The Edge of it All

by Jessica Grayson

  My brother stares in shock at the V'loryn in my arms, still holding my blaster out in front of her. She must have pulled it from my belt without my notice.

  Her eyes are wide and burning with anger as she glares down at his body. "You will never touch anyone again.”

  Lifting her gaze to mine, she holds the non-lethal end of the blaster out to me.

  I shake my head. "Keep it. You may need to use it again before we reach our glider."

  Weakened from blood loss, the Aerilon's gaze is unfocused as she struggles to stand. Rowan moves to help her but she recoils from his touch as if it were fire. "Don't touch me, Mosauran!"

  I understand her reaction to my brother. There has always been a deep level of mistrust between our two species. But we must push that aside for now so we can escape. I open my mouth to speak, but my Ashaya beats me to it.

  "They're here to help us, Tr'lani. These are the good guys."

  She stumbles forward but Rowan catches her before she falls, lifting her into his arms. "Allow me to carry you," he says softly.

  The Aerilon looks up at him through slightly narrowed eyes. "I can walk."

  A small smile twists his lips, no doubt he admires her determination. "As you said, I am Mosauran. Your weight is slight; it is no burden to carry you. We need to be able to run if we are going to escape. I beg you not to be stubborn about this."

  Reluctantly, she nods, and we start for the door. It feels like forever before we finally find the exit. A guard puts his hand out to stop us.

  "Where are you going with these two?" he asks in a booming voice.

  I step forward, lifting my chin to stare down at him. "We bought them from Talel."

  He eyes us warily. "Where is my Lord Talel?"

  Before I can think up a lie, the V'loryn blasts him, and he collapses at my feet.

  Irrationally, given the amount of danger we're still in, I'm practically beaming with pride at her ferocity and deadly accuracy with a weapon. She may be V'loryn, but she most certainly has the heart of a warrior.

  Shouting voices echo behind us. Blood pumps through my veins like liquid fire as we race down the platform across the docking bay. Our glider is just up ahead, and I see the dockworker we spoke with earlier. A mixture of terror and surprise mars his features as we run toward him, and words leave his mouth in a panicked rush. "Your—your ship is ready, my lords."

  "Good," Rowan says. He pauses long enough to tap his wristband at the male's while somehow managing to keep the Aerilon balanced in his arms.

  From the wide eyed look on the worker's face, my brother obviously gave him more than enough credits to cover our fuel.

  We race up the ramp to the airlock. As soon as it closes behind us, we seal the doors and head straight for the bridge.

  I gaze down at my Ashaya. All the color is drained from her face, and her eyelids flutter open and closed as she fights to stay conscious.

  Panic fills me. "Are you—“ I start to ask if she's all right, but she cuts me off.

  She grips my collar with a strength I did not think her capable of in her current state. "I'm fine! Let's go!"

  She struggles to stay awake as I place her in the seat beside me on the bridge. When I tighten the harness across her chest, a small cry of pain escapes her, and her eyes snap open to meet mine.

  "Forgive me," I whisper.

  Breathing heavily, she clenches her jaw and nods before her head falls back against the seat. Her hands grip the chair rails so tightly her knuckles turn white, and I know she must be suffering greatly. Wanting to comfort her somehow, I offer what little words of reassurance I can. "We will contact your people as soon as we are free of the station."

  She doesn't answer.

  Rowan's voice calls out behind me. "Soran, we have to go! Now!"

  With one last look at my Ashaya, I turn and slam into my chair, haphazardly buckling the harness around me as my fingers fly across the controls to spin up the FTL (faster than light) engines.

  A harsh A'kai face appears in the viewscreen. Rage fills me when I realize it's Talel. How is he alive? My blaster was set to kill; I'm certain of it. I glare at him. "You should be dead."

  "That one." He points to my Ashaya. "Her blood. It healed my wound faster than anything I've ever partaken before." He drags his tongue across his lips as if still savoring her taste. "And I've had the blood of many creatures. Give her back to me at once, or else I will order the entire A'kai fleet to hunt you down."

