by Mina Carter
He was blond.
The Lathar were almost universally dark-haired so to see one with what looked like peroxide blond short hair was startling to say the least. He moved with a dangerous grace, his heavily muscled body covered in tattoo-like designs. He wasn’t young, his face lined with experience and a large scar carved a line over one cheek.
Reaching Kenna, he put a big hand on the pistol and pushed the muzzle aside. “No one will hurt the K’Vass warrior, little…” He looked down at her, then further down, taking in every aspect of her appearance. “You are one of the humans?”
Kenna refused to let go of the pistol, and a short struggle ensued, but the light-haired warrior won in the end and simply held the weapon out of reach.
“They are indeed,” the Emperor strode forward, arms outstretched, “and they are welcome in my court.”
He paused to cast a quick glance at the fallen warrior Karryl had pinned. With a curl of his lip that showed his disgust, he motioned for the warrior to rise. He did, slithering from Karryl’s grip.
“You are a disgrace, J’aett R’Zaa. Using your warriors to end a challenge match in such a manner,” he sneered. “Begone from my sight until you can conduct yourself with honor and be thankful I have not taken up the challenge on behalf of my kinsman.”
The quick breath Tarrick sucked in told Cat those words were important. Leaning slightly to the side, she whispered, “I thought you said Karryl was related to you on your dad’s side?”
Tarrick nodded. “He is, but by claiming kinship, Daaynal has raised our entire clan above the others, which includes Karryl.”
Cat watched in carefully hidden amusement as the R’Zaa warriors scattered like fall leaves on the wind. They were obviously scared of the Emperor’s wrath, and by the looks on their faces, terrified of the thought of ending up in a challenge match with him. She didn’t blame them, danger and lethality oozed from the man’s pores. Both he and his blond shadow were scary SOBs.
Daaynal turned to their small group and smiled as he spread his arms wide.
“Welcome to our lovely planet, Terran visitors. I apologize for not being here to greet you, but your arrival was a little sooner than expected.” He shot a small, annoyed look at Tarrick, but it was more frustrated affection than the cold fury he’d treated the R’Zaa with.
Cat breathed a small sigh of relief. She had the feeling Daaynal was not a man to piss off.
“We made excellent time, Your Imperial Majesty,” Tarrick replied. “And I assumed you would want to meet the human women as soon as possible.”
“Yes, indeed. Come. Come.” Daaynal shepherded them up the steps and through the now open double doors. Gone was the ice-cold warrior, his eagerness to get them inside giving him the look of an enthusiastic puppy.
They followed obediently, and Cat’s eyes widened at the sheer luxury that met her gaze everywhere she turned. A far cry from the stripped down practicality of their ships, the palace was like something pulled from a dream.
Cool marble, or whatever the alien equivalent was, as far as the eye could see, with high ceilings and murals on the wall to rival any of the old Terran masters. Heavy drapes of gold and silver surrounded doorways and even the guards’ uniforms while the same basic design as Tarrick and his men’s, had embroidered panels, sashes, and braiding. Far from appearing the poor cousins though, Cat caught the guards eyeing the battle-scarred leather with envy.
“Ahh, here we are. Come in, please!” Daaynal shoved open a set of double doors at the end of a long hallway and led them into a large room. High vaulted ceilings met tall windows open to the outside air, drapes fluttering in the pleasant breeze.
The room was occupied, around twenty people lounging on low couches, talking softly. One off to the side was playing what looked like a harp. They were mostly male, but there were a few of the oonat females Cat had seen before.
“Crap, we’ve walked into a TQ photo shoot or something,” Kenna, near the back of the group exclaimed, naming a popular fashion magazine. Cat had to agree. The men were gorgeous with the lean, lithe build of models paired with the natural good looks of the Lathar.
And they left her flat. Utterly devoid of emotion. They were all pretty, but their muscles, while toned, didn’t have the battle-hardened appearance of the warriors. They seemed… soft in comparison.
