by JC Cassels
His lips quirked. “I love you, Bo,” he said softly. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
“I’ll see you at the landing field.”
He nodded. Shrugging off his frustration, he reached for the disconnect button. “See you around, Barron.”
***
With one hand on the wardrobe door, Bo stared at the colorful array of clothing, at a loss which to choose. With a growl, she slammed the barbur wood door shut with a bang that rattled the window shutters. Folding her arms across her chest with a huff, she turned and fell back against the door.
Where the hell were Tese and Gena when she needed them? Seeing her father for the first time in ten years and she didn’t have a clue what to wear. Her Black Wing uniform was aboard Sundance. The only options she had available were an array of light-weight fluttery dresses that Blade had somehow procured from local artisans. She didn’t want to face her father looking like a damn Joy Babe! He’d never take her seriously as The Barron.
She rolled her eyes. She couldn’t show up in a towel. She had to pick something.
Taking a deep breath, she blew it out quickly. With a nod, she pushed herself away from the wardrobe door and turned. She stared at the polished wooden handle.
Who was she kidding? Her lips twisted in a frown. There wasn’t a damn thing in that wardrobe appropriate for an event of this magnitude. He was The Barron. She was…
Bo’s frown faded and her brow furrowed.
He was The Barron.
She reached for the handle and pulled the wardrobe open once more. The spicy fragrance of barbur wood wafted out.
He was The Barron.
Her father was the true and rightful Barron, not her.
She absently fingered the soft, cool fabric of one of the dresses. It was the same pale shade of green as the shallow waters that lapped the beach below the villa.
If he was The Barron, what did that make her?
Bo freed the dress from its hanger, holding it up so she could get a better look.
What was the protocol for this exchange of authority? Would there even be one? She’d never legally gone through the formalities or the rituals of taking on the title.
He was still The Barron.
A slow smile touched her lips.
Holding the dress in front of her, Bo turned to the full-length mirror in the corner. Tilting her head to one side, she admired the way the dress flattered her coloring. Her skin, darkened under the Lahtrecki sun to a golden color, her hair, lightened in streaks that matched her eyes. It made her look like a newly-joined young woman dressing to greet her husband.
Rising on tiptoes, she gave a lighthearted twirl, enjoying the way the skirt flared out. Wasting no time, she stripped off the towel she’d wrapped around herself and dressed in the green dress.
When she returned to the mirror to check her appearance one last time before setting off, she studied the image beaming back at her. With a saucy wink, Bo dashed from the bedroom and skipped down the stairs. Her shoes tapped sharply on the cool, dark stones of the hallway in a rapid staccato. When she pushed open the door to the garage, the lights flickered on in rapid succession. The smell of lubricant and fuel met her. She inhaled deeply. She studied the collection of ground cruisers, speeders and hovercycles, and smiled to herself. She would have expected Blade to have no less than a half-dozen vehicles. The man loved them…almost as much as he loved her.
She wasted no time finding the access card and taking the cruiser out onto the narrow, twisting road. The thick jungle flashed past as she pushed the cruiser at an illegal rate of speed. She didn’t slow until she reached the heavier traffic of the walled city. Her fingers curled around the controls as she fought against her impatience at being forced to slow down. Groaning, growling and muttering to herself, Bo endured the traffic as more cruisers clogged the roads heading for the landing field.
Somehow, the Lahtrecki always seemed to know when a Hebla ship was coming in. It was still a big enough deal to draw a crowd of sightseers.
When Bo reached the gates to the landing field, uniformed guards were turning away those without proper authorization. Bo’s heart pounded. What if they denied her access? A thousand doubts assailed her as she crept slowly forward. When she reached the guards, they glanced at her and waved her through. With a sigh of relief, Bo accelerated, following the unspoken directions of the guards stationed at key points to guide traffic to the landing field. When she pulled to a stop, only a boxy black cruiser remained near her. All the other vehicles had been relegated to other parking areas. The flags fluttering on the front fenders marked it as the Tryrium’s cruiser.
