Constant

by Lexi Ander

  Interestingly, Councilmember Rheax stood on the other side of Valdor, watching everything with a keen eye. He imagined that very little slipped by her.

  Hiss-clicking in aggravation, Mestor was done with the demonstration. He crossed to the overlord, who listened intently to Matsya’ angry hiss-clicks, unaware that she was warning him she would bite. Overlord Wrik waved his feathery antennae lower, catching her attention. Matsya’s eyes narrowed and she lunged, the delicate antennae slipping away from her snapping teeth right before Mestor took her away.

  “Excellent!” Overlord Wrik laughed. “She has superior instincts and good reflexes for her age.”

  Mestor did not have time to move. Kryp appeared at his shoulder, confidently reaching for Matsya. She shrieked her happiness, held out her arms, and did her falling-leap into Kryp’s arms. She had every faith Kryp would catch her.

  “If Kryp is to accompany the youngling,” Valdor started, looking directly at Mestor. “Then you and Sohm’lan will be her waterparents until I or Azaes deem it time to find her an adoptive family.”

  Mestor stared at his father. He felt there was a trap here somewhere that he was not seeing. Even if he did see it, he could not in good conscience say no and take Kryp away from Matsya. She had had enough tragedy in her life and taking Kryp from her would only cause her more turmoil. He glanced at Sohm’lan to see if he had any objections. When none came, Mestor said, “We are agreeable. Kryp can have one of the rooms in my suite at home. We will call ahead and have the nursery aired out and prepared for our arrival.”

  Father’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Glancing between his father and the Dire D’Noss, he surmised that he and Sohm’lan had played into some plan the three had devised. Sohm’lan’s expression said he saw the shared smirks and agreed with what Mestor’s instincts told him.

  Matsya giggled; it sounded scratchy and much like Ariafella’s when she was younger. Considering that Matsya’s vocal cords were unused while she lived underwater, he hoped the sharpness would leave as she learned to speak. She patted Kryp’s cheeks, telling him she was hungry. He plucked a white cube from the pouch at his belt and popped it in his mouth.

  “Mestor, show young Kryp the poolroom. Everyone else is already there.” His father motioned to the nearby open doors. Loud splashing could be heard, though the voices were too low for him make out what was being said.

  Clasping Kryp’s nape, Mestor led him through the four-meter-high glass doors. Two of the poolroom’s four walls were covered in highly detailed murals of Atlainticia. The other two were walls of glass. Overhead, a crystal dome revealed a dark blue sky. Below the wall of windows, a tunnel connected the water inside to the pool outside. The noise of the waterfall was well dampened by the thick glass. If they wanted, a section would slide away and people could use the area surrounding the warm, lapping water.

  Mestor always wondered how the falls from the upper mountain glaciers were turned into saltwater with the correct salinity for the water-going species. It was said only the falls in the upper reaches of the city were fresh and it gained salinity with every falling tier. By the time the water reached their pools, it matched Atlainticia’s oceans but changed again before reaching Valespia’s sea.

  Shaneva and Arion were in the pool. The splashing was Arion and his front hooves. After the morning’s meal, Sohm’lan had told him Shaneva was bringing Canry’s new mentor by to meet the family and Canry. He planned on having a few words with Arion himself before the day was over.

  His sister looked preoccupied, fingering a beaded necklace he had never seen her wear. His meme sat at the edge of the pool, her legs dangling in the water. Even as she listened to Arion, Meme watched the far corner where everyone else lounged.

  Kryp waded into the water, gradually leaning back to float on his back in the shallows. Mestor thought Matsya would have slipped into the pool to swim. Their walk from the Kracciam’s wing was the longest she had been out of water. But she was intent on Kryp’s mouth as she waited to be fed.

  Sure that Kryp and Matsya would be fine for a while, he moved to the corner where a bowl-shaped hollow was wedged into the floor and filled with brightly-colored pillows. Zeus lay on his stomach next to Ariafella, his face hidden by her robes. Azaes sat to one side and Canry on the other, both petting Zeus’s back as Ariafella carded her claws through his hair. Dargon was in his lion form, lounging lazily on the edge of the bowl and watching everything with drooping eyelids.

