Prophecy (Book One in the Prophecy Series)

by Lea Kirk

  Admiral Cael cleared his throat. “Senior Captain Helyg, Captain Solaris, we will reconvene in ten Terr days to finalize our strategy.”

  “Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.

  ~ * ~

  “Gryf….”

  Alex covered her smile with her hand at the much-tested-parent tone of Gryf’s father. Some things didn’t change no matter what planet you were from.

  Now that Ora and the six other admirals had exited their respective viscomm rooms, the atmosphere seemed more relaxed.

  Gryf shrugged. “Patre, you must agree that my entire life has been leading up to this point.”

  “It is rather clear to me now, natu,” his father conceded in a dry tone. “You understand that there will be a Panel of Inquiry?”

  “I do. How is Mother?”

  “Strong, as always,” Zale replied. “We stand with you.”

  Gryf bowed his head, murmuring his thanks. Then Zale turned to her. “Cori, welcome to the family.”

  The warmth of his words spread through her, especially since he called her daughter. “Thank you, patre. I will do my best to bring honor to your house.”

  “Our house,” he gently corrected. “Your very presence is our blessing and honor. Never forget this, Alexandra. The loss of your parents weighs heavy on my heart. Charis and I can never hope to replace them, yet I pray we can help fill that void for you.”

  Swallowing against the lump forming in her throat, she gave him a nod.

  Her father-in-law leaned forward. “It may seem premature; however I do want you to consider the future. As the Profeta, what do you envision your role to be for the continued survival of your people?”

  Clearly her father-in-law had not become an admiral by asking softball questions. She shifted in her seat. “I hate to admit it, but I’ve avoided thinking beyond winning our freedom from the Anferthians.” There was no guarantee that they wouldn’t fail. “I’d welcome your guidance here, patre.”

  His smile was the tender smile of a parent for his child. Her own father had given her that look many times. The memory squeezed her heart. “Daughter, you are the mouthpiece of your people, whether you wish it or not. It is possible you could even find yourself their chosen leader.”

  She gave her head a vehement shake. “I hope not. Leadership isn’t something I aspire to.”

  “You did not aspire to be Profeta either, yet here you are,” he pointed out. “Prophecies are unpredictable creatures.”

  She slid a glance at Gryf. “So I’ve heard.”

  “No matter what happens, you will have Gryf by your side, the Matiran Defense Fleet at your back and the unflagging support of the Matiran people. Should there be anything you require to aid you in your quest, you need only ask.”

  Wow. She swallowed against the lump that rose in her throat. “I just hope I can live up to everyone’s expectations.”

  “If you could not, you would not have been chosen,” Zale replied, then sat back in his seat. “Until next time, may the Mother guide your steps, my children.”

  The viscomm screen became a solid wall again. With a groan, Gryf leaned his head against the back of his chair. “That was an unexpected adventure.”

  “You didn’t know your father would make the trip?”

  “I did not, however I am glad you both had the opportunity to speak. He’s probably already viscomming my mother to tell her how wonderful you are.”

  “Oh, please.” She gazed down at the row of names on the tabletop. How did this thing turn off? She pushed random spots on the table around the screen until it flickered off, blending into the black surface.

  “I’m quite serious, Alexandra.”

  He did appear serious, and she couldn’t help but smile. She curved her hand against his cheek. “I really like him too, Gryf. Is your mom as nice?”

  “Nicer.” His gaze held hers as he slid her hand down to his lips. His tongue tickled her palm. Crazy shivers ran up her arm, into her heart, and straight down to the juncture between her legs. Mmm.

  “Is there a broom closet aboard this old tub?” Her voice sounded oddly strangled.

  Gryf’s smile slowly widened, and he tucked her hand under his chin. “You make me feel like a teenage boy again, animi.”

  “Any small space will do.” She willed him to understand she wasn’t kidding.

  Desire flashed in his darkening eyes. He pulled her to her feet and towed her toward the wall-door at a brisk pace. Yup, he clearly understood now, and hopefully had a place in mind.

  The ID reader turned green under his hand and the wall whooshed open. A harsh “wuff” escaped Alex as she plowed into his shoulder. What the heck was he stopping for?

