Marked Prince: A Qurilixen World Novel (Qurilixen Lords Book 2)

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Though Jaxx would applaud their efforts if the Cysgodians revolted and everyone fled into the borderlands, they wouldn’t make it very far. But at least for a brief time, they’d know freedom—some of them for the first time in their lives. Jaxx knew that many of the people wished to leave, but they couldn’t migrate beyond the borders without breaking Federation law, and the shifters couldn’t take them in without breaking the Federation-Shifter treaty. If not for that, the shifters would have absorbed them into their society without hesitation. Taking care of your neighbors was a matter of honor. It was that honor that made them agree to the Federation bringing the Cysgodians there in the first place.

  The political tension ran high, and it was only a matter of time before it burst, which was why Grier’s decision to enter the stronghold to free a Federation detainee was beyond reckless. If he were caught, everything the royals tried to keep in balance would collapse.

  Let it, Jaxx thought. Things cannot continue like this.

  But he didn’t mean it. Shifters might be able to conquer the base, but they could do nothing about the massive Federation army that controlled much of the galaxy. One fleet of ships and Qurilixen would be blown into a sad footnote of history. And the Federation had more than one fleet.

  Jaxx stayed in his shifted form as he perched near the spire. With the armor of dragon skin covering his body, the chill in the air did not bother him. He focused his vision on his cousin and watched as he spoke to the guard. As a shifter, he could see clearly at great distances, but he couldn’t hear what they said.

  Grier stood at the entrance with his new human bride, Salena. They attempted to rescue one of Salena’s sisters from Federation captivity. The triplets had been separated at a young age. Their unique gifts made them dangerous in the wrong hands. Something about Salena made it impossible to lie to her. Her sisters were more or less the same way. The Federation would love to have control over natural interrogators.

  Jaxx turned his attention to the forest behind Grier and Salena, where Payton would be standing guard over them from the trees. He’d been friends with the cat-shifter princess since they were children. Payton was always up for an adventure, and they’d ignored several laws together—the biggest being the Shifter-Federation agreement when they smuggled food simulators close to the city. Someone had stolen one of their last caches of food simulators and were trying to resell them. He turned his attention to the valley. Payton had a source in Shelter City trying to locate the units so they could recover them.

  Jaxx couldn’t detect Payton, not that he expected to find her. Her father was a Var commander, and if there was one thing Payton knew how to do, it was hide from authority. He turned his attention back to Grier and his bride.

  Salena’s wore a tight alien-style dress and a different face, thanks to a morphing ring Payton had stolen from the cat-shifter queen’s private collection. The morph made the woman unrecognizable. Jaxx was a little surprised Grier let his bride wear such a costume in front of the Federation men. Mated shifters were always on the more possessive side when it came to their women.

  Grier was in his human form covered in reddish-orange paint. Tufts of Payton’s fur had been glued to his face to make him look like an alien ambassador. Jaxx grinned. He knew where the white tiger fur came from because he’d cut it from Payton’s shifted backside himself.

  Salena gave a subtle gesture to signify they were ready. He breathed another stream of fire into the sky to let them know he’d seen her. A knot formed in his stomach. Now all he had to do was wait and watch.

  Jaxx was a dragon of action. He did not like waiting and watching.

  Somehow Grier and Salena managed to talk their way past the guard and enter the building. Jaxx focused attention on every exit. At the first sign of danger, he was swooping in.

  In many ways, he preferred to be a dragon. Animal instincts weren’t complicated. If he was hungry, he ate. If he was tired, he went into a cave and slept. If he was bored, he flew away. If he or someone he loved was threatened, he blew fire out of his mouth.

  Simple. Easy. Instinctual.

  As a man, things were more complex. Emotions became involved, and animal instinct warred with political reality. It was complicated, challenging, and filled with nothing but expectations.

  And as a prince, expectations were even worse. He had to consider shifter traditions, Qurilixen’s population, galactic politics, political doublespeak, the desperation of starving men, fear, treaties, laws, and on and on and on.

  Jaxx could no more stop being a prince than he could change the fact that he was a dragon. Both were a part of who he was, and both informed his decisions. Sadly, like two warring personalities, they rarely agreed on the right course of action.

  The dragon told him to rescue the people below. It was the right thing to do. He could do it now, and consequences be damned.

  The prince warned him that such an action would solve an immediate problem but would create untold misery in the near future, worse than the current situation.

  The dragon offered to fight anything that came at them.

  The prince knew that such actions would result in the death of many, perhaps even the deaths of everyone and everything he loved.

  And on and on and on the debate went.

  Neither side of him provided a satisfactory answer.

  Jaxx kept his attention focused. With each passing second, the knot in his stomach grew. There was no reason why he should feel so tense. Grier was a strong warrior and could hold his own, and he would not let anything happen to his bride. That is the only reason Jaxx agreed to this plan. Otherwise, he would’ve sent Grier home and gone in himself.

