by Pippa Jay
At Quin’s reluctant consent, he hauled the Salusian to his feet, pulling his arm around his shoulders and placing one arm around Keir’s waist. Heads down and Keir stumbling, all four headed for T’reno’s vessel, dodging crossfire. Two of the commander’s men provided them with cover until they were safely sealed inside and T’reno led them through a narrow corridor to the medical unit, solicitously waving the medic away from himself to deal with the Salusian first.
The medic, a female Metraxian with her greenish scales edged in gray, instructed S’rano to lay Keir down with the help of the two soldiers. Quin stayed at his side, placing a hand on his chest as he groaned. She held his hand as the medic examined the wound, his grip clenching tight as fresh pain lanced through him at each touch. Working with silent efficiency, the medic cleaned his injury, spraying liquid skin over the area to seal it and stop the bleeding.
“Can’t you give him anything for the pain?” Quin asked.
The medic blinked her red eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t know enough about his metabolism,” she said. “I don’t want to poison him.”
Quin had no choice but to accept her decision, as the medic turned away to give the injured commander her full attention. Brushing the hair back from Keir’s forehead, she rested her palm against his face.
“Do not do this,” he warned her. “I am fine.”
“No, you’re not,” she argued. “That shot was meant for me. You can at least allow me to take some of the pain.” She placed her other hand against his face and sank into his mind despite his resistance. As she had done on Salusan, she took as much pain as she could without collapsing, and was relieved to see him relax a little.
“You promised no heroics,” she rebuked him.
Keir managed a slight smile, taking her hand in his own. “I would not have done it if I had known what I was doing,” he said, making her smile despite herself. “Saving you seems to be a habit I cannot break.”
“My lady?” T’reno murmured at her side. “I must talk with you.”
Quin threw him what she hoped was a resentful look, loath to waste a moment in his company while Keir needed her. “I’m not sure I want to listen to you,” she said, her voice almost a growl.
The commander looked away and she noticed for the first time the tears in his uniform where the medic had ripped open the shoulder.
“I am sorry, my lady. I was trying to reach you before R’hellek.” He met her gaze then. “He had been told that dead or alive was acceptable.”
Keir’s grip on her hand tightened and she touched his shoulder in reassurance. “I’m sorry, T’reno, but that still doesn’t mean I’m going to trust you.”
“I have given you no reason to.” He made a brushing off gesture with one hand, shaking his head. “I was in too much haste and now your companion has been hurt.”
“If you had taken the time to explain…” S’rano reproached him.
The commander glared at the islander and his tone sharpened. “I could not explain in front of others. This was a matter for the royal court.”
“Please, this isn’t the time.” Quin turned to S’rano. “This is the second time you’ve saved our lives and I wish there was some way to reward you for it.” She sighed. “Instead, I’m going to have to ask for another favor. Would you come to the palace with us?”
T’reno made a sound of protest but she silenced him with another gesture.
“I would be honored,” the captain said, a hint of smugness in his demeanor.
T’reno relented, as she knew he would. “May I speak to you now?” he asked, impatience returning to his voice. “There is no more time to waste.”
Quin gazed down at Keir, silently asking his permission.
“Go on,” he told her. “It will be all right.”
She brushed a light kiss over his forehead and looked to S’rano to watch him for her. T’reno escorted her through a narrow, twilit corridor to the command deck–an incomplete circle of smooth, bronzed panels that enclosed them in a protective metal shell. The outside world was vaguely visible through the thick glass of the curved observation window. The battle was clearly over. Several bodies, both uniformed and civilian, lay scattered across the dock and beach below them.
“Who won?” she asked, sick at the waste of life.
T’reno touched the communicator, a luminous pattern of concentric red rings set in the metallic surface that flared brighter as he spoke. “Status report.”
A discordant voice gave stark testimony. “The remainder of R’hellek’s men have surrendered and are being held in their ship. They will be sent to the detention center once clean-up is complete. Our squad rates one killed, three injured. R’hellek’s rates two killed, six injured.” Quin swallowed, her stomach churning as the numbers were announced. The information was given with no inflection to show that a single death stirred any emotion in the survivors, and yet the death toll continued. “The islanders rate three killed and twelve injured. Our status is secure. Inventory status rates–” T’reno silenced the report by passing his hand over the symbol. When he turned to face Quin, he blanched at whatever he saw on her face.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” she snarled. “The villagers shouldn’t have been involved in this.”
“R’hellek would have the whole planet at war, my lady. This would only have been the start.”
“That doesn’t make those deaths acceptable. What is happening, T’reno?”
He leaned back against the gleaming control panels, his green eyes solemn as he crossed his arms, grimacing at the discomfort caused by his injury. “You wouldn’t listen to my father’s warning. You should have gone home.”
“He said the queen couldn’t be trusted but why would T’rill put me in danger?”
“She has no choice, my lady.” T’reno paused. “I must tell you that my father was murdered the night you disappeared.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she squeezed them closed, a deep pain carving its way into her chest at the news. “I’m so sorry, T’reno,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “He didn’t deserve that.”