  She peered around him at the formidable figure in the corridor. Ora wore a fierce frown, her arms folded across her chest.

  “Is there a problem?” Gryf asked his cousin.

  “Truly?” She countered as if he should know. “I’m taking the two of you back to camp. I will not have you lighting up the broom closets or other small spaces on this old tub.”

  Alex slapped her hand over her mouth as heat flooded her cheeks. “How did you…?”

  Ora’s eyes flicked to her and narrowed even further. “You need to be more careful about which buttons you push on the table, sobin.”

  “Oh, crap. I’m really sorry, Ora. I didn’t mean it like that, I just...well, you know.” She gave the proud captain a helpless shrug. It was a good sign that Ora still referred to her as cousin, right?

  Ora turned away from them, heading down the passageway in the direction of the ladder hatch. “Truly, it is as if you two are in love; newlyweds, or some such thing. Nauseating.”

  Alex exchanged a glance with Gryf. Then he called after his cousin, “Speaking of nauseating, sobin, how is Bodie?”

  “Tacte, Gryf!”

  Instead of being silent, he laughed outright at his cousin’s retreating form, then glanced at Alex. “I did tell you that Ora is the Nick in my life, did I not?”

  “Yes, you did.” A chortle gurgled from her, and she wrapped her arms around his middle. “Do you think she’ll forgive me for the old tub comment?”

  “She did the moment you said it,” he assured her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And I am certain the rest of the bridge got a chuckle out of it as well.”

  “So, no broom closet, I’m guessing.” She gave him a teasing pout.

  “There is more room in our little cave anyway, compa. If we leave now, we’ll get back in time to watch the sunset. After that….” Gryf caught her bottom lip gently between his teeth, and nibbled suggestively.

  Oh, yes. “After that” held a lot of potential.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Alex perched on a sun-warmed boulder next to her brother. Yesterday’s viscomm with the admiralty still gnawed at her like a puppy chewing a shoe. Two weeks? Really? The kicker was that normal travel between Matir and Earth took about four days, or so she’d been told.

  But that was for a single ship, not two-thirds of a fleet going to war. They had to be cautious at the velocity gates or the Anferthians could divide and decimate them, leaving Earth and Matir vulnerable. Gryf had explained the gates were the entry and exit points for ships “flashing” through space. Apparently, flashing was the galactic equivalent of warp speed.

  She puffed her cheeks and blew out a gusty sigh. It served no purpose to remain upset over something she couldn’t change. Focusing on preparations was a better use of her time.

  “Marriage seems to agree with you, sis,” The spark of mischief in his eyes was at odds with his casual tone. “You’re a lot calmer than you used to be.”

  Calm was an illusion. She gave her brother a speculative look. “Yeah, well, the sex is pretty awesome.”

  “Blugh!” Nicky gagged and slapped his hands over his ears. “TMI, Alex.”

  She reached over to pound him on the back. “Don’t bait me then, twerp.”

  “No kidding.” Nicky coughed once more, then looked back
up the trail. “Can you use the Force and find out what’s taking Gryf so long?”

  Smart ass. It wasn’t as if they were in a hurry. “Relax, Nicky. Gryf’ll be here when he’s finished talking to Graig. No one’s leaving until after dark anyway.”

  That’s when the first wave of refugees headed out for the Silver Valley Mine in preparation for the attack on the slaver. Over one hundred able-bodied adults in camp would make the trip during the next week and a half. With any luck, the small groups traveling at night wouldn’t attract the Anferthians’ attention.

  The corner of her mouth pulled to one side. It was leaving the children behind that made her stomach ache as though she’d been sucker-punched. Duck had agreed to stay with them and Li-Min. Mrs. Beck, the camp’s “grandmother”, would also help, as would those from the avalanche facility who couldn’t fight. Poor Mitch was still hashing it out with his sister Carrie. She’d been rather vocal about being left behind, even after Mitch threatened to tie her to a tree. Alex couldn’t suppress a small smile. If Nicky ever did that to her, she’d bean him.

  “Hey.” Her brother nudged her and jutted his chin down the trail. “Isn’t that Mr. Trimble?”

