Constant

by Lexi Ander

  Curiously, where there should have been smooth skin, Sohm’lan fingertips found rough ridges on Prince Zeus’s back. Worried that he had missed something in his injury assessment, he barked commands. “Monticore!” The honor guard snapped to attention. “Two clear the room.”

  As he impatiently waited, he finally acknowledged the Gaziniti medic, Mayra Seneca. Gaziniti were one of the smaller species and the galaxy’s ultimate pacifists. She was a little over one-meter tall, with thick brown fur and big brown eyes. She appeared feline, but Gaziniti were more closely related to primates. The thicker, longer fur around her head resembled a lion’s mane, and instead of making her look dangerous it strangely gave her an approachable, friendly appearance.

  “Dargon called me when Prince Azaes and Prince Mestor collapsed after they attempted to help Zeus,” she said, her voice soft and calm under the Elite Honor Guard’s weighted gazes. “He reported that Zeus was thrashing in his sleep and Alpha could not sense Zeus’s consciousness. At my suggestion, he contacted Prince Azaes. I have witnessed Zeus go into what he calls the Dream before and suspected something was transpiring that only another Mar’Sani could comprehend and handle. I was packing my med kit when he contacted me a second time, after the twins… collapsed, and I came right away. Zeus answered the door, as you saw, and told us he had just returned from the Waters of Poseidon, and his brothers would be back shortly. An altercation happened on the other side and he told the Monticore they could use the mezzanine above while everyone was being treated. He also said that until Prince Azaes regained consciousness you would be in charge.”

  Sohm’lan glanced at the guards and they nodded, indicating they’d heard the same orders. “Have you seen Captain Dargon?” It was curious that he was absent. Everyone responded with a negative before the Monticore within the room signaled the all clear.

  He stepped through the door, and the sight of the twins in crumpled heaps on the cabin floor made his blood run cold. He had been told they had collapsed, but to see it was something else altogether. Both bulls were elite fighters and if they had fought within the confines of the cabin the place would be in shambles. But as he glanced around, he saw nothing that indicated an altercation had taken place. Again, he reviewed what Prince Zeus had said, but he was Chief Warlord because he approached every situation with a healthy dose of suspicion. Unfortunately, he kept coming back to the fact that Mar’Sani were not injured in the Dream… but if they were, what kind of being would—could do such a thing?

  “The lavatory’s door will not disengage,” one of the Monticore reported. “When we first arrived, Captain Dargon opened the door for the princes, but now he is not present. He may be stuck in the room.” They glanced at Prince Zeus and then his brothers, their own suspicions plain to see.

  “Did Prince Zeus claim the captain had a hand in their condition?” Sohm’lan waited until everyone shook their heads. “Then until evidence proves otherwise, the captain is innocent. Find a way to free him.”

  Not being able to immediately rush to Prince Mestor’s side caused an unsettling disquiet to take up residence in Sohm’lan’s gut. He was taken aback by the unbidden emotion and forced himself to focus on the situation at hand. He instructed the guards to move the princes to the sleeping platform then tamped down on the hiss-click of warning when they lifted Prince Mestor. He could not allow anything, not even his emotions, to interfere with the care of all his watersons. He held onto Prince Zeus while the twins were situated, then placed him next to his brothers.

  Carefully, he rolled the youngest prince to his side to examine his back. What he saw did not make him the least bit happy. The wounds were not recent, the scarring many summers old. A hot coal of anger built in his gut as he examined the tissue, unable to keep from flashing back to the week Prince Zeus had mysteriously disappeared.

  That was five summers ago, and the event that changed everyone in the Vondorian family, especially Prince Mestor. The cataclysm happened when Prince Zeus vanished the week before he was supposed to leave for Imperial Space Station Bashker’Qa. He had sneaked out of the palace unescorted and none were aware he was missing until he failed to join a family meal.

  Emperor Valdor had dispatched teams of Chimera to investigate. No ransom was received, no demands made. Prince Zeus had simply disappeared. Then his best friend, Rathmar Gadrius of House Cordyl, arrived at Emperor Valdor’s office bearing three distinct slashes, the mark of a traitor, on his face.

