“I’ll be honest, J-8—emotional pain is never easy to bear. I would rather have physical pain any day, myself,” Sylvan said. “But you have an option that isn’t open to us ‘feelers’ as you call us—you can go and get your emotion damper fixed.”
“I know I can—I have been telling myself the entire trip home that the moment I got back to the Mother Ship, I would go straight to Yipper and ask him to install a new emotion damper or try to fix the one I have,” James admitted. “But, well…” He cleared his throat. “I…don’t feel like I should.”
“Why not?” Sylvan frowned. “If it would end your pain, why not do it?”
“Because Ka’rissa doesn’t have that option.” James ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “I started this pain that both of us share—shouldn’t I feel it as deeply as she does?”
Sylvan nodded gravely.
“That is your choice, of course. But if you are not going to eradicate or suppress your emotions entirely, may I suggest that you go to the Sacred Grove and ask one of the priestesses there to cool your blood?”
James frowned.
“As you know, I don’t believe in the Goddess as most Kindred do. It is not logical to think that there is some divine being who created us all and cares for us still.”
“You don’t have to believe in the Goddess to get your blood cooled,” Sylvan told him gently. “Any priestess can do it for you. It isn’t always a pleasant process, but you will feel calmer afterwards. It strikes me that, having had no emotions your entire life, it must be very difficult for you to deal with them now—especially such heavy ones.”
“It is…more painful than I could have imagined,” James admitted. “But I still feel like it’s a pain that I deserve.”
“Just think about it,” Sylvan urged. “And I’m not going to punish you by kicking you out of the Elite Corps—it sounds to me like you did the right thing, in the end.”
“Did I?” James shook his head. “I just don’t know.”
He left the Commander’s office still feeling uncertain…and missing Ka’rissa more with every moment that passed.
49
James didn’t go back to his quarters. Instead, he wandered the halls of the Mother Ship. But everywhere he went, he seemed to see glimpses of Ka’rissa. Some of the Earth women aboard who had been called as brides had the same creamy brown skin tones she did—though none of them had the pearly sheen her Royal blood gave her. Still, any reminder of her was an agony. He ached to hold her again and yet he knew he never would.
He kept seeing her lovely amber-brown eyes looking up at him so pleadingly…kept hearing her soft voice saying, “I love you…I shall always love you.”
She loved you and you left her behind—you gave her away to another male, whispered an accusing little voice in his head.
But I had to! I couldn’t let her abdicate her throne for me—it would have been wrong to take her away from the life she was born to lead just because I loved her. And it wouldn’t have worked to try and Join with her on Regalia Five, either—it would have caused tensions between her people and mine and possibly a bloody revolt on her planet. How could I condemn others to die just to satisfy my own carnal lusts?
But it hadn’t just been lust between them—although he loved to stroke and hold her lush, full body against his own, James thought. He had loved her soul as well—her soft, silvery laugh, her innocence, her curiosity—everything about her had called to him. Everything about her made him love her.
I love her, he thought, feeling the truth of it to the core of his being. This emotion inside me must be love—I want to be with her, hold her, protect her, care for her always. But I never will—I will never have her. She belongs to another.
It was a terrible thought and it refused to leave his head. It just went round and round inside his brain until he wondered if this new condition was what going mad felt like. And if so, would he ever be sane again?
After hours of aimless wandering and intense mental suffering, James looked up and found that he was right outside the Sacred Grove. It was a small forest of trees with green and purple leaves that rustled in the soft, evening breeze.
He had never been here before—as a nonbeliever, he had never felt the need to come to the epicenter of the Goddess’s worship. But now he remembered Commander Sylvan’s words about how the priestesses here could cool his blood. Should he do it? Should he ask for the cooling touch?
Surely it would be all right, he told himself. After all, he wouldn’t be getting rid of his emotions entirely—he would just be calming them down some. He felt that if he didn’t get some relief soon, he was going to do something completely unacceptable—like shouting at the top of his lungs or maybe even pulling out his blaster and shooting himself.
Yes, the emotions were that bad.
But what if Ka’rissa felt the same way, back on Regalia Five? She had no priestess to cool her blood and her blood was literally on fire. Even now she might be submitting to Lord Shammington, who would be slaking her Heat, since it was their wedding night…
But the thought of that—of the female he loved with another male—was too much to bear. James fell to his knees in front of the Sacred Grove, his hands pressed to the sides of his aching head, trying to shut out the mental image of Ka’rissa and the smug young Lord Shammington in bed together.
No one should slake her Heat but him, damn it! But he had left her to Lord Shammington. Even now, he was probably taking off the elaborate wedding gown she’d worn to the ceremony and running his hands over her creamy brown skin… No…no!
“Make it stop,” he begged hoarsely, though he didn’t know who he was talking to. “Gods, please—make it stop!”
“Warrior, your pain has been heard.”
The soft voice came from above. Looking up, James saw a priestess standing over him. She had long brown hair with green streaks in it and the green-within-green eyes that were common to her kind. There was a commanding presence about her, as though she was used to being in charge.