“No.” The commander put a hand to his injured shoulder, obviously troubled by it. “I believe it was R’hellek. He knew my father had plans to protect you, even against the queen, so he planted a Langer beetle on him. We found him too late.”
“And what were the plans?”
T’reno gazed at her, a touch sheepishly. “We had you removed from the palace and hidden,” he admitted.
Quin stared at him open-mouthed, shocked by the confession. “That was you?”
“Yes. The Emissary tried to frighten the queen with tales of the death and destruction that follows you. It showed her a vision of a world being destroyed and implied you would do the same to Metraxi.”
Quin gazed at him, recalling T’rill’s questions at the celebration.
Her face must have revealed her heartache and horror and he hastened to reassure her. “She didn’t believe him, of course, but once you’d arrived on Metraxi, we knew it would only be a matter of time before the Emissary made a move against you. We thought if you could not be found, he would search for you elsewhere. As I was appointed to lead the search, I was in a good position to make certain you would not be found.” He gave Quin a reproachful look. “I underestimated your stubbornness and ingenuity. I never imagined you would attempt to escape, or that you would succeed.”
She managed a small smile, despite the gravity of the situation. “You don’t know me very well.”
“Obviously.” T’reno returned the smile but it quickly faded. “When the call arrived that you had been found, R’hellek received the news first but I was able to leave ahead of him, in the hope of rescuing you. Unfortunately, things have changed.” His voice dropped. “I cannot save you from the queen.”
“What do you mean?”
“I received news from the palace en route.” Once again, he could not meet her gaze.
A sudden chill seized her and she knew her
premonition was at hand at last. J’dahzi had been right and she had not listened to him. Innocent people had died because of it. Tension thrummed through her veins. “What news?”
“T’rill’s children have been taken.”
Horror poured down her back and clenched her heart. “No…” She shook her head. T’rill’s daughters were so young, so innocent. “Powers, who would do such a thing?”
T’reno eyed her in silence, and a terrible possibility claimed her. “The Emissary did this?”
The commander nodded. “He has issued her with an ultimatum. To surrender you to him, or lose her children one by one for the next three days.”
Without thinking she was on her feet, anger and fear pounding a hot, hard rhythm in her chest. She snatched a breath, then another. The words would not come, jumbling in her mind into a blind panic. Shaking, she stared down the corridor to where Keir lay in medical.
Hades, what do I do? What can I do?
“Quin,” T’reno said.
She looked at him, unable to respond. Her thoughts were a maelstrom of wild ideas, of resentment at being trapped in this way, of fear at what she might be facing. Of understanding, even sympathy for what T’rill must have suffered at facing a choice that was no choice at all. And on the crest of it all rode her concern for Keir. She had to protect him. She would do what she could to see him safe. Because she could not walk away from this and let those children die.
“She did not betray you willingly, Quin.” T’reno grasped her shoulders, perhaps in commiseration, or perhaps he feared she would bolt in the hope of escape. His grip steadied her.
“I…understand her decision,” she managed, even though the words choked her. What mother wouldn’t understand? And, in the end, she had brought this on herself by refusing to leave. She drew a deep breath and hugged herself, trying to hold down her fear. “What about Keir?”
“The Emissary has no interest in your companion. I can promise you his safety. If you will give me your word to come willingly, I will give him my personal protection.”
Quin swallowed hard. Her hands were trembling and she clasped them together. “I give you my word,” she whispered. “I’d like to go back to Keir now.”
T’reno gave his permission with an inclination of his head then followed her back to the medical unit without another word. The captain stood guard by Keir, his expression puzzled as Quin met his gaze but she shook her head at him as if to say it did not matter.
She bent her head over her husband and kissed his brow. Keir reached up a hand to cup her face. His brow knotted as if he had read her distress even with her shields raised. “What is wrong?”
Quin opened her mouth to speak, felt the words dry to ashes on her tongue. She shook her head again.
“What is it?” Keir’s thoughts pressed against hers, demanding admission. “What is wrong?”
Her resolve withered and she allowed him in, let him feel some of her turmoil–her concern for his well-being.
“I have survived worse.” He offered her a faint smile, before frowning. “But that is not all that concerns you. I feel it. Something has happened.” Alarm flickered across his face and his thoughts darkened in worry and resentment. “Do you really believe you can hide it from me?”
Tears squeezed into her eyes. Even though it went against her principles, even though it hurt her heart to do so, she shifted further into his mind, blanketing his thoughts. “Sleep, my love.”
There was a fleeting instant of rebellion, of anger and surprise at her treachery, before he succumbed to her compulsion. As he sank, Quin threaded herself into his mind.
“My love. Please listen to me and understand. Please remember.” She tried to keep her thoughts calm and steady but there was no easy way to say it. “The Emissary has taken T’rill’s children. I won’t sacrifice the innocent on my behalf, so I’m going to him.”
He stirred under her touch, his face creased in pain. “No…do not do this…will not let them take you…”
“Oh, Keir!” The anguish in his voice burned her soul. Already he fought against her imperative to sleep and only the effects of his injury allowed her to keep him under. He was so strong. What should she do?