  Fierce protectiveness rushes through me. A low and menacing growl rumbles deep in my chest as I level a dark gaze at the display, baring my fangs in aggression. "You will not touch her ever again. And when her people find out what you've done, you will be the one who's hunted like an animal. You will die for what you've done to her."

  He leans forward, narrowing his eyes. "I might be worried if she were V'loryn. But I've been in her mind, and I've tasted her blood. I do not know exactly what she is, but I know, for a fact, that she isn't V'loryn."

  Despite my shock at his statement, I glance down at the control panel. The engines are ready, and my eyes snap up to meet Talel's evenly so he can see the truth of my words. "I give you my vow as a prince and warrior of the Mosauran Empire. If you come after her, I will end you."

  Before he can answer, I slam my fist down on the panel activating the engines, and the stars begin to blur as we enter FTL travel. Once the autopilot is set, Rowan activates the glider's cloaking mechanism before turning to me. The intense worry in his expression is surely mirrored in mine.

  We are far from the borders of our Empire. And because of this, we cannot send a direct signal requesting aide to our people. Any transmissions sent from this distance, are unlikely to ever even reach Mosaura.

  I turn back to the females. Worried golden eyes meet mine before darting to her companion. "Liana needs medical attention."

  My heart seizes when I notice my Ashaya's limp form slumped forward in her seat.

  I rush to the chair and unbuckle the harness, lifting her into my arms. Her head lolls back and I tuck her to my chest as I race to the door and down the hallway to medical.

  Her hair falls back from her face and my eyes drift once more to the curved shell of her ear. As the scanner moves over her form, I notice a strange pattern of spots only a shade darker than her light brown skin. I should have known she was not V'loryn. But what is she?

  "She's Terran," the Aerilon says, answering my unspoken question. "I've never heard of their race before. She is the first one I have ever seen."

  "Terran." The word feels strange on my tongue. "Where is her home world?"

  She shakes her head softly. "I do not know and...I do not think she does either. Her species has not yet left their planetary system, much less made any contact with other races."

  The scanner zips over Liana's small form as we watch the display readout anxiously. Although she lacks many of their features, I can understand how she could be mistaken for a V'loryn female.

  The Aerilon looks to me. "It will take a few moments. I am Tr'lani of the High Clan of Al'ani." Her voice quavers slightly. "I...I was a Healer back on Aerilon."

  The despair is easy to read in her eyes as she speaks of her former life—her profession. Her use of the past tense suggests she must have been a slave for a very long time.

  I understand this. After having been a slave for so many cycles, it took me a long time to realize that I was still a warrior and a Prince of Mosaura. Placing my closed fist to my chest, I bow slightly. "I am Prince Soran of House Mosaura and this”—I motion to my brother—“is Prince Rowan." He inclines his head in greeting before bowing as well.

  "Thank you for saving us." Her gaze shifts to Rowan. "I am sorry for my reaction when you found me. Our two races have fought for many cycles over the neutral zone, and we've been enemies for so long. I—“

  Rowan interrupts her. "There is no need to apologize. I would probably have reacted the same if our roles were reversed." He cocks his head to the side. "You
are of one of the High Clans on Aerilon. How were you taken?"

  Tr'lani looks down a moment before she lifts her gaze to his. "Zovians invaded the colony I was on. Those they didn't kill, they sold into slavery. The neutral zone between our two Empires is supposed to be protected. If your people and mine could stop fighting with each other, perhaps the slavers would not be able to operate so close to the edge of our shared borders."

  This has always been my concern. I know all too well that traffickers take advantage of the petty bickering between Empires to operate undisturbed in the neutral zones. Rowan opens his mouth to speak, but the scanner beeps that it's finished with its readings.

  Anxiously, I step back, allowing Tr'lani better access to Liana and the med scanner. Her eyes widen slightly as she looks at the display. "The closest match to her anatomy is that of a V'loryn but...there are still so many differences. She is weak from blood loss and has several minor fractures and a broken leg, but I believe she is stable." Taking Liana's smaller hand in hers, she stares down at her friend. A low trilling hum begins in the back of her throat as she whispers,"In'ari."

