Dumbstruck, she stared. It explained everything. “What does that mean?” She was aware they should get moving but she had to know. She turned to Sammuel. “Soul sick? What does that mean?”
He still stared at Caz but in pity, no longer in anger. “I suggest he can tell you later at a more appropriate time, Captain Lorcan,” he said, his voice sounding far gentler than before. “Let us not keep the Ambassador and President Olan waiting.”
She punched in the release code. The lift started moving.
As it slowed again when they neared their destination, Sammuel stepped close behind her. Caz tensed but didn’t interfere.
“Your hair looks beautiful in a braid,” he whispered in Act’huran. “As it should. Too bad you ruin the color with the dye.”
She closed her eyes and resisted the urge to lean back into his arms. To feel his strength course through her.
To feel his body possess hers.
To feel their souls joined.
To drop to her knees and…
She knew she didn’t imagine he leaned in and brushed his lips across the nape of her neck as he stepped past. The gentle tug on her braid could have been her hair accidentally snagging on his uniform.
She didn’t think so.
When the lift opened, Sammuel stepped out immediately. “This is a beautiful ship, President Olan. I apologize for the delay. Captain Lorcan indulged my many questions, and I lost track of time.”
Ker frowned and stared past him into the lift before his expression shifted back to bland neutrality.
Caz stepped behind Aine and gently pressed his palm into her back. “After you, sir,” he whispered.
She forced her feet to move.
* * * *
Somehow, with Caz there to guide and support her, she made it through the rest of the tour without breaking down or throwing herself into Ker’s arms. Every time she tried to meet Ker’s gaze he looked elsewhere. By the time they reached the shuttle bay, he looked tired, drawn, a shell of his former self. Not the man who could tirelessly work for days at a time on the bridge without sleep or fiercely fight in hand-to-hand combat if needed.
Sammuel noticed. “President Olan, this has been wonderful. I assure you, we are very happy with this assignment.”
Aine thought those words might bring her some cold comfort, but he said them professionally, dispassionately.
He continued. “It has been an extremely long voyage, and an even longer day. I do not know if I can speak for the Ambassador, but I am looking forward to a long, uninterrupted night in my bunk to catch up on sleep since we are safely berthed. We have an even longer journey ahead of us.”
“I totally understand, Admiral.”
Ker said nothing.
They repeated the arrangement, the four guards, Olan, and Ker stepping into the lift. When it departed, she turned on Sammuel. “Five years? What the fuck is going on?”
Caz pulled her back, wouldn’t remove his arm from around her waist. “Sir,” he desperately murmured in her ear in Act’huran, “please. Not here.” Fortunately there were no crew around to witness her outburst.
Sammuel didn’t move. “You should listen to your yeoman, Captain Lorcan,” he said in Act’huran, his tone gentle. “You chose well and wisely in him. Your instincts no doubt served you. A released t’wren latching on to an unbound t’wren. It is probably best for you both.”
She didn’t struggle against Caz’s restraining arm, suspected he wouldn’t let her get close enough to hit Sammuel. “Tell me what’s wrong with him!” she screamed, reverting to Act’huran in her anguish.
The lift opened behind them. Caz stepped out of Sammuel’s path, pulling Aine with him. “You go ahead, Admiral,” he said. “We’ll follow on the next one.”
Sammuel hesitated, then nodded. As he stepped past them he paused and reached out, placed his hand on Caz’s shoulder, and squeezed. “Please, care well for her,” he whispered. “For she is precious and well-loved.” He turned after he stepped inside the lift. “You do not have to return to see us out,” he said, switching back to English. “I will tell them I insisted it was not necessary.” He met Caz’s gaze one last time and nodded, then reverted to Act’huran. “Live long and well, brother. Please see to her and her happiness. If you ever need anything so you may properly care for her, it is yours.”
Caz nodded. Sammuel reached out and punched the lift button. Aine wasn’t sure, but hoped the lift doors closed before he heard her sob.
* * * *
She didn’t remember the return to her cabin, only that she lay on her bunk with her head in Caz’s lap as he stroked her hair. She sobbed in a way she hadn’t since the early days after leaving the Ab’yoika Maru so many years earlier.
Sometime in the middle of the night Aine awoke with a pounding headache and dressed only in sleeping shorts and a T-shirt. Movement in the corner of the dim cabin startled her.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Caz apologized as he snapped on a lamp. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
He was still dressed in his formals, but his jacket hung from the back of a chair.
“What time is it?”
“Nearly 0600 hours.”
She scrubbed her face with her hands. “What? Holy gods, I’ve got to get on duty.”
He sat on the bunk and gently grabbed her wrists. “It’s all right. The watch has been taken care of. I arranged the duty roster to give you the day off.”
She glared at him. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”
“It’s my job to take care of the captain, whether the captain wants to be taken care of or not. You’ll collapse if you keep this up.”
The night flooded back to her. She sniffled. “Tell me. What does it mean?”
He laced his hands together in his lap. After thinking about his reply for several long moments, he responded in Act’huran. “Soul sickness is what happens when a t’amar-te loses a bound mate. When the mate leaves them.”
