” came Jenna’s voice from somewhere above her. “I don’t care how much you’re getting paid. It’s not enough. They’ll hunt you down.”

  Nalini felt the cool textured metal of the deck against her cheek, though she was barely pressed against it. Her body was weightless in the zero gravity, a band around her hips strapping her down. Further, her wrists were pulled behind her back and fastened together with flex-cuffs. The position was uncomfortable, but at least she didn’t feel bruised or battered.

  That might change when she had to walk in the full gravity of Oceanus. If she got to walk in that gravity. Right now, it felt like her yacht was adrift, not heading anywhere at all.

  “They won’t find me,” Sergeant Habib said, his voice sounding more weary than belligerent. “They’ll be looking for those two.”

  “Yeah, sure. The sultan is going to believe those geniuses masterminded a kidnapping.”

  “Even if he doesn’t, I’ll get paid, and I’ll have made my statement.”

  “What? That you’re an asshole and a traitor?”

  Nalini appreciated Jenna’s verve and was tempted to join in with it. Though she usually attempted negotiations rather than threats. Was there any way Sergeant Habib might be talked back to their side?

  She opened her eyes. Unfortunately, all she saw were a pair of boots and the lower framework of a pod. The pilot’s pod?

  “That it is unforgivable to ally with the Kingdom and that I am only the first of thousands who will object if the sultan gives his daughter to those manipulative bastards on Odin.”

  Nalini lifted her head enough to see that Habib stood, the magnetic soles of his boots activated, with a stunner loosely pointed at Jenna’s head. She was in her pilot’s pod, but her hands weren’t on the controls. Her arms were folded across her chest as she glared defiantly at him.