They spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening listening to the messages left by his ancestors. Except for the new messages from Tate and Deanna, Terosh had heard them before, but it had been so long that he had forgotten all but the most outlandish messages.
Worry tried to intrude on the peace, but Terosh pushed it aside. He trusted Laocer and the anotechs would notify him with any news concerning his family.
Chapter 42:
The Weeping Princess
ALLEI (AUGUST) 28, 1538
Twenty-eight days after Prince Terosh’s Kireshana journey
Chambers of Princess Alikai, Deleur Palace, Planet of Mitra
Prince Taytron Minstel slowly stirred in his sleep, tightening his arms around the warm body pressed against his own. The figure shifted, rising and falling in the jerky rhythm of suppressed sobs. Tate woke up and abruptly released his new wife, realizing she was not Deanna. Everything flooded back, shattering the temporary peace that had formed. The shock drove away remaining thoughts of sleep.
“What is it, Alikai?” Tate asked, mentally apologizing to Deanna.
The cosmic storm outside the Mitran System had delayed his arrival for three days above the estimated six, leaving the Mitran ambassador practically foaming at the mouth with impatience. Tate had barely agreed to marry Alikai when he found himself before an Azhel priest and a Pirtan monk exchanging vows with the princess.
His thoughts drifted to his first glimpse of Mitra. Whereas Reshner appeared a soothing mix of brown, blue, white, and deep green, Mitra was dominated by black and red. Everything here seemed hostile, making Tate miss his homeworld. Fierce winds whipped strands of red dust into a stinging lash. No wonder every building on Mitra had special air filters.
Princess Alikai Minstel curled into a ball and sobbed, making Tate glance her way. As he watched, her expression changed to something like shame, and she rushed into the washroom, pulling the curtain across with clinking finality.
Stunned, Tate flopped against the fluffy pillows and reflected. His new wife confused him. Her physical beauty was undeniable, and she carried herself with dignity. Her purple eyes held mysteries he couldn’t fathom.
After dressing in the second washroom, Tate cautiously approached the closed curtain hiding Alikai. He wore dark pants and a shirt of the softest material he’d ever felt. The pants had a deep blue stripe down each side and the shirt sported a web of silver strands, which made it look ready to shatter. He longed for the sturdier clothes he was used to wearing at home.
Muffled sobs seeped through the thick purple curtains.
“Alikai? May I—”
“The princess does not wish to see ye,” a stiff female voice said from behind the curtain.
Irritation chased away worry, making Tate brave. He swept the curtains aside and barged into the spacious washroom. Alikai was curled against the far wall with one of her maidens helplessly standing by. Her skin—dark as a moonless night—contrasted nicely with her white nightdress. Alikai looked at Tate with an expression so desperate and guilty that he didn’t know what to say. Robbed of his irritation, he felt awkward and foolish.
Dropping to his knees before her, Tate felt the coolness rising off the tiled floor.
“Will you let me take you back to the bed?” he asked, taking her icy hands between his own. How the Mitran people could stand such frigid temperatures was beyond him, but he would have to tolerate it if he was going to spend the next twenty-some years here. “It’s warmer, and you’ll be more comfortable.”
At her nod, Tate picked up Alikai and returned her to the bed. He propped three pillows behind her and moved another two to make room. As he climbed up beside her, a series of sniffles threatened another round of tears. He didn’t dare take her into his arms. Instead, he quietly sat next to her, clutching one hand. They sat in silence until Alikai finally mastered her emotions enough to speak.
“There is too much goodness in ye, Taytron Minstel.” Her voice cracked with grief. “How I wish ye’d been as ugly and cruel as described!”
Tate’s confusion reached uncharted heights.
“What?”
Alikai had differed from the description he had been given, but Tate had taken that to be a simple communication gap. He had expected her to be tall with dark hair and purple eyes, which she was, but he had also been led to believe her skin would be almost translucent. He knew now that a small subset of Mitran people experience “White Nights” twice a year wherein their skin lost its pigmentation.
