by Anna Argent
While that news was more than a bit unsettling, at least she understood why they’d care about her specifically. “And what do you want with my genes?”
“To power the defenses,” said Warrian. “Your essence is the key that will allow us to protect Loriah.”
She rubbed her temples, wishing that all of this would just go away, and that she’d wake up in her own bed with some kind of brain fever causing all of this. “How? I don’t understand.”
“Each house has its own set of defenses,” said Talan. “To ensure that no one house could infiltrate another, those defenses were locked by the Builders so that only someone of the right bloodline could operate them.”
“But why now?”
Warrian took a step closer as if fearing she might faint. “Everyone else from House Loriah who is capable of powering our defenses is slain. You are all that remains of your family. That is why you must go through the window—go to Loriah and take your place as empress and defender of her lands.”
Isa covered her face with her hands and sagged forward as the implications began to set in. She wanted to believe they were lying, but there hadn’t been so much as a hint of deceit in anything they’d said. Their stories meshed seamlessly, leaving only one conclusion: they were telling the truth. She really was from some other world where a war was raging—where people were dying, hoping she’d come back and save them.
It was too much pressure. She couldn’t even do her own taxes without help. How in the world was she supposed to save an entire planet?
“There’s got to be someone else,” she said.
Warrian reached for her, but let his hand fall at the last moment. “I am truly sorry. You are the last.”
“What about the other children that came here with me? You said there were others.”
“None of them can protect House Loriah. Only your blood will activate the cannon.”
Cannon? Huh-uh. No freaking way was she cut out for that kind of job. “Can’t you just take some of my blood or something? I’ll give you whatever DNA samples you need.”
Talan shook his tattooed head. “That’s not the way it works. Our technology was designed so that it could not be used against us. If blood or tissue was all one needed…”
“Then their enemies could just kill everyone, keep their blood, and take their toys,” she guessed. “What happens if I don’t go back with you?”
“You will go back,” said Warrian, his tone a promise so sharp it hovered on the edge of being a threat.
Isa surged to her feet, shoving her finger against his hard chest. “I’ll go where I want to go. Now answer my freaking question. What will happen?”
Anger was plain on his face, bulging along his jaw and sparking in his slate blue eyes. Those little flickering lights were dancing around, going off like fireworks. “The Raide will gain control over our oceans, and all the island nations within. From there, they will expand into the neighboring nations, spreading across the planet until everyone willing to fight the Raide has been defeated. Countless lives will be lost. Good, honorable people. I will not allow that.”
“And he doesn’t just mean that people will be killed. It’s worse than that,” said Talan. “Those who don’t die will be enslaved. Like the Dregorgs and Cyturs were enslaved and used to fight wars on our world.”
“You mean that thing that attacked me tonight wasn’t your enemy?” she asked.
“They are now,” said Warrian. “But at one time they had their own world. They only kill now because they are forced to do so.”
“Why don’t they fight back?”
“Many have children who are held to ensure their obedience. Those children are raised with no knowledge of freedom—never allowed to learn from their parents. They fight for the Raide because they are taught to do so. When they become adults—when all of the Dregorgs who saw the Raide for who they really are die—there will be no one left to teach their children that there was once another way of life. In the course of a generation, the Raide have an entire planet of beings willing to do as they are told.”
Isa felt sick. The men weren’t lying. There wasn’t even the tart taste of exaggeration in their words. If she didn’t go with them and help, there was no telling the pain and devastation she would cause by her lack of action. But if she did go, she was walking away from everything she’d worked to build, all ties to a place she had always believed was home.
As the weight of that responsibility fell on her, her knees went rubbery. She grabbed Warrian’s arm to keep herself from crashing to the warped floorboards. Her head spun in a crazy circle, trying to absorb the implications of what she’d just learned, and how the course of her life had utterly changed.
Her plans to start her doctoral degree evaporated. The book festival she was coordinating for the spring—the one that had consumed her time and thoughts for months—no longer seemed important. The cute pharmacist that had moved to town and kept flirting with her would be light years away, unable to ask her out even if he did work up the courage.
Everything she’d been working toward would be left behind. Her home, her job, her future. How could they ask something so monumental of her?
But as she looked at the men standing there, and saw the signs of pain and loss dulling their eyes, she realized that they had no choice but to ask her to help. They were desperate—desperate enough they thought she was the answer to their prayers.
Isa began to spin out of control. She clutched onto the nearest anchor of Warrian’s thick arm, not caring how it looked. She needed the reassurance of basic human contact, and if she was going to save their planet, the least they could do was give her that small comfort.
She leaned her head against Warrian’s shoulder and held on tight. For a long moment, all she did was breathe. His scent eased her knotted nerves and reminded her that she wasn’t completely alone. Sure, she didn’t know these men, but they were here. They didn’t seem anxious to run off and leave her to figure this all out on her own. As long as she wasn’t alone, fumbling to figure out what she was supposed to do to keep people alive and free, she would be okay.