She cut off the engines and checked her makeup one last time in the rearview mirror. Before she could reach for the door, a white liveried servant opened it and held it for her with all the somber decorum of his station. With a broad smile, she stepped out and thanked him in Lahtrecki, one of the few phrases she’d managed to learn.
“Te mem sa, you look lovely,” Ballanshi said. His voice boomed across the pavement.
Bo took his proffered hand. “Thank you, Tryrium.”
Anything else she might have said was lost in the rising whine of repulsors. Bo turned her gaze skyward, squinting behind her sunshades. Sundance burst through the clouds and descended rapidly towards the landing field at a rate of speed that would have given her pause if it had been any other ship with any other pilot aboard. Beside her, Ballanshi’s hand tightened on hers as they watched the landing.
“Perhaps we should…”
She patted his arm. “My father’s feeling sassy,” she said. “The ship is under complete control, I promise. He’s showing off a little, that’s all.”
“How do you know it is your father flying?”
Bo laughed. “Oh, I know,” she assured him.
Sure enough, her wedge-shaped ship slowed as it closed in on the ground. The nose lifted just a bit as the ship settled lightly to the ground on the rear landing gear, and then the nose gear touched down as softly as a feather. The ship hissed and vented. The repulsors whined and hummed, changing pitch in a familiar symphony as the systems wound down from the long voyage.
After what felt like an eternity, the ramp hissed and groaned as it separated from the ship and lowered to the ground. It settled with one last heavy creak.
Bo dropped the Tryrium’s hand and walked towards her ship, slowly at first, but when the hatch slid open, she broke into a run. Blade lunged down the ramp to meet her. He caught her on the ground at the base of the ramp in a bone-crushing embrace and buried his face in her hair.
“Please don’t ever make me fly with those two lunatics again,” he said.
Bo lifted her head and laughed. “I didn’t make you fly with them,” she chuckled. “I left you in charge of my ship. What happened?”
“Oh, the usual…we were being chased…shot at…I nearly crashed…Royce physically removed me from the pilot’s seat...”
Bo stuck out her lower lip in a playful pout and gently stroked his cheek. “My poor baby,” she said. “It sounds like you had a wonderful time.”
“I did.” He grinned. “Your father is amazing.”
The genuine affection in his tone warmed her heart, but the question weighing on her mind darkened her spirit. Her humor faded a little. “And Royce?”
He kissed her lightly on the nose. “I trust him with my life.” He shrugged. “I trust him with your life.”
Relieved, Bo sagged against him. “Thank the Maker.”
“I take it your mission was successful?” Ballanshi boomed from behind Bo.
Blade glanced past her. Pulling Bo up against his side, he held out his hand to his friend.
“It was,” Blade said, shaking Ballanshi’s hand.
Bo let the men’s conversation wash over her. Hugging Blade tightly to her, she drew strength from his nearness, but her eyes remained on the hatchway at the top of the ramp. Her outward calm was purely for show. It took all her will to stay at her husband’s side and not race
aboard her ship after her father.
When she didn’t think she’d be able to take the waiting another moment, she saw a movement in the ship’s dark interior. Every muscle in her body vibrated with anticipation. Sensing her sudden tension, Blade’s voice trailed off.
Two murky silhouettes stepped out into the daylight. Her gaze settled on Royce’s brawny form first then shifted to the man beside him. Shorter than Royce and more compact, her father reminded her of an explosion somehow contained microseconds after detonation. He looked as fit as ever in an ill-fitting suit he’d clearly borrowed from Blade’s locker. His brown hair, cut short and combed away from his face, showed the barest hint of the Barron curl that she’d failed to inherit. He was paler than she remembered, but his beard was neatly trimmed as was his custom.
Squinting against the glare, he studied her in turn. His pace slowed.
Bo eased out of Blade’s embrace. Her spine stiffened under her father’s wary regard. Without conscious thought, she settled into the graceful posture her Aunt Misou had drilled into her. Lifting her chin slightly, she met his stare as an equal, patiently waiting for him to break the silence.