“Out! The lot of you…freaking useless bunch of ingrates,” Daaynal snarled, and the room cleared in seconds.
Cat watched them go, fascinated. For a culture that revered warriors, finding non-warriors was…strange. Particularly in the heart of the court.
“Who were they?” she whispered to Tarrick, but it was Daaynal who answered, turning to fix her with a direct look.
“Bloody useless. The sons of clan lords and others who owe me fealty. They’re here to ensure their clan’s…behavior, shall we say? Most of them have been at court since they were children.”
She blinked. Now it all made sense. Warriors were dangerous, so if they hostages to ensure compliance, then Daaynal wouldn’t want them trained in warfare.
“It seems…” She paused, looking for the right words, aware the Emperor watched her with interest. “I feel sorry for them. Your culture revers warriors and they aren’t allowed to aspire to that.”
Surprise flickered in Daaynal’s eyes for a moment, then he smiled, looking at Tarrick. “Perceptive. Is this your female?”
“She is, yes. Your Majesty, may I present Sergeant Cat Moore of the Terran base, Sentinel Five.”
Unsure of the protocol, Cat took the hand Daaynal offered and attempted a small curtsy. She wobbled as she stood, catching a little smile on the Emperor’s lips for a moment, but she refused to be embarrassed. How the hell should she know how to greet an emperor, especially an alien one? It wasn’t like the Sentinel program ran “Alien Etiquette 101” or “Family faux pas: what to do when you meet your alien lover’s royal uncle” now, was it?
“A pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Moore.” Surprisingly, Daaynal didn’t have any problems with deciphering human ranks and names. “Do you mind? I’ve never seen a human so close. Are you all this small?”
Stepping closer, he gripped her chin with strong fingers and tilted her head. Despite his size, his touch was gentle, but she did feel a little like livestock being examined. She held still, even though she wanted to squirm. Thankfully though, Daaynal’s touch was impassive, not sexual, which helped her stay in place as he examined her face from all angles. Amusement filled her as she considered asking him if he wanted to check her teeth as well.
“I’m a little shorter than average for a woman,” she replied, noticing he seemed just as fascinated with her hair as Tarrick had been. Perhaps it ran in the family. “But yes, we are representative of female heights. Men tend to be a little taller. Not as tall as the Lathar, though.”
Daaynal nodded, his expression preoccupied.
“And they are completely compatible?” he asked Laarn, standing nearby.
“Totally.”
She could feel the slight tension in Tarrick’s body next to her, as though he didn’t like the other male touching her. Lathar were highly possessive of their women it seemed.
“Good. Good.” Daaynal nodded, his long hair dancing on his shoulders. “Nothing…strange going on down there?”
Her cheeks burned at the question as Daaynal waved at her genital region. He noticed, his gaze snapping back to her and he winked. “I don’t suppose you’d like to strip so I can see for myself?”
“I’d rather not, Your Majesty.”
She shook her head, her cheeks flaming. She had to be beet-red by now. The only person she planned on stripping for was Tarrick. In private though, rather than flashing her pink parts to anyone in the court who wanted to know the differences between Lathar boys and human girls.
“Perfectly understandable,” he said with an easy smile. Charm and looks…add an emperor’s, what, crown…throne…and that was a lethal combination.
“Totally compatibl
e, even with their smaller size,” Tarrick said, sliding an arm around Cat’s waist and pulling her against him now that Daaynal appeared to have finished his inspection.
“Especially with their smaller size.” Karryl coughed behind them, smothering his words.
Cat kept her smile in place, ignoring the comment. She enjoyed that size difference, thank you very much, but she wasn’t about to tell everyone that.
Daaynal turned to Tarrick. “Show me.”
It was an order, no more, no less. Letting go of Cat, Tarrick pulled back his sleeve and removed the bracer on his wrist. The marks were there, darker than they had been. Gasps echoed around the room.
“Fuck me,” Karryl muttered aloud. “Are those what I think they are?”