  Now Sohm’lan ran his hand over Prince Zeus’s severely damaged skin, visual confirmation that someone in House Cordyl had tortured him, and Sohm’lan wanted to rage. He had spoken the truth when he told Prince Mestor the little princeling was like a son to him. He hated that Timsah had dared injure him in such a heinous way, expecting to get away with it.

  “Warlord Sohm’lan.” A soft, questioning voice broke into his dark thoughts. A hand with alabaster skin like Prince Zeus’s, covered his where he stroked Prince Zeus’s back. When he looked up, he met eyes the color of artic blue ice. Princess Athena’s expression was full of understanding. “Allow us to attend to his leg wound. For some reason, the medical wand is not mending Prince Azaes and Prince Mestor’s injuries as it should, and Mayra says we need to stitch them the old way.”

  He looked to where the twins lay nearby. He had been so lost in his memories that he did not notice what transpired less than a meter from him.

  “Perhaps Zeus will be different,” Princess Athena soothed. “I will try the wand and if he is resistant like his brothers, then Mayra can give him a local and I will close his wound.” Princess Athena glanced away, clearly uncomfortable. “It is a skill I learned well while imprisoned by the Terrens.”

  All the Fal’Amoric across the galaxy had secretly been gathered and hidden in a Terren prison. Sohm’lan was unsure of the details, only what Captain Dargon had revealed to Prince Azaes about the mission Crown Prince Malek had given him to discover where the Fal’Amoric had disappeared to. Once Captain Dargon found the location, he communicated the information to the Galactic Imperials then waited for the military to arrive. Unbeknownst to the Andromedan Galactic Legion, who had arrived with an armada of assorted ships that would accommodate the millions of freed Fal’Amoric, the royal family had been housed at a secret location away from the general population. It was sheer luck that Captain Dargon’s crew had remained throughout the extraction. They were ready to follow the last of the armada into hyperspace when their communications officer intercepted a transmission that led them to the location where Princess Athena and her relatives were being held. Shortly after the crew of the Oethra 7 rescued the royal family, the Terrens’ planet killer arrived. The ballista used leveled everything on the surface, destroying all evidence that the Fal’Amoric people had been kept there.

  Following her instructions, he rolled Prince Zeus onto his back and stepped away so she and Mayra could attend to him. Then finally—finally—he turned to Prince Mestor, noting how his clothing had been cut to expose his wounds. Sohm’lan was desperate for Prince Mestor to open his eyes, to tell him all would be well, but he was not that lucky. Prince Azaes’ wounds had already been tended to and bandaged. After Prince Zeus was taken care of, Altan helped Sohm’lan move Prince Zeus to the middle of the sleeping platform so Prince Mestor could be brought to the edge, allowing Mayra to inspect him more easily.

  Prince Mestor had a deep gash across his abdomen and a puncture wound in his leg. The twins had suffered much worse in practice but Sohm’lan was having trouble keeping an emotional distance. He wanted to hunt down the being who would dare raise a hand to his watersons. Gnashing his teeth, he wished for something to rend but there was no appropriate target. He turned his back on the sleeping platform when the medic withdrew a needle and surgical thread. In his current state, he was sure he would lose his mind if he watched her pierce Prince Mestor. Instead, he busied himself with the Monticore. The electronic protocols could not be overridden on the lavatory, so they had retrieved a blowtorch and proceede
d to slowly cut open the thick metal of the door.

  Prince Zeus moaned, and Princess Athena immediately went to him, speaking in a calming voice and cautioning him to be still. The Monticore at the lavatory were nearly finished, and their rumbling hisses of excitement were followed by exclamations of triumph. Six Monticore carefully moved the slab to the side, revealing the dark interior of the lavatory. But before anyone could investigate, Prince Zeus yelled and exploded off the sleeping platform. He leaped straight up, almost six meters. How he could reach such a height without the use of a tail was amazing and everyone froze, watching in awe as he grabbed the support bars of the mezzanine and expertly swung across the room to land in a defensive crouch before the lavatory entrance.