  Alex shielded her eyes with one hand. Their former neighbor’s gaunt silhouette lurched up the slope toward them. “Looks like. Something’s wrong with him. C’mon.”

  “Need...help.” James Trimble panted as they approached. Nicky handed over his water flask. While the older man drank deep, Alex slipped her hand over his shoulder to scan his vitals. Distressed, but not in danger. Good.

  The older man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The little boy, Juan...bit by a rattler...in the meadow.” He pointed urgently back the way he’d come.

  The blood in her veins turned cold, and her gut clenched. No. Not Juan. The child she’d protected from Kotas now had deadly venom coursing through him.

  “You’re a nurse, Alex,” James said. “You can help him.”

  Even if she ran, she might be too late. But she had to try. She reached out to Gryf through their soul link, sending him a wordless message of urgency.

  “Nicky, I’ll need a float from infirmary. If you see Gryf, tell him what’s happened and where I am.”

  “Should Dante come?”

  “No time. I’ll handle it.”

  “Got it. Meet you there.” Nicky sprinted back up the mountain trail.

  Not waiting to see if Mr. Trimble followed, she flew down the trail toward the meadow. Please don’t let me be too late.

  At the edge of the long, green grass just beyond the tree line, she stopped to take stock. The horses mingled at the far end of the meadow to her left, restless and snorting. The snake had probably freaked them out. She scanned the rest of the meadow, but didn’t see Juan.

  “Where is he?”

  Mr. Trimble stumbled to a stop next to her, pointing to the far side. “See him...in the grass...near the trees?”

  There he is. The early summer grass swayed gently, just higher than Juan’s prone body. Please let him be alive. She bolted toward his still form, Mr. Trimble chugging like a train behind her. Good thing they weren’t on a stealth mission.

  “Juan.” Alex dropped to her knees at the boy’s side and rolled him over. “I’m here, Juan. It’s okay. Where did the snake bite you?”

  The boy’s face was smudged with dirt and tears. “No, Miss Alex. Run, it’s a trap.”

  “The back of his leg.” Mr. Trimble pointed.

  Alex rolled Juan toward her. What the hell? “His hamstring’s been sliced.”

  Who would do such a thing? She turned to stare at James Trimble.

  “I’m so sorry, Alex,” he muttered, looking away.

  “So this is where you have been hiding, my pet.” Kotas’s voice crawled over her skin like an intrusion of cockroaches.

  She jerked her head around. He stood under the trees no more than a dozen yards away, smirking. Blood thundered in her ears. Dammit, it was a trap. He’d finally found her.

  “Run,” Juan sobbed.

  “He has Megan,” Mr. Trimble whimpered. “He took my precious little girl, and she’s all that I have left.”

  So that’s how it had worked. Kotas had used Megan Trimble, James’s only child, to compel the old man to search for his escaped prisoner. Alex quashed a groan. Betrayed by a man who had known her since she was born.

  Gryf’s seething anger crashed over her, and she suppressed a gasp. He must have sensed she was in trouble, and he was on his way. But would he get here in time?

  “He said he’d release her.” James’s lips trembled.

  “And you believed him?”

  Kotas started through the grass toward them. How was she going to keep him away from Juan? Think, Alex, think.

  “I...I….” James sagged and whispered, “I had no choice.”

  Megan being in Kotas’s clutches was gut-wrenching enough. If Haesi was involved too, the girl would be lucky if she survived with her sanity intact. Assuming she was still alive. Alex curled her lip. “How proud will Megan be of your choice, James?”

  Mr. Trimble’s violent flinch was almost as gratifying as slapping him. She lay Juan on the ground and brushed his dark hair from his forehead. “Don’t worry, Juan. I’ll do what I can, okay?”

  The faith in his eyes bolstered her. She could do this. Rising, she stepped over Juan to face Kotas.

  The former Matiran commander stopped in his tracks and gave her the once over. “You have been a very naughty pet, Alex. I’m afraid lessons must be taught. We shall begin with humility. Every pet needs a dose of humility, do they not?”

  Kotas licked his lips and grinned. Vile. Just vile. And closer than she’d hoped, but she still might be able to distract him. Her half-formed plan was risky, but mostly to herself.