  When their father had revealed he knew why Zeus fled Atlainticia without saying goodbye, Mestor had held his breath. In the forefront of his mind had been Canry’s warning about the consequences of telling Zeus too much. Then, when Zeus saw Timsah at the inquisition, Zeus’s ensuing panic attack only reinforced how Timsah had traumatized his brother. At that moment, Mestor had known that if Zeus had gone into that meeting aware of the extent of Timsah’s actions, he would have killed the vile bull, just as Canry warned.

  Zeus had said nothing, but aside from the panic attack, coming face-to-face with a Chtichlian and Timsah Gadrius in the same day had distressed him greatly. Zeus had taken off with Canry after the inquisition ended, the two not returning until evening was a good indication of his emotional turmoil. Canry said they swam more than they talked, and in the couple of days that had passed, Zeus was still slightly withdrawn. But he was allowing them to give him comfort, which was a good sign he was not shutting them out.

  Mestor did not like watching Zeus grapple with his mistakes. He had fled partly to protect himself, but he was also trying to protect the family, and perhaps he was unconsciously protecting Rathmar as well even though he believed that Rathmar had betrayed him. Mestor was not looking forward to the day when Zeus learned what had really happened. He was going to be furious and the storms… well, they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

  Mestor sat on the edge next to Dargon so he could watch the door and the pool. He still felt on edge and reluctant to let his guard down. He edged close enough that he could hear the conversation and keep an eye on everything.

  “I have missed you, Ariafella,” Zeus murmured.

  “What?” Azaes squawked indignantly, poking Zeus in a ticklish spot.

  Zeus squirmed and rolled over, grinning at Azaes though his eyes looked haunted. “All right, I missed you, too.”

  Azaes sniffed haughtily. “Of course, you did.”

  Zeus rolled his eyes. Canry avidly watched their interaction, startling slightly when Zeus grasped his hand.

  “You know, what happened to you was not your fault,” Ariafella said as if plucking thoughts out of Zeus’s mind.

  “I know, but I am responsible for what Timsah did after I ran away instead of going to the twins or Father. Who else did he hurt without reprisal?”

  Azaes made an indescribable noise and glanced up at Mestor. They knew but could not say, not right now at least.

  “He is responsible for his own actions,” Ariafella counseled. “You are not a fabled god that has influence over others.” She flicked his ear. “Get off your mountain peak. You know better. You made decisions that were right for you at the time. Now that you can look back and see the repercussions, learn from them and move forward. Timsah has been charged with several counts of treason, falsification of evidence, espionage and stealing planetary secrets, giving false witness, and conspiring to spread discord. The Galactic Imperials signed off on a special investigation into House Cordyl as well as the others who had come with them. Houses closely affiliated with Cordyl will be closely scrutinized. The cousins back home say the noble houses are in upheaval, removing members and turning over information to the stewards.”

  Two of their cousins, Noelani from Meme’s side of the family and Kappa from Father’s, were acting as stewards and magistrates while Azaes and Father were away from Atlainticia.

  Zeus grunted and Mestor grinned. No one argued with Ariafella when she dragged out facts. She was doing a fine job of distracting him.

  “At least we do not
have to worry about the Crown Princes pressing Zeus into being a temporary Bespoken,” Azaes said, laying his head on Zeus’s stomach. “I am a little disappointed. I was looking forward to stealing you away and becoming a famous pirate prince.”

  “No,” Mestor interjected. “I will not allow you to leave the throne in my hands. I would have taken Zeus and left you to run Atlainticia.”

  Canry laughed and for a second he looked surprised, as if laughing was something new to him. It was a reaction he’d had often over the last couple of days. Not only did it appear as if Canry was raised in a serious home, but he also seemed surprised by comforting touch. Mar’Sani liked touch, it was a major part of younglinghood. No one denied the youngling who climbed into their lap looking for cuddles. Mestor wanted to punch Nethus many times. He thumped his tail, trying not to snarl. Meme glanced his way, and he quickly pushed back his impotent anger, pretending he was fine.

