The Consort (Tellaran Series)

by Ariel MacArran

  “Did you love Kinara when you married her?” Kyndan asked suddenly. Kinara had agreed to be Aidar’s mate to win freedom for her enslaved crew, Nisara and Tedah among them. But Kyndan had never really thought about why Aidar had married a Tellaran slave.

  Aidar’s dark eyes were lit from within. “With such depth I cannot even speak to it.”

  “That’s good,” Kyndan said quietly. He tilted his head. “So if I marry Alari I’ll become part of the Imperial family, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And once I’m the princess’ consort you’ll have to bow to me, won’t you?”

  Aidar’s face mouth twitched in amusement. “I would.”

  “Don’t worry, Aidar.” Kyndan grinned. “I’ll make sure you’re front and center for the wedding.”

  “First rule of combat is to know you are going to win.”

  Kyndan recalled hearing Lieutenant Deril say that on his first day at the academy. The man was a windbag but he knew his stuff.

  “Have confidence that, no matter what,” he’d said to the class, his Leman accent giving his words a clipped, harsh tone, “you will prevail.”

  Kyndan stepped into the arena, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d learned long ago at the academy how to get out of his own way, to go beyond the fear, how to trust himself and his training to handle anything he came up against.

  I will win.

  I just need to figure out how . . .

  The circular arena had a dirt floor and was surrounded on all sides with stands for an audience. In the center, brightly lit from above and marked with stones to show the boundary, was the Circle. He couldn’t cross the stone boundary by more than a step; to do so meant being cut down by warriors who waited outside in case of such an occurrence.

  Run, you shame your clan and they kill you anyway.

  Once Kyndan stepped inside the Circle he would win or he would die.

  At least it’s a nice turnout.

  The stands were more dimly lit, filled to capacity and then some. There were many more outside who pressed forward at the arched exits, peering in from the corridors outside. The empress was easy to pick out; she commanded the very center of the stands and sat surrounded by her advisors and attendants.

  He spotted Kinara and Aidar on the right. Tedah was there with them, Lianna at his side. The three looked grim but Kinara looked sick with fear. He’d asked Aidar to keep Kinara outside. In her condition she didn’t need to be watching this, but clearly his brother-in-law had lost that argument.

  Knowing Kinara, Aidar probably lost a lot of arguments.

  A single other light burned as brightly as the one lighting the Circle. Directed down it illuminated an observation balcony over the space.

  Alari stood there, alone.

  Her posture was straight, her head held high, but she gripped the rails so tightly even from here Kyndan could see the tension.

  Jazan entered at the same time from the other side of the arena. Dressed as Kyndan was, in loincloth alone, the man was a mass of muscle and scars.

  With Kyndan her chosen, Jazan was the challenger. As such, Jazan went first to stand in front of Alari. She said something to him but from where Kyndan stood he could not make it out.

  Whatever it was, made the warrior’s lip curl and he stalked away to take up his place in the Circle opposite from where Alari stood.

  As her chosen, Kyndan went second to stand before her. He would start the fight from this position, standing in front of her, standing as her protector.

  She looked so fragile up there, so alone. It wasn’t right that Alari should have to watch this with no one to comfort her. She deserved better care.

  Kyndan gave a bemused half smile as he took up position beneath her. When did I start thinking of her as mine?

  “Tell them,” she said hoarsely. Her dark eyes were wide as she looked down at him, her lower lip trembling. “Tell them you do not wish for this challenge. He will let you go. He will let you live.”

  Kyndan had been in battle. He’d been in simulations at the academy where they fracked with your brain so that you didn’t even realize it wasn’t real just to test you. And when he’d entered the Fleet he’d accepted the possibility that he might die but he wasn’t really willing to.

  He’d always held something back.

  But this wasn’t a fight for ideals or territory or because he was ordered by some data pusher back at Central Command. If he lost here Alari was going to spend her life with that brute.

  This was for her.

  And he wasn’t going to hold anything back this time.

  “I’ll be a good mate,” he said simply then he turned to face Jazan.

  He really is a beast.

  Half a head taller and with biceps the size of Kyndan’s thigh, the man was massive.

