Wild is the Blue

by Cecilia Randell

  Felix snorted as laughter erupted from within the room. Under it, Garfield let out grumbles. A minute later Blue’s voice joined in.

  That was why Felix couldn’t say no. He’d seen the expression on her face when she spotted Zeynar in the waiting room. Wide eyes and a smile that couldn’t have been brighter. And he’d seen Zeynar’s face.

  Felix couldn’t deny either of them the sheer happiness that had filled the moment.

  It was exactly what he wanted for himself, what he would fight for.

  So, he’d told Zeynar to talk to Blue, to work out what they needed to work out.

  And now Felix needed to do the same. What was the phrase Forrest had once used? Sort his shit?

  Felix was off to start sorting his shit.

  The first order of action was a long overdue apology.

  He continued along the corridor, down the stairs, and stopped before a set of carved sliding doors. Knocking, he waited.

  “Come,” his father’s voice sounded out.

  Felix took a breath and braced himself. They’d agreed to deal with everyone using politeness. It was a good strategy, and both Forrest and Levi had stated points in its favor. Blue had blown that away with the greeting. It had been magnificent, but certainly not polite.

  Felix pushed open his father’s office door and entered.

  “Sir.” He stood at attention.

  “Felix, boy, that is not necessary.” Father placed his pen on top of a short stack of reports. “Believe it or not, I’m not always the general.” He sighed. “I won’t say I like your choices, nor do I approve. But your… roommate had some points.”

  Felix cringed at his father’s description of the most important thing in his life. Nothing could have made it more clear that while General Audal would recognize Blue had her strengths, he did not approve in any way. “I will not argue with you on this. She is more than a roommate, and someday you will admit that.”

  “If you are not here to talk about the girl, why are you here?”

  “Can you get me Colonel Harrison’s direction?”

  His father’s hand jerked. “He’s a Major General now.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Why do you need it?”

  “I need to apologize to him.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  The moment was heavy. Father and son, general and soldier. “That’s good. It’s overdue.” His father pulled a tablet in front of him and gave it a few taps. Felix’s comm pinged. “I’ve sent it.”

  Felix nodded and turned to go.

  “Felix?”

  He turned back.

  His father looked down, a line between his brows. “Why now?”

  “You know why.” He waited for his father to meet his gaze. “I’m done running. Because I have something to fight for now.”

  The furrow turned to a frown. His father leaned forward on his elbows. “She’s that important to you?”

  Felix felt his expression harden. Blue called it his super-mercenary-mode. All he knew was there were two Felix’s: the one who teased his Blue and carved her ducklings, and the one who had yet to find a line he wouldn’t cross for those he cared about the most.

  Blue was top of that list.

  “Let me put it in terms you would understand, Father. That girl has managed to face things that would make even you take a step back.” He stepped toward his father. “She has gone into the Falassian jungle with no formal training and taken on trained mercenaries, even if they were freelancers. She has gone from knowing nothing of the worlds of the Alliance to learning to use her portal manipulation powers. She has learned Common and is well on her way to a fair understanding of two more languages. She is determined to finish two years of studies in one because she hates having to rely on us for so much.” He advanced with each of Blue’s accomplishments he listed. “If she’d been born on Cularna, even with her small stature, she’d no doubt be a commissioned officer by now, maybe even a first lieutenant.” Felix set his palms on the desk and leaned in. “She’s barely nineteen years old. What had you accomplished, father, when you were nineteen?”

  His father’s lips thinned. “I thought you weren’t here to discuss her.”

  Felix pushed away. “You asked.” He shrugged.

  “You love her.” Emotions raced across the general’s face.

  “Like you love mother. Tell me, what wouldn’t you do for her?”

  His father’s expression cleared. “There is not much. But I’d find a way to do it without tying myself to misfits and criminals.”

  “Then I guess we’re not the same person.” He raised his comm. “Thank you for this, Father. I’ll speak with you again later.”

  Felix exited the room before he did something more than loom. He made his way through the carefully decorated rooms and out a side door that led to a garden of imported roses, fodilia, and elilio blooms. Taking a breath, he made the call.

  “Major General Harrison, here.”

  “Major General, this is Felix Audal.”

  Silence. Then, “What can I do for you, Audal?”

  “I would like to apologize. For the duel. I deliberately shot for your knee, knowing it would incapacitate you. I have regretted it since.” He held his breath.

  “That was years ago now.”

  “Yes.”

  “Challenges are not illegal. In fact, they are an ingrained method of weeding out the weak. There is no need to apologize.”

  This conversation was not going how he expected. Though he wasn’t sure what he expected. “It is true that Challenges are useful. But I still should not have done what I did.”

  A huff. “Is that why you broke off with Portia? Left your position, took a demotion.”

  “Partly.”

  “From some sort of misguided guilt? That doesn’t sound like the Felix Audal I knew of.”

  “I will not explain all of it to you, but guilt was part of the reason I left. I was not why I stayed away. And I am talking to you now, because a… remarkable person told me that apologizing to you may help.”

  “Is it? Helping?”

  He wished he could see the other man’s face. “I’m not sure yet.”