Bhruic’s mouth tightened and he swallowed. It was the only indication of his emotions.
“Take off your sunshades,” Blade whispered in her ear.
Tearing her gaze away, Bo looked up at him, her brows drawing together in silent question.
Blade smiled and winked in encouragement.
With one trembling hand, Bo ducked her head and removed her sunshades. Blinking against the harsh sunlight, she slowly looked up and met her father’s stare once more.
A slow smile spread across Bhruic’s face. Some of the tension eased from his posture. He held out his arms to her.
Bo needed no further urging. Tears stinging her eyes, she launched herself at her father. As soon as his arms went around her, the past ten years fell away like spent booster rockets. Against her cheek, his heart thudded a strong, steady rhythm. Bo closed her eyes and tightened her hold on him.
How many times had she needed her father’s touch? How many times had she craved the comfort of his presence?
Every niggling fear and doubt she’d kept locked tightly inside bubbled to the surface and spilled out with her tears. Unable to help herself, she sobbed against his chest, letting go of the burdens she’d been carrying. She didn’t have to bear the weight of responsibility for Mondhuoun any longer.
Her father would take care of Frostfire. Her father would overturn her conviction. Her father would bring her home with honor.
The Barron had returned, and somehow, everything was going to work out just fine.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Vinatair, Altair
The shuttle pinged and the doors ground shut.
“Please stand clear of the doors,” a hollow recorded safety message repeated. “Please remain seated or hold the rails at all times while the shuttle is in motion.”
“I hate to leave Sundance here.” Bo stared after her ship as the small shuttle skimmed along the surface towards the main terminal.
“Edge’ll look after her for you,” Bhruic said.
“Papa!” Bo shot her father a warning glare and glanced towards Blade.
Bhruic waved her concerns away. “You two keep too many secrets from each other.” He exchanged a glance with Royce who shrugged.
Blade grinned, enjoying Bo’s discomfort. “I’ve spoken with Edge before,” he said. “Who is he? A Kiara cousin?”
“Close,” Bhruic said with a smile. “He’s my son.” At Bo’s sharp gasp, he chuckled. “You’re not betraying any confidences, little one. I am. Shame on you for not trusting your husband as you should.”
Bo blushed and ducked her head.
“Technically, he’s my wife’s son,” Bhruic said. “I raised him as my own. I’m very proud of him for all he’s accomplished. He’s ruler of his own little kingdom. Who knows. Given the men Marissa used to contract with, he might well be a Sovran.”
“Oh, Papa…”
“Maybe even a Marin,” he went on. “I’d like that. I’d like to have a Sovran in the family. Allying with the House of Marin would solve a lot of problems.”
“It would create a lot more and set off a war besides,” Bo said.
Bhruic laughed. “Don’t count old Andre out,” he said. “After the attack on his wife and son, there were rumors about the old man.”
Blade’s brow furrowed. “What kind of rumors?”
Meeting Blade’s stare, Bhruic sobered and shook his head. “Just rumors, son. Gossip. No one ever says anything nice when they gossip.”
“Yeah,” Royce nodded. “I’d forgotten about that. There were whispers that Lord Marin was collecting his bastards for safekeeping.”
“Bastards?”
Royce shrugged. “Hey, it happens.”
“Not to Andre Marin, it doesn’t,” Blade said. “There are no accidents around him.”
“I swear, Dev, sometimes you sound like you hate the man,” Bo said.
His lips quirked. “Sometimes, I do.”
“I don’t envy you that line you walk, son.”
Bo’s brow furrowed. “What line?”
“The one between love and duty,” Bhruic said. “You walk it too, little one. One of these days you’re going to have to choose which one is your priority. No matter which one you choose, you’ll lose a piece of your soul. What you two need to do is figure out how to be completely honest with each other. Until you can do that, you’ll never find the balance between the two.”