  She bolted to her right, away from Juan and the pathetic James Trimble, and toward the far end of the meadow. She didn’t need to look back to know Kotas gave chase. At the tree line he caught her, slamming her against a tree trunk. The rough bark of the red fir scraped her cheek.

  “Well, that was a merry chase, my pet.” Kotas cooed in her ear. “But once again I am the master, and you are merely...my property.” He thrust his erection against her bottom to emphasize his words.

  “Please, no.” As long as Kotas believed he had the upper hand, she should be able to distract him until help arrived. Where the heck was Gryf? She couldn’t feel his presence anymore.

  Kotas hauled her around to face him, bracing his palms against the tree trunk. Effectively trapped. Lowering her eyes, she slipped her hands behind her back. There was no telling how he’d react if he saw her wedding ring.

  “Now you beg for mercy?” There was a hard edge to his voice. “Out of curiosity, if you could have only one mercy from me, what would it be?”

  She swallowed hard. “Let the girl you are holding go.”

  “She amuses me.” His shoulders rose and fell in a blasé shrug.

  I just bet she does. “She’s a fifteen-year-old child.”

  “If you had stayed put, I would not have had to find a replacement pet.” He traced one finger down her left arm. “On the other hand, she is so much more compliant than you. Eager to please. Perhaps if you were a bit more...cooperative, I might find a nugget of mercy in my heart.”

  Cripes. No way to miss the innuendo in that suggestion. “If I come back with you, will you release the girl?”

  “I said mercy, my pet. By now you know I do not part easily with what belongs to me.” His fingers gripped her wrist and he raised her hand up to chest level. His eyes studied her knotted blue ring. “It would seem you have a new master. Matiran, if I am not mistaken.” Raising his gaze, he added, “And I am not.”

  Remain calm. He couldn’t know it was Gryf. And he definitely didn’t know he was dealing with the Profetae.

  Releasing her hand, he brushed his fingers over her breast where he had once carved his initials into her skin. “Perhaps I still own your body?” A blade appeared in
his other hand, resting at the neckline of her shirt. “Let us just check, shall we?”

  Enough. She brought her arm up hard and swift, knocking his hand away. His blade cartwheeled through the air and landed in the grass with a soft thump.

  “Let’s not.”

  Kotas’s face contorted with anger as he reached for her. She dropped under his arm and rolled away. Finding her feet, she sprang up and faced him.

  “You have learned some new tricks, I see.” He grinned, his eyes alight at the challenge. “No matter. I shall still own you in the end.”

  “I doubt it.” Alex gave him a grim smile and glanced purposefully beyond his shoulder.

  It took half a heartbeat before Kotas snapped his head around to look behind him. “Roble,” he hissed.

  Graig stood close enough to create discomfort for Kotas, yet far enough not to pressure him into doing something drastic.

  “I warned you to watch your back, Kotas.” Graig’s tone was mild, and his stance relaxed. “You didn’t listen.”

  Kotas snorted, his face lined with contempt. “So, you are Alex’s new master.”

  Graig shrugged. “The Profeta is her own master.”

  “Profeta?” Kotas turned to gape at her, the look on his face borderline comical. But gloating was a waste of energy. She slammed her knuckles against the side of his neck, and he staggered back, gasping for air.

  A well-aimed kick to the side of his head laid him to the ground in a sprawl. He was hers. In one fluid motion, she bent and snatched her blade from her boot. A grey-blue blur passed her. Gryf. She stepped toward the two men grappling in the grass but was brought up short by muscular arms pinning hers to her side.

  “No! Dammit, Graig. Let me go.” She owed Kotas pain. Not just her own, but the pain of the seven billion voices in her head screaming for justice.

  “You will be a healer, sora,” Graig reminded her, his voice calm next to her ear. “You know you can kill him, but let the soldier finish the job.”

  Her connection with Gryf slammed back into place as he rammed his blade home between her tormentor’s ribs. Kotas grunted, his eyes wide and wild as Gryf gave the blade a vicious twist.

  Alex clenched her teeth together. “Die, you bastard.”