  He’s got height, strength, weight and reach on me. He’s been training with a sword since he was eight and this is my first time even holding one.

  What are my advantages here?

  Kyndan drew his breath in and let it out slowly.

  Right, none. How can I win anyway?

  That Aidar had asked to have a month for him to teach him the rules was ludicrous. Kyndan hadn’t even needed the whole hour to get them. Basically they were: step into the Circle, don’t step out, kill the other guy.

  Well, I’ve managed two so far.

  At some unknown signal Jazan suddenly broke from his position opposite. Kyndan tensed, gripping his sword in the en garde position, but the Az-kye didn’t rush him.

  Instead Jazan slowly arced toward him. He moved back and forth, pacing like a Leman mountain cougar, his brows drawn low over his angry dark gaze.

  One swing of that starblasted sword and this is over. Why is he waiting to attack?

  Kyndan’s eyes narrowed, sizing up the warrior as Jazan paced toward him. Jazan held his sword like it was an extension of his arm, graceful despite his bulk, wielding the blade as if the thing weighed nothing at all.

  Jazan was a heartbeat from pinning him against the boundary stones right beneath Alari. Kyndan darted quickly to the right to get some space between them.

  Damn it, he’s got to have a weakness somewhere!

  “I’m surprised you agreed to fight me at all,” Kyndan threw out.

  Jazan’s lip curled in disgust. “I should not have to.”

  “You don’t,” Kyndan pointed out. “I’ll let you walk out of here right now. All you have to do is give up Alari.”

  “Think you I would let you take my place as consort?” Jazan jeered. “You are stupid as well as honorless, Tellaran.”

  “You don’t know anything about Tellarans,” Kyndan snapped.

  Quick as a coiled snake Jazan struck and with the very tip of his sword cut Kyndan’s face.

  It happened so fast Kyndan scarcely had time to blink.

  He stumbled back, his cheek stinging, and Jazan took up pacing in front of him again.

  He could have taken my eye. Gods, he could have cut my throat before I even had time to block!

  “You are weak,” Jazan scoffed. “You are nothing.”

  “And you’re losing,” Kyndan threw back, adjusting his grip on the sword.

  Jazan’s blade suddenly sliced his right forearm like a hot knife through tararoot mousse. Kyndan drew his breath in sharply at the pain. He risked a quick, foolish glance to see that it was a flesh wound and not deep at all.

  What the hell is he doing?

  “Am I losing, Tellaran?” Jazan mocked.

  “It’s true,” Kyndan gasped. “You—all the Az-kye—are losing to the Tellarans. That’s why your empress is finally willing to talk peace. Your ships are too slow, your society based on stagnating, outdated rules. We outgun you now. In a few generations the Az-kye Empire will fall to dust.”

  “It is the Tellarans that will fall,” Jazan snarled. “You are barbarians. You are like animals.”

  “Maybe that’s why Alari wants me instead.” Kyndan smirked. “Because some Tel
laran seed is exactly what your royal line needs.”

  With a casual flick of the blade Jazan cut his left thigh open.

  Kyndan let out a howl of pain as his leg collapsed under him. Face down in the dirt, curled in agony, he barely kept hold of the sword.

  Nausea roiled his stomach and Kyndan was coughing against the powdery dirt. Only pure survival instinct got him halfway up. Dimly he was aware of the audience getting to their feet and Kinara screaming his name. Blind with pain, he was crawling away when his hand hit against a black stone.

  Something about that stone was important.

  Certain-death-like important but he couldn’t remember what the hell it was.

  Right. Second rule. Don’t cross the boundary.

  But now he was trapped against the stones. He pressed his palm on the cool black surface of the boundary, willing the coldness, the hard solidness of the rock, to steady his mind and let him think.

  Somehow it penetrated through the pain and fear fogging his brain that Jazan hadn’t killed him yet.

  Why the frack not?

  Gritting his teeth, Kyndan pushed against the stone, using it to help him get to his feet. Sweat was running into his eyes and Kyndan hefted the sword out into a weak en garde position but Jazan wasn’t anywhere near him.

  Az-kye warriors didn’t smile or show emotion except in private and in the company of those they were closest to. The Circle was one place that social rule didn’t apply.

