Star-Crossed

by Cyndi Friberg

  “It’s brilliant, really. The easiest way to keep you from trying to escape was for you not to realize you were a prisoner.”

  “Are we having the same conversation?” Her voice rose right along with her confusion. “I was never a prisoner. My mother was a pleasure servant.” She stopped herself before admitting how close she’d come to following in her mother’s footsteps. He didn’t need to know all the sordid details of her past.

  “Where is she now?” He sounded down right menacing. “I need to speak with her.”

  “She died four years ago.”

  He accepted the news with a stiff nod. “How did you end up on Earth?”

  “Apparently Daddy’s genes finally kicked in. I had this bizarre surge of ... It’s hard to explain. I heard voices and saw images, and then I was sucked into a vortex very much like the one you used to bring us here.”

  “You spontaneously teleported?”

  “Isn’t that what I just said?” She flipped her hair out of her eyes and turned away from him. All his talk of planetary treaties and magic powers made her meager life seem all the more shoddy.

  Pulling the crystal disk from the pocket of his pants, he rolled it across his fingertips and held it out toward her. “Look.”

  She took the disk from him and held it up toward the light. Expecting to see the man again, she glanced at Drakkin then back into the disk. The image of a woman came into focus. Her golden brown hair had been arranged on top of her head in an intricate pattern of ringlets and braids. Wide purple eyes dominated her features, but the angle of her cheekbones and the shape of her lips seemed familiar.

  “Who is she?” Aria whispered, unable to look away.

  “E’Lanna dar Aune.” He waited until she met his gaze to add, “She was your mother.”

  Chapter Three

  “Your wounds are healing nicely,” Quentin Keire, Crown Stirate of Rodymia, said in a softly mocking tone. “Are you ready to tell me what really happened?”

  Noll dar Joon watched Faujer closely, waiting for his reaction to Quentin’s provocation. Neither of the Rodytes could see her, but Quentin knew she was watching, had directed her to assess Faujer’s responses and scan his mind for any hint of deception.

  “I accept responsibility for my failure, sire, but I have not lied to you.” Faujer kept his gaze fixed on the center of Quentin’s chest, a position neither subservient nor challenging.

  “You still contend that your prisoner just -- how did you put it -- blinked out of sight?”

  “I don’t know what happened. I woke up as Aria returned from the utility room. She stood beside the bed for a moment, then light erupted around her and she disappeared.” He shook his head, the blue highlights in his hair gleaming. “She looked more surprised than I was. I don’t think she did it intentionally.”

  Even naked and bound in magnetic restraints, Faujer was impressive. Her gaze swept his muscular body, lingering with lascivious interest on his flaccid shaft.

  “Noll, does he speak the truth?”

  Shit! She’d been too busy admiring his physique to scan his emotions. Easing into his mind, she sensed more frustration than fear. She probed deeper as she Shifted into view. Rodyte leaders lavished riches and rewards on those in their favor, while those who displeased them were lucky to escape with their lives.

  Instead of immediately answering Quentin’s question, she circled Faujer. “Had Aria exhibited any Mystic abilities before she ‘blinked out of sight’?”

  Faujer dared a glance in her direction, then returned his gaze to the Stirate’s chest. “She mentioned disturbing dreams, but I had no idea she could teleport.”

  Noll moved through Faujer’s mind, fascinated by the intriguing combination of ruthless ambition and cunning. Savage, brutal, this man was descended from millennia of fierce warriors. Narrowing her scan, she searched memories and feelings directly associated with Aria.

  “You were following orders when you first took Aria to your bed.” Noll moved closer to Faujer as she spoke, itching to run her hands all over his magnificent body, to test his control and stamina. “Then she submitted so sweetly, and you found so much pleasure between her thighs that you ceased to think of her as an assignment.”

  “That’s not true!” His gaze burned into hers for a moment before he subdued his temper. “I won’t deny finding pleasure with Aria, but I never let myself forget she was a mission.”

  Framing his face with her palms, Noll gazed deep into his eyes. “Did you allow your prisoner to escape?”

