by Jayne Ripley
But Darkon still did as she asked. He bowed to her. It was a courtly, elegant bow. It made more tears burn in her eyes, a few of them slipping down her cheeks. How could two males who made her feel so special and wonderful also make her feel so torn up and wrecked inside at the same time? It was so much worse because she cared so much for them.
Nahkar glared at Darkon. “I hope you are happy.”
“No,” Darkon replied. “I’m not.”
They left her, as she’d demanded. After the suite’s doors closed, the silence rang in the apartment. Everything seemed so still. Quiet. Empty. Lost.
She sank down on one of the fluffy couches. She lay down on her side, gripping one of the pillows, and let the tears have their way.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Darkon
The night he spent in his small, simple room in the barracks was one of the longest he’d ever endured. He had avoided the other fighters and ignored their banter. Even though they were happy to see him back, he wasn’t in the mood for camaraderie.
He missed Jennifer. The lack of her presence felt like a hole inside his chest. He felt lost without her. He desperately wanted to make this right.
How could he blame her for sending them away? He couldn’t. They had been acting like children. He was as guilty as Nahkar. He’d felt attacked by his friend. He felt guilty and angry that enemies from his past had returned to threaten the female he adored and put his friend in danger too.
But he wasn’t the only one who had brought them to this point in time. Nahkar’s dalliances with the princess had put them all in danger because of her jealousy. If they stayed on Quasarask Station, one of them would end up dead. And Jennifer would be forced to watch it happen.
He would not allow that.
He’d already planned to escape the station with Jennifer and Nahkar. Now he needed to rush that plan before the next arena show when he would have to kill Nahkar…or the other way around. Now that he’d found Jennifer, he wasn’t particularly keen on dying. And though Nahkar deserved a thump on the head for being a stupid, obstinate, overreacting meat-for-brains, he wasn’t particularly keen on killing him.
Jennifer liked him. Well, so did Darkon. Usually.
As soon as he’d left the suite last night (taking a different elevator than Nahkar, because the two of them were still ready to tangle, even after Jennifer’s rebukes), his mind had gone into overdrive.
The princess, in her arrogance, had made a critical mistake. Giving them the freedom to leave the palace so they could stir up public interest in her death match fight was the one bit of luck that had come out of that frustrating, demoralizing meeting with her.
Once he’d left the palace grounds, he’d taken a mag tram to the Ced Slums, an area he knew it was easy to get lost in. The slums were dangerous, but he’d been in similar places when he’d been working as a mercenary pilot after his exile. He could handle himself.
From the relative anonymity of the slums, he managed to get a message to Masyra, begging her to meet him as soon as she safely could.
His loyal friend met him in one of the starview gallery eateries—a small, relatively clean café serving dulara and liquor with balcony seating where he could look up at the stars or out at the city. Right now he was interested in neither. This eatery was far from the central quadrant, high above the streets of the Ced Slums. The area had fewer cameras and active listening devices watching the imperial civilians, and many of them were broken. Broken on purpose.
Masyra brought food from the counter and slid into the booth across from him. “Try this roasted geshen. It’s terrible for you, but it tastes so groxxing good.”
Wordlessly, he took a bite. It was spicy and savory and hot. She was right. It was surprisingly good. He took a drink of Anduros ale to wash it down. Then he dove right in.
“I have a serious problem,” he told her.
She stopped eating, looking at him hard. “A more serious problem than fighting huge, hungry monsters for the delight of the crowds? A bigger problem than assassins from home coming to fix the problem of an exiled prince once and for all? Please, do go on.”
He snorted. “I’ve missed your sarcasm.”
“You’d be the first. Is this related to the arena fights?”
“Yes. I found out who bought my contract. Omgan Rarda.”
Her curse blistered the air. “I had no idea that scum-sucking bastard was here on the station. He must be registered under a corporate name. I usually know all the major traffic coming and going from Quasarask. So this isn’t good news. Tell me everything.”
