The Stars Wait Not

by Anne Wheeler

Dahl stiffened. “It was a textbook interview and placation.”

  “Obviously not, if she’s got more brain activity than she’s supposed to have.” His anger was building now. If Ryllis awoke, she would wake to a misplaced hope. He couldn’t allow that, as much as he wanted to talk to her one last time. The devastation in her eyes when she learned it was a mistake would kill him. Unless—

  The answer tickled his brain, but the pain in his abdomen was growing by the second. Kresten brushed away his confusion and undid the straps holding her arms down. He had to say goodbye to her with all his senses intact. He couldn’t grieve properly if he had to watch in agony, unable to concentrate on anything but his own pain. He would find a medic, wrangle some medication out of them, and once he felt better, he’d come back. Then he’d feel well enough to slug Dahl for what’d he done.

  “I love you,” he told her, struggling to his feet. “And I’ll be back. A promise is a promise, right? I just need to take care of some things first.”

  With Dahl’s protests ringing in his ears just behind him, he let his lips brush hers, then turned away, hand on the wall. It was harder to walk than before, and when he stopped in the doorway to catch his breath, a strange feeling flooded him, almost like someone was trying to force their way into his mind.

  “Kresten?”

  It took forever to turn around at the sound of the voice he thought he’d never hear again. Ryllis’s eyes, gray and sad, stared back at him from the bed, and her expression turned to confusion when she focused on the way he was standing against the wall. Clutching his side, Kresten stumbled toward her while Dahl stood frozen behind him, his mouth open.

  “You woke up,” he said. His tears dripped onto the edge of her bed, and Ryllis looked at them, frowning. “You weren’t supposed to wake up.” He glanced up at Dahl, but the entire room was spinning. “What did you do to her?”

  “Nothing.” Dahl ran his fingers over the machines, at her vital sign printout and the pump that controlled the drug seeping into her arm. “I swear. I went to follow you out because you looked like you were going to collapse, and she said your name. I’m going to call a medic.”

  “You’re not going to call anyone. You’ve fouled this up enough. The least you could do is let us say goodbye.”

  “Then they haven’t decided yet.” Ryllis’s soft question that wasn’t a question at all interrupted Dahl’s response.

  “My love.” He grabbed her hand again. There was nothing he could say to make this better. “They haven’t. I don’t know what happened—you weren’t supposed to have fought through Major Dahl’s suggestion. It just doesn’t happen. I’m sorry if that gave you hope. I—”

  “I didn’t fight it. There was this blackness, and it was so heavy I couldn’t do anything about it, even breathe. And then it began to fade away, so I swam through it, and the light began to appear—” She closed her eyes, like she was trying to memorize the feeling of his touch. “He said you would be cleared?”

  “Yes. They’ve taken care of that. But that doesn’t matter. I wish you hadn’t done this.”

  “That wasn’t your decision, was it? I couldn’t leave you to that fate. And it’s too late for second-guessing now, I think. They took that awful chip out of you?”

  “Yeah.” He tried to laugh as he ran a hand over her head. Her hair was growing out, like soft brown velvet. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, and maybe his touch would calm her, because he couldn’t imagine the fear she was feeling right now. “With a scalpel. It hurt more than when they inserted it.”

  Scalpel.

  The word meant something, but thinking was like walking through quicksand.

  “I bet it did,” she said.

  Her sadness was almost tangible; it was clear she was thinking of one being inserted into her. He didn’t want to tell her the odds of her being allowed to live were so very slim now, a broken thread beginning to unravel. The Star Realm didn’t look fondly on gifted subjects who didn’t turn themselves in for a suppression chip as soon as they were aware of their powers.

  With reluctance, he released her for a moment and clutched at his head. They hadn’t struck him there, so why was a headache coming on so suddenly? Maybe considering his options was just too painful.

  Except—except perhaps there was one last chance.

  “Wait,” he said to himself.

  Ryllis looked up. “Are you all right?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. My head’s killing me.”

