by J. S. Wilder
“Have you heard the news?” he asked, not looking at me as the palace guard filed in and sat up in ranks their spears and swords drawn and held at attention. Sereni would be arriving soon.
“No. What news.”
“Your friend, Quathaul, is with child.”
I didn’t know whether to cry or smiled, so I did both. “That’s wonderful news!”
He nodded. “She and Hulg are to be merged, according to her traditions, on the seventh-day, third week, of next month. We have been asked to attend.”
“Can we go?”
“I have already sent our confirmations.” He smiled at me then stiffened. “Attention,” he said softly as he held himself very stiffly on his throne. “Bring the accused before me,” he said, his voice full of command.
Sereni was brought in and walked between the two rows of guard, their spears across her path, rising and lowering as she passed, creating a small bubble of space around her and her two escorts. She was wearing her parade dress uniform and looked resplendent.
“Sereni Vaguthuarrithary, do you have anything to say before I pass sentence?”
“I do my Lord.”
“Speak.”
“I do not repudiate the actions I took. Catherina Hume is beneath you, my Lord. She is not even of the Peoples, and yet you follow her blindly! I took my actions, thinking only of the best for my Lord and the Firaspatciti people.”
I could sense Stevan going hard. “You dare presume to speak for me?”
“You broke our most scared law, my Lord. I presume to speak for those that believe our Lord should not be above the law.”
“I am not above the law, Sereni Vaguthuarrithary, and the Peoples will decide what will be done with me, not you. Have you anything else to say?”
“No, my Lord.”
“Very well. You, Sereni Vaguthuarrithary, have been found guilty of—”he made a sound that was cross between growl and rumble. “You will be stripped of your rank and discharged from the palace guard with no possibility of reinstatement.”
I said nothing. I held no sway on this matter, her dishonoring herself and her position by lying to me. It was the next matter that I could influence. There were only two possible punishments for the charge, death and banishment. I didn’t know what sentence Stevan would hand down, but I couldn’t bear the thought of her being killed because of me.
“On the charge of”—he made another sound, this one between a cough and clearing of his throat, words that English had no equivalent so I heard them in their true Fire pronunciation—“you have been sentenced—”
“My Lord!” I said, standing at his side. “I request Aggrievance!”
He looked at me, surprised by my actions. As the one aggrieved, I had a right by law and tradition to have my wishes considered in punishment. Sereni was being charged with what amounted to treason against her Lord for scheming to have me returned home to the detriment of the Fires, for personal gain.
“Very well. Continue.”
“My Lord, while I acknowledge Sereni acted in a dishonorable way, I also believe she was doing what she thought was best for her people.”
That was a total load of shit. I knew it, Sereni knew it, and Stevan knew it. She’d tried to shove me out of the way so she could have Stevan for herself, but I could be merciful in my victory… and I wouldn’t have her death weighing heavily on my conscious. I had been counting on her to use the defense she had, the only one available to her, and she hadn’t disappointed me. That had given me the crack I could use to, perhaps, stay her execution. Being banished was no picnic, but it was better than death.
“I ask that her punishment be banishment.” I bowed my head low and stood there.
“Be seated,” Stevan said, and I took my seat. He leaned forward and glared at Sereni. “It seems you convinced one of your honorable intentions. That does not, however, excuse your actions.” He held her gaze for a long moment. “As the aggrieved as asked that your punishment be banishment, I will grant the request. Sereni Vaguthuarrithary, on the charge of”—he made the coughing, throat clearing sound again—“you have been sentenced to banishment from Firaspatciti with no possibility of return. Sentence to be carried out immediately. Guards! Her presence offends me. Remove her.”
Sereni pivoted with military precision and marched out, the spears rising and falling to mark her passage. As the assembled guard filed out, Stevan looked at me.
“You’ve been studying. It was Kergah, wasn’t it?”
I started to say no, to cover him, but realized what that would mean, especially considering what I’d just seen. “Yes, my Lord, at my request.”
He smiled and shook his head in mock disappointment. “Do you always get what you want?”
I smiled, relieved Kergah wasn’t going to be punished. “I got you, didn’t I?”
He chuckled. “You know, Sereni would have rather been put to death than banished? Now her dishonor will follow her wherever she goes.”
“I’m sorry for her, then. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being killed because of me.”
“It wasn’t because of you, Catherina. It was because she was putting herself above my wishes, which had been made clear to her, and the good of the people. You were simply the catalyst that put it in motion.”