  “No.” Though his tone was firm, it was the spike of resentment that convinced her his claim was true.

  “Do you know where she is now?”

  “I do not.”

  She released him and turned to face the Stirate. “I believe him.”

  Quentin crossed his legs, his gaze narrowed with speculation. Despite his youth, he appeared at ease in the opulent throne room. But why shouldn’t he be comfortable? Every male of his bloodline was groomed from birth for the possibility of wielding authority. When his brother had been murdered three weeks before, with only a daughter to succeed him, Quentin had become one of the youngest Stirates in Rodyte history.

  Emboldened by her pronouncement, Faujer looked into the Stirate’s eyes. “I know you are disappointed in me, but I will do anything to regain your favor.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” One corner of Quentin’s mouth curved in a cruel smile. “The question is how do we track someone who has hurled themselves through space?”

  “How long has she been gone?” Noll asked.

  “Ten months,” Quentin told her.

  “What!” Noll rubbed her arms, trying to keep her astonishment from showing. “Why did you wait so long to contact me?”

  “My brother dealt with many situations differently than I would have. His resentment of all things magical was unusually strong, even for a Rodyte.”

  “In other words, Pern never would have trusted a Mystic, regardless of the cost?” Her gaze narrowed at the insinuation before she gained control again.

  “Let’s just say Pern’s priorities regarding Mystics were different from mine. I find loose ends unacceptable, while he tended to focus on the situation at hand.” Pausing for a moment, he studied her expression. She’d have to be careful. His youthful appearance hid shrewd intelligence. She had no doubt many underestimated him. Her lips curved at the thought. They had that in common. Not even Vee had comprehended her true potential.

  “Aria has no idea who she is,” he said. “The need to find her escalated when Vee died. Do you believe his journal was destroyed as Evan and Dro Tar told the council?”

  She shook her head, her gaze unconsciously gravitating toward Faujer’s tall form. “Not a chance. I don’t know who they’re protecting, but they don’t want anyone investigating the situation.”

  “Anything that upsets them is likely to our advantage.”

  “I agree. The Seeker Circle narrowed Dro Tar’s search to one of three hotels in Las Vegas. I’m convinced Evan wasn’t the only thing she discovered during her mission.”

  “Are you able to pass for human?”

  “I am.”

  “Good.” He stood and stepped down from the dais, cupping Faujer’s chin in one hand. “You will accompany Mistress Noll. Until I have proof that Aria is dead, you will be Noll’s slave, obedient to her every command. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sire.” Faujer responded without hesitation, but the flash of rebellion in his gaze sent a tingle down Noll’s spine.

  * * * * *

  Drakkin watched color bloom across Aria’s cheeks as she gazed through the image crystal. She started to speak, then turned her face away, lowering her hand to her side.

  “I know this is hard to believe --”

  “It’s impossible to believe.” She raked her hair with her fingers, pushing the shimmering strands off her forehead. “If my father was a powerful Mystic, how were the Rodytes able to take me away from him?” She tossed the dis
k back to him and crossed her arms over her chest.

  It was a very good question. Vee was exceptionally powerful for an Ontarian and E’Lanna had been a Mystic as well. “I don’t know.” He slipped the disk into his pocket as he pondered the question. “It has only been in recent years that Rodyte technology has enabled them to emulate our abilities.”

  “And protect themselves from them.”

  Drakkin hid a smile. She’d obviously been indoctrinated by her Rodyte captors. Her attitudes would change naturally as she explored her own abilities, so he didn’t argue the point. “How did you end up in Star-Crossed? Weren’t you worried about the Rodytes finding you?”

  “As you said before, I didn’t realize I was a prisoner.” She paused, her gaze shuttered and cold. “I knew more was going on than I’d been told, but part of me was still hoping to be rescued.”

  Keeping his touch light, Drakkin eased into her mind. He wouldn’t ordinarily intrude, but she was in far more danger than she realized. An impressive shield surrounded her thoughts and emotions. Who had taught her to shield her mind? If he pushed any harder she’d detect his presence. With a frustrated sigh, he withdrew. He needed to gain her trust and gain it quickly.