  “That’s because you shouldn’t be up,” Dahl said. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

  The shock of how quickly things were falling into place grabbed him. “I don’t think I can make it, sir. Can you get a wheelchair for me?”

  “I’ll find a medic, then,” Dahl said. “And a few security guards.” He glared at Ryllis, then plodded into the corridor.

  Kresten grabbed her hand again. “Listen to me. I have one last idea. I don’t know if it’ll work, but—”

  There it was again, quivering in his belly. The hope. Maybe it knew.

  “Don’t keep pushing, Kresten. My fate’s sealed. Don’t make it worse. Major Dahl was right—it was easier to wait for my sentence in a cloud of nothingness. This—” She reached up and stroked his cheek just before the tears began. “This is a horrible thing to have to wait for.”

  “You don’t understand.” His heart ached for her, but he wouldn’t trade the joy in her eyes when he told her for anything. “They can’t touch members of the royal family.”

  “So what? That doesn’t include me.”

  “By birth—” He squeezed her hand. “Or marriage.”

  “Marriage?” Ryllis’s mouth dropped open. “But—what’s the catch?”

  “The catch is—the catch is that they may not accept it. The only ceremony we can manage in here is an ancient one, and it hasn’t been accepted as legal in hundreds of solar cycles. But you know, we outcast royals do things differently in the mountains, and that’s always worked to my benefit. And fortunately for me, the one man who can deny the legality of this rite shares my name.”

  “Your father?” She shook her head. “I lied to you. Why would you do this for me?”

  “What did you lie about?” He hated replying to her question with another question, but he couldn’t answer hers. If he told her why he was really offering, he might frighten her off, and then he was sure to lose her.

  “My powers.” Ryllis looked at the floor. “What I’ve been doing in your gardens. I didn’t do it intentionally, I swear it. I was too afraid. But the gardens were the only place I felt safe when I first arrived on Vilaria. Being outside, especially in those mountains—it gave me such a feeling of peace. That’s how it works for me, it’s mutual. When the snow ended, I knew you wouldn’t notice the grounds coming alive, so I let it happen. And Lina’s chickens? I told them to leave you alone, and they agreed. They—I don’t know how else to say this, but they listen to me. I know that all sounds unbelievable, and I’m so sorry I did everything I did, and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before now.”

  Kresten would have laughed at her confession but for the heartbreaking expression on her face. She actually thought that what she’d done—who she was—would change how he felt about her?

  “My darling star, I’m so sorry for what I said by the waterfall. It’s an antiquated law, and I was wrong to say I agreed with it. I was wrong to imply you deserved to die over this. You have to understand, I don’t care what you did. It’s a part of you, and I only care that I love you and can’t live without you. Every part of you. You are kind-hearted and intelligent and loyal and beautiful and so courageous you put me to shame. You never need to be afraid of being yourself around me—ever.”

  “And you’re a smooth talker.” Ryllis pushed herself up to a sitting position to face him, let her legs dangle over the bed, and nodded. “All right. How?”

  She didn’t believe him, and he needed her to believe him more than anything he’d ever needed be
fore, but they were out of time. With the greatest reluctance, he let go of her and dug through the nearest cabinet for a scalpel. “You cut my palm. I cut your palm. And we press them together. Easy.”

  She eyed the sharp blade in his hand. “I wouldn’t call having myself sliced open an easy task. But give it here.”

  Kresten handed it over and hovered over her, desperate for a swift turn of luck, as she tested it on his skin. With a sharp flick of her wrist, a thin red line appeared on his palm, and she handed the scalpel back, her lips pressed closed. Without hesitation, he ran it across her palm before she could panic further.

  The scalpel clattered to the floor as he held out his hand. Her fingers intertwined with his, and a jolt of something enormously pleasurable coursed through him as their palms met. It was nothing more than a latent reaction of his telepathy to the proximity of her tattoo, but he didn’t care why it was happening. Only what it told him.