He grinned, recalling his father’s reaction to the dark-skinned Mitran people. Thankfully, they had still been on the ship, so only Tate and Captain Kelter had heard his father’s wheezing gasps.
Alikai suddenly gripped Tate’s right hand fiercely, capturing his attention.
“Can ye fathom what me name might mean, Taytron?”
Tate enjoyed the way his name rolled off her tongue. Only his mother had consistently called him by his full name, and she’d always made it sound as solid as ice. The way Alikai spoke his name softened it to something smooth yet strong, like a mountain lion’s measured steps. He shook his head.
“Tell me.”
“It means ‘ill-fated winds.’”
Why would anyone burden a child with such a name?
“Ye truly do not know what awaits us, do ye? Do ye realize what I’ve done?” asked Alikai.
“Alikai, I’ve been lost for a long time. Nothing, save your beauty and royal bearing, have been as I ....” Fresh tears from her made him forget his words, so he simply trailed off and kissed her. His heart ached, feeling like he was betraying Deanna.
Alikai kissed back with such unbridled emotion that Tate felt something inside move. An uncertainty he hadn’t even known existed suddenly melted.
I’m sorry, Deanna. Will I ever let you go?
After the long kiss, Tate felt brave enough to try and lighten the mood.
“Now, what’s this about me being ugly?”
Alikai’s answer started between a laugh and a sob, morphed into a coughing fit, and ended in a deep sigh. She leaned against Tate’s chest.
“I’ll tell ye all I know.”
“Good, take your time.” Tate held her protectively.
“Ye are Mitran now, and I wish to the gods I could take it back.” Her tone was soft and serious.
“Why?”
“The Blood Harvest approaches. My House has stood for exactly a thousand years. On Mitra, that means death.”
She said it so matter-of-factly that Tate’s reaction of pulling her closer was delayed.
“Then we’ll leave. No one will touch you on Reshner.”
“It is far too late for escape,” spoke a silky male voice from the doorway.
Alikai stiffened and her tone became so cold Tate almost expected her to breathe icicles.
“Leave us!” she commanded.
The Mitran man—Hinoli Brek if Tate remembered correctly—bowed. As typical of many Mitran men, Hinoli’s head sported a crown of seven silver spikes grafted above his forehead, a testament of his devotion to Rishmaltair, god of suffering and pain. His teeth had been sharpened to razor thin edges, which constantly ripped his lower lip to shreds. Thick black body armor that matched his skin covered his chest, but his arms were bare, showing off his celzan tattoos. The blood-red lines rippled haphazardly across his muscles, showing him to be a prominent member of the Gathering.
“Explain as ye wish, Princess. Three hours remain.” The man left abruptly.
“Time escapes us. I must prepare.” Alikai twisted out of Tate’s grasp, called her maiden, and disappeared behind a screen to change. As she did so, she talked so fast Tate had to concentrate to follow. “Every thousand years the Blood Harvest sweeps away the old dynasty and inserts a new royal family so none can claim a longer reign. This being the thousandth year, my family must perish.”
“I thought our marriage prevented that,” Tate said, more confused than fearful. “It doesn’t have to—”
What’s that got to do with anything?
“That means the Blood Harvest can be swift, almost painless, or dragged out for years.”
The statement brought Tate to his feet. He strapped on his weapons belt and began pacing the room as Alikai continued her explanation.
“My fate has been sealed since birth,” Alikai said calmly, stepping out from behind the screen. “The fate of my family is what ye came to change.”
Tate’s breath stuck in his throat and he stopped pacing.
Alikai wore an outfit made of many layers of fine red and yellow silk. Even as she stood before Tate, her maiden wrapped, twisted, and otherwise bullied her hair into an elaborate coif that was both regal and gorgeous. If Alikai noticed Tate’s admiration, she ignored it.