He told her everything. Starting with how he’d fallen for Jennifer, losing his heart to the Terran girl, and how he’d brought her and Nahkar into the da’katal. He explained Omgan’s ultimatum. How Darkon was supposed to get himself wounded and Nahkar would storm into the arena to save his life. Only if he didn’t obey, Jennifer would be auctioned off. He explained how he had defied his owner and infuriated Omgan enough, costing him thousands of credits, so that Omgan sold all three of them to Princess Piedasa.
“Skoz me,” Masyra said, her silver eyes flashing with sympathy. “The imperial princess? Wealthy beyond words? Spoiled beyond words? With a nasty streak as wide as a tier-one hangar bay? She owns you? What could possibly go wrong with that?” She paused as if considering her question. “But at least Omgan doesn’t own you anymore. If I know him, you weren’t supposed to be ‘wounded.’ You were supposed to die.”
“I agree. He wants me dead, but he couldn’t resist trying to make money on me. But the princess owning us is even worse. She had a…very physical relationship with Nahkar before he saw Jennifer and was hit with the mara vrhon.” He shrugged. “Nahkar didn’t have a choice in the matter, but now he won’t even go near the princess. He belongs to Jennifer. The princess isn’t very forgiving.”
She sighed. “And you belong to your Terran as well. Because of the da’katal, you are honor bound to defend Nahkar and Jennifer. So this is a difficult situation.”
“It’s worse than difficult,” he said. “Piedasa is changing the rules at the arena. There is going to be a fight to the death between Nahkar and me. For Jennifer.”
Masyra actually flinched. “That is sick. That twisted bitch.” She sagged back in her seat, her expression deeply worried. Then she looked up and met Darkon’s eyes. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t turned your back on those of us who wanted to help you, Darkon.”
Those words stabbed deep, but he deserved it. He should have fought harder against the coup, against his exile. At the time, he’d believed he was doing the right thing. Since Jennifer had entered his life, he’d come to realize he had been wrong. You fought for the people you loved and who loved you. You never let them down or abandoned your duties.
“The last thing I wanted to do was bring down everyone who was loyal to me,” he told Masyra quietly. “I ordered you all to forget about me. Because I didn’t want you hurt.”
“You did. None of us listened. That was the one command we all ignored.” She wasn’t letting him off the hook for a second. “But after you were enslaved because you were listening to your little head instead of your big one, I begged you to let me get together all our ex-patriots and free you.”
Darkon cleared his throat. Getting drugged and kidnapped and then enslaved wasn’t his proudest moment. “I know. And I told you no. I didn’t want you risking your life for me.”
“And I obeyed, even as much as I hated it. I still hate it. Working here, trying to look after you when you’re nothing but a piece of valuable property…it has been hell, Darkon. Now this…”
“I know.” He sighed. “But falling in love changed everything for me. I need to take risks now to protect my mate and my friend. This isn’t political anymore. It’s bigger than just me.”
“Love?” Masyra asked softly. “So the da’katal is a true one then. You feel that strongly for this Terran?”
“I do,” he said simply. “You’d like her.”
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“So you’ve said. If she’s good enough to steal your heart and change your mind, I already do.” She downed the rest of her drink. “Enough beating on you. For now. We need to accelerate our timetable for getting the three of you off the station. How long do we have?”
“The next big arena show is in four days. The only good news is that the princess lifted our confinement to that palace suite.”
Masyra was immediately suspicious. “Is she trying to trap you into making a move?”
“I’m not sure. She says she wants us to be out in public and stir up interest for the deathmatch. Maybe she simply believes we can’t leave the station because of the slave chips inside our heads.”
“Tracking you, hmm, yes. You can’t get through the station’s security and force fields with them active.” She grinned. “But I know how to deactivate them. Slaves that are shipped out from the station need them turned off before they can board outbound freighters. It’s a simple push of a button for someone like me.”
