by Autumn Dawn
Glowering, Kelsa just sat there and panted. “Stupid chink acrobatics.”
Knowing Kelsa only used the slur to provoke her, Vana snorted and started tossing pillows back onto the couch. “Maybe if you’d joined me for some workouts you wouldn’t be sitting there now, only wishing you could plant one in my backside.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Kelsa. I didn’t mean for it to work out like this.”
“You were trying to get us together,” Kelsa said with conviction.
“Yes, but I didn’t know you were so hot for him that you’d jump him the first chance you got.”
Kelsa blushed and protested hotly, “I didn’t! He started it.”
Vana stared pointedly at the love bite on Kelsa’s neck.
Shifting guiltily, Kelsa muttered, “He played guitar.”
Vana raised a brow.
“He was good, all right? I let my guard down.”
Sensing progress, Vana joined her on the floor. “He’s pretty good looking.”
“Yes, and it’s not fair. I’m not ready to be a mother. What would I do with a daughter? After yesterday…” She sighed. “Mind if we move to the couch? I’m a little sore,” she mumbled.
Laughing at that telling admission, Vana helped her up, then got a couple of drinks and joined her on the couch. It was time for a little girl talk.
Hours later, Dagon found Vana in the lab. He frowned as he watched her work, a distant, abstracted look on her face. “You missed dinner again. Care to join me?”
The distance in her eyes didn’t fade as she looked at him. “I’ve got a hot lead here. If you don’t mind, could you bring me something? I might be hours yet, and you could spend the time with Kynan. He’s in hot water right now.”
He opened his mouth.
Her hand shot up. “Not one word about this not being critical, all right? This is important to me: I’m close to nailing down an idea, and I don’t want to leave. Give me some space.”
Drawing in a deep breath to quell his instinctive temper, he looked at her, then moved closer to look at her computer screen. “What have you found?”
Surprised by his interest, she eyed him. “I took the holistic approach. I think your women have been missing out on a protective element not currently supplied by their diet. This virus is engineered, but the original strain has been around for years. It’s nastier, but still vulnerable to certain factors. I need to run a few tests to support my theory, but it’s solid. I just need some time.”
Her words had two meanings. He canted his head as he considered. This was important to her and their marriage was important to him. “Take your time, then, but I will wait for you before retiring. We’ll share dinner here before I go.”
A softer expression replaced her cool mask. “Sounds fair.”
He turned so she couldn’t see his rolling eyes. Women.
Vana spent long hours in the lab that week. Oddly enough, now that she wasn’t so easy to access, distractions sought her out. Her boys constantly peeked in on her, devising the flimsiest excuses to check on her doings. It finally dawned on her that they missed her, and though they made no effort to hide their disapproval of her “weird occupation”, she learned to tolerate their peering over her shoulder and their endless, distracting questions.
It was Dagon who gave her the first clue why they were so concerned.
“They wonder how you can become pregnant when you’re not constantly by my side. They’re anxious for their sister.” He’d propped his head on one hand and smirked at her.
Vana had rolled to her side and smacked his bare chest in mock irritation. It was hard to get too angry when they’d just spent an hour making sweet love. “Brats! They get this stuff from you, don’t they?”
A satisfied growl rumbled from his chest as he caught her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her fingertips. The kiss turned into a nibble. “Are you certain you mind?” Dark lashes veiled his eyes as the blue began to heat.
“Um.” Reminded of his many talents, she decided not to argue the point. Perhaps the boys could find worse role models.
The boys weren’t the only ones who treated her lab as a sort of drawing room, however. Courtiers sought her out there, too, and women with issues. The would-be escapee, Clarissa, even thanked her for her new occupation by sending over a pair of jeans and a comfortable Earth style shirt. Word had it the girl was being courted by one of her tailors.
Not bad for a first shot at playing chief justice, Vana thought as she stroked the sleeve of her new t-shirt. Not bad at all.