  A bark of a laugh. “Was it a woman who told you this?”

  “Maybe.”

  “They like it when you apologize.”

  Felix grinned. The man was right. “You’ve found someone.”

  “The medical tech in charge of rejuvenating my knee.”

  A laugh escaped. “So, I should be asking for thanks instead of apologizing?”

  “But think of this, Felix Audal. You can now tell your woman that you contacted me and apologized.”

  “Brownie points,” Felix said in English.

  “What?”

  “A term I’ve learned. It is like… a point scored in an ongoing challenge.”

  A snort. “I will try to remember that one. I hope I don’t hear from you again, Audal.”

  “You will not, Lieutenant General Harrison.”

  The call ended.

  Had apologizing helped? Yes, but maybe not in the way Blue thought it would.

  And now it was time to go see what progress he could make regarding the other reason they were here. They had a mission. Miyari, Ekarill, Pakesh, and whoever backed them had all hurt Forrest and Levi. Two men who were also very high on the list of people Felix cared enough about to cross any line.

  Chapter 24

  MO’ATA

  Trevon found Mo’ata as the clansman wandered the lower halls, searching for the kitchens. While the cooks wouldn’t have the proper herbs for Blue’s favorite stew, they could surely approximate dakash. Blue could have it for breakfast, or maybe a late night snack—assuming Mo’ata could get any of the servants to listen to him.

  It had not been lost on him that as far as the Audal family’s retainers—and most of the Audal family—were concerned, those of Blue’s entourage outside of Felix and Forrest may as well not exist. Oh, after
Blue’s outburst at the landing area, none of them were ignored—that would be rude. Mo’ata had been given nods and tight smiles, pointed fingers and vague gestures.

  “Clansman.”

  Mo’ata turned. Zeynar stood in a doorway a few yards away. “Do you have an idea of where the kitchens may be?”

  Zeynar pointed over his shoulder. “Just finished speaking to the cook about breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Oh?” Mo’ata frowned.

  “Yeah, asked if they could make some dakash for her.”

  “You know her well.” Zeynar was a good protector, but that was his idea.

  “Maybe you could talk to them about lunch, though. They were surprisingly receptive once I mentioned Felix also enjoyed dakash.” He rubbed the back of his head and sent Mo’ata a wry smile. “You could tell them he’s also gained a taste for stew?”

  “Not a bad idea,” he conceded. Yes, Trevon was a good protector, especially for Blue. The only problem was… “You can’t be here all the time,” Mo’ata said, cutting straight to the heart of his concerns. “Placing Duri with her is not the same as being there for her when she needs you.”

  Trevon ambled toward him. When he reached Mo’ata he gestured for the clansman to walk with him. “I’ve talked with her. We discussed the same thing. You are obviously aware that I can’t leave my Family to stay with yours.”

  “It would be your family too.”

  Trevon sent him a mocking smile. “You know what I mean, clansman. Do not play word games with me. Blue and I have reached an agreement. Per your customs, the next step is for me to speak with you, the rest of the prida, and then a vote is cast.” He halted and spun to face Mo’ata. “According to my customs, Blue and I are paired. Joined, as of today. The only person’s approval I need for that, is mine.” He shrugged and smirked. “I gave it, though it’s not going to be the usual joining.”

  Mo’ata started walking again. He needed to move, Trevon’s words had started a restless unease within him. “What arrangement did you discuss?”

  “When I am in Karran, I will have my nights to either cook or bring food. These will match up with my nights with Blue. I’m in the ‘rotation.’ When I can’t be on Karran—which is sadly more than you think it is. I have been… shuffling things around in order to stay by her side these last months.”

  “Since Firik,” Mo’ata contemplated.

  “Since Firik, and Phillip,” Trevon admitted. “When I can’t be on Karran, we will arrange a period of time once a month where she will come to me. A few days, hopefully. I know it will be harder while she is still in classes, but we will manage.”

  At the end of the hall was a plant filled room. Exotic fragrances and the scent of rich soil filled his nose. “Will it be enough for you, for your Family? Will they not resent the absence of a true Lady?”

  Trevon plucked a small pink bloom and twirled it in his fingers. “I have an heir already, a cousin. Truth to tell, I’m not the ideal Family Head. I like to play too much. Prin despairs of keeping me where I’m supposed to be, and I’m always wearing inappropriate clothing.”

  Mo’ata’s shoulders tightened. “Will they accept her?”

  Trevon’s head tilted and he stared at Mo’ata. “I thought you knew. I thought you figured it out the night I ordered Prin to let you into the private family wing.”

  Mo’ata recalled that night, the night Zeynar had shared what information he knew regarding the mysterious death of one of his men. Trust… “I knew,” he said. “But I was unsure of your Family’s reaction.”

  “You still don’t understand, but that’s fine. I am the Family. That’s how it works.”

  Mo’ata shook his head. Crossing his arms he drew in a heady breath. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t really understand that. But as you trust me, I will trust you on this. I will entrust her to you for a portion of each month. It’s not a usual arrangement, but we are not a usual prida.”

  Zeynar slapped his arm. “You are all invited as well, if you can make it. I know it will depend on your working schedules.”