His heart suddenly soared with real excitement and a feeling that they might just pull off an impossible escape. “I still need a ship to fly.”
“Oh, you’ll have a ship. I have a special one in mind now. I just need to do a little tracking before I know for sure. But you can count on me, my prince.”
Darkon glanced around the café after she called him prince. It was pretty empty, with multi-colored neon lights shining over the vacant booths, but that didn’t mean it was safe for her to say such a risky thing. Hearing those words aloud still felt strange. He hadn’t heard them applied to him in so many years that they felt dangerous, almost like a curse word.
“You know that title doesn’t apply to me anymore. It’s risky to even say aloud, so I beg you not to.”
“Risky in other parts of the station. Not here.” Her look was unusually intense, the green neon over their booth shining on her blue skin. “They might have exiled you, but they can never change who you are in your heart.”
He snorted. “That’s just it. I’m not a prince anymore in my heart. I’m just an arena fighter. Just a slave who needs to get his friends to safety.”
“I should slap you silly for speaking that nonsense, but I don’t believe in violence. So don’t tempt me.” Her eyes flashed. “You’re more than an arena fighter or a slave, and you know it.”
“I’m afraid you’re wrong. I wouldn’t know how to wear a crown again. It’s all I can do to try and save Jennifer and Nahkar.”
“With all due respect, Darkyne Matrava, you’re wrong. If you didn’t have the heart of a Quindon prince, you wouldn’t be risking everything for this Terran female and for Nahkar Ka-Razal. You are noble of heart. Maybe it’s time you remember that. Maybe it’s time to fight. To fight the battles that matter.”
He took the rebuke in silence, because what could he say? She was right. He had been playing games and denying this true nature for so long now that he believed he had forgotten it. He’d never wanted to put the people loyal to him in danger. That was why he’d allowed himself to be exiled without staging a revolution.
But look where that had led.
“Maybe it is time to fight,” he said slowly. When her eyes lit up, he gave her a word of caution. “First, for Jennifer and Nahkar. Because Jennifer is my heart now, and Nahkar is closer to me than a brother. Even though he’s an ass. Now, as for becoming a prince again and returning to my homeworld…it is too early to plan for that.”
“That’s fair. I know you don’t want to see people hurt. But without leaders like you who care about people, we end up with this.” She waved a hand around, indicating the station, not just the café. “Imperial family corruption. Citizens who are terrified. An industry of slavery.” She paused, pushing her food around with her knife. “But right now I’ll focus on getting the three of you off this station and to a safe place I know.”
“And you too, if you’re in danger because of this.”
“Not me. Not yet. I know how to get you out of here and cover my tracks, but I need to be working as a controller to do everything we need. Don’t worry about me. Besides, I can’t leave. Not yet.”
He smiled. “I remember. You have someone special. He works at the palace.”
“Yes, and I love him like you love Jennifer. If things get bad here for either of us, if there’s even a hint of trouble, I promise we’ll leave and find you again.”
He raised his eyebrows, worried for her. “Will you be able to find me?”
She gave him a look as if he’d taken too many blows to the head and lost half his IQ. “Are you implying your ex-spymaster who helped get you off Ketera can’t find you again wherever you might hide?”
“No,” he said, chuckling at her outrage. “I’m not implying that at all.”
She eyed him. “Good. But it won’t be hard. Like I said, I’ll be sending the three of you to somewhere safe from imperial eyes and the empire’s control.”
“Are you going to tell me where? Or is this a secret?”
“It is a secret, but because you’re the pr—”
He held up a hand. “Don’t say it.”
“—a person of a certain elevated title and rank by blood who happens to have people loyal to what he stood for, I will tell you. There. I almost said it.”
He sighed. Masyra had always had spirit and a mind of her own. “Where is this place?”
“A moon in the Candora System. Fortress ruins that have been commandeered for ex-patriots of Ketera. You have friends there. You have for years. I won’t say more now. Give me some time to finish making all the arrangements.”