“And the fate ye face is my fault alone,” she continued.
“How?” Tate demanded, getting tired of her blaming herself for something he didn’t understand.
“I was given a choice that t’was no choice: marry ye and have ye and Reshner’s king share in a painless Blood Harvest or watch my family suffer a slow Harvest for as long as it may last.”
Rage grew in Tate, but it wasn’t directed at Alikai.
“It gets worse,” Alikai confessed, “and worse still because I think I love ye.”
“Worse?” Tate laughed bitterly.
“I won’t die.” Sitting on the bed, Alikai let her head sink to her chest.
Hope welled up in Tate, but one look at her expression killed it.
“What happens?” he asked.
“I will live long enough to have our child and perhaps through the first year of his life. Then, I will be the last of my House to perish.”
Tate’s eyes widened.
“You’re pregnant? How do—that’s—what?” He finally stopped trying to speak.
Who would bother with such an elaborate scheme? Why involve Mitra? A few crazies with pistols and suicidal tendencies could have done the job.
No one in the Governors Council or the Senate had pitched a significant fit in a long time.
Alikai continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“The child will carry on your name here, but my House will disappear, except for some distant cousins. Their lives and that of our child will only be spared if we surrender.”
Tate squared his shoulders. No one would take him or his wife without a fight. His expression hardened until he caught the vulnerable cast to Alikai’s countenance. His resolve wavered. In the history he had studied—truth or fiction—Tate couldn’t recall one tale that asked a man to not fight to save those in his care. Yet Alikai’s eyes asked exactly that of him. He didn’t understand the Blood Harvest nuances, but he grasped that if they fought everybody connected with the Deleur name would die. Three steps brought them together, and Tate wished the comforting embrace could last forever.
“I do not fear my fate, Taytron, but I wish ye’d been spared this path. The rules to the Blood Harvest have been changed to affect ye and thy kin. I learned this only yesterday. Ye truly have powerful enemies.” Alikai finally pulled away.
“What guarantee do you have that your family won’t suffer even if we surrender?”
He heard a sad smile in her reply.
“The traditions that condemn also protect. The Brek family, though chosen to replace mine, still answers to the Gathering. Four children will live to rebuild the Deleur name, but we won’t inherit the throne for another twenty thousand years. If I—if we—fight them, my family will be lost forever.”
For some reason, having Alikai speak in terms of thousands of years and forever struck a chord within Tate. He had finally found a purpose in life—to die well.
Two loud thumps sounded outside the door. Tate drew his kerlinblade and kerlak pistol.
The door burst open and Aster Captain Gina Kelter rushed in.
“We’re leaving.” Her voice held the fury of a pending Great Storm. “Right now.”
“Ye don’t understand!” Alikai cried, holding a hand over her heart.
“Stand down, Captain,” Tate ordered. He returned his weapons to their appropriate places. “There’s—”
Twelve Palace Security Guards rushed in and leveled half-pikes at Captain Kelter. She whirled and fired on them, dropping three in the first second. A half-pike swept toward her left side. She blocked it with her kerlak pistol, but the move left her weaponless. She backed away but soon had two half-pikes pressed under her chin.
“Stop!” Tate shouted. His gun was back in his hand, but he didn’t know who to shoot. Stunning Captain Kelter might be the easier solution, but he wanted to know why she was having such a violent disagreement with the guards.
Alikai loosed a torrent of Mitran words. It took the anotechs a moment to translate.
“Stay your weapons! These are guests of House Deleur. My House will soon pass but until this day expires, you will obey me!”
To Tate’s surprise, the soldiers straightened, brought their weapons upright, and slammed them into the floor as a salute.
The head guard faced Alikai and dropped to a knee.
“Forgive us, Exalted One. We have orders to detain the Reshner delegation, especially the royals.”
“Where’s my father?” Tate’s gaze darted between Captain Kelter and the Mitran commander. He holstered his pistol, but his hands hovered near it just in case. “What’s going on?”