Laarn stepped up on Tarrick’s other size as the Emperor grabbed his brother’s wrist. “I would need access to the main diagnostic suites in the Healer’s Hall to confirm, but my suspicion is humans are a lost branch of the Lathar. Records indicate that millennia ago, several expeditions were sent out to seed far-flung areas of the universe. Most we kept contact with, but at least three were never heard from again. My theory is humans are descendants of one of these expeditions, genetically adapted to be smaller in stature.”
Daaynal shook his head, his expression one of wonder as he examined the marks on Tarrick’s wrist from all angles. “Of course, whatever you need.”
He lifted his head to look at Cat and once again she was struck by how much he looked like Laarn. With a better sense of humor. “Do you realize what this means?”
She shrugged, shaking her head. “All our bits fit together nicely?”
Daaynal chuckled, the tiny lines at the corner of his eyes crinkling. “No, my dear. It means you and your friends might well be the saviors of our race.”
“You’re getting married? Why didn’t you say so?”
“I thought these dresses were way too fancy for a simple ball.”
“Kenna…what would you know about balls? You bitched for a week straight before the last regimental ball, then got yourself thrown in the brig so you didn’t have to go. Three hours of paperwork you cost me. Three hours! I should’ve just left your ass in there.”
Cat stood by the window in the guest suite of the palace and let her friends’ chatter fade into the background as they put the finishing touches to their outfits.
It was strange to think that a week ago she hadn’t known either Jane or Kenna that well—just to nod and say hi in passing—but now she counted them among her closest friends. After all they’d been through together, she’d walk through hell and back for any of them and she knew they’d do the same for her.
They’d spent the morning being poked and prodded, then scanned and tested by Laarn in the Healer’s Hall, so they had been thankful to escape to their suite for a light lunch.
When they’d arrived, they’d discovered a message from the Emperor that they were all cordially invited to escort Cat to a blessing of her union with Tarrick that afternoon. At the mention of the word ‘wedding,’ even the hardened Marines softened, Kenna diving into the garment bags that had been delivered with a squeal of delight.
“Ha!” Kenna threw back. “Well, look at who’s all dolled up in a dress! Looking to catch some handsome warrior’s eye, are we, Major?”
“Screw you, brat. If anyone’s after catching a warrior’s eye, it’s you. What about that blond hottie? Xaandril or something? He seemed mighty taken with you when we arrived.”
The conversation behind her devolved into good-natured insults and name-calling between the two Marines, who from what Cat could work out, had been friends for years.
The door opened and she turned in a swish of silken skirts as Tarrick’s warriors filed into the room: Karryl, Gaarn, and the quieter Talat. She hid her smile as their steps faltered when presented with the vision of loveliness her friends presented. Because the way they looked now was a far cry from the bedraggled bunch they’d been after the attack on the base.
Military uniform wasn’t the most glamorous at the best of times, but throw in an alien attack, panic, and a stay in holding cells, no one would ever look their best.
Now though, with all the preening and pampering of the styling team the Emperor had arranged—comprised of vaguely insectoid looking creatures who talked, constantly—they’d morphed from not-quite ugly ducklings into beautiful swans.
Like Cat, they wore Latharian gowns, but where hers was the deepest sapphire, theirs were an iridescent platinum. Far from washing out their complexions, as Jane had feared the moment she’d seen them. The shifting color suited all three. Although one size, the dresses were cut cleverly and didn’t overpower. Somehow they managed to give the lithe Jane curves (And boobs. Something she’d remarked on at least twice, to Cat’s surprise. It seemed even uber fit Marines had hang-ups about their bodies. Go figure.) and made the fuller-figured Jess gasp in delight and scurry between mirrors checking herself out. Kenna’s sole worry had been where to stash her purloined pistol. Somehow she’d managed to keep hold of it after the altercation in the courtyard.
“You look…”
For once Karryl seemed lost for words as he approached Jane. Gone was the curt, overbearing manner, and the look of frustration he seemed to have permanently around her was replaced with one of awe.
