Constant

by Lexi Ander

  Alpha prowled around the twins, his smooth form now covered in dark green spikes. Sohm’lan was not tempted to touch Alpha to see if they were sharp. The Valuzials trilled, and Moke crawled forward, heedless of the people he pushed out of his way to get closer to the kits.

  “It sounds as if they are being tortured,” Azaes hiss-clicked, hands balled into fists.

  “I assure you,” Dargon panted. “This is natural. The first morph is always hard. It does not help that they thought they could rush it.”

  Sohm’lan curled his tail around himself, trying to keep from hitting people with it. He struggled to hold onto his patience, waiting for the kits to finish morphing so he could soothe them. Arimon was the first and since he was the closest, Sohm’lan gathered the youngling in his arms, singing softly.

  “Here.” Zeus handed him a soft, moist cloth and Sohm’lan gently wiped the youngling down. He wanted to rub his cheeks and chin on Arimon like he always did with Matsya, but the youngling had Zeus’s soft skin, so he cradled the small body in his large hands and pressed his forehead to Arimon’s.

  Azaes hovered over Basil, forcing everyone away so he would be the one to pick him up once the morph completed. Zeus sniggered and gave him a cloth to clean Basil with before picking up Alpha and setting him on Dargon’s chest.

  The kit’s muskiness lessened after the light wash, for which Sohm’lan’s nose was thankful. Arimon’s stomach growled in such a way that Sohm’lan quickly held him at arm’s length, anticipating an unexpected voiding of Arimon’s bowels.

  Zeus howled with laughter and took his son. “He is just hungry. I had the attendants bring food to our room so they can eat before bed.”

  Ashari took Basil from Azaes. Sohm’lan was sure she was the only one who could do so without Azaes snapping at her. “Then let us get you settled in your suite.”

  Valdor helped Dargon to his feet and into a belted robe. Everyone quietly watched as Zeus’s household filed out. Hok herded Zeus and Dargon between Moke and Aemish then escorted them from the room.

  “I did not get to hold either of them,” Tori grumbled after wishing everyone a good evening.

  Sohm’lan pulled him close. “They are not going anywhere.”

  “I know,” Tori replied under his breath.

  He sounded so forlorn that Sohm’lan had to stifle his chuckle. “If we get up early enough, I bet we can grab Kryp and Matsya and sneak into Zeus’s suite so the young can have first-meal together.”

  “I love the way you think.” Tori looked up and Sohm’lan was caught by those sunrise-yellow eyes.

  Tori opened the door to their sleeping chamber. “Until then, I have something you need to look at.” The sultry glance over his shoulder, the languorous sway of his tail pulled Sohm’lan through the doorway. Sliding it shut behind him, he rushed Tori and picked him up, tossing him on the sleeping platform, sending silken pillows flying everywhere.

  Sohm’lan hurriedly tore at his clothing, anticipation tightening his gut. Tori rose to his knees and pulled his tunic over his head. “Come to me, my warlord. I want to hear you sing.”

  The night was blessedly long and Sohm’lan sang to his amor of love and life and family. The sensuous glide of their scales was the music when words failed him.

  “My amor. My Tori. My Prince. My love and life are yours,” Sohm’lan promised.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Sohm’lan

  * * *

  Sohm’lan stood with Dargon and Ariafella, waiting for the ceremony to start. Today, he and Tori would formally commit to each other alongside Ariafella, Azaes, Dargon, Alpha, and Zeus. He did not expect to be this nervous. His anxiety was not caused by the fact that the broadcast of the commitment ceremony would not only be seen on Atlainticia but on twenty other planets, the last time he had checked. It was not because the ceremony had been moved to the Academy’s obstacle arena, where thousands more citizens could attend, if they so desired. In some cities, commitment ceremonies were celebrated in groups, bringing communities together. No, his nervousness came from the knowledge that this love affair between him and his Tori would be made permanent. Not that he did not think that before, but the ceremony solidified the ‘forever’ and made it more in a way he could not define.

