by Leslie Chase
That was the only explanation I had for the way I'd lifted her. It was a diplomatic incident in the making, and I knew that my father would have words to say about it. I couldn't make myself care. Princess Immorata had looked so appalled at the camera that I simply had to protect her.
She doesn't need my protection from her own people, I reminded myself as she squirmed in my grip. I wasn't certain if that was her trying to escape, but if so it was a futile effort against my strength. The feel of her body wriggling against mine stirred my blood, though, and as soon as the Darkfang's doors shut behind us, I set her down.
Her glare was almost enough to make me sorry I'd saved her. It wasn't a surprise that she didn't like me carrying her around like that, after all. The surprise was how unprepared she'd seemed to face the cameras. Surely the woman who plastered her face on everything aboard her personal ship wouldn't be shy about making a public address.
Unless, of course, it was the subject of the speech she was due to give that horrified her. Looking at the anger, fear, and shock in her eyes, I could believe that. This wasn't someone who was willingly going to her marriage.
At least we've got that in common. It's not as though I'm much happier with this arrangement. I wanted to say it aloud, to try to find common ground between us, but it wasn't that easy. I had to be polite, I reminded myself. There was no space for a diplomatic incident, not when tensions were already running high. Dragging her aboard my ship was already pushing things.
"Welcome aboard the Darkfang," I said instead, trying to sound as though I meant it. The look of horror in the princess's eyes as she looked around was almost comical. It wasn't entirely surprising — this was a massive step down from the luxury she was used to, though I'd expected her to be better trained at hiding her feelings.
"Thank you," she said uncertainly after a long pause. Her eyes wouldn't focus on me, instead skipping around the deployment bay. It was, to be fair, intimidating. Designed for troops gearing up for combat, the walls were bare save for the hooks where equipment could be fastened and the piles of luggage her servants had neatly secured to the walls. If she thought that this was the living area, her trepidation was understandable.
The cold bare metal would be fine for an Acheran's armored hide, but her soft human skin would bruise far too easily. Another look at the beautiful, delicate softness of her face made me growl at myself. Beautiful she might be, and under other circumstances I might count myself lucky to be accompanying such a female. But this was politics, not romance, and she had no interest in me except as a tool. I had to remember that.
A discrete cough startled us both and I realized we'd been staring at each other for longer than we should. The princess's robotic maid gave me a pointed look as I glanced at her. Another piece of the Silent Empire's obsession with beauty over function. The robot's face was a porcelain mask decorated with gold, and it was built to an ideal that made it look more like a doll than a useful servant. I noted that while this was the only servant accompanying the princess, it had been flesh and blood human servants who actually carried the luggage aboard.
"I should show you to your quarters," I said, shaking off whatever feelings paralyzed me. Why was I feeling flustered like this? I'd faced down armies in the field. One human princess shouldn't leave me in such a state. Growling, I hid my confusion behind a mask of annoyance and gestured for her to follow. "This way."
The steps up into the living quarters were a little too big to be comfortable for humans, and I saw the maid look almost outraged as Her Highness lifted her skirts to climb them. I pretended not to notice, but secretly I approved. It was easy to imagine the princess demanding that a servant did it, or that the stairs be changed for her comfort. At least Immorata was willing to just get on with things.
"Your room is to the right," I said, the heavy door opening as I pointed to it. "My own is opposite yours, Your Highness."
"Oh, thank God," she whispered, quietly enough that I thought perhaps I wasn't supposed to hear. If so, she didn't know Acheran hearing very well. And she clearly didn't know our people well — had she expected me to make her share my room? My bed? The Empire might call my people primitives, but we were not barbarians and I would die before I forced myself on her. We would be wed, and the marriage consummated, back on Achera and when she was willing. Not before.
That didn't make the thought of her in my bed any less appealing, and I struggled to ignore the feelings that thought woke in my body.
"Thank you, ah, Xendar," she continued at a more normal volume, smiling at me. It wasn't the arrogant smile I'd seen on her statues, or any expression I'd expected from her. It was a shy, nervous, almost vulnerable smile and it made me feel for her a little. Which was silly — I had no more choice than she did in the marriage, perhaps less. Her faction in the imperial court had arranged the match, after all, while I was simply following father's orders.
Her expression hardened