  Rowan and I exchanged a stunned glance, surprised that she uses this term for one outside of her race. That word is sacred among the Aerilon—a sign of deep and great affection reserved only for clan and family members.

  Tenderly, she brushes the hair back from Liana's face. "She is like a sister to me. We have been through much. She has protected me ever since we met. I would be dead now, if not for her. I have never known anyone so brave or so—” She swallows thickly before continuing, her eyes brimming with tears, "So kind."

  Rowan inhales sharply and my jaw goes slack as my gaze follows his to the 3D scanner display of Liana's injuries. A thick pattern of jagged, deep-red scars mar the full length of her back—a branding from one of her owners. I cannot imagine the level of pain she must have endured when she received these.

  Reaching back, I brush my fingers over a long scar across my shoulder and clench my jaw in anger. Zovian marks can never be healed. They cut their slaves with Hawkan steel and pour silic acid into the wounds to ensure they are permanent. No MRU can heal these—a physical reminder of unspeakable acts of torture and time spent as a slave. She must have been very fierce indeed to have been given so many markings. Only defiant slaves are cut this brutally and deeply.

  As Tr'lani studies the scans, I allow my gaze to travel over Liana. Much like the V'loryns and Aerilon, she has skin instead of scales. It is light brown with pinkish undertones and covered with several small, dotted specks of a darker shade of brown that seem to be a bit more pronounced across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. This strange spotted pigment variation of her outer dermal layer must be specific to her species; I have never seen a V'loryn or Aerilon with spots.

  Tr'lani is silent for so long, it worries me. "Will she be all right?" I ask, mentally bracing myself for her reply.

  She nods. "The MRU is already working to heal her. She's similar enough to a V'loryn that it should be able to repair the damage she has suffered."

  Relief floods my system at her words, and my protective instincts surge as I stare down at Liana's still form through the glass casing. Something inside me recognizes that she is mine, and I both love and hate this knowledge in equal measure.

  The fated mate bond is a gift from the Creator of all things—the highest blessing that can ever be bestowed upon a warrior. And yet, I cannot help but feel that it is also a curse. This bond could mean the end of everything I've ever known. After all I survived to return to my family, I cannot bear the thought of losing them again.

  Rowan clamps a firm hand on my shoulder and meets my eyes evenly. "We must speak."

  I glance back to Liana, reluctant to leave her side.

  As if sensing my hesitation, Tr'lani looks to me, "I will stay here to monitor her."

  Satisfied that my Ashaya is under the care of a Healer, I follow Rowan out into the hallway.

  His brow furrows deeply. "Something is wrong with you, brother. What is it?"

  I look down at the floor as I search for the words to tell him—to explain that which I do not even understand myself. Softly shaking my head, I lift my gaze to his. "Liana is my Ashaya."

  Stunned, his mouth drifts open in disbelief. "Are you certain?"

  "Yes."

  The gravity of my answer hangs heavy in the silence between us. The red-orange scales of his cheek grow pale as he stumbles over his words. "But, she’s—she is not Mosauran. How could she be your Ashaya?"

  I meet his gaze evenly. "I do not know, and I cannot change what is."

  Chapter 4

  Soran

  Rowan begins pacing. He often does this when he's under stress. The fact that he's doing so now means he understands all too well the implications of what I've just told him.

  His eyes flash with worry. "It is forbidden to take a mate outside of our race. You would be Outcast. You are a Prince of Mosaura. You cannot bind yourself to her."

  "I cannot deny this calling. I already feel her here, brother." I thump my fist to my chest, directly over my heart. "You do not understand."

  "You're right," he snaps. "I don't understand. How can you throw away your life for this strange female? A species we've never heard of before? You don't even know her."

  Shaking my head, I meet his eyes evenly, hoping he will understand. "My soul is tied to hers. It is not something I can just ignore or pretend that it does not exist."

  He gives me an incredulous look. "Do you even love her?"