  Ryllis was happy.

  No, she was beyond happy. Ecstatic, delighted, at peace—none of those humble words could fully encompass what she was feeling. He’d worried she’d only agreed to the rite out of fear for her life, but her emotions left no doubt.

  Well. Not quite no doubt, but very little. Dare he risk it? She’d turned him down before, the last time just a few minutes ago, but she deserved to know the other reason he’d suggested this solution. And his soul needed to know her answer.

  “That’s it?” she asked. “We don’t have to say any words or anything?”

  “No words or anything.” He kissed her forehead. “But that’s not quite it. There’s one other thing you need to know, and I need you to hear me out before you say anything. I was serious before when I said how much I need you. I love you, Ryllis. I don’t think you quite understand how much. After you turned me down in the cave, I had every intention of asking you to marry me again and again until you said yes, but you were right—in those circumstances, it wasn’t fair to you. And perhaps I was a spineless coward as well. I know I’m Vilarian, and that you have every reason to hate me for who I am and for getting you into this situation, but by the stars, if this works, I swear I will spend every waking moment making you happy—and most of my sleeping ones, too.”

  He let his free hand play about her bare collarbone, avoiding the mark for now. It was an astonishingly difficult undertaking; the draw painful and almost unbearable.

  “Because this wasn’t an act, and wasn’t solely to save you, at least as far as I was concerned. It’s because this is exactly what I want, and I’ve wanted it for so long. I want to be your husband and I want you to be my wife, in every sense of the word, for as long as I live. But if that’s not what you desire, I won’t force you into it. I can’t send you home, but we can live apart—goodness knows half the imperial family does it. I know you’d die in Carilles, away from the mountain, so you can have the lodge and every single crown of mine, if you’d like. I can beg my father for the funds to build another house, and I’ll go off somewhere with the Fleet, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

  Ryllis stared at him, her mouth open, and he held his breath.

  “Kresten . . .”

  She leaned her forehead against his. Tears filled her eyes, and a sickening emptiness like he’d never felt wound its way through him. She was going to agree to his offer. His beloved mountains and the memories he’d made there with her would be hers. He would win her and lose her in the span of ten seconds, and he would never recover from such a loss.

  “I wouldn’t have the most magnificent palace on Vilaria without you there with me,” she whispered.

  The unbelievable relief was a punch to his already aching gut. His shoulders sagged, and he all but fell from the stool. It was only her sudden grip on his hands that kept him upright.

  “You’re—you’re sure?” he asked.

  The deepest, most fervent kiss he’d ever imagined was her answer. It made him dizzy, but he’d risk falling to the ground for one more second of her lips on hers. Ryllis seemed to sense his pain, because she pulled away just as the floor began to sway beneath him. He leaned toward her, eyes closed, half drunk with pain and desire, and she laughed.

  “I’m sure,” she said, putting her uninjured hand under his arm. “Which means you have to survive to follow through on all those things you just promised, so let’s find you somewhere to lay down. I intend to have you as my husband for more than a day.”

  “Lieutenant—” Dahl froze in the doorway, a medic at his side, dragging a wheelchair along behind her. His gaze landed on the drops of blood on the floor. “What—”

  Their palms came apart. Kresten grabbed a piece of gauze and pressed it against Ryllis’s wound, ignoring how he was staining the tile himself.

  “It’s not polite to interrupt a wedding,” he said. “And it’s no longer Lieutenant. Consider this my official notice of resignation, Major. You can expect a follow-up letter as soon as I can hold a stylus again.”

  I should have told her to cut the other hand.

  “You—” Dahl stood in the doorway, his mouth opening and closing.

  “I think you should go add a postscript to that report. Inform them the princess is now exempt from that law by means of her royal status.” Kresten waved his hand about, mostly to make Dahl go pale as the blood dripped. “Realm’s sake, that stings.”

  Dahl backed into the wheelchair, his eyes wide. The medic had already fled. “You were serious about her. I had no idea.”