“You can say it. She looks hot. If I were into women, I’d do her,” Kenna broke in, grabbing Talat’s arm as Gaarn extended his for Jess. Cat noticed Jess’s hopeful glance toward the door. Perhaps looking for a particular healer?
“My lady,” Karryl offered his arm. “Would you do me the honor of accepting my escort to the blessing?”
“I’d be delighted.” Jane smiled and inclined her head graciously. The light caught the tiny silver flowers and leaves the stylists wound through her short hair.
With all the women partnered, Karryl turned to Cat.
“Your bond-mate awaits, my lady,” he said with a small bow that surprised her. He’d never bowed to her before, or called her that. Did her marriage to Tarrick confer status within Latharian society on her or something?
With an out swept arm, the big warrior signalled she should precede him.
“A lady always walks alone to meet her mate, as an indication she has chosen him of her own free will.”
Huh. Interesting, and different from the human custom of giving the bride away.
“And the honor guard?” She pointed out the three warriors.
“To ensure no one interferes with your decision,” he replied, then his lips quirked. “Not even your mate.”
That was a new one. Cat blinked. So they’d gone from slaves and having no choice, to a situation where she seemed to have all the power. All because of a few marks on Tarrick’s wrist.
“And if I decided not to go through with it?”
“Then our duty as your guard is to take you away from the hall, by force if necessary.” Karryl’s smile grew broader, his relish at the idea of a fight clear, but it quickly disappeared. “Although I don’t want to fight Tarrick and Laarn, so please don’t do that.”
Cat shifted her grip on the bouquet in her hands and shook her head.
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of backing out now. A gorgeous guy who actually wants to get married and have kids… do you have any idea how rare that is on Earth? Most men run a mile at the mere thought of commitment.”
All three warriors glowered, their opinion of Earth men obviously not high.
“Earth men are idiots,” Talat rumbled, which earned him a chuckle from Kenna, who patted his arm.
“That they are, handsome. But don’t worry, there are plenty of human women who will take one look at you and beg you to give them babies.”
A distant sound, like a clarion call, stopped the conversation and Karryl urged them all toward the door. “Time to go. We do not want to be late, not with the Emperor doing this blessing.”
“Good luck, Cat!” Jess called, ushered into line by Gaarn as they formed up behind Ca
t.
“Yeah, break a leg!” Kenna offered with a broad grin.
Jane rolled her eyes. “She’s getting married, you idiot, not acting in a play!”
The doors opened and Cat stepped out. A sapphire carpet snaked in front of her so she followed it, her steps in the delicate sandals soundless on the plush surface. Guards resplendent in palace uniform lined the route to the throne room where the ceremony was to be held. They looked ahead, expressions and stances like stone, but she caught a few peeking sideways as they passed. Every now and then, one of the doors along the corridors cracked open and she spotted long-faced oonat servants peering through. Several gasped in delight when they saw her and she smiled, feeling like a real bride.
And she was.
The dress might have been sapphire rather than white or cream, but it fit her like a silken glove, the skirts swishing around her ankles before flowing into a train behind her. Her hair was gathered on top of her head in an elaborate updo, complete with a delicate tiara she’d been told came from Tarrick’s family vault and she carried a bouquet in her hands. The tiny flowers looked like a cross between orchids and cherry blossoms—her two favorites. They were called Herris blossom and were apparently the symbol of the Imperial family. Only royal brides were allowed to carry them.
Huh. Her. A royal bride. Just three weeks ago she’d been convinced that the dire state of her love life meant she was destined to end up a crazy cat lady (substituting real cats with fluffy toy ones, because real cats on a station? Recipe for disaster.). Instead though, she’d hooked herself a hot, alien groom. But Karryl’s words about this being her decision struck deep. Was she ready for this? Did they need to get married formally? Couldn’t they just consider the marks on his wrist an engagement ring and date for a while?
Her heart twisted, rejecting all those ideas, and in one perfect moment of clarity, she realized why.
He’d kidnapped her, wanted her so much, he twisted the truth to get her, then saved her from one of his biggest enemies.