Cosmic Cabaret

by SFR Shooting Stars

  He had screamed at the gathered guards, ordering all sorts of punishments for their intrusion. He had searched the hall for her, calling out until his voice had disappeared. Back on his home world, he had even gone so far as to send flowers to her; massive bouquets from the far reaches of the universe were delivered to the palace of his enemy, hoping for a miracle. Some came back in pieces, broken and mangled, while others didn’t return at all. But he knew no amount of after-the-fact gestures would undo the damage he had wrought. Within hours of his return home, the shaky alliance between the two powerful houses had fallen. As she had promised, war raged again with a vengeance.

  “Sire? Your orders?”

  He blinked, storing his mental photographs, and returned to the present. He glanced at the young officer standing to his right, poised to follow his next command. Attack after attack, nothing changed. Both sides were losing more and more soldiers. Innocent men sent to their deaths because of him.

  No more.

  “Surrender.”

  Blue eyes stared at him, the boy’s mouth agape. A quick head shake kicked his voice into gear. “You … you mean we should ask for their surrender?”

  He placed a comforting hand on the young ensign’s shoulder. “No. Tell them I surrender.” Silence descended, thick and unbreakable. Only distant klaxons and the ship’s whirring engines dared to split the enforced quiet. He lifted his gaze, scanning the faces of the men on the bridge. Each of them had vowed to give their lives to save their dynasty. It was time for him to return the favor.

  “I am sorry to have put all of you in jeopardy for my own thoughtless actions.” He met each stunned face and smiled sadly. “Far too many have died on both sides. I’m tired of fighting, and it’s time I paid for my mistake.”

  Ja’andar stood, crossing to him. The giant sentry bent down, whispering hurriedly. “Sire, think this through. You cannot know—”

  “You’re right, old friend.” Marqaz patted him on the shoulder, encouraging him to stand tall. “I don’t know if it will make any difference, but I can’t send any more of our people to their deaths because I was too weak to tell her the truth.”

  “If she still demands my head, she can have it.” He swallowed hard, the truth too painful to utter aloud. “She already owns my heart and soul, Ja’andar, and I’m no good without either of those. She might as well take the whole set.”

  His personal guard and best friend glared at him, unamused. “If she wanted anything else, she would have replied more favorably to your unending messages.”

  Marqaz smiled weakly, lifting a shoulder in half agreement. “Not going to hear any arguments from me on that one.” Spinning, he faced his communications officer. “Rhaine, signal the Wyldren high counsel, informing them of my unconditional surrender.” Shouts of protest echoed throughout the gantry, and he raised a hand to silence them. “If my grandfather chooses to pursue this idiotic fight, he can. I will ensure you are all given safe passage back to our home world. But this is what has to be done. I—”

  A direct hit to the engines threw him to the deck with bone-crunching force. Gravity kicked into overdrive as the ship spun out of control.

  “Status report,” he shouted over the growing din. He crawled to his feet, guiding his legs under him.

  “All engines down. Planet fall in three minutes.” The calmly synthesized voice of the ship’s computer grated on his frazzled nerves. Around him, monitoring screens winked out and the emergency lights flickered. He grabbed onto the nearest console and barked out the call to evacuation stations. Too far from the captain’s chair, he wrapped his arms around the metal railing.

  “Impact in five … four … three … two …”

  He slammed his eyes shut, sending up one single prayer.

  I’m sorry, Karyna. I love you.

  Love Notes

  Karyna hid in her walk-in closet, sobbing softly to herself. Why did she miss him so much? She should have been able to hold on to her indignation for the rest of her life. After all, he manipulated her feelings, didn’t he?

  It was easy enough for her to demand her father to continue the war. The man was bloodthirsty, to say the least. In fact, her decision to reengage their enemy seemed to please him even more than her achievements in her studies. He never once asked about her change of heart. Neither did he ask about her disappearance prior to it. He only granted her wish for violence and began a renewed attack on Lavourne settlements infringing on their territorial borders.

  Instead of relishing her thirst for retaliation, she spent her days listening to the news reports on the war. All indications pointed toward an approaching victory for her father. But she discovered she no longer cared about winning. She only prayed not to hear her Marqaz had fallen in battle.

  What had she done? She had been so angry at the discovery of his hidden identity, she never stopped to ask about his feelings toward her.

  Every night, in the dark, she replayed their stolen hours. He had not lied to her directly. He told her his real name. Not once did he ask about her father, or even her last name. His questions during their meal had been directed to her and her alone. He didn’t press her about why she was on board the luxury liner without a stateroom or why she was dressed in such a hideous outfit. He accepted her at face value, and she had cast him aside at the first test of loyalty.

  The realization spun on an endless loop in her mind, and she awoke each morning, her pillow damp with tears.

  If she had the chance to take it all back, she would.

  A tentative knock just above her head snapped her out of her useless sadness. Embarrassed, she coughed and dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve.

  “One moment.” Sighing, she opened the door, unsure of who would be standing beyond. She blinked, confused by the ducked head of one of the palace maids. She remembered the quiet girl’s name and stepped out.