  “I wonder why Princess Athena was not pressed into service?” Ariafella mused as she inspected Zeus’s new earrings. The day after the inquisition, Zeus had both of his ears pierced from lobe to upper ridge. Today they were not an angry red and he did not flinch at her touch.

  “She cannot serve as the Bespoken,” Canry replied into the contemplative silence. “Bespokens endure alterations that allow them to connect directly with the grid. Those same alterations render the Bespoken sterile and with the empress of the Fal’Amoric presumed dead, Princess Athena will be responsible for producing the next Bespoken.”

  “What about the current Bespoken—” Azaes paused. “No, I guess not. Sterile. Are Emperor Volnah and Emperor Goth sterile as well?”

  “Yes,” Canry confirmed, his confidence growing the longer he contributed to the conversation.

  Meme and Arion somehow had drawn closer without those lounging in the bowl noticing. “The Imperial Houses of Tut de Luuk and Des de Vorn are head houses. The Keygan and Daimoni are chosen by the Bespoken-to-be, and they join him to become a part of the next Triumphant. They take on the imperial house names Tut de Luuk and Des de Vorn, leaving their original family names behind. After their transformation, no young can be born to them.”

  “I think that is one of the saddest things I have ever heard,” Ariafella said. “I read once that the three are usually paired at a very young age. The Triumphant are always committed to each other. To know that you are giving up a family to be the Keepers of the Grid, that is a great sacrifice.”

  “Maybe,” Canry conceded. “They could adopt, but I imagine they have little time for family while they are serving. Since I have been here, I have closely watched the palace schedules. The Galactic Imperials are in one meeting or another every moment of the day from sunrise to sunset, and sometimes afterward. That they are able to maintain an amicable relationship is a feat in and of itself if their schedules are that full year-round.”

  “What about you?” Ariafella asked. “Do you want a family some day?”

  Canry shrugged. “I have found I am not sexually or romantically attracted to anyone. Perhaps I will want a youngling one day, but not now and not for a while.”

  “Oh, good,” Zeus said, not missing a breath. “You can come and watch my young.”

  Canry turned a shocked gaze on Zeus that was quickly turning indignant. “Just because I do not—”

  Zeus’s grin was so broad it almost split his face in two.

  “You! You!” Canry shoved Zeus’s shoulder, dislodging Azaes from Zeus’s stomach. “You were teasing me.”

  Mestor smiled as well. If Canry spent time around them, he would shed the shy tentativeness and be more natural, more himself. He was not surprised that Zeus was the one to start baiting Canry out of his shell.

  “If you need a caregiver’s help, Prince Zeus,” Kryp said from the pool. “I would be more than happy to help.”

  Matsya napped on his chest as he floated on his back in the water. Everyone in the pillow pile crawled to the edge of the bowl to peer at Kryp.

  “Father said you could stay with Matsya?” Zeus asked, eyes bright and happier than when Mestor had first arrived.

  “For as long as Warlord Sohm’lan and Prince Mestor foster her,” Kryp replied.

  “Waterparents, huh?” Ariafella said as she crested the edge. “I think Valdor and Ashari are crafty.” She dropped her robes at the side of the pool and waded into the water.

  Everyone followed her example except Mestor and Dargon.

  Waterparents rarely gave up a youngling once they spent time with the orphans, but Mestor did not think that was what she meant. Before he could entice her to elaborate, movement at the door caught his attention. The Chi-Lin councilmember was partially concealed as she watched those in the pool. No, not everyone. Zeus was disrobing, unaware he was being observed.

  Interest in Zeus was not odd, from the Feteine to other species around the palace, they all were curious. He was the adopted Prince of Atlainticia with Fal’Amoric ties and was also highly sought after for his expertise with starship drives. Now he was also a lauded war hero and a part of a fabled Alpha Trine. Everywhere Zeus went, he was recognized, admired, and watched with curiosity.