She shook her head and automatically replied in Act’huran. Truth be told, it felt more natural to her to speak it than English. She even caught herself thinking in it several times a day. “I don’t understand. Sammuel left him all the time and he never got sick before.”
“He left for missions. That’s different. The Ambassador understood that the Admiral would return to him. They were still mates, separated only by physical distance, not emotional.” He tightly clasped his hands together, as if to rein in his emotions. “T’amar-te mate for life, you know that. When their triad is complete, they are complete. To lose one literally kills them.”
“That’s not true! His brother Jor lost one of his t’wren years ago. She died in an accident. Jor did just fine, Sammuel said so, that they might one day meet someone new. I met him and his t’arn and they were sad, but they had moved on.”
“Death is a different matter. If you’d died they would have mourned, but the connection to your soul would’ve been broken. Just because you were released doesn’t mean the bond is broken. They are still connected to you. They can never find another to take your place while you are alive. It’s not possible.”
She remembered what he confessed in the lift. “I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t know.”
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I don’t generally talk about it.” He switched back to English. “It’s why I didn’t want to get into it last night. You had enough on your plate to deal with, sir.”
“How long ago are we talking, exactly?”
He sadly smiled. “Over sixty years ago. I have no desire to find someone else to replace them in my heart. I’m human by birth, not Act’huran. Just like you and the Admiral.”
“Sixty!” She stared at him. “You only look like you’re in your late thirties!”
“I’m over four hundred years old, sir. Pretty good for a human.” He smirked. “Looks like you and I will be stuck together a lot longer than we originally planned with this oath bond, huh? I figured I’d be outliving you and looking for a new captain
in a few decades.”
Gods, he was older than Sammuel! She realized now why his eyes looked so intensely blue. “Your Master had blue eyes?”
Caz nodded. “And brown hair. We were together for over three hundred years. I was his t’arn. We met a woman, a t’amen-ra, and I knew she was our t’wren. I was on a different ship when we all came under attack. I watched their ship be destroyed, I felt their souls leave mine.”
He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “When I rejoined the Confederation I cut my hair. I couldn’t bear to wear the braid when I felt so alone.” He glanced at her hairline. “I wondered why you dyed your hair so frequently and yet kept it so long. It all makes perfect sense. The first time you let me braid your hair I couldn’t help but think about them and how I missed doing that. I was so glad you let me do that for you.”
She blushed. It also explained why he could easily tame her hair. Being an unbound t’wren also explained why he could key into her emotions the way he did. “Did Ker know this would happen? When I left, when he released me, he knew he would die?”
Caz didn’t want to answer, but eventually nodded. “I’m sure he did.”
“What happens?”
“Their body shuts down. They feed and funnel and amplify the energy of their mates. That’s why both, or all three once a triad is complete, live for so long. A pair can live a long time, but triads have been known to live thousands of years.”
“There’s no cure?”
“If a mate was to return I imagine the process would reverse, or at the very least cease. But if a mate leaves there’s usually a damn good reason why and they don’t return. Not that it happens that often to begin with. Very rarely. I only heard of two cases, and both of those involved severe physical abuse.” He frowned as he realized what he said.
“He gave me the choice to leave! He let me walk away! He never said anything like this would happen to him, that he would die.”
“T’amar-te must have willing mates. They cannot take or keep one by force.”
She snorted. “Well, no one told them that.”
His frown darkened. “They forced you?”
“I—” She stopped, thinking. They did a lot of things to and with her.
Unbidden, her mind went to the first time Sammuel made love to her. Passionate, practically violent, sure.
Forced?
All the times, every time at first, until she begged for his touch, Sammuel told her to tell him to stop if she didn’t want him.
They never forced her. Never took her. Not until she asked. Even the mating ceremony, the repetition, the ritual.
The permission she had to freely grant.
The only time she ever told him to stop was the day she left, when he wanted to carry her to bed.
And he had immediately put her down when she said it.
“No,” she admitted. “They never forced me.”
“Sir, not as your yeoman, but as one t’wren to another. Why did you leave? What did they do to drive you away?” She felt a surge of protective outrage wash from him.
“They didn’t abuse me,” she reassured him. “They wanted something I couldn’t give. They wanted me to stay with them, resign my Confederation commission and give up my career. I couldn’t do that. I worked too hard for that. I wouldn’t have been happy there, I would have been miserable. I owed it to the memory of my fathers to complete what I’d set out to do and not let their deaths be wasted.”
“And are you happy, sir? Has leaving them fulfilled you?”
She fell back onto her bunk. “Fuck!”
He let out a sad sigh. “I take it that’s a no?”
Chapter Nineteen
For the three days before they departed, Aine didn’t leave the ship. She could see the Tav’rokian Might in her berth and swore she felt the combined pull of the two men’s presence. Once again the feeling of being a single soul plagued her, something she managed to ignore over the years.
Caz maintained a careful watch over her, hovering, keeping others away from her as much as possible. By the time she issued the cast off order she was on her last nerve and turned the helm over to Maddings.