  “Raychel? Is something wrong?” Karyna rested her hand on the girl’s shoulder, guiding her into the room proper. Still silent, she brought her pale hands around from behind her back. In them, were cards. Several of them. Papers crumpled up and flattened out, while others had been carefully pieced together.

  “What … what are these? I don’t understand.” Raychel took Karyna’s hands and placed the stack in her open palms. She did not speak a word as the silent girl folded her fingers around the notes and pushed her laden hands into her chest. At no time did the maid raise her head. Once she had completed her delivery, she shuffled backwards toward the door.

  “Wait.” Karyna reached out, but the door was already closing. Alone with the strange bundle, she opened the note on top.

  My dearest Kar,

  She gasped and her knees buckled, collapsing her onto the bed. Blood thundered in her ears as her lover’s voice resonated in her head.

  I know a simple I’m sorry will never undo what I’ve done to you. I never meant to hurt you. I should have been honest with you from the start. Now, all I have are the memories of one perfect night.

  I cannot ask for your forgiveness. I can’t beg for it, or plead for it. Just know my heart will never belong to any other woman for as long as I live. Because it resides in the arms of an angel with a dragon tattoo.

  I love you, Karyna.

  Yours eternally,

  Marqaz

  The last few lines blurred as her tears smeared the delicate ink. Letter after letter, she read, each one as heartbreaking and anguished as the next. An odd scrap of yellow paper caught her eye, and she extracted the mismatched note.

  These were found in your father’s study, along with lots of broken flower vases. Thought they might be important. - R

  She sniffed and pressed the simple paper to her lips. “Thank you, Raychel.”

  “Ambassador?” A disembodied voice whispered from her comm link. She frowned, wondering why the captain of her father’s private guard was calling her, and speaking so softly.

  She tapped the receiver on her wrist. “Yes, Gavrhal? What is it?”


  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I think you’ll want to hear this. Please turn on the news feed.”

  She quickly searched for the remote. The vid screen flared to life, images of a crash site somewhere near the capital dominating all of the news feeds. She watched in horror as bodies were pulled from the fiery remains. Soon after, prisoners were led out in chains. Her hand flew to her chest as she spied a head of spiky, blond hair.

  “The report is an hour old and the survivors are being presented before the chancellor general as we speak.” She blinked, reading between the lines of his enigmatic message. “There is still time to reach a peaceful accord, but you must arrive soon. And for what it’s worth, I am sorry for my part in this.”

  The line went dead. Scrambling to her feet, the letters scattered to the floor as she rushed to action. She ducked once again into the closet, this time, emerging dressed in full military regalia. Inspiration struck, and her fingers flew across her comm link.

  She snatched one letter and tucked it inside her jacket. With practiced ease, she quickly plaited her long hair, needing to appear to all as the daughter of Chancellor General Bantal Cyrnavolk. Diplomacy would be the key and she was not about to lose this match to her father. She opened the door, squaring her shoulders, and stalked down the long corridor leading to the main audience chamber. Her mind spun in dizzying circles, determining the best course of action.

  He was here. He was alive.

  For the moment.

  She shoved away the dark sentiment and refocused her frantic thoughts. Her quick strides made short work of the distance, her heart urging her legs to speed.

  Raised voices spurred her to her destination. With fierce determination, she pushed open the double doors. Shouts for blood and retribution echoed in the cavernous room at the end of the entry passageway. The amphitheater’s curved bench seats teemed with soldiers and politicians from every corner of the Wyldren reaches, all eager for a good show. In the center, bound, battered, and on his knees, was her Marqaz. Gone was the strong man who held her so tenderly. His soft blond hair was matted and streaked with crimson and soot, and his uniform was in charred tatters.

  Her father gloated in his seat of power, laughing at her lover’s pain. “So, little princeling, what do you have to say for yourself now? Any more love poems you wish as your final words?”

  Careful and cautious, she crept closer, hugging the shadows of the stone hallway. Her timing had to be perfect, so she waited less than patiently.

  “I stand here…” Raucous laughter drowned out his voice. She clenched her fist until her short nails bit into her palm. “I stand here asking for your daughter’s hand in marriage, the betrothal agreed upon by Highking Xerxian and—”

  A slap rang out, and she crammed her knuckles into her mouth, forcing her cries to stay buried. Craning her neck, she caught the scrape of chair legs against the rough stone flooring.

  “You are in a position to ask for nothing, dog.” Booted footfalls stalked toward the center of the room. “That treaty was nullified as soon as the ink was dry.”

  What?

  Anger rose as she continued to listen. She inched closer, her hand pressing against the note safe beneath her jacket.

  “I knew that bitch of mine wouldn’t go through with this farce. She’s too frigid to fall for your feeble attempts at seduction. So, I shredded the fucker right after your grandfather shipped out.”

  She recognized the roar, her Marqaz’ voice filled with rage as grunts and the sounds of muffled punches pummeled her spirit.

  “Enough!”