  “Have you ever been to Bilarri?” he asked.

  “I told you, I spent my entire life aboard various ships.”

  “And none of those ships ever entered Bilarrian space?”

  “I don’t know.” Her tone was sharp and impatient, but he wasn’t sure if frustration or fear accounted for the change in her voice. “When you never get off the ship, destinations become irrelevant.”

  He held out his hand and tried to capture her gaze. She looked everywhere but at him. “Bilarri has three small moons, while Rodymia has only one. If you can see more than one moon, you’ll know we’re not on Rodymia.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she took his hand. He held the entrance flaps aside as she passed through the opening. The gauzy k’fal floated around her slender body, teasing him with hints of the curves concealed beneath. Stay on task. She needs a mentor, not a lover.

  A brisk wind swept across the campsite. Drakkin positioned his body behind her, protecting her from the swirling sand. She looked out across the endless, rolling dunes. He rested his hands on her shoulders, resisting the urge to bury his face in her hair. Two of Bilarri’s three moons hovered in the distance.

  “This doesn’t prove we’re on Bilarri.” As she turned, the wind wrapped her hair around his torso, surrounding him with her unique scent. “At least I’m certain we’re not on Rodymia.” She allowed herself a half-smile, then ducked back inside the nenalte.

  Drakkin tried not to watch her rounded behind as she stooped to enter the tent, but the position was just too tempting. She was too tempting. Her voice was slightly throaty, yet smooth. He longed to feel her hair slip through his fingers or swirl against his chest as she straddled his hips. Were her nipples crimson as Indric predicted? It didn’t matter! Reinforcing his determination, he joined her in the tent.

  “Is it always so hospitable here?” She brushed sand particles off her skirt and finger combed her hair. “Why would anyone choose to live here?”

  “If you know the desert’s secrets, it can be quite beautiful.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Las Vegas was built in the middle of a desert. You seemed to like it there.”

  “Las Vegas had air conditioning and electricity.”

  She was still locked into the Rodyte mindset. He walked to the nearest wall and splayed his fingers against the fabric. “Tell me when you’re comfortable.” Summoning water from beneath the sand, he saturated the tent’s fibers. Then he commanded the weave to loosen, allowing air to pass through the damp threads, while keeping the sand at bay.

  “It feels cooler already.” She moved up next to him, her hand hovering over the colorful wall. “What are you doing?”

  “A simple manipulation.” He clasped his hands behind his back and gazed into her eyes. “If you have half the aptitude your father had, you’ll have little need for technology.”

  Shaking her head, she lowered her arm and glanced away from his face. “You said the Rodytes were using me to control him. If he’s dead, why would I still be in danger? They have no reason to want me now.”

  “I wish that were true. You’re a member of the Royal House of Aune and the Rodytes held you captive. That cannot go unpunished.”

  She said nothing for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “How did you find me?”

  “Your father kept a journal detailing everything that happened at the Conservatory. As his mentor, I validated each entry and then entered them into the Wisdom of the Ages.”

  “You have connections with the Symposium?”

  The admiration in her tone both surprised and pleased him. The Symposium was an interplanetary council. Still, most associated it with Bilarri. He had expected her attitude to reflect the same Rodyte taint that had colored the rest of her thinking. “Is there something you need researched?” If he admitted he was a founding member and the current director of the Symposium, it would sound like he was trying to impress her.

  “When you’re stuck on a ship for years on end, you do a lot of reading. It seemed no matter the topic, my searches led to the Wisdom of the Ages.” She waved away the subject. “Did Vee mention me in one of the journal entries?”

  “He captured your image in the crystal disk and sent it to me on the day he was murdered. I teleported to Ontariese when I felt his passing, so the package was waiting for me when I returned.”

  “That’s kind of creepy.”