At this point, James was very happy to let her take charge of him—if she wanted to.
“Please,” he said hoarsely, looking up at her. “I am…suffering emotional pain. It is much worse than any physical pain I have ever experienced and I do not know how to deal with it. I was told that one of your kind could cool my blood.”
“I can, Warrior.”
Leaning down slightly, she placed cool fingertips on his temples and James felt the uncomfortable sensation of someone looking through his memories. It was like she was rifling through his brain—though thankfully, she had a light mental touch.
“I see…I see…” she murmured. “Yes, you have so much pain and you have never felt anything like it before. You have lived your life in numbness…blankness. But that is not the Goddess’s will for her children.”
“I…I am no child of hers,” James admitted. “I am an unbeliever.”
“Just because you do not believe in The Mother of All Life, does not mean she doesn’t believe in you,” the priestess said gently. “She—” She stopped abruptly and her entire body went stiff. Then her green-within-green eyes began to glow. “Yes, Goddess,” she said, staring blindly ahead. “Use me as your vessel to speak to this Warrior.”
“Priestess?” James looked up at her uncertainly. What was happening?
“Warrior.” The voice coming from the priestess now was different—it was richer, stronger, though still completely feminine. James found it surprisingly familiar. “Warrior,” she said again. “Do you know me?”
Suddenly he remembered where he had heard the voice before.
“You warned me when Ka’rissa was about to drink the poisoned tea!” he exclaimed, looking up at her in awe.
He hadn’t stopped to think much about the incident before—mainly because the idea that he had heard a disembodied voice made him uncomfortably aware that his logic circuits might be malfunctioning due to his growing emotions. But now he realized that the voice hadn’
t had anything to do with a malfunction.
“It was you,” he said. “Are…are you the Goddess? Do you truly exist?”
“I am and I do,” the Goddess said through the priestess. “You have come here for healing, thinking that your mission on Regalia Five is over. But I tell you, Warrior, it has only just begun.”
“What?” James looked at her uncertainly. “I am sorry. I…I do not understand.”
“All is not what it seems on Regalia Five,” the Goddess told him. “A cry for help will come to you soon—you must be ready to act.”
“I don’t understand! Is Ka’rissa in danger? What do you mean, Goddess?” James demanded.
But at that moment, the priestess’s eyes stopped glowing. She blinked and took a step backwards.
“Ah, I have never hosted the Goddess before,” she whispered, sounding overcome with emotion. “To be so indwelled is…an intense experience.”
“Did you hear what she told me? Did you understand it?” James demanded. “If you did, please explain it to me!”
The priestess shook her head.
“I am sorry, Warrior, but I am only the mouthpiece of the Goddess in this situation. I do not understand her words any more than you do.”
“She told me to be ready,” James muttered. “She said there would be a cry for help.”
“Then you had better go and get ready,” the priestess said simply. She put a hand to her head. “Excuse me—I must go and lie down.”
“Thank you,” James told her. “I must go as well.”
He was going to heed the Goddess’s words and be ready—though what he was meant to get ready for, he didn’t know.
50
Rissa put on her wedding night peignoir in a kind of daze. It was a silky, virginal white and it seemed to float around her body like a cloud. Under the fine, soft material her glowing points could be clearly seen, advertising the fact that her Heat Cycle was ramping up again.
Less obvious, but still visible to the discerning eye, was the Chastity Device with its thick metal belt and the silver plate that ran between her legs. Lady Mildew had given Lord Shammington—now Royal Consort Shammington, Rissa reminded herself—the remote which released the locking mechanism earlier. She had made a whole little ceremony of it, presenting it to him like she was handing him Rissa’s virtue and virginity on a silver platter at the same time.
“My Lord,” she had said, curtseying low as she held out the small black remote. “This is the one and only mechanism that will release the Princess’s Chastity Device. Please take it and use it when you wish to have her in a carnal fashion, as it is right and correct for a husband to do.”
Her new husband had received the remote gravely.
“I thank you, Lady Mildew, for guarding my new bride’s chastity and virtue so carefully until I could claim her as my own,” he said to the older woman. “Your many sacrifices as you watched over her will not be forgotten.”
Lady Mildew had seemed extremely pleased by his words. She left the honeymoon suite with a triumphant glance at Rissa as if to say, See? I win!
If her old chaperone’s idea of winning was handing Rissa over to her new husband to do with as he chose, then Rissa supposed she was correct. Lord Shammington now had the right, as her husband, to have her any way he wanted. She supposed that was the point of the gauzy white peignoir which she had been given to wear. It was sensual and virginal at the same time—a symbol of her virtue and also her willingness to submit to whatever her new husband wanted to do to her sexually.
I know what he wants, Rissa thought grimly. Most brides do not have any idea on their wedding night but thanks to James, I know exactly what is going to happen to me.
It was one reason she was delaying in the bathing room instead of going out to join Lord Shammington in the main bed chamber. Though her Heat Cycle was rising and she was beginning to feel slightly overheated, she didn’t wish to go through what was necessary to slake her Heat.