I nodded and looked down, unable to meet his gaze. It was basically the same thing Kergah had said, but I still felt responsible. If only I’d had faith in Stevan, if only I hadn’t bitten when she dangled the bait, if only I had acted any way but the way I had, none of this would have happened.
He took my hand. “Come. Let’s return to our quarters and speak of this unpleasantness no more. I want to get out of these clothes. The cape, it drags on my neck.” He smiled at me and took my chin. “Perhaps we can find something else to occupy our minds once we are more comfortable.”
I smiled. “Perhaps so.”
Epilogue
“Catherina?” Stevan called as he entered his quarters.
“In here, Stevan!” she called from the bedchamber.
Stevan smiled. “I just returned from a meeting. You’ve done it again! All five hundred of the Firaspatciti have been paired with an Aquallian!”
He paused as he entered the bedchamber. Catherina as lying in the bed, wearing nothing at all, with the look on her face that said great pleasures were in his future. He felt himself beginning to harden immediately.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked as he disrobed. Starting this early, she would almost certainly want to mate twice, possibly three times, this evening.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Uh-oh,” he said then smiled. “That usually means trouble.”
He smiled and joined her in the bed, rolling her to her back and settling into her arms as he kissed her softly.
“Do you remember last month, when we talked about the word love?”
She’d found out then that there was no single word for love on Firaspatciti. They had words that meant dedication, and duty, and willingness to give their life for another. But no word for love. Bonding, or being bonded, was as close as a single word came. It meant to spend their lives together.
He smiled. “I remember. It means to be dedicated to another and the willingness to sacrifice for them, correct?”
She nodded. They’d talked at length about the meaning of the word. He’d expressed confusion, and understandably so, when every definition she could give him seemed to end with, “But’s more than that.”
She’d given up trying to pronounce Firaspatciti words. Maybe an Icelandic male, whose voice was used to saying fifteen letter words full of Ks, hard Cs, Gs and Zs, but a five-foot five inch Scot woman simply couldn’t do it. So, by mutual agreement, when the nanite translator broke down and couldn’t find a matching word, they would find an English equivalent, or the nearest word to it. It had saved her a lot of sore throats.
She could feel her tears starting and smiled. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Stevan.”
> He wiped at her tears. “I will be crushed with disappointment if these are tears of sorrow.”
She giggled wetly. “No. They are tears of happiness and joy.”
He kissed her tears away. In the past eight months, since she’d almost returned home, he had become much more adapt at reading her and knowing what to do.
“Can I tell you something?” he whispered.
She nodded.
“If I understand the meaning of the word, I fell in love with you a long time ago.”
She whimpered as tears leaked out of her eyes. “What does the word mean to you?” she asked softly.
“It means I want to bond with you, that I will fight the long darkness itself for you. I will follow in your path, where ever it leads, and carry you when you can no longer walk. I will take your burdens and give you my sword so you may defend yourself to the last.” He paused and held her gaze. “I want you, Catherina. I want you like no other woman in the galaxy.”
She sobbed and fell into his arms, holding him as she cried. The Firaspatciti were a ferocious people, but they could be surprisingly giving and poetic if you listened to the meaning behind their words.
She gathered herself. “I love you”—she tried, she really tried to say his name, but giggled at the utter failure of it—“even if I can’t say your name. You are my everything. You are the food I eat, the water I drink, and the air I breath. You keep me alive and sustain me. I will take your burdens and carry you when you become tired. I will give you my last breath so that you may live one more. Love you Stevan Gerrett,” she said, shorting his name to something she could pronounce. “I love you with all my heart.”
He smiled at her, touched by her words. “Will you bond with me?”
She sniffed and pulled her mating blade from under the Hath fur covering where she’d tucked in case he asked. He smiled and retrieved his own blade then returned to her side. She slowly pulled her blade as he did his. She couldn’t hope to compete against him, but it was ritualistic and perhaps he would let her touch him with her blade to claim him for herself.
He pulled her to her feet, then tipped his head back, his eyes closed with arms flung wide. He was giving himself to her, allowing himself to be vulnerable before her. She whimpered at what he was saying, though no words were spoken, and lightly drew her blade down his chest and across his heart.
About J. S. Wilder
J.S. Wilder has spent many years working in the IT industry. She has left the computers behind and taken up her passion of writing. She loves to write romance and still believes in fairy-tales.
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