  Her candor made him smile. “I returned to Ontariese and learned that Vee’s apprentice, Evan, had stolen the journal and teleported off-world. When I spoke with Evan, he explained that a spontaneous vision had taken control of his teleportation. Guess where he ended up?”

  “On Earth?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her hand trembling just a bit.

  “He materialized in the hotel where Star-Crossed is performed.” Drakkin chuckled. “We’re probably lucky he didn’t end up on stage.”

  “This happened after Vee died? How could ... Did Vee tell Evan about me?”

  “Vee used coded journal entries to reveal that he was being coerced by the Rodytes. Up until the moment his spirit left his body, he was fighting to keep you safe. I think the journal triggered Evan’s vision and the vision itself was a seeker pulse preprogrammed to locate you.”

  She licked her lips and fiddled with her hair. Her fascination with the strands increased with her nervousness. “The day I teleported, I heard a voice inside my head. Actually it was a conversation. A voice I didn’t recognize told Faujer that his mission was over and ordered him to bring me to wherever the other man was.”

  “Who was Faujer?”

  “That’s complicated.” She stepped just out of reach.

  Tension banded Drakkin’s chest. It was unrealistic to hope she was still untouched, but he didn’t want to think of her with another man. Ever. He tried to shake away the possessiveness. She didn’t belong to him.

  “I thought he was my lover,” she continued, “but apparently he was my guard.”

  “How did you ... It’s none of my business. Forgive my rudeness. Did this man ever harm you?”

  Her gaze returned to his, warmth cutting through the pain. “No.”

  “I guess I won’t have to kill him.” She laughed, but he was entirely serious. “How did you end up in Star-Crossed? You never explained.”

  “I was terrified and disoriented when I stepped out of the transport conduit.” She strolled about the tent as she spoke, absently touching the furnishings. “I was in a secluded corner of the casino and a woman rushed to my side, thinking I had fainted. She took my hand and helped me to my feet. I touched her shoulder and my mind connected with hers. I can’t tell you how I did it, but I suddenly knew her name and understood what she was saying.”

  “Language links are a ve
ry common form of mind connection. I’ll teach you how to control them.”

  “I have no idea what I did.”

  Before she could argue further, he closed the distance between them and drew her hand to his temple, pressing his hand over hers. His eyes tingled as he opened his mind to her, inviting her inside. The first tentative brush of her mind made his mouth go dry. He wanted her there, joined with him, sharing her feelings and thoughts. Clearing his throat, he augmented the link and guided her to the language center of his brain.

  “Listen to my voice. Absorb the meaning of each word.” Halfway through the second sentence he switched from English to Bilarrian. “Follow the connection to the language source, the portion of my brain creating the words.”

  “It can’t be this easy.” Wonder filled her eyes and Drakkin smiled.

  “Leave the link active and finish your tale in Bilarrian.” The language infusion would be strengthened by an active link. Still, a part of him just wasn’t ready to let her go.

  She nodded, her hand slipping out from under his. “Forming words seems to be more difficult than understanding them. I got many comments on my odd accent.”

  “You’re doing very well. Don’t concentrate on the individual words. Just let your story flow. Did this woman suggest you audition for the production?” He had a hundred questions he wanted to ask. Her coloring must have caused myriad complications.

  She started pacing again, gazing at everything but him. “They were holding open auditions the day I arrived. My appearance led everyone to believe I’d come for the audition. I sat in the auditorium trying to figure out what had happened to me. I was terrified.” Her anxious steps faltered and she rubbed her upper arms. “I watched each person take their turn on stage and when my number was called, I just did what everyone else had done. I stepped into the spotlight and the entire auditorium grew silent. I was about to run for the nearest door, when Preston Carmichael told me to have a seat in the front row.”

  “Who is Preston Carmichael?”

  “Star-Crossed is his baby. He produced, directed, and co-wrote the show. He knocked on my dressing room door right before you created the vortex. Anyway, he made me wait through all the auditions. I started to calm down and analyze my situation. Faujer couldn’t ‘rescue’ me if he had no idea where I was. I had no shelter, no food, and no form of currency. I needed a job.”