His hand splayed over her back, awkwardly at first. Then as the seconds ticked by, he began stroking down her spine over and over while she suffered through the worst of her shock and fear. If not for the tether of his touch, she would have spun away, out of control. Instead, her mind quieted, allowing her to see what was so glaringly obvious.
It didn’t matter if it meant disrupting her life. She couldn’t simply ignore the suffering going on, even if it was an entire world away. She hadn’t been raised there, but she’d been raised right. G’ma had taught her the importance of personal sacrifice and loyalty. Loriah was her birthplace, and even if she didn’t remember it, she still felt sympathetic to their cause. She still had an obligation to do whatever she could.
“So all I have to do is go back with you through this window, unlock your defenses and leave?” she asked.
Warrian stared down at her in silence. He wore an odd look she couldn’t decipher, as if he were in some kind of pain. She wrapped her arms around him, instinctively offering him the same close comforting warmth he’d given her.
Talan’s mouth tightened in disapproval as he stared at where her hand met Warrian’s shoulder. “That’s not how it works. You must operate the device.”
“For how long?” she asked. “How long will I have to stay?”
Talan rubbed his inked head, scowling at Warrian for some crime she couldn’t figure out.
“Why would you want to leave?” asked Warrian, his voice quiet as if he worried he’d scare her. “Loriah is your home.”
“No, it’s not. This is my home. It’s where I belong. I’m not going to let an entire world of people be enslaved just so I can stay here, but if there’s anything in my power I can do to come home once it’s safe, I will. I have a job here, people I love.”
“Love? But—” Warrian began, his brows drawing down in a glower.
&nbs
p; Talan cut him off, speaking directly to Warrian. “We will take whatever help Her Imperial Majyr is willing to offer. For now the vital thing is that we get her to the window before it closes.”
“How does that work?” she asked.
Warrian had gone silent again. He pulled away from her and moved to the nearest window.
Instantly, she missed the warmth of his body and the comfort of his scent. Even with the fire, the old, drafty house was cold. But her chill went far deeper than mere skin, sinking all the way through.
Isa was no hero. She wasn’t equipped to save an entire planet. She had no idea how to be some kind of leader. She didn’t even want the job—she loved the one she had. It was quiet, safe, and completely free of invading aliens. She didn’t think that was too much for a girl to ask.
Talan reached under his jacket and plucked something from his vest. For the first time, she noticed that his vest was covered in small, metallic objects. Each one was finely detailed and intricate, almost like jewelry. He placed one small disk into the center of a larger one. “A window will open tomorrow afternoon a few miles from here.”
She wasn’t sure she would survive the anxiety waiting would cause. What if she changed her mind and decided not to go? She was completely capable of psyching herself out, given enough time. “Why wait? Can we just get it over with?”
“We have to wait for a window,” said Warrian. His voice was gentle, like he knew she was starting to freak out.
“Why not open one now?”
Talan put his devices away. His tone spoke clearly of his impatience with her. “It has to do with planetary alignment. All you need to know is that we have a specific place and a narrow span of time when we can send you home.”
“And if we miss it?”
“Then we have to wait for the next one, but with every hour that passes, more people on Loriah die.”
No pressure.
“Right. We can’t miss the bus. Got it.” Now all she had to do was find the courage to step on that bus.
Chapter Seven
Warrian kept one eye on the perimeter alarms and the other on the empress. She’d suddenly gone quiet after the string of questions, slipping away into one of the bedrooms. The door remained open. He could see her sitting on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest.
At least she was no longer hugging him.
He could still feel her body quivering, inching toward his as if he could somehow make her fear and worry cease if she got close enough. He hadn’t been able to control his reaction. He hadn’t been able to hold himself back from wrapping his arms around her in an effort to give her what she needed. Even with Talan scowling at him.
She didn’t know it was improper for her to cling to him, or for him to touch her for any reason other than to protect her. All she knew was that she’d been tossed into a situation that both shocked and frightened her.
As difficult as it was to hold her close and still remember his vows, in some ways it was a relief to know she was in distress. If she hadn’t felt something—some fear or doubt—he would have worried over her fitness to perform her duties. A cold empress would be a dangerous empress.
Talan sat in the kitchen, eating a sandwich and tinkering with one of the devices he carried on his person. Warrian lowered his voice so that it wouldn’t carry to where the empress sat alone.
“You will not speak of this,” he ordered.
“Speak of what?” asked Talan, his tone sharp. “The way she curled into you like some sort of camp follower? Or the way you encouraged her?”
Warrian growled a quiet warning. “We will provide her with whatever she needs to make the right decision to return home. Of her own free will. I may be able to shove her back through the window, but there is little I can do to force her compliance on the other side. We need her cooperation. She must willingly provide the Loriahan cannon with the power it needs. And if that means we defy convention, then so be it.”
Talan waved his hand, making his ring sparkle. “Defy whatever convention you like. Fuck her for all I care. But you find a way to drive all that weakness right out of her before you send her through the window. She has to be strong. Without her, your people aren’t the only ones who will suffer.”