In spite of those happy moments, she finally had to warn the guards at the door not to let anyone in until after lunch barring fire or flood. At least Dagon was considerate enough not to bug her until meal times. The man had a thoughtful streak, and she was learning to appreciate his subtle care.
It was with a great deal of satisfaction that she wrapped up her research two weeks later. Admiring the neat stack of printed pages, she reflected that she might not impress a board with the results, but she’d enjoyed the process. There was also the thrill of knowing she had better research than the chauvinistic medic who’d given her the implant.
Speaking of which…
Vana frowned and rubbed her arm, wondering if Dagon had been counting days. Maybe he was too distracted by the novelty of intimate pleasure, or he just didn’t mention the possibility of pregnancy. Either way, he hadn’t said anything. Surely he would, if he had the slightest clue, wouldn’t he? It wasn’t the sort of thing he would ignore.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about it yet. A daughter was a big responsibility in a life suddenly deluged with accountability. She was slowly beginning to understand just what being queen meant in political terms: many of Dagon’s people thought to influence him through her. One day she might even need her own secretary to deal with appointments and such; it was either that or her life would become a revolving door. How would she shield a family from that? How would she keep her daughter from feeling hemmed in by the security that would be a constant presence in her life? More importantly, would her sons view a sister as someone to protect and an object of affection, or a commodity?
Shaking her head at her dismal thoughts, Vana slid her papers into a binder and gathered them up. Nine months was a long time to work on these things. She’d figure something out.
She was just about to leave when something caught her eye. There was a broken vial on the workbench, right next to her slides of dead virus. Heaven and earth couldn’t have given her the clearance to work with live virus, and she hadn’t even bothered to ask. More importantly, though, she hadn’t been working with a tube with that color cap.
Presentiment set in. She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. One of the kids might have broken it and been too afraid to tell her, but why hadn’t she heard it break? She couldn’t believe it was an accident. Without looking, she reached for the com link switch on her wrist computer, then hugged the research folder tight. She might have a test subject sooner than expected.
Dagon paced the waiting room, Kynan by his side. His wife, though still healthy, was in quarantine, and he didn’t dare break the seal yet.
Kynan had joined him in the waiting room, offering silent support as Vana spoke calmly on the view screen, ignoring the buzzing medics.
“Dagon, please trust me on this, my research is sound. We know I’ve got the virus, and thanks to your technology, we also know it’s having a hard time adapting to my alien physiology. We’ve got a window here…please go and get me some of that fruit.”
Dagon glanced at the image of the Mother’s Tree in the lower left hand side of the screen. Vana claimed it was an old folk remedy for infertility with scientific roots. He didn’t have time to read her research, nor the calm to comprehend it. He knew the strength of his people’s technology and how long their scientists had been researching a possible cure. They’d claimed to have promising leads, too.
He paced some more.
Gently, Vana said, “The virus is air
borne, honey. Whoever sabotaged my lab probably has more. We need to protect the others, too. What have you got to lose by trying my cure?”
Unable to bear her steady gaze, he took a deep, shuddering breath. She didn’t know that sometimes the virus was fatal to mother and child. They weren’t going to tell her, either, and risk her giving up hope.
“Please, Dagon.” Dignified, quietly hopeful, she watched him, unwilling to nag even now.
She didn’t know what she asked.
Kynan looked at him and straightened. “I’ll go. I’ll find some volunteers. No!” He raised his hand, forestalling Dagon’s words. “She needs you here, and someone has to direct the hunt for the virus. You can’t do that if you’re charging through the swamplands, hunting for something that might not even be in season.” He shot a quick look at Vana, as if sorry he’d said that.
She canted her head. “The bark and small twigs should have the same compounds in them as the fruit. Just be careful not to over harvest, because we’ll probably need to go back for more.”
Dagon swore. The swamps were deadly, full of huge snakes and predatory flora and fauna. It was the reason their people had left its borders generations ago; the cost in human life had been too high, and that was when they’d still had their swamp lore. In the present generation, it had all but died out.