  He nervously plucked at his outfit. It was not his typical uniform. The ceremony was about the future and everything about it was symbolic. He chose to wear the traditional clothing of his mother’s family. He wore a white sleeveless vest embroidered with ocean waves and fish in a brilliant blue, the same shade as his eyes. His pants were also a white, supple leather with beaded fringe down the outside of the pant leg. White represented peace and the ability to remain calm and balanced, even in the midst of battle. He would bring clarity, tolerance, kindness, and adaptability. Though he would only be the Chief Warlord for another summer or two. He had not decided what he would do in this next phase of life, but he did know he would be Tori’s home, his shelter, and his protection. At his waist, he wore a foot-long knife on each hip, gifts from Tori and Azaes when they were only five summers old, the red steel blades were nigh unbreakable. For the hundredth time, he checked to make sure the black hilts were secure, the carved snake guards pressing into the palms of his hands.

  Ariafella wore something slightly similar to Sohm’lan’s outfit, but skintight and a deep red matching her eyes, a lovely contrast to her white scales. The red was for passion, fire, strength, and power. Her top was made of woven fringe dotted with semi-precious stones that Dargon helped her choose, then he selected the placement of the beads, revealing the meaning of each one he gave her. Her pants were snug but moved with her body. A long, curved sword was strapped to her back, and everyone who glimpsed it had given her wide-eyed stares. One attendant dared ask about the weapon.

  “My father raised me to be an ambassador, a negotiator, and a problem solver. They are the skills I will bring to the table as empress of Atlainticia, but people should never forget my father also taught me to be a warrior and my blade will guard Azaes’ back, and, if necessary, I will ride into war with him.”

  Of the three of them, Dargon was dressed the most simplistically in a floor-length, pleated hyde skirt with slits to mid-thigh. He wore no shirt, Alpha’s dark green form displayed against his golden chest and shoulders. The single line of his copper mane was gathered and tied to the top of his head. Sohm’lan could not guess at the symbolism. He was still learning about Dar Massaga, but he did notice the stones in his ears had changed.

  “Did the twins fuss about staying with Kryp and Matsya this morning?” Sohm’lan asked, needing something to take his mind off the coming ceremony.

  Dargon grinned. “Not at all. They thought they were going to play in the pool, which is funny since they spend more time on top of Kryp as he floats than in the water.”

  The kits’ introduction to water was possibly accidental, though Sohm’lan had his doubts. Matsya chased them into the pool, but Canry had already been in the water and caught them. Sohm’lan had glimpsed a brief flash of disappointment on Matsya’s face. All she ever talked about was wanting the kits to play in the water with her. Accident or not, Kryp had immediately taken her to the side and spoken to her.

  Alpha had hopped into the pool, he and Canry demonstrating how to tread water. Turned out, Dar Massaga were excellent swimmers, though they did not take to the water like Mar’Sani. Valdor, upon seeing the kits’ limitations, ordered one of the pools in the grand family room to be modified, adding places the kits could climb to rest and lounge. For the time being, they discovered that Kryp worked well enough as a resting spot.

  “Kryp showed us this harness his grandfather sent. Did you know Dire D’Noss caregivers take care of up to six offspring at one time? Our two are exhausting. How do they manage six?” Dargon shook his head in wonder, his earrings tinkling. “The harness allows him to carry all three, leaving his hands free. I asked if he was sure he wanted to be the caregiver for the twins, and he assured me he would love to. But if it
becomes a burden for him, you need to tell us. Zeus says he, Mestor, and Azaes had several nannies, which makes sense. They need breaks and time off, but Kryp did not want to share duties with any of the other nannies.”

  And he will not, Sohm’lan thought, not until the nannies realize they need to gain his trust.

  “I will keep an eye on him.” He would give the Overlord of Sirbolli a call about caregivers’ limits. He would not allow Kryp’s nature to overrule his health and welfare.

  Music started, flutes flirting with chirpy notes. His gut clenched and the scales across his shoulders tightened. Last night’s walkthrough was still fresh in his mind, the steps easy and yet his legs trembled slightly as he walked into the arena with Dargon, Alpha, and Ariafella.