  If Grier were caught, the Federation wouldn’t dare to harm a dragon prince. They might try to keep Salena, but that would make for a very tricky diplomatic mess. The local general could deny holding Salena’s sister prisoner, but they could not deny the existence of a dragon princess.

  The knot inside him spread and turned into dread. Something was not right. The feeling had been nagging at him for hours. He couldn’t define it, but it felt like a sickness on the edge of his consciousness, as if he were about to fall into a nightmare, as if at any moment his heart could be pulled from his chest and crushed into a pulpy mess.

  Pain radiated in his neck, and he lifted his face toward the sky to stretch the muscle. It traveled to his chest, focusing over his heart.

  The sensation wasn’t fear, or panic, but a physical manifestation of an invisible attack.

  The pain intensified, and he worried his heart might seize in his chest and stop beating.

  Then, just as suddenly as it struck him, the sensation left.

  Jaxx ignored the strangeness as he focused on the stronghold. His cousin needed him to be present in the moment, and whatever the pain was had lessened. His hatred of the Federation grew with each passing second. He would be happy when this adventure was over.

  3

  Fiora opened her eyes to the sterile white of the prison walls. Her mind instantly became aware of her neck and the slight buzzing against her skin. The pain was gone, the physical damage repaired.

  She wanted the safety of darkness, not this white-walled hell.

  Endless.

  Maddening.

  Torment.

  Fragments of Rigger’s future faded like a dream, and she didn’t try to hold on to them. She didn’t want to hold on to anything. The hum of medical lasers dulled the sound of voices, but she heard the whispers.

  “Rigger’s been stationed at the entrance,” a woman said, her words clipped.

  “I’m surprised the general didn’t kill him,” another answered.

  They had brought an exam table for her and Fiora hovered over the floor. The mechanical whirr of a cleaning droid sounded even though she couldn’t see the unit working to erase all signs of her blood from the walls.

  “He still might—oh, good, you’re awake.” The woman who leaned in front of her view of white wore a stern expression,
made more so by the natural ridges across her forehead. The irises of her dark eyes appeared to bleed from the centers toward the edges. “That was a space cadet move. You should be grateful you have a place here, and not in the stink hole city below.”

  Fiora knew it was useless to plead. She took a deep breath. Her chest had been healed as well. Too bad her heart still ached. With a dispassionate glance over the medic’s stern expression, Fiora told the woman, “Your lover is not faithful.”

  The woman stiffened. Her irises became narrow pinpoints.

  Fiora could have said more. She could have described in detail exactly what she saw connected to the woman’s future. There were plenty of images in her head, changing now that the woman knew the truth. She had just saved her years of an unfaithful partner but did not expect the medic would thank her for it.

  “Boost her and get this pet to her stage.” The medic stormed angrily from the room.

  Fiora felt an injection in her leg but didn’t look as she stared at the pristine wall.

  “She’s right, you know.” This woman’s voice was softer than her boss’. “Things are much worse in the city below. You should find a way to accept your place here. It’s not perfect, but you’re fed and have shelter. What they ask of you isn’t much.”

  The woman was trying to be nice, but her words were ignorant. What they asked of Fiora was everything she had. Still, kindness was kindness in this hell.

  Fiora gave a sharp gasp. “Don’t board the ship with the red stripe.”

  Her body tensed, and she couldn’t control her muscles. For a moment, her mind was trapped in the second an explosion touched the skin of its victims, that first shock of pain before the nerves were stripped away. The boost they’d given her was doing its job, bringing the future into sharper focus. Each second played out like an eternity.

  This was her life.

  No, her life was seeing their lives.

  It never ended.

  When Fiora’s thoughts returned from the space crash, she was alone in the room. She pushed up from the exam table. Someone had changed her clothes, dressing her in the white tunic shirt and pants. A white cap had been placed next to her, along with a hair tie. She didn’t fight what had to be done. She brushed her fingers through her hair and pulled the length high on her head before placing the cap over the top.

  This time when they came for her, she did not resist. She kept her eyes down, focusing on trying to keep out all the emotions she could. She watched the feet of the men in black uniforms as they walked on either side of her. In her mind, she built a brick wall around her body. It floated with her, pushing the timelines away like a battering ram. It worked for a short time, but when they passed into a large banquet hall, as white and sterile as the rest of the building, the sound of guests rushing over her like a waterfall. Their lives wore at the mortar and chipped at the bricks, cracking holes for images to leak through.

  Uniformed soldiers walked past with trays of food to act the part of the servants. General Sten did not want any other locals roaming the base so the duties were regulated to the newest recruits. He was right to keep the Cysgodians at a distance though his ego would hardly let him admit to fearing anyone in the city below.

  The arrogance in the room hung thick in the air and made her feel like a tiny star surrounded by endless sky. Close to a hundred alien dignitaries from around the universes crowded the hall, each secretly fighting for dominance even as they smiled and made small talk. The murmur of voices became indistinguishable beyond a drone of noise backdropped by soft music.

  Fiora felt her neck where she’d stabbed herself. There wasn’t even a scar to mark her attempt. It was as if it hadn’t happened. For some reason that made her sad. As if she were nothing and her will held no permanence in this lifetime.