“They have your father.” Captain Kelter’s voice held icy calm.
“You left him?” Tate asked incredulously.
“His orders,” Kelter grumbled.
“Leave us,” Alikai ordered the soldiers.
The commander looked like he wanted to argue but nodded stiffly. A hand signal sent the soldiers into a flurry of motion that had them carrying their wounded and dead out the door.
“What is going on?” Tate demanded again.
“We are betrayed, Highness.” Captain Kelter blinked slowly and her shoulders slumped. “The king is captured, and you and I are slated to die with House Deleur.”
“Why you?” Tate knew about his own pending doom thanks to Alikai’s explanation, but that didn’t explain why Captain Kelter had been marked. Something the Mitran commander had said stuck with him: especially the royals. His breath quickened as the phrase clattered through his head.
Captain Kelter’s head tilted and unshed tears glistened in her eyes.
“It’s true, but it doesn’t matter.”
Alikai looked back and forth between Tate and Captain Kelter.
Tate couldn’t move. Everything fit with stunning clarity. His mouth felt dry, and his legs threatened to buckle.
Captain Kelter’s eyes never left Tate’s face. Finally, she cleared her throat.
“The Mitran people have a curious way of defining royalty.”
“Bloodlines,” Alikai supplied.
Captain Kelter looked at Tate kindly.
“It’s not what you think.”
“I can’t think.” Tate fought hard to focus.
“You are married to Reshner’s king?” Alikai’s inflection made it a question.
“Not in the formal sense,” Captain Kelter said carefully.
The ghost of a smile came to Alikai.
“My people count every union, even temporary ones, as binding.”
“Mother?” Tate asked. His voice reluctantly surrendered the word.
“It was better this way.” Captain Kelter’s statement sounded as much to convince herself as Tate. She sat down abruptly and wrapped her arms around her knees.
The uncharacteristic display of vulnerability made something crumble inside Tate.
“How?” He choked on the question.
She looked up at him and let the tears fall. Her chest heaved with suppresse
d sobs. When she gained a measure of control, Captain Kelter quietly explained.
“I—we were part of the Covenant of Lasting Peace between Reshner and Gardan. Our planets were headed for a war neither could afford, not with GAPP poised to take over the Edge planets.”
Alikai sat beside Captain Kelter and embraced the older woman.
“The arranged marriage,” Tate murmured. He had been told the story his entire life.
Captain Kelter shut her eyes and shook her head.
“It wasn’t that simple. It should have been, but it wasn’t.”
“What do you mean?” Tate wondered.
“It was supposed to be an even trade of princesses.”
“Aunt Uria?”
“No. She was already promised to Colimech’s Sultan. That caused enough controversy with the match being made to Teorn and not the elder prince, Uel.”
“Another princess escaped her fate then?” Alikai questioned.
“How do you know that?” Tate asked.
“You are connected to me and she is linked to you, so I am connected to her,” Alikai answered.
Tate knew it would make sense to him if he thought about it long enough.
Captain Kelter cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders.
“When Princess Mavis married her lover, Dravid Altran, the treaty began collapsing, but we were already on Reshner. We’d just arrived so no one had yet seen the princess. The wedding was a rushed affair, and in accordance with Gardanian tradition, Princess Kila Creston was fully veiled. Fearing an assassination attempt, my mistress and I switched places the night of the wedding.”
Tate felt exceedingly awkward.
“The prince was furious at the deception but terrified at the consequences should the truth be revealed to King Padric Creston.” Captain Kelter smiled faintly. “For everyone’s good, the secret was kept, but I was already pregnant. Kila and I were sequestered until you were born. She pretended you were hers, and the people of both planets hailed the treaty’s success.”
Tate rubbed his forehead. A glance up brought a lock of hair into view. He fingered it, noting how closely its shade matched Captain Kelter’s hair. He dropped his hand and shook his head.
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