  The Academy’s obstacle course had been disassembled and stowed away, the sandy soil raked until it was even and smooth. Streamers, the same colors that he had rolled in with Tori, fluttered overhead in the breeze coming off the Waters of Poseidon. Sunlight glinted over the bright colors, producing an eye-catching twinkling of rainbows.

  The stands were packed. Family and friends would be on the lowest seating, but he did not try to recognize all the faces, only looking for one in particular. Kryp would be seated with his Monticore guards in the area behind Sohm’lan’s knee-high pedestal. He checked to ensure Kryp was there and smiled when Matsya, strapped face forward in the chest harness, waved both her hands in a ‘see me’ gesture. Sohm’lan touched his brow in response.

  Basil and Arimon looked over Kryp’s shoulders, their silvery eyes wide and dark hair a puffy mane. Dargon kept pace with Sohm’lan, blowing a kiss to his kits before breaking off to stand next to his pedestal. Ariafella had already crossed to hers, her stance saying she was alert and waiting.

  Turning his back to the stands, Sohm’lan faced the center of the wide circle he, Dargon, and Ariafella made. The three of them were the points of the triangle within the large circle. He faced Dargon on his left and Ariafella on his right. An area that separated them created the space for the complicated steps of the ceremony. Niobe had once stood where he was, waiting for him to come to her. He remembered clearly how her smile lit up the room, and the way she had watched him with a desire that had almost caused him to fumble the steps of the dance. Had she been ready to jump out of her scales, too?

  The music changed, and his stomach gave a hard clench. The double doors on the opposite side of the arena opened and three Mar’Sani stepped onto the sands. Two were identical and tall, and the other was several centimeters shorter. All three had gleaming black scales that looked like polished onyx. The barbs of Azaes’ and Tori’s red ridge and Zeus’s white ridge were on full display and lined with a woven golden mesh. They wore diaphanous clothing without shoes, symbolically showing they hid nothing.

  Walking in perfect step, the brothers approached the circle.

  He could not take his eyes off his Tori, who halted directly across from him, midway between Dargon and Ariafella. Azaes moved to a point between Sohm’lan and Dargon so he was directly across from Ariafella, and Zeus stopped between Sohm’lan and Ariafella, his gaze unwavering as he stared at Dargon and Alpha.

  The music stopped and the crowd hushed as they waited. Suddenly, Sohm’lan’s anxiety slipped away, pouring out of him into the ground and his whole body relaxed. The drums started a steady, thumping beat that traveled through his heels into his bones. Azaes, Tori, and Zeus sang, their voices weaving into a melody that made Sohm’lan catch his breath. Then they broke into a dance, jumping and twirling, arms spread wide as their tails flicked the ground digging small waves into the sand.

  “I come to you, my amor, heart brimming with joy.”

  They tore the flimsy material from their shoulders, the diaphanous cloth rippling behind them as they twirled and leaped in unison.

  Sohm’lan walked around the platform. “I accept you, my amor. You can rest in my arms, sit at my table, and take a place in my soul.”

  Tori met his brothers in the center, and they touched their right hands together, walking in a circle until Tori once again faced Sohm’lan. The beat quickened. Tori’s barely-there pants fluttered to the sand, leaving him bare, showing he had nothing to hide, offering all he was and who he would be to Sohm’lan.

  Sohm’lan joined the song, singing of life and hardships, of hope and loss, of persevering through all obstacles. He walked another circuit around the pedestal, eyes never leaving Tori’s molten ones. He sang of love, joy, and this possessive need to never let Tori go.

  The air crackled. At first, he thought it was Zeus, but tiny blue arcs of electricity jumped from one of his fingertips to another. Tori’s scales glowed as if a star rested in his core, his smile growing wider and more seductive as he danced, each step bringing him closer to Sohm’lan. Tori’s quickening called to Sohm’lan’s, igniting his own internal flame that flooded his limbs with excited expectation.

  He crouched on top of the small dais, Tori dancing around the base to the ever-accelerating drumbeat. When the music and the singing stopped, Tori was kneeling, looking up at Sohm’lan, his eyes glowing like twin suns. This was the point at which one or both parties could walk away. Instead, Sohm’lan reach down and grabbed Tori’s hand, pulling him up to stand on the pedestal with him. He pressed his forehead to Tori’s, breathing hard and trembling with excitement.