She concentrated. Keir had the power and the talent to come after her. Short of killing him, nothing would hold him back. He would follow her if he could find the way. The only thing she could do was pacify him until he had healed, and try to prepare him. Perhaps there was a chance. Perhaps he would prove her redemption.
She broke their contact and met S’rano’s questioning gaze, gesturing him to her.
“What is it, my lady?”
“Would you give me your knife, S’rano?” She held her voice calm.
Without hesitation, he passed her the sheathed blade hilt first. Quin stared down at the weapon. The smooth yet scaly casing of the sheath she guessed to be sea wraith hide, the hilt a simple shaft of carved bone that terminated in an open loop and felt stone-cold in the palm of her hand. She withdrew the blade and examined it, a gleaming crescent of polished metal serrated on the innermost curve. Something hovered at the back of her mind. Not a memory, not a conscious idea, but a possibility.
Quin wrapped her fingers cautiously around the blade and focused hard. She drew blue flame from the deepest recesses of her mind, pouring it into the weapon until it seemed to burn between her palms. Taking a steadying breath, she reached deeper inside herself, stretching her powers far beyond their normal limits as she streamed three hundred years of memories into the blade.
When it was done, she forced herself to release the blade, slipping it back into the sheath with a sigh. It left her feeling empty. Strangely cleansed. And yet at the same time fear still shivered over her skin, a ghost of uncertainty haunting her. There was no way to test out her theory. This was a one of a kind experiment.
“Would you make me a promise, both of you?” she asked.
“Of course,” T’reno said, and the captain echoed his sentiment with more feeling.
She turned first to S’rano, her eyes pleading. “Would you look after Keir?”
He nodded firmly, still looking confused.
“Would you also vouch for T’reno?”
The two men glowered at each other, before the captain agreed. “If that is your wish, my lady.”
“It is.” She brushed a strand of hair from Keir’s face. “When Keir recovers, he’ll come after me. Don’t stand in his way but make him promise something before T’reno tells him where I am.”
“Yes?”
“Tell him that, no matter what happens, he must take me home. Make him promise.”
“I will do it, even if he kills me,” S’rano assured her.
“I don’t think he will.” She eyed T’reno. “He’ll probably try to kill you, though. That’s why S’rano has to be there. Keir’s more likely to trust him.” She took off her shell necklace, twisting it around the hilt and fastening the single long shell to the end before passing it back to the captain.
“Give him that, when he’s ready to go,” she said. “T’reno, you will not tell him until he promises, no matter what he does. You promised to keep him safe and I hold you to that.”
“I swear on my life,” the commander vowed.
“Then I’m ready.” She stroked Keir’s hair, letting the black curls slide through her fingers. It had grown unruly again and she had meant to tell him how much she loved it like that. It would have to go unsaid, like so much else. “And now I’d like some time alone with my husband.”
“Of course,” T’reno murmured and both men withdrew.
Quin leaned down and merged into his thoughts again.
“Listen, my love. When you wake, I’ll be gone. You have a choice. Follow me if you must, if you can.”
She tried to project that she wanted him safe, she wanted him to live and not follow her. That she could only face her fate knowing he had a chance. But the potency of his will rejected it all. The faint consciousness of his thoughts clung to h
ers with a strength beyond her own.
“Then you must do as I ask. Promise me.”
“…promise…”
“Swear it! On your love for me.”
“…my love…my life…swear.”
Tears ran down her face. This would cost them both so much, with no hope that either would survive. “When you wake, S’rano will give you a blade. T’reno will show you where I’ve gone. No matter what happens, you must take me home. Do you understand that? You must take me back to Lyagnius, even if all seems lost. Wait for me. Trust me. Swear it!”
“…swear…” Sudden panic flooded his thoughts. “Quin. Do not go!”
“I love you.” With all her power she pushed him back under and his mind sank into darkness.
She spent the short journey back to the palace by Keir’s side, ensuring he stayed under. He would recover quickly, despite the severity of his wound, one of the few benefits of the Sentiac’s ability she welcomed. She stroked his hair, the skin of his cheek, and touched her mind to his. All too soon they were landing and the medic prepared to take him away, accompanied by the loyal sea captain. Seeing him go ripped out her heart and shredded it. She wanted to scream for them to bring him back, to run and hold him in her arms until the end of their forever, just as they had vowed. To howl her grief and rage until the palace shook with it.
“My lady,” T’reno said. His voice snatched her back to reality. Keir’s safety, and that of T’rill’s children, relied on her compliance.
“I know,” she said. “The Emissary awaits.”
Two of T’reno’s most trusted guards brought her before the queen as a prisoner, but left her unbound and stood to either side of her. After all, she had given T’reno her promise of compliance in return for Keir’s safety, and her word had value here. She waited silently in the center of T’rill’s private audience chamber, clasping her cold fingers together to keep them from shaking. Despite the sunlight cascading from the crystal above bathing her in warmth, she shivered.
T’rill stood opposite her, within arm’s reach, her proud eyes downcast. The kidnapping of her children had clearly stripped all of her majesty, leaving the monarch a shadow of her former self.