Once clear of the station, the Tav’rokian Might would mid-space dock with the Candola Ryke, magno-field attached to the armored underhull for protection and the Dreadnought’s superior jump capabilities. It would cut months off their trip that way. Aine monitored the activities from her cabin command terminal as Caz hovered nearby.
Only two months. I can do that.
Only two months of fucking agony knowing how close her men were and yet not being able to join them.
The next morning they got underway, followed by two battle cruisers for extra protection. Aine took her place in her command chair and worked the stress ball back and forth from hand to hand. It had quickly become an ingrained habit.
The dreams had also started again, returning with a vengeance. More than once she awoke to find Caz holding her, soothing her, her face and pillow wet with tears.
She let him. What difference did it make at that point? A good man was dying because of her. But he wouldn’t speak up and ask her to return. She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep.
After four consecutive nights of no sleep, she waved off Caz’s concern and told him she planned to stay up reading. When she knew he’d settled for the evening in his adjoining cabin, she left and quickly made her way to the shuttle bay where the docking airlock to the Tav’rokian Might was located.
Punching in her captain’s override code, she tried to enter but it wouldn’t open. She tried again with the same result.
The com panel next to the airlock door buzzed. “Tav’rokian Might.”
“This is Captain Lorcan. I’m trying to board. The airlock seems to be jammed.”
“I’m sorry, Captain. Orders from Admiral Jorvis to keep it locked down.”
Part of her fumed, ready to turn on her heel and leave.
Then the other part of her wanted to have this out with him right there and then. “Well, get Admiral Jorvis and tell him to unlock it. I want a private word with him, face to face.”
“I’m sorry, Captain.” She reeeeally despised that phrase. “He’s retired for the evening and left orders not to be disturbed unless we’re under attack.”
Goddammit. “Then get me Ambassador D’arsolan.”
“I’m sorry, Captain—”
She punched the com button before screaming. Then she screamed again as a hand touched her shoulder, startling her. She whirled to find Caz standing there with a sad look on his face. “Gods, you scared me!” she screamed.
“I’m sorry, sir.” He looked at the com panel. “Under attack, huh? I could order a shuttle launched and have them fire at them from below.”
Stunned, she stared at him, jaw gaping. As a playful smile crept across his face she started laughing, the sound rolling out of her until she collapsed against the wall and slid down it, laughing until hysterical tears fell and she sobbed her anger and anguish against his shoulder as he sat next to her, put his arm around her, and pulled her tightly against his chest to soothe her.
It only made her sob harder as she relaxed against him, knowing he truly was the only person who understood her pain and in whom she could trust.
The only person left in her life who she hadn’t lost or driven away.
After a few minutes he helped her to her feet. “Come on, sir,” he gently said. “Time to put you to bed.”
She snorted. “Not that I’ll get much sleep.”
He kept his arm around her for the walk to the lift. “Maybe not. Promise me you’ll try? I have a feeling Admiral Jorvis will kick my ass if I don’t take good care of you.”
Early the next morning she sat at her command console on the bridge when the com link whistled from the Tav’rokian Might. She answered it, audio only, before the communications officer could. “Candola Ryke. Captain Lorcan.”
A brief hesitation. “Captain Lorcan, this is Admiral Jorvis.” The cautious
sound of his voice ripped at her heart. “I understand you wished to speak with me?”
She forced a chipper tone she knew didn’t fool him in the least. “That’s quite all right, Admiral Jorvis.” Her voice bore more than a hint of sarcasm, but with her sanity and composure on the line, she felt beyond caring at that point. “I got the answer to my question last night. I’m sooo sorry I disturbed you, won’t happen again. Candola Ryke out.” She punched the button, cutting him off before he could respond.
Caz chose that moment to appear with her coffee. “That was mature, sir,” he muttered in Act’huran.
She shot him a glare as she accepted the mug of coffee.
An hour later, security notified her someone was trying to cross from the Tav’rokian Might to the Candola Ryke.
Aine figured she only needed one guess who.
Alone in the airlock bay, she left Caz guarding the lift to ensure their privacy and walked down to the hatchway. Punching in her official override code, the airlock door opened.
As much as she figured it shouldn’t, her breath still escaped her in a long, harsh whoosh. Sammuel glared at her as she stepped into the airlock and let the hatch slide closed behind her.
After a moment of silence he spoke. “You have left me rather confused, Captain Lorcan.”
“How so, Admiral?”
Did he step away from her? “What was so important last night that my men said you sounded very upset, then this morning you cop an attitude with me and rudely cut me off?”
This was the one place she knew that in either ship couldn’t be monitored because of the magno-hull connection field.
He knew it too.
“Why didn’t he fucking tell me?” she demanded.
“Tell you what? And who are we talking about?”
She stepped forward, forcing him back against the airlock wall. “You know fucking well who we are talking about. And you damn fucking well know what we’re talking about!”
His eyes burned as his jaw tightened. “You have quite a vocabulary, Captain Lorcan,” he forced through clenched teeth.
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