  His growing tension eased at the last. Despite Zeynar’s glib summary of the prida’s traditions for accepting new members, his obvious care for Blue, the care packages, and the advantages afforded her by having a Family head as part of her family, Mo’ata had remained skeptical that Zeynar would truly be able to fit his life to theirs. “I will tentatively accept these conditions.”

  “Dep—“

  Mo’ata held up his hand, cutting Zeynar off. Giving him the gesture for silence, he beckoned the other man deeper into the greenery.

  The sound came again. Mo’ata had almost missed it. The brush of leather over concrete and tile, and a low mutter. It grew louder until he could make out the words. Ekarill. Whoever he spoke to was Cularnian. Mo’ata’s vocabulary was limited, but he could decipher enough to know this was no conversation Ekarill would want overheard.

  Five minutes later the other man was gone.

  “Sloppy,” Zeynar muttered. “He didn’t even check to see if anyone was in the room before having a conversation like that.”

  “You understand Cularnian?”

  Zeynar rolled his eyes. Then he pulled out his scrambler and hit the end.

  Mo’ata grimaced. Yes, he had just asked a ridiculous question, and in full hearing of whatever surveillance General Audal had monitoring them. Although, it wasn’t as though the scrambler would do much to help, at least according to Felix. “Shall I risk another foolish question? I could tell enough to know he spoke to a soldier about a job. But why would the head administrator of the Medical Division be talking directly to a soldier about one of his jobs?”

  Zeynar grinned and shook his head.

  “What?” Mo’ata didn’t like that particular expression on the Family head’s face.

  “Just enjoying the irony of a Family head of Martika overhearing the beginnings of a conspiracy to assassinate a general of Cularna’s Mercenary Guild. Which means we get to save him. And won’t General Jackson Audal love that.”

  Mo’ata beat his fingers against his thighs. “Did you get enough details to do anything?” He slapped his thigh. “I should have recorded it.”

  “Only that it will happen in the next three days, or maybe the night of the celebration. I missed the beginning.” Zeynar tapped his lips. “Oh, and they’re supposed to make it look like I did it.” He pulled out his comm and sent off a message. “Prin is going to meet us down here.”

  Mo’ata sent a message to Felix. He hesitated for one moment then recalled the promises he had made and added to the message.

  Bring Blue, Forrest, and Levi with you.

  He was not going to send his shopa on a hunt for a hired assassin, but he would at least make sure she knew what was going on.

  The reply came in moments. Go to the left rear gardens. You are hiding in my mother’s solar. Not a good idea to be there when she isn’t.

  Mo’ata shuddered and flipped the comm around to show Trevon.

  After they’d snuck out of the solar—which had no direct sunlight, so how was Mo’ata supposed to guess this was Felix’s mother’s territory?—they found a servant to point them to the left rear gardens. Once there, Mo’ata paced.

  Trevon stood with crossed arms, rocking on his heels. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking this became a very different type of mission, and Blue is all too good at stirring up trouble.”

  “What did I do?” Blue, still wearing that waist-cincher contraption that emphasized her figure and gave Mo’ata the urge to throw a thick coat over her.

  “Nothing that you shouldn’t have, little star. The clansman is just having trouble with his warring instincts. Don’t worry,” Trevon closed the distance between them and pulled her to his side. “I won’t be wrapping you in fluffy cloud-blankets.”

  Mo’ata did not miss Zeynar’s wording, nor did he miss the way Blue melted into his side. “Zeynar,” he ground out.

  “He’s not wrapping me in any
thing either,” Blue told Zeynar, slapping her hand against his chest. “Stop stirring up trouble, Ass. That is apparently my job.”

  Zeynar gave a mocking salute.

  Felix, with Forrest, Levi, and the cubs behind him, gestured for silence. He led them all deeper into the gardens until they came across a natural pond, the aquatic flowers dotting the surface and benches surrounding it. Pulling out a scrambler, he activated the device then set it on one of the benches.

  “This is probably the best place to talk, and will get us the widest range with the scrambler, though I still wouldn’t rely on them too well.”

  Blue nodded and took a seat on a bench, Zeynar beside her.

  Mo’ata sucked in a breath and briefed them on what had happened in the solar, Zeynar filling in any gaps. It didn’t take long, since they didn’t know much at this point.

  Silence fell. Blue and Forrest both wore distant expressions. Levi had turned away a few words into Mo’ata’s recitation of events and watched the perimeter of their make-shift hiding place.

  “I think we need to tell the general. Maybe we can just say you overheard it, without getting into exactly why we’re here?” Blue said, her brows drawn in concern.

  Felix hung his head. His shoulders shook. Then laughter erupted from him and he threw his head back.

  They all turned to stare at the mercenary who laughed at the strangest moments.

  Felix held up a hand and waved it as he tried to catch his breath. “M-my father no doubt knew everything the moment Ekarill ended the call. How could he be so stupid as to make that call here?”

  Mo’ata recalled Zeynar’s words. Criminals are stupid. But this was a little too idiotic. “Could he have wanted your father on alert? Wanted to send him in the wrong direction?”

  “Huh. Possibly.”

  “So what now?” Blue asked.