“I will bring back the medicine,” Kynan said briskly, already on his feet. There was no fear in his countenance, only determination. If anyone could survive the mission, he could.
“Ten men,” Dagon said briskly. “There’ll be more who wish to go, but forbid it. Too many and you’ll stir the swamps too much, alerting Nikon in the bargain. We don’t need him slowing the mission. We’ll expect you in three days.”
Kynan saluted and left. Dagon turned back to the view screen, which was the closest he could get to his wife without contaminating anyone else; assuming the virus had not already spread. “We’ll find who did this,” he said quietly, seething with anger and so much more. The death of a dream was painful…the death of his wife would kill him.
The news of the queen’s illness sent a shockwave rippling through the city. Word of Kynan’s mission acted like counterattack missiles, fragmenting the deadly fear into action men could take. So overwhelming was the volunteer response, Kynan had to resort to casting lots to avoid quarrels. Those left behind were in danger of despair, so Dagon organized fasts and prayer vigils for the queen and their women, placing every man with the training on a sweep for any signs of the virus, and organizing quarantine for those unaffected. A hyper-alert guard rotation was stationed outside the women’s quarters, and no one without specific authorization was allowed access.
To Kelsa’s dismay, the quarantine included her.
“Kynan….” she tried to argue as he escorted her to the harem.
“No. I’ve made sure you have a view screen directly hooked up to our Tzara, but you aren’t getting close to her room and you will be staying with the harem. I’m not taking chances.” He met her worried, stubborn gaze with implacable calm. “I’m not losing you.”
Her face softened. “I know. What about you? These swamps are supposed to be dangerous.”
He stopped and faced her, ignoring their protective escort as he took her hands in his. “I will come back. I’ll send messages when I can. Have faith in me.” Solemn, calm, he kissed the backs of her hands and dropped a light kiss on her lips. He almost spoke, but seemed to change his mind. “Go. Cheer your friend.” His mind already moving to his mission, he squeezed her hands and strode rapidly away.
Kelsa sighed and reluctantly trudged into the harem.
“Checkmate.”
Kelsa scowled at the holographic chessboard, glowering at Vana’s smug face. “Is not. It’s check, and you’re a brat.” She circled her king around her pawn, the only thing still protecting his precious hide.
Vana raised her brows in mock haughtiness. “Might as well be. What are you going to do with a measly pawn? Let your king have some dignity: the poor guy’s been chased around by a knight and a bishop for ten minutes.”
Eyes narrowed, Kelsa shifted her king to counter Vana’s move. “I don’t hear any bonbon-challenged women singing yet.” She studied the board and blinked in surprise. A smirk of dazzling proportions curved her lips.
“What?” Vana eyed the board uneasily, and then saw it. Against all odds, Kelsa’s little duet had danced her into a checkmate. “Huh.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Kelsa leaned back and draped her arms over the back of her chair. “You may now kiss the ground I walk on.”
Laughing, Vana cleared the board. “In your dreams.” Pausing to sip her drink, she considered her friend. “So Kynan is rich.”
Kelsa flushed. “I didn’t even know until the harpies here started on about it.”
“They’re not that bad.”
“You don’t have to socialize with them. I feel kind of sorry for the wealthy guys out there, because they have no idea what’s in store for them. Now that they’ve gotten used to the idea of marrying and being waited on hand and foot for the rest of their lives, these women are rabid to find their own Daddy Big Bucks.”
Vana snorted.
“Really. There are a couple of women fashioning harpoons as we speak.”
“Lucky thing for Kynan he married you first, then.” The remark was far from casual, as was Vana’s intent consideration.
Kelsa shifted her eyes to her own drink. “We didn’t do the booth thing, Van.”
“It’s registered as a lawful marriage just the same. I saw the paperwork.” Silence stretched as Vana let that sink in before artfully changing the subject. “So, are you ready to be an honorary aunt?”