Warrian’s blood heated at the suggestion that he bed the empress. But Talan’s accusations that she was weak sent a wave of anger through him that overpowered his inappropriate lust. “Mind your tongue. And remember who is in charge here.”
Talan sipped from a glass bottle, giving Warrian a steady stare. “I know the rules. She is from House Loriah, which makes you our leader. Temporarily. But don’t go getting too big for your britches. Your turn to follow orders is coming as soon as the empress is through the window and we’re on to the next mission.”
“Agreed. But until then you do as I say. And I command you to be silent about what you saw here tonight.”
“Suits me. Her weakness will only frighten our people more than they already are. I’m not going to spread that around.”
“She isn’t weak,” said Warrian, trying to keep the anger from his tone. “You can’t expect her to behave as a warrior would.”
Talan frowned, making the ink along his scalp move. The intricate markings changed shape as his skin did, forming new lines and curves, none of which Warrian could decipher. “Certainly no risk of that. I’ve never seen a warrior cuddle another the way she did you. It was a disgusting display of weakness.”
“She did not cuddle me. She merely leaned on me for support.”
“And you cuddled her right back.”
“I did not.”
Talan’s lip curled in disdain. “A true empress needs no help. She is obviously lacking from being raised here. Our chances for survival were always slim at best. Now I’m convinced they’re even worse.”
Anger flared beneath Warrian’s skin. “She will do what’s required of her.”
“She is going to be completely overwhelmed by the situation. The council is going to sweep her away the second she’s through the window. She won’t even know what hit her. They’re going to stuff her in the weapon and expect her to perform. They’re not going to give her time to adjust, to get her sea legs. She’s going to be used. Hard.”
Warrian hadn’t considered that would be the way things would go for her. His sole focus had been on completing his mission and seeing her safely through the window.
The idea that she would be abused chafed him, agitating him until the garala sparked between his fingers with his need for battle. “Are you suggesting there’s another way?”
“No,” said Talan. “What happens to her once she’s back on Loriah is going to happen. There’s nothing any of us can do to stop it. But she has a few more hours before her life as she knows it ends. You should do what you can to brace her for what’s ahead, try to toughen her up and make her at least pretend to be the hope of an entire world. If enough people buy into the lie, maybe it will be enough.”
“There is no gain to be had in frightening her more than necessary by telling her what’s to come.”
Talan shoved back from his seat. “Fine. I’ll go talk to her if you won’t. I’ll lay it all out and tell her how it is. At least that way, when she steps through the window, she won’t start cuddling the first person she meets.”
Warrian shifted a step, blocking the other man’s path. “No. She is my duty. I will speak to her.”
“You’d better not pull your punches, Warrian. Because we both know the council won’t. You send her through unarmed and uninformed, and she’ll be eaten alive.”
Of that he was acutely aware. “I will go to her. I will prepare her.”
Talan shrugged and sat back down to his meal. “Maybe you should feed her too. She’s scrawny as hell.”
That Warrian hadn’t already considered such a basic need told him how deeply the empress had affected him. He wasn’t thinking clearly. His priorities were skewed.
“Do we have soup?” he asked Talan, remembering h
er earlier request for it.
The man nodded his inked head toward a cabinet. “In the metal cans. Already cooked. Just heat it up.”
Warrian poured some in a bowl and took it to the empress. He used the garala to heat it before setting it down on the table next to the bed where she sat. “You should eat.”
She eyed the steaming bowl. “Did you put aspirin in it?”
“No, but I can if it pleases you.”
“No, thanks.” A flicker of a smile played at the corner of her mouth, reminding him of how warm and smooth it had felt against his.
Warrian forced his gaze away, ignoring the stirring he felt within his blood. “You are not a warrior.”
“Uh, okay. I already figured that one out. But thanks for the info.”
“I don’t expect you to behave as one.”
She frowned at him as if he were making no sense. “Good to know, especially considering I don’t have any weapons.”
He was making a mess of this, explaining things badly. He paused, took a deep breath and tried again. “When you pass through the window, you will be asked to do difficult things.”
She picked up the bowl and held it in her hands. The surface of the liquid trembled. “If it was easy, anyone could do it, right? You wouldn’t need me.”
“You will be in a strange place, surrounded by people who will expect you to know things you don’t. They will take advantage of your ignorance.”
“You’re not selling me on the whole window hopping thing, Warrian. In fact, you’re freaking me out a bit.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face and pulled in a long breath. “I’m trying to help you. Prepare you.”
“By scaring me shitless?”
He took the soup from her hands and set it aside. He knelt in front of her and curled his fingers around hers. “You must remember that you are the Loriahan empress, Her Imperial Majyr, Isa Telwyn. No one may harm you without consequence so long as you know to inflict that consequence upon them.”
Her eyes went wide, showing off a turbulent sea of fear. “Someone’s going to harm me?”