  But considering the sadistic smile on Jazan’s face now, Kyndan really wished it did.

  Jazan waited on the other side of the Circle, apparently content to let Kyndan get to his feet before the warrior finished filleting him.

  Hey, I’ll take whatever I can get . . .

  Kyndan couldn’t keep from groaning in pain as he staggered away from the edge of the Circle towards Jazan. He hadn’t landed a single hit or even blocked an attack but he raised his sword anyway.

  “You know, I didn’t get a chance to ask,” Kyndan got out between teeth clenched in pain. “Will I have any official duties as consort or is bedding the princess my main responsibility?”

  Jazan knocked Kyndan’s sword downward, hitting so fast and hard it sent a jarring shock up Kyndan’s arms when the blade met the ground. Kyndan’s sword hit the dirt, then Jazan lifted his massive arm and clipped Kyndan with an upper cut under the jaw with the hilt of his sword.

  Kyndan slammed to the dirt floor hard enough that he saw stars. His face went briefly, blessedly numb.

  Jazan gave him a contemptuous look and stepped back.

  Kyndan blinked rapidly, the arena spinning around him.

  Okay, I get it now. He’s taking the time to humiliate me before he kills me.

  Kyndan suddenly wondered if Aidar would act like this and decided that his brother-in-law wouldn’t.

  This guy’s supposed to be the very best but an honorable warrior wouldn’t do what he’s doing.

  Jazan threw a narrow, gloating look up at Alari. Under the bright light tears shimmered in her velvety eyes.

  Gods, this isn’t about humiliating me at all. This is about humiliating her! He wants her to suffer.

  The numbness was gone far too quickly. His jaw felt like it had been hit with a tarasteel block. His lip throbbed fiercely and he had a hell of a time getting back on his feet. His legs were shaky and he had to use the sword as a lever to get up at all.

  He doesn’t love her. All he cares about is being consort. But he can have that without hurting her.

  What am I missing here?

  He was filthy now. Between the sweat and dirt and blood he was a mess. His leg was throbbing but Kyndan guessed Jazan had deliberately missed the artery so he wouldn’t bleed out.

  Now he just needed to survive long enough so he could enjoy worrying about his wounds getting infected.

  “The palace seems nice.” Kyndan limped toward Jazan. He was shaking with fatigue and pain, his leg bleeding freely as he hefted the sword again. “Good place for Alari and me to raise a family.”

  “I could cut out your tongue but I would have her hear you beg to end it, Tellaran,” Jazan spat.

  “Hey, I’m happy to end it right now,” Kyndan said amiably. “Put down your sword and I’ll let you walk out.”

  “You are an unworthy opponent,” Jazan growled. “I will have not even a scar for this.”

  A scar? He hasn’t even broken a godsdamned sweat!

  “Giving up?” Kyndan got out through his throbbing lip. “I knew you were a coward.”

  “Coward?” Something showed for an instant in the Az-kye’s gaze then Jazan’s face hardened. “I will enjoy killing you slowly.”

  Fracking hell, that’s it! You did something you know a warrior shouldn’t do. And so now you’re not bothering to act like a warrior at all.

  The look in Alari’s eyes when they met Jazan’s—

  “Only a coward hurts a woman,” Kyndan hissed, pitching his voice so only Jazan should hear. “Like you hurt her.”

  Suddenly there was fear in Jazan’s eyes. There was shame.

  It didn’t matter that Kyndan didn’t know exactly what the warrior had done to Alari; he could guess. More importantly Jazan knew what he’d done.

  Kyndan’s teeth bared in disgust. “That you dare call yourself a warrior after what you did tells me that your honor isn’t—and never was—worth a damn.”

  Jazan’s face spasmed.

  “It doesn’t matter who walks out of here. You’ve already lost,” Kyndan taunted. “Because I still have my honor while you have none!”

  Jazan roared and rushed him, swinging his sword to deliver a blow that would cut a man in half.

  An Az-kye warrior would stand tall and accept the end of his life, knowing it the honorable way to die.

  But Kyndan wasn’t an Az-kye.