He tensed. “We don’t have much time…”
“I know. But I was already working on getting you out of here. I just have to accelerate the timeline a little more. Don’t worry. This will go off perfectly. My plans always do.”
He reached out and squeezed her hand. Her supreme confidence reminded him of Nahkar. “Thank you, Masyra. You’ve always been a good friend to me and everyone special to me.”
“I know. I’m brilliant. Just keep your head down. Don’t anger that princess. We can’t have anything change before we make our move.”
* * *
Nahkar
He wanted to punch things. He wanted to slice things in half.
That was why he was pushing his body to the limits, fighting against training robots. His swordplay was brutally efficient. More so than ever. He had already hacked apart two training robots and was working on a third.
The pain inside his chest was driving him hard. He wasn’t used to such pain inside him. Not this kind of pain. It wasn’t pain from battle wounds. His heart felt wounded. He hated the feeling, how he couldn’t drive it away.
He had been an ass. A foolish, belligerent ass.
It was Darkon’s fault that Nahkar had behaved that way. If he hadn’t kept so many secrets, this wouldn’t have happened. If he had only trusted them…
So much for Darkon’s threesome. They were supposedly three bound as one, but that clearly wasn’t true. He had forced himself to control the mara vrhon, to experiment with that mad Quindon ritual of da’katal when he had wanted to claim Jennifer for his own. And look what had happened.
He swung his sword with a furious battle shout. Blood Eater’s blade sheared clean through the robot’s metal arm that held its sword. With a snarl, he brought the blade up fast again and sliced off its metal head. The training robot’s head flew through the air, all the while telling him he’d landed a perfect strike and describing the precise amount of force he’d used in his winning swing.
Robots. They weren’t worthy of his blade.
He stood there, covered in sweat and breathing hard. It felt good to be active again. Hopefully, he could purge some of the helpless fury inside him.
It didn’t matter if he had overreacted because Darkon wanted to keep his secrets. Nahkar wasn’t a prince. Maybe that was how princes behaved. Princes, princesses, they were all mad in his opinion. Piedasa proved that. So why
was he so upset that Darkon had proved to be the same? If Nahkar had royal blood in his veins, he would make certain everyone knew it. He would revel in the madness too.
This wasn’t working. Destroying training robots was not satisfying his anger. It still boiled inside him along with his fear that he would lose his mate over this business with Darkon.
“Taking out your aggressions on innocent robots, are you?” Darkon said from behind him.
Nahkar wheeled to face him, alarm rushing through him. He didn’t like how quiet the Quindon could be when he wanted. He should have a tracking alarm built into his face that beeped or something.
He glared at Darkon, who was leaning on his fighting spear and grinning at him. Why was he smiling? He shouldn’t be. He should be as torn up and upset as Nahkar felt right now. It was not fair.
“You,” Nahkar said.
Darkon grinned wider than ever. “Me. Your second favorite person.”
“Why are you here?” he demanded.
“Because it’s time to put this pettiness behind us and act like a true da’katal.”
Nahkar grunted. “I should never have agreed to that. I should have claimed her for myself.”
“I can’t speak for you, but Jennifer’s wishes are all that matter to me. If she wants both of us, I want that too. For her.” He shrugged. “I wish you felt the same.”
That rocked him back on his heels as fiercely as any punch. In his heart, he only wanted to make Jennifer happy. He knew she cared for Darkon deeply. Darkon had been his friend. No, if he was honest with himself, Darkon was still a friend. He didn’t like that Darkon had put Jennifer in danger and kept secrets from them, but Jennifer had been right. His friend had faced an impossible choice.
Soon they would have to face each other in the arena or condemn Jennifer to a horrible death. The thought brought his heart even lower. Was his anger toward Darkon only an excuse? A way to distance himself from his friend because they would have to face each other, trying to kill each other in front of billions of watching citizens?