  She wanted them to see her pain. Maybe one of them would take pity on her if they knew the torment that she faced in being here. Then again, from what she saw of their lives, such salvation was doubtful in this crowd.

  Fiora lifted her gaze, trying to find someone who would end her life. A transparent figure drew her attention. The G’am man stood naked as if to show off the stunning pattern created by the bold vessels beneath his skin. She saw a future in which he was telling someone they were his glory. His organs pulsed. He appeared too thin and willowy to do much damage, but the Dokka trader he talked to might do the job. Then there was the furry Lykan. He had anger in him, boiling beneath the surface. It wouldn’t take much to stir him to rage. Or perhaps the reptilian Slit’therne. Or, maybe still, any number of the humanoid creatures. Many of the people here had murder in them. If she found the right temper, embarrassed them with the right secret, then maybe…

  Fiora frowned.

  A chill worked its way through her, and she was struck with the memory of clay pits in the moonlight. It brought with it a rush of feelings. The clay pits were home. She used to lay in them with her sisters. She hadn’t felt safe since childhood when the darkness surrounded her and kept her out of the light. The sensation moved over her like an electrical current to center on her chest. “Who?”

  Fiora looked around, searching the crowd. She hadn’t felt that particular impression since she’d last been with her sisters. But as she gazed from face to face, it was too much to hope that she would see them again. Salena and Piera were not there.

  “Keep walking,” her guard ordered, nudging her lightly in the back.

  Fiora found General Sten in the crowd. If he had not been in a position of power, there would be nothing remarkable about the man. He did not have a memorable face, a distinctive voice, or a particularly frightening natural demeanor. The general’s gaze found hers. He smiled, but the look did not reach his cold eyes, as if he willed her to see the future that he had planned for her. Not surprisingly, no images came to her. She did not see her own timeline.

  “Come on,” the guard grumbled. This one wasn’t typically so abrupt with her, but she imagined he’d heard the trouble Rigger had gotten into because of her. She tried to remember the soldier’s name, but it was lost as visions flew at her from the crowd.

  She made her way to a large chair on a platform. The eyes of those gathered found her as if by taking a seat she indicated to them that the show was about to begin. Their silent questions came at her, held together with anticipation and worry. The people inched closer. Timelines rushed in, fighting for attention within the small confines of her brain. A dull ache started in her temple and would only grow worse as the evening progressed.

  She closed her eyes, trying to block them out.

  Taw. The guard’s name was Taw. She saw him standing rigid and alone through banquets just like this one, an endless destiny of undistinguished service.

  “I would ask you all to back away,” Taw said, the perfunctory tone of his voice revealing to anyone who cared to notice that this was not the first time he’d gone through the rules. “Prepare your one question carefully. You only get one so that everyone may have a chance. There will be no touching while she employs her second sight.”

  Employ? Like it was a choice? Like she could choose to unemploy it?

  She caught a vision of one of the dignitaries in a future chandoo trade and desperately wondered if he was carrying any now. The guard kept going through his list of rules. She ignored him. So would half the people here.

  Taw ended his speech, but she didn’t want to open her eyes. The visions became more substantial, and she wondered what they’d given her in the injection. She wouldn’t put it past the general to order that she be given an extra-strong dose as a punishment.

  “Yes, you, go on,” Taw said. “Ask your question.”

  A nervous giggle sounded before a hesitant voice asked, “Will I…? When will I…?”

  Fiora opened one eye to look at the woman briefly. The light stung, making the growing headache worse. Normally a crowd this size would cause her nose to start bleeding, but the doctors had found a temporary way of stopping it with medicine.


  “When will my husband and I have a baby?” she asked. The man standing next to her widened his eyes, slightly alarmed.

  Fiora closed her eyes, and she was compelled to find the answer to the question. “Fruit will not grow where there is no tree.”

  A murmur of voices came from the crowd as people commented on the answer amongst themselves.

  “I don’t understand,” the woman complained.

  Fiora could have told the woman that she needed to get married first to have a husband, and that she couldn’t have a baby with a husband until that happened, and the man she was with was not going to marry her. She could have also told the woman that she would get pregnant, but that man would be married to someone else.

  Fiora preferred being cryptic in her response.

  “What—?” the mistress tried to protest.

  “Next.” Taw cut off the woman’s second question.

  “Who will win this year’s Galactic Crown?” The words slurred together into one long, continuous sound, lacking enunciation.

  Fiora pictured a drunken man holding tight to a betting chip as he stared at a viewing screen in a seedy ship casino. “Three gray eyes and forty brown will see a victory in black.”

  “Three gray, forty brown,” the man repeated softly. “Three gray, forty brown.”

  “Where is my grandmother’s heart?” asked a Slit’therne noble.

  At the same time, another man announced, “This is a hoax. Anyone can make up riddles. I expected better of the Federation.”

  Fiora was grateful that the doubting man didn’t ask her a question about his future. He didn’t have much of one. Timelines continued to come at her, bolder than before.