  At the last instant he sidestepped and dropped. Pain shot through his leg like fire at the movement and he threw all his focus onto bringing the sword across his body. Taken off guard, Jazan tried to stop short and Kyndan swung outward just as the warrior came parallel. And—while it was as clumsy swordsmanship as likely ever seen in any Circle—a cut that deep through the tendons at the back of the ankle would cripple even a huge, hulking beast of an Az-kye.

  And did.

  Howling, Jazan stumbled then fell face first into the dirt.

  Kyndan pushed the tip of his sword into the dirt to heave himself up. He was on his feet in the next moment, heavily favoring his left leg but at least he could hobble. Jazan’s leg was deformed where the bulky calf muscle jumped up behind his knee. He was also losing a lot of blood.

  Jazan arched, his teeth bared and the cords standing out on his neck as he struggled to his knees. The powdery dirt made the air burn in Kyndan’s lungs as he hefted his sword. All he had to do was bring the blade down hard enough now and he’d take Jazan’s head off.

  An Az-kye would.

  Lucky for you I’m Tellaran.

  With a sharp movement Kyndan brought the sword down and struck the back of Jazan’s head with the hilt, knocking the Az-kye out cold.

  Gasping, Kyndan took stumbling steps back. He shakily pushed some of the sweat-soaked hair off his forehead with his forearm and spat to get the taste of dirt out of his mouth.

  The arena was silent around him. Every person in the place was standing, staring down at him.

  Kinara had her hand against her mouth, her other hand gripping her mate’s. Aidar’s face was slack with astonishment. Tedah and Lianna wore expressions of shocked disbelief.

  His breath was coming hard and with slow, painful progress Kyndan limped across the Circle toward Alari.

  He was panting, blood roaring in his ears and only halfway across the Circle when his gaze met Alari’s. She had her hands to her mouth and she was shaking her head a little.

  Frack, isn’t anyone happy I won?

  Alari’s dark eyes went wide.

  And she wasn’t looking at him—

  Kyndan spun and brought up
the sword a spare instant before Jazan, his face savage with hatred and his leg dragging, skewered him. He knocked Jazan’s blade aside and on the back swing caught the warrior across the throat.

  Jazan collapsed at Kyndan’s feet. He twisted in the dirt, making gurgling choking sounds that echoed in the quiet arena, then finally went still.

  The crowd stared down at him in silence. Tedah caught his eye, his expression urgent. Kyndan, shaking with reaction and blood loss, frowned as his friend held a fist out, moved it up a bit, then repeated the action.

  Oh, yeah. I forgot.

  He turned toward Alari and met her wide-eyed gaze.

  Swaying on his feet, Kyndan hefted his sword high in an Az-kye warrior’s declaration of victory.

  Alari gave a sob as the arena erupted into cheers.

  “That festering hurts!”

  Aidar shook his head, a smile playing at his mouth as he worked to clamp closed the wound on Kyndan’s leg. “A warrior bears pain uncomplainingly.”

  “Frack that!” Kyndan snarled, still annoyed that while he’d made it out of the arena on his own, Aidar had to half carry him back to the warrior’s prep room. “Give me a godsdamn pain killer!”

  “I am almost finished,” Aidar said, unperturbed. “You would show yourself a worthy warrior, would you not?”

  “A worthy Tellaran warrior!” Kyndan bit out. “Tellaran warriors get analgesics! Have you even thought about finding me a medtech?”

  Aidar gave a short laugh. “There. The last is placed.” He wiped the area clean and smeared ointment on the wound then started bandaging the leg. “The ointment will ease the pain and heal you quickly. It will be a fine scar indeed.” He glanced at Kyndan’s cheek approvingly. “As will that one.”

  “A scar on my face?” Kyndan exclaimed, his hand flying to the bandage there. “I’ll look like a fracking holodrama villain!”

  Aidar raised blond brows, the old scar that ran the length of his left cheek pulling a bit.

  “No offense,” Kyndan gritted out. “But I’d prefer not to have any scars at all, thank you.”

  “Our healers are very skilled. Do you wish not such trophies, I will fetch you a healer to treat you now so you will bear no mark. I thought you intended to honor Alari, but since you do not . . .” Aidar shrugged as he finished covering the cut on Kyndan’s arm.