  Do I? I drop my gaze to the floor as I contemplate my answer. I feel protective and possessive of her in a way that I've never felt with anyone else. And yet, I know almost nothing about her aside from the fact that she is as brave as one of my people despite her fragile form. I look back up at Rowan. "How could I? I do not know her."

  "Then, that decides it." He gives me a firm nod. "You cannot give up everything for a complete stranger."

  Despite my misgiving, my soul rebels at his words, and I lash out. "She is not a stranger. She is my Ashaya."

  Roughly running a hand through his hair, he gives me a pained look. "I...I do not want to lose you again."

  His despair echoes my own, and I place my hand on his shoulder. "I do not want to lose you either. Perhaps there is another way. If I can convince Mother to accept her, maybe she can convince the Council to change the laws and—“

  He cuts me off abruptly, slashing his hand through the air in a gesture of frustration. "There is no other way. You know the laws as well as I. You will be Outcast, and I will never see you again." He gestures animatedly to the door and begins pacing again. "She may not even want you as her mate. Have you even considered that?"

  My thoughts drift to the scar on my face and the look in Maina's eyes when she first saw it. All those cycles in slavery, I held onto the hope of not only finding my family, but of returning to her. We grew up together. Although we were not in love, I was honored that she had already decided upon me. She called me her Chosen One...vowed that she'd take no mate but me when we finally came of age. But when I returned, she cast me aside, telling me she could not bear to look upon my disfigurement because it reminded her that I'd been a slave. As if it were something I could ever forget, even if I had no visible scar.

  I meet Rowan's gaze evenly. "Perhaps you are right. She may not desire me as hers."

  He looks at me but says nothing. His pitying expression speaks volumes. He remembers the day Maina turned from me. She turned her back and chose him instead. And although Rowan refused her, something inside me broke that day, and I swore that I would never take a mate. If Maina found me lacking, why wouldn’t another?

  With a heavy sigh, I turn back to the med bay doors.

  Rowan calls out behind me. "Where are you going?"

  "She has been through much. I will sit with her until she wakes. Even if she does not want me, I wish to help her...to help them both in any way I can."

  When I enter the room, Tr'lani l
ooks to me. "She should be awake in a few hours."

  I nod, taking the seat next to the MRU. My eyes drift to Tr'lani's broken wings. "I will sit with Liana if you wish to use the other unit on yourself."

  She studies me a moment before reaching her hand out in the Aerilon gesture of greeting. The instant her skin touches mine, warmth flows from her hand, and a strange buzzing sensation travels over my palm.

  I've heard of this but have never experienced it before now. This is how the Aerilon read someone—judging if their intentions are good or bad. It's not exactly touch telepathy, like the V'loryns and A'kai possess, but it is close.

  When she finally releases my hand, she gives me a solemn look. "I have taken your measure. You are an honorable male, willing to protect us with your life if necessary. I thank you for your protection. I did not expect to find such kindness from a Mosauran."

  I give her a subtle nod, waiting and wondering if she sensed anything else. If she knows what Liana is to me.

  She continues. "The A'kai did not intend to let us live."

  My eyes drift to my Ashaya. I wish I had killed Talel all those cycles ago in the arena. If I had, he and his men would have never hurt her or Tr'lani.

  After a few hours, Liana begins to stir. A soft moan escapes her lips as her eyelids flutter and open. Striking sea-green eyes meet mine, something close to recognition flickering briefly behind them. I'm both surprised and grateful that she does not look upon me with fear as most other races do when face to face with a Mosauran warrior. "Where am I? What happened?"

  I open my mouth to answer, but Tr'lani speaks first. "We're safe. You had many injuries, and you lost consciousness. I treated you and—“

  Her eyes dart nervously around the room. "You're sure we're safe?"

  My heart clenches at the slight quaver of her voice. I remember the cautious hope in my soul when I woke to find Rowan standing over me—the day he rescued me from slavery—wondering if I was finally and truly free. I meet her gaze evenly, so she can see the truth of my words. "I am Prince Soran of House Mosaura, and this”—I gesture to my brother—“is my brother, Prince Rowan. You are both safe. We are going to find your people and return you to your home."