  If there was anyone in the room who had ever doubted Prince Zeus was Mar’Sani, they could see with their own eyes that he was undoubtedly a son of Poseidon. His instinctual threat display could not be contrived. The rattling hiss of warning, deep and nearly a growl, sounded as if it came from a bull three times his size. As one, the Monticore dropped to their knees. Everyone knew the noise of a bull defending a family pod, defending a pregnant mate.

  Sohm’lan had taken a step forward when everyone else dropped. He thought to soothe Prince Zeus. He had made that very same noise himself while protecting Niobe from others... The implication was stunning if his suspicion was accurate, though he wondered how it was possible. Moving to the cabin’s door, he secured an escape point for the Monticore.

  “I will show no mercy to any who harm my Udens Mahte’lan!” Prince Zeus’s voice was rage-filled, though tinged with a bit of pain. The drop to the floor could not have been good for his leg injury. Prince Zeus’s steely eyes challenged every guard until they dropped their gazes to the floor.

  Sohm’lan was bursting with pride at the show of dominance. Prince Zeus was often tentative, considerate. Unless he was on the practice field, many never saw this fierce, commanding side of the little princeling.

  He held his hands out to his sides, palms up in a placating gesture. “Prince Zeus,” he called, infusing his voice with calm reassurance. “No one would dare to raise a hand to your pregnant mate. They… we did not know. Forgive us for this trespass. He has not been harmed. You have averted the danger to your family.”

  The Elite Honor Guard crawled backward toward the door Sohm’lan held open. Prince Zeus barely relaxed but at least he quit hissing. Mar’Sani bulls fiercely protected their pregnant mates, to the death if necessary. The threat of danger turned them vicious and uncompromising. By custom, they gathered their family and sequestered them until the youngling was born. Breeding couples were honored, the community helping to secure the nest, bringing them food and other amenities. Sadly, Sohm’lan realized if Captain Dargon was pregnant, then Prince Zeus would not have the luxury of nesting. He would do what he could to help his waterson.

  Captain Dargon moved from the shadows of the lavatory, placing a large hand on Zeus’s bare back. Each petting stroke calmed Prince Zeus a little more. Captain Dargon Kal-Turak was Dar Massaga, a marsupial lion paired with a symbiote—a completely dissimilar being called Alpha, who bonded with the Dar Massaga males. Alpha’s counterpart, Zeta, bonded with the females. Captain Dargon only wore a floor-length skirt made of a thick, synthetic organic hyde, prominently displaying Alpha on his bare, golden torso. Alpha was dark green, almost black in color and marbled with pink striations. He sat on Dargon’s upper chest and shoulders in a torque shape.

  “We are unharmed,” Captain Dargon crooned as he stooped to wrap a golden arm around Prince Zeus’s chest, encouraging him to stand. The Dar Massaga’s single line of eye-catching copper hair fell over his shoulder to brush the floor as he stooped. The sides of his skull were hairless, but the golden skin was striped. The outer rims of his teardrop ears were lined with colorful hoops and precious stones that glinted in the light as his ears swiveled, telling Sohm’lan that even though the captain’s brilliant green eyes were trained on Prince Zeus, he was well aware of what was going on around them.

  When Prince Zeus stood, the captain ran his somewhat-flat nose along Prince Zeus’s throat. Sohm’lan heard the inhale, as if the Dar Massaga was subtly checking Prince Zeus’s scent. “You, on the other hand, are not. Why have you not been healed?”

  Mayra explained the complication they had with their devices while Sohm’lan watched Zeus closely. Bulls were not the most rational beings when their mate was around many people and their ‘nest’ was compromised by too many scents that did not belong. He understood all too well the internal turmoil the prince had to be struggling with. He had been the same during Niobe’s pregnancy.

  Ignoring everyone, Prince Zeus turned in Captain Dargon’s arms. He immediately searched for signs of injury. Sohm’lan bit back a groan because his waterson had never been bashful but neither had he forgotten himself so completely that he did not realize that he was unclothed. Normally, Sohm’lan would have found him a uniform and insisted he make himself presentable. But with Prince Zeus this agitated, approaching him and the captain was not the best course of action until his waterson had a better handle on his emotions.