Blade shook his head. “I know, Barron, but it’s…”
“Complicated,” Bo finished.
Swaying against the rocking movements of the shuttle as it hummed along on an antigravity field, Bo and Blade shared a smile.
The high-pitched whine of the shuttle slid down the register, deepening in tone as it slowed. Blade’s eyes narrowed. He craned his neck and looked out the shuttle’s windows, peering up at the sky and scanning the surrounding tarmac. His hand slipped inside his jacket, reaching for the blaster in its shoulder holster.
“Royce?”
Bo leaned towards the window. “Why are we stopping?”
Blade pulled her away.
Royce’s blaster was already in his hand. “Get down,” he said. His voice was calm, distracted. He glanced at Bhruic. “Both of you.”
Bhruic slid his arm protectively around Bo and knelt down in the center of the shuttle, pulling her with him. She tried to shrug off his arm.
“Don’t be foolish,” he said. “Let them do their job.” Bhruic pulled a compact blaster from his pocket and held it up. “You and I, we’ll do the job we were trained to do.”
Bo nodded, understanding. She dragged her bag across the scuffed deckplates. She unfastened the top and rummaged through layers of shimmersilk underwear until her fingers found the familiar textured grip plates. Her hand closed around her Capre and she took her time drawing it from the bag. A bit of lace snagged on the sight. Bo plucked it off and shoved it back inside with the rest of her things.
She looked up and her father’s lips quirked in amusement.
“What are you doing with that museum piece?”
Bo looked quizzically at him, then at the Capre. “Royce gave it to me when I went into exile.”
His shoulders shook with amusement. “Royce, you always did have a flair for drama,” he said.
Royce and Blade took up positions at each end of the shuttle, crouched behind the dubious cover of the seats.
“She needed a magic feather,” Royce said.
“I did not!”
Blade glanced over at her. “What’s a magic feather?”
Bhruic grinned. “Sometimes our young cadets lack confidence. It’s common practice to take a struggling cadet aside and give them a feather from the Black-Winged Hawk and explain to them that it’s imbued with magic that will impart whatever skill the cadet lacks the confidence for, but has the ability to master.”
&
nbsp; “I didn’t need a magic feather!”
Royce shrugged. “You needed something,” he said. “You weren’t ready to be The Barron. You were a scared little kid. Everything you’ve done since I gave you that thing, you’ve been trying to live up to the myth of it. You needed it.”
Blade’s humor faded. “Repair crew coming in,” he said.
Royce nodded. “That was a little too quick, if you ask me.”
The tinny safety recording crackled and went silent.
“Hey Royce, please don’t open fire on the repair crew,” Edge’s voice crackled over the speakers. “I’m with them and I’d prefer not to be shot today.”
Bo tapped the com-implant behind her ear. The actuator clicked and hummed. “Edge?”
“Yeah, brat, it’s for real.” Her brother’s voice came over both the shuttle’s speakers and her com implant.
With a small sigh of relief, Bo tapped the implant again, closing the connection. “You can stand down.”
Neither Royce nor Blade made any move to comply.
“It’s Edge,” she said. “It’s okay.”
Royce exchanged a look with Blade. “You’ll excuse me, Princess, if I verify for myself,” he said. “One accurate blaster shot into any one of you and the Commonwealth as we know it changes forever – and not in a good way.”
“You suddenly don’t trust Edge?”
“Trust, but verify,” Bhruic said. “There’s too much at stake to lay down weapons and wait to be boarded.”
“It’s out of character,” Royce said. “Edge never leaves the safety of Redmaster Blue.”
She looked from Royce to her father. “What are you two not telling me?”
“The same thing I told you when we went over the analysis of your father’s stasis pod,” Blade said. “Only someone inside the family had enough access to you and your father to poison you, arrange his kidnapping and all the other sweet little murder attempts that the two of you have been dodging. You need to be suspicious of everyone close to you, no matter who they are.”
“Including you?” She smiled sweetly at him.
His lips quirked. “We’ve already been over that,” he said.