  “Well, now you know. That report, Major. I’d like to see it before you transmit it.”

  “Yes. Of course. Immediately, Your Highness. And may I say, I’m relieved for . . . the lack of extra paperwork here.”

  Dahl disappeared, and relief took his place as Kresten collapsed back on the stool by the bed. “Well, that’s taken care of, for now.”

  Ryllis put her hands to her cheeks. “My father and stepmother—”

  “Will be”—he couldn’t hide his smug expression, despite the pain—“outwardly thrilled. How’s the hand?”

  “Not bad.” She frowned at him as he examined it. The bleeding had mostly stopped, and they could worry about fixing the scar later if it bothered her. “But don’t change the subject. I’m worried about you. You look terrible. Lie down, now.”

  “A fine thing to say to your new husband. I’m going to pass out as soon as I know you’re safe, and not a moment before.” He allowed her to help him crawl into the bed next to her, anyway. By the stars, but laying on his back felt amazing. Ryllis reclined on her side next to him, and he let his fingers graze the side of her head. “And the rest? How are you feeling? I know how awful that must have been.”

  “Nothing besides my hand hurts,” she said. “I can remember what happened, but it’s like a dream. It’s odd, though. I hated him being in my head, but now I feel so alone I can barely stand it.”

  His breath caught. “I can do something about that.”

  “You?” Ryllis paled again, then seemed to harden herself. “Will it—will it hurt like before?”

  Kresten shook his head. “I will never hurt you. I swear it.” Her fear broke his heart in two, even if she’d pretend until the day she died that she wasn’t afraid.

  She nodded, and the trust in her eyes shattered the rest of his heart into tiny pieces. “Then, yes.”

  A strange warmth rushed over him. Without letting go of her hand, he sat up as much as he could manage and kissed the mark. His mark. Her mind opened to the intrusion, but he stayed light, on top of her skin, letting only his emotions fall into her. Ryllis made a soft noise he couldn’t identify, and her happiness, when it washed over him, was almost unbearable. He pulled back, enough to regain his senses. Exonerated or not, Dahl would throw him back in that cell to cool off if he did what he really wanted.

  “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that for you,” he said. “But without the mark, it wasn’t possible, and even with it, it can be misused so very badly . . .”

  Shadow Force
used the same technique for controlling prisoners, after all. He could and had flooded even the most defiant ones with an involuntary tranquility, relaxing them enough to accept whatever came next. It was something he would never do to Ryllis. He would never do it to anyone, ever again.

  The idea was so freeing it was almost impossible to comprehend.

  Ryllis shuddered. “I believe it.”

  “I won’t ever shower you with my own emotions unless you need it,” he promised. “And you ask. I won’t control you like that.”

  Those beautiful gray eyes narrowed in confusion. “But I thought you could only read minds. Not control.”

  “True, for the most part. You were reading my thoughts in return just now, and there’s not a soul out there who can resist focused emotions like I just allowed you to feel. When we can finally be together in private—well, you’ll see.”

  He couldn’t wait. Could barely keep his hands off her as it was. When he could touch her—speak to her without saying a word—it would be an adjustment for both of them, but they would make it.

  Ryllis traced his jawbone with her finger, then settled her head under his chin. His skin hurt where she touched him—everything was painful, including the sheet underneath them—but the feeling was so, so worth it. He’d never leave her again, no matter what.

  “Do it again?” she asked.

  “Now? I think you can wait a bit, Amaryllis.” She made a face at the name, so Kresten laughed and pulled her closer. “We have all the time in the Realm.”

  Epilogue

  Summer had come to the capital as Ryllis waited in Kresten’s flat during his long convalescence, and the flowers she’d potted in the promised planters were done blooming by the time he was officially able to appear in front of his father to appeal the validity of their marriage. There had been no timeline attached to the emperor’s formal invitation, which Kresten informed her was a good sign, but she wasn’t so sure. She told him as much one more time as the shuttle landed at the main palace.