  Sohm’lan would do his best to ignore the nudity, though he really should not be surprised. Many around the palace had already seen Prince Zeus in his naked glory when he was a youngling. It was not uncommon for young under four summers to go without clothing. Unlike other Mar’Sani who had internal genitals, Zeus did not, but most had grown accustomed to the difference. For a couple of summers after Zeus turned five, he would sneak away from his nannies and streak through the banquet hall during midday meals when the family often entertained strangers. He had loved the noises of dismay that people made. Come to think of it, quite a few people had seen the youngest prince’s bare butt over the summers.

  As Prince Zeus spoke to Alpha about his change in coloring, which was new, Sohm’lan took the opportunity to check on Prince Azaes and Prince Mestor. They had regained consciousness and watched their brother with identical alert gazes. Sohm’lan and Altan helped them to sit.

  “You did not tell us you would be a father.” Prince Azaes sounded incensed but humor sparkled in his gaze.

  Even though Prince Zeus was still stressed, he beamed with pure joy. Sohm’lan’s heart twisted, remembering being that happy once.

  “We would have made the announcement over first-meal, but you two decided to sleep in,” Prince Zeus teased, keeping the moment light with effort.

  Prince Azaes held out his hand and Sohm’lan helped him to the edge of the platform. He barely followed the conversation since most of his attention was on Prince Mestor’s every hitched breath and wince of pain.

  Prince Mestor was not one to let a little good-natured teasing pass by. “Oh, Meme will be over the moon. A new youngling in the palace.” He lightly elbowed his twin. “You and Ariafella will be able to marry without the immediate prompting to produce young. Lucky bull.”

  Prince Zeus’s silver-white eyes grew large and his cheeks pinked. The twins laughed in unison.

  “Your eyes are huge. I wish to be there when you tell her,” Prince Azaes clutched his side as he laughed harder.

  There were few rules Empress Ashari enforced when it came to her young bulls and their love life. When they were serious about a partner, the person was brought before the royal family and introduced as their amor, meaning they would not be taking more lovers to their bed. Captain Dargon and Alpha had not been presented to Prince Zeus’s parents, and if that was not issue enough, Alpha was now pregnant without introduction, announcement, or ceremony. The twins were loving the fact that their youngest brother would be in deep trouble with their parents.

  Prince Zeus narrowed his eyes as if trying to figure out what Prince Azaes was talking about. Sohm’lan bit back his own laugh. Oh, the young bull would find out, probably sooner rather than later if one the twins got the chance to spill the news.

  “Food first.” Prince Mestor stood and then hissed, grabbing his shoulder. “That bastard ha
d spikes in his tentacles.”

  Sohm’lan barely kept from demanding to know who Prince Mestor spoke of. With poorly-concealed patience, he waited for the guards to help the princeling to his feet. Sohm’lan bided his time. He would find out soon enough who the skink was, then Sohm’lan would make them rue the day they crossed paths with his watersons. But for the moment, he would see to their needs.

  “Just to confirm, Your Highness,” a Monticore asked from the doorway, not quite meeting Prince Zeus’s flinty gaze before he turned his attention to Prince Azaes. “Your injuries did not occur on the ship?”

  Prince Mestor offered his arm to his brother.

  “No,” Prince Azaes said firmly, accepting his twin’s help and rising from the sleeping platform. “We were pulled into the Waters of Poseidon.” Prince Azaes turned to his youngest brother, his expression promising he had questions that would require detailed answers. “I would like to know more about the altercation, but I am starving. Zeus, you, Dargon, and Alpha will join us.”

  Prince Zeus agreed to meet them in the stateroom aboard The Gorgon. Sohm’lan worried about the little princeling, noticing how he struggled to hide his possessive and protective instincts. He would speak to him after first-meal and discuss what they could do to make everyone more comfortable.

  Sohm’lan was brought out of his thoughts when Prince Mestor’s uniform shirt gaped, showing the wound along his abdomen. Prince Mestor limped until he stepped into the corridor, though his stride did not quite even out. The injuries were worrisome. If the laceration on his abdomen had been deeper, he would have been gutted. The pant leg, cut to the groin, revealed a puncture to the muscle of the upper thigh that missed a major artery by a hair’s width. Though both wounds had been stitched and bandaged, Sohm’lan could still scent the injuries, the smell advertising that the twins were weakened.