  She had bellowed the single word as she stepped into the brightly lit arena. “That is enough, Father.” Love, pure and true, galvanized her spirit, and she marched forward until she stood toe to toe with her father. At her feet, Marqaz coughed and wheezed. She knelt down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

  “Kar? Is it really you?” He lifted his chin, and she clamped down a strangled cry. His beautiful nose sat crooked on his handsome face, one eye swollen shut and an angry cut beneath the other continued to weep. She tenderly cradled his bruised cheek, gently brushing her lips against his.

  “Yes, Marq. I’m here.” She held him as tightly as she dared. Unknown injuries could be hiding beneath the tatters of his uniform and she had already caused him enough pain. Ducking her head under his bound arms, she guided him to his wobbling legs.

  “I’m sorry, Karyna angel. I’m so sorry,” he muttered softly.

  Tears nearly blinded her, and she placed her fingertips on his mouth. “Shh.” Shaking her head, she tried to tamp down her grief for his benefit.

  “Did you hear that, sire?” she said, loud and clear. Hushed voices whispered questions as she stood tall. A perplexed frown cut a deep fissure across her father’s broad forehead.

  “Yes, my dear. I did.” A collective gasp rippled through the gathered crowd as Highking Xerxian sauntered into the grand chamber.

  The Truth Will Out

  Pain wracked Marqaz’ entire body, but he was pretty sure his ears were still functioning. Granted, the recent blows to his head at the hands of his captors probably shook loose a brain cell or two. Yet life seemed to be giving more than it was taking today.

  The first gift was the soft voice he never believed to hear again. She was here. His angel had come, and not to call for his balls on a chain around her neck. Had his prayers been answered? His hazy monocular sight could not do justice to her, resplendently formal in her curve-hugging dress uniform of black-and-red. He missed her hair, securely held back in a tight braided updo. The cut of the jacket flattered her figure, the shiny, black high-heeled boots giving her even more height, but the dead colors were completely wrong. He yearned to see her in his family’s bold blue.

  He rested his throbbing head on her shoulder, dragging her scent deep into his soul. He tasted her grief and her regret in his light kiss. If he survived this day, he vowed to make up for every tear she had shed over his dumb ass.

  His second surprise floated in as a voice from above. Struggling against the aches, he lifted his head. Even through the blurred vision of only one open eye, he recognized his grandfather’s proud gait. He had added the silver-handled ebony cane before Marqaz had been born, time and battles taking its toll. When he was younger, he had been terrified of him and the off-cadence rap of the metal tip on the palace floors. After his parents died in an accident and he was sent to live with the legendary commander, he thought his life was over.

  Now, he was never happier to see the man.

  Chancellor General Bantal Cyrnavolk stepped back, shock first widening his eyes, then twisting his face with vehement rage. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Karyna spun away, her voice strong and sure. “I could ask the same thing.” She pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from inside her jacket and shoved the note into her father’s chest. “As for the rest of this, it’s called a negotiation, Father. It’s what you trained me to do.”

  Panic rose in his gut as she confronted the powerful man. He might have sired her, but Marqaz had a sneaking suspicion that knowledge would not save her if she made one misstep.

  He offered her what little strength he had left, squeezing her close. She hugged him back and shifted her gaze to his grandfather. In the blurred haze, he caught the man’s standard stance, hands resting on the cane’s eagle-crested pommel.

  “I believe you had signed a marriage contract in good faith, did you not, Your Excellence?”

  His grandfather’s wizened head bobbed up and down, familiar disapproval flashing in the pale lilac orbs. “The betrothal was supposed to cement peace between the Lavourne Dynasty and the Wyldren Kindred.” One thing the man detested was duplicity. “If you’re going to be an asshole, be the whole ass. Make a commitment and follow through.”

  Karyna pressed on. “So, in your mind, the treaty is still, in fact, a legal and binding agreement, to which the parties involved need only sign on the dotted line?”

  What
passed for a smile curled the Highking’s lips. “Most definitely.”

  Marqaz blinked in disbelief. He would still allow the marriage to continue?

  The old man tilted his head toward the thick shackles at his back. “And since you have your new ruler in chains, you might want to fix that.”

  Time stilled, his brain spinning as Marqaz fought to process all that had transpired. Doing his best to stand on his own and wishing his hands were free, he stared at her. “Kar? What are you saying?”

  Her eyelids fluttered down before she turned her face to him. A fragile smile touched her perfect lips. “I’m saying that I love you, Marqaz, with everything that I am. I’m saying I was an idiot for not trusting you.” His breathing ratcheted higher, his heart joining in the speed race, while unseen hands worked behind him to unbind his arms. Tears trickled down her face as the cuffs disappeared. “I’m saying—”

  He cupped her face and stopped her self-depreciating soliloquy with a fiery kiss. His limbs ached, but the fleeting pain was banished by his need to hold her. Knowing they had quite the audience, he dialed down his desire and broke the seal of their lips. With his eyes still closed, he touched his forehead to hers, the innocent gesture made powerful by the gathered witnesses.

  “Before you continue, please consider your next words carefully. If you agree to the arranged marriage, you will be locked into a future—”

  Her fingers pressed against his lips, putting a halt to any other words.

  “No. If I agree to this, I will spend the rest of my life with the one man who showed me what it means to be alive.”