  On the Oethra 7, they had verified that Zeus carried the empress of the Fal’Amoric’s DNA, connecting him to Princess Athena and the Bespoken. As suspected, after further investigation it was discovered that none of the three young shared paternal parentage—well, not true. Zeus and Princess Athena shared one father, but not the second father. With Zeus’s ability to affect weather, making him singular among the Fal’Amoric, there was a question as to where his ability sprang from. Perhaps Mestor was suspicious, but he wondered if Councilmember Rheax knew something about Zeus that they did not. Or maybe he was being overly suspicious. Mestor’s father had approached the Chi-Lin, asking them to evaluate Zeus for psi or elemental abilities. Perhaps that was why she watched Zeus so closely.

  As if sensing something, Meme turned to the doorway. She rose to her feet and let her robes fall to cover her legs without stopping to dry off. Once Councilmember Rheax realized she had been noticed, she grinned toothily and stepped into the poolroom.

  “You suspect something,” Dargon stated, the first thing he had said since Mestor had sat next to him.

  “I do not know,” he replied honestly.

  “She watches our mate intently, but Alpha is not concerned.” Which said something since Alpha took it upon himself to uncover why the Feteine had been interested in Zeus, going so far as to leaving Dargon and venture out alone to find an accomplice to help him stalk them.

  Dargon groomed his paw, unsheathing his claws, his green gaze not leaving the councilmember.

  “We could always go sit with them,” Mestor offered.

  “I like the way you think.” Dargon rose to his feet. “Amlyn, are you coming?”

  Mestor nearly jumped out of his skin when a shadow on the wall stepped into a ray of light. Had the Catalani assassin been sitting there all along? Not once had he sensed anything. Amlyn Seneca had attempted to kill Zeus, believing him to be a human spy who wanted to take back the Fal’Amoric who had been imprisoned on a Terren prison planet. She had been court-martialed for disobeying orders and given a dishonorable discharge. Zeus had argued that her skills could be put to better use assigned to him than rotting in a prison cell. The court had agreed.

  Amlyn passed Mestor, her russet gaze holding an amused glint. She stood barely one and a half meters tall, but the Catalani were known for their deadly nature and were on the verge of species extinction if the Gaziniti integration did not work. If their violence was not curbed, the Catalani would be gone in five generations, tops. Although biped in body shape with hands and feet, her face was feline in appearance with short, brown and white swirled fur over red-brown skin. She followed Dargon mimicking the same sensual swagger that belied the fact that she was armed to the teeth.

  Dargon sat near Meme where she and Councilmember Rheax settled at the table. Mestor hurried over in time to accept a glass of chilled fruit ju
ice from Meme. When the councilmember glanced at him, he showed too much teeth before hiding his expression behind the rim of the glass.

  “I am sorry, Valdor is still caught up with the Dire D’Noss,” Meme was saying.

  “No worries. I have time. Something has come up and I had my assistants clear my schedule since I will be travelling offworld. Hestiax will be standing in for me until I return, but I wanted to explain the changes to Emperor Valdor.” Councilmember Rheax took a sip of her juice and hummed with pleasure.

  “He should be finished soon, Councilmem—”

  “Just Rheax, please.” She met Mestor’s gaze and his lip trembled as he fought not to snarl. He did not feel threatened, well perhaps a little. There was an air about her that announced she was a proficient hunter and there were few she did not consider prey. But there was something else that whispered she was not what she seemed. It was the same feeling he got when he travelled one of Atlainticia’s jungles and something deadly watched him. Was that pile of leaves a poisonous snake, or the darker greens on that branch a mammal that could strip the flesh from bone in a matter of a few heartbeats? And the most unnerving part was the sparkle in her eyes that said she knew exactly what he was thinking. Chi-Lin were not telepathic, but Mestor still checked his mental shields.

  “Mestor.” Zeus was at the edge of the pool, muscular arms braced on the edge. Though he was in the shallows, Zeus was crouched, ready to spring. Mestor narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Come and swim for a while. You and Azaes are leaving the day after tomorrow to return home, and I want to spend time with you before you go.” He wore a charming smile, but his eyes were wary when he looked to Rheax, then Meme. “That is, if you do not need him for anything, Meme.”

  “Of course not.” Meme’s bangles tinkled as she waved her hand for Mestor to go to Zeus. “We are just relaxing.”