Blinking, for not even a hint of Vana’s condition had been breezed about, Kelsa asked carefully, “In the hypothetical future?”
“In about eight months.”
How to answer that without blowing her “light and happiness” campaign? “I’d spoil her rotten,” she answered thickly, unable to hide her surge of emotion. She couldn’t understand why Vana wasn’t falling apart. The public thought their Tzara was putting on a brave face, but Kelsa knew it wasn’t that. She really did believe her folk remedy was going to work.
With a steady expression that owed nothing to acting, Vana said quietly, “Have some faith in me, Kelsa. I did this for all of us.”
Nodding in understanding, Kelsa took a deep breath and straightened her spine. “How about another game? Scrabble this time; I’m getting tired of chess.”
CHAPTER 10
Kynan swore as he slashed through a tangle of vines with his machete. Two days, one dead man and thousands of trees later and they still hadn’t found Vana’s tree, much less an entire grove. The fruits were bright orange for pity’s sake, and they shouldn’t be this hard to spot, but a heavy fog had settled over the swamps, making progress difficult. Combined with high humidity and the voracious insect life, it made for miserable work.
Static crackled over his helmet. “Man down! Celgan stepped in a nest of water lizards. Medic is on the job.”
Kynan grimaced. Water lizards had a mild but swift poison, enough to take a grown man down and keep him there for the better part of a day. Those unlucky enough to be bitten while traveling alone could be half-eaten before they managed to crawl away. Another point went to the swamp; their numbers were down to eight.
Glowing insects began to stir with nightfall, lighting the swamps with their luminescent wings. The mists lightened and the triple moons glowed down, turning the vine draped trees into mysterious pillars of darkness. Weary and disheartened, the men awaited the dawn on the edge of the swamps.
A red sunrise woke the swamp, brightening to a raucous carnival of bird song. Kynan kept his eyes fixed on the trees where the birds called their warning, his men instinctively following suit. They were not disappointed. Within minutes a group of three men in full body armor had walked out. They halted fifteen paces from Kynan’s group, their hands at their sides, poi
ntedly not reaching for their weapons.
Recognizing Nikon’s distinctive battle armor, Kynan tilted his head and waited. This would be interesting.
“Greetings.” Nikon studied them. In the fiery blush of sunrise, his helmet reflected red. “Rather far from home, aren’t you?”
Kynan kept his peace, waiting.
“I understand your queen has a sudden craving for fruit.”
The implications of that statement were not lost on Kynan’s group. Tersely, Kynan demanded, “Why are you here?”
Slowly, Nikon reached up and removed his helmet. It was the ultimate gesture of vulnerability, and an unmistakable pledge of truth. His blond hair was cropped short, and his green eyes were flat, grim, a perfect match for his stern features. “I may be your enemy, Kynan Kingsfriend, but I am the last man who would poison your women. Steal them, yes. Murder all hope of future generations, no. My men have collected fruit from the Mother Tree for you. I understand time is short? Accept them now, and I will collect on my debt later.”
Kynan eyed him, wondering who his spies were. “You know who loosed the virus.”
“No, but I know you’ve recently taken a wife. Aren’t you eager to bring her medicine? Your time is short, Kynan.” It was a warning.
They needed the medicine. Now was not the time to hesitate, and though Dagon might want his head for it, his sovereign could sort it out later. Kynan had a feeling that Nikon had combed the swamp for at least ten miles and would guard every tree against interlopers. This time, Nikon had won. “Done. I’ll tell Dagon to expect you.”
He hoped this costly fruit worked, or Dagon was going to bury him with it.
Dagon spent more time on his knees in his grandfather’s chapel than he cared to admit. The small chamber was built of unassuming gray blocks with a small amount of carving around the windows and the block that served as an altar. There were no images in the room or glass in the windows, but the austere chamber held majesty. Generations of kings had knelt on stone floor seeking guidance, wisdom and peace, and the walls had absorbed that golden outpouring, radiating an invisible aura of divine reassurance.