I wish I still thought it only involved kissing with the tongue, she thought desperately as she looked at herself in the mirror. Now I know better—and I want no part of it!
But she could not stay in the bathing room forever, she reminded herself. At some point, her new husband would begin to wonder what had become of her. So even though she wanted to cry and scream and hide herself away, she could not do it. She must go out and do her duty for her planet—she must allow him to slake her Heat and do his best to make an heir to the throne inside her.
Maybe it won’t be so bad, she told herself. At least I will get this horrible device off of me and this terrible plug out of my channel!
Although, how could she bear to have a male’s shaft sawing in and out of her when she was so tender from wearing the awful thing for a whole week? Surely it would be horribly painful!
But painful or not, Rissa was quite certain she couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer. Maybe if she closed her eyes and imagined James as the deed was done to her, she could bear it.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped out into the opulent main chamber.
Lord Shammington was lounging on the gold velvet couch before the fireplace, popping expensive gourmet bonbons into his mouth. He barely even looked up when Rissa came out, preferring instead to peruse the golden box he held, looking for the perfect bonbon for his consumption.
Rissa cleared her throat uncertainly.
“Husband?” she said, and her voice went high and uncertain on the word. It felt so strange—so wrong—to be calling him that.
“Mmm?” Lord Shammington looked up at last, a preoccupied expression still on his face. When he saw her fully, he smiled. “Ah my darling, don’t you look lovely,” he said. Putting down the box of bonbons, he came to take Rissa’s hands in his own.
Rissa couldn’t help noticing that without the high, buckled shoes he had worn at the ceremony, he was barely an inch taller than her. Also, when his breath blew in her face it had an oddly familiar scent. Under the expensive chocolate of the bonbons was a faint smell of…
“Were you smoking a cigarillo just now?” she blurted.
“I went out on the balcony for a smoke—indeed I did.” He nodded at the tall glass doors which were still open to let in the evening breeze. “What of it?”
“Nothing.” Rissa shook her head. “It just…reminded me of someone.”
“Someone nice, I hope.” He smiled at her.
He had not yet taken off his wig—they still wore them, apparently, in the Second Court—and now a sting-fly came buzzing in through the open doors to hum around his head. Such insects were common enough—they were attracted by the sweet, perfumed powder used on the elaborately curled wigs. But if they lighted on one’s exposed skin, they often gave a painful jab with their barbed stinger.
“Oh, look out!” Rissa exclaimed, batting at the fly. “Do be careful—they sting!”
She succeeded in knocking away the fly but at the same time, she accidentally knocked the powdered wig off her new husband’s head.
“Watch out, you little fool!” Lord Shammington exclaimed. “You must be careful!”
But even as he spoke, his whole appearance changed.
The moment the wig came off his head, he lost his youthful look. Wrinkles grew around the corners of his eyes and mouth and his formerly white teeth went yellow. He no longer looked like a fine young man—he appeared, instead, to be a man in his late forties…a man Rissa knew.
“Oh!” she gasped, putting a hand to her cheek. “Duke Grabbington!”
51
“Yes, my dear, it is I.” Duke Grabbington advanced on her, grinning evilly as he did so. “I was going to try and preserve the illusion a little while longer, but now that we are married, I suppose there is no need for secrets between us.”
“But you…how did you…?”
Rissa shook her head, so horrified she could not even go on.
“How did I give myself a whole new appearance? Simple my dear—with a bit of alien
technology. See this?” Stooping, he lifted the wig she had batted off his head and pointed to a small white sphere embedded in the very front of it. “This is a Likanthian projection bead. It projects a three-dimensional image which completely covers one from every direction, providing seamless camouflage for the wearer. In this case, myself.” He grinned toothily and put a hand on his chest. “Turning me into a dashing young Lord from the Second Court and a perfect suitor for the hand of the Princess.”
“You…you cannot do this!” Rissa still felt stunned. “You cannot get away with this deception!”
“Ah, but I already have, my dear! All the world now knows me as Lord Shammington, Royal Consort to Princess Ka’rissa—soon to be King to her Queen, as soon as I convince that fool, the Steward, that I possess enough Royal blood to be more than just a consort. He should be easy to convince—he would much rather have a man ruling the planet than a woman, anyway—which is why he dillydallied in finding your mother a suitor until she self-immolated.”
“That will never happen—you will never rule Regalia Five!” Rissa protested.
“Indeed I will.” He took a step towards her, grinning even wider. “I shall have everything I ever wanted—power and wealth beyond measure. Not to mention a lovely bride.” His eyes roved over her body greedily, making Rissa feel sick.
“Stay away from me!” She took a step back from him. “We…we are not properly married, since you took your vows under false pretenses and a false name and appearance,” she added, wrapping her arms around herself to try and hide her points.
To her surprise, the Duke didn’t try to pursue her.
“Very well,” he said and shrugged, as though it didn’t matter a bit. “I shall leave you quite alone, dear Princess, as that is your wish.”
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