  “My Tori, my love, you have me for always,” he whispered.

  “My every breath is yours. I need you by my side forevermore,” Tori replied.

  The glow behind Tori’s scales flared and Sohm’lan closed his eyes against the brilliance, wrapping his amor in his arms as they burned like a star.

  “I love you.”

  “Of course, you do,” Tori rumbled, rubbing the scales of their cheeks together. “I have loved you since I was fifteen. You’re mine, Sohm’lan Myrmidon, and no one in this galaxy can take you away from me.”

  Shaneva

  * * *

  Shaneva had never seen a more beautiful commitment ceremony. How her brothers’ quickening light burned at the end, giving the illusion of flames on the pedestals, replayed on the different broadcasts. In response, Atlainticians had taken to the streets to celebrate, making it hard for her escort to return her to the palace.

  The investigators were wrapping up their interviews of the noble houses embroiled with Timsah and the House Cordyl conspiracy. They had already sent a final report to the Galactic Imperials, a copy going to her father. The family had sat down and Rathmar was summoned to go over the investigators’ findings and recommendations. Timsah would never return to Atlainticia but be imprisoned for the rest of his life. Those who colluded with him to defraud the Council of Neighn to gain control over Atlainticia’s throne would share his fate. Other criminal activities that were uncovered during the investigation were given over to her father, and he handled the arrests and freezing of assets for the individuals implicated. She was glad that mess was being wrapped up. The sooner it was over, the better they could focus their energies on other areas, such as the integration of the Numina and Mar’Sani, or the education of those who were quickening.

  She checked the time and nearly sighed aloud upon seeing they had been stuck in traffic for over an hour. She turned to Captain Hesperos. “I am going to leave you here. Please do not touch the water or the portal will pull you in after me.”

  Captain Hesperos’s mouth pursed into a thin line, and he eyed the travel capsule filled with seawater with wary caution. “Are you sure it is safe, Princess?” She was touched by his obvious concern. “I could call in an airlift,” he offered.

  “No, I will not take up resources when it is not necessary.”

  The Ancient, Wanderer, had offered to show Shaneva how to access her ability to change shape. She had been hit hard by fear and a doctor was called when she could not stop dry heaving. She could never think about her legs and not be caught by vivid memories of Nethus descaling her. In her mind, having legs, standing on land, resulted in pain. The day
before her punishment, she had walked on the shore with her family. After her punishment, her mer-tail and fins had completely formed as she healed, and she never left the water again. Perhaps a day would come when she would once again dig toes into dry land, but it would not be soon.

  “It will be fine,” she said reassuringly, waiting for him to step away.

  Concentrating as she had been taught, she opened a portal behind her and floated backward into the void. Excitement coursed through her. When she surfaced the water was fresh, not salty, and trees leaned over the edge of the dark shoreline, giving shade. There under the boughs rested Ravindra, the Terren she had taken to safety all those moons ago. He wore casual, baggy pants and sat next to a picnic basket. He was always there, always waiting for her whenever she decided to visit. He claimed he’d bought a dwelling nearby after the Alliance had given him a dishonorable discharge. He refused to return to active duty, which terrified Shaneva. The Terren leaders had fed people who resisted to the V’Saar, but so far Ravindra had not been threatened.

  His smiled widened when he saw her, and he waved. Her heart sped with excitement as she neared. A boulder sat a body length from shore, giving her a place to rest under the shade. Ravindra waded out to her, his chest bare, his red-brown skin darker from his time under the sun. He carried the basket with him. Shaneva smelled grilled fish and the pungent cheeses Ravindra loved to indulge in.

  “You said your brothers were getting married today. I didn’t expect to see you.”

  She loved the sound of his voice and how it caused her scales to pull tight. She would always come to him. Instead of saying the words, she sat next to him and described the beautiful ceremony. He watched her with dark eyes filled with admiration. When he reached for her hand she did not pull away. He was always full of questions, some she could not answer, but today he was quiet, listening. Sometimes he looked as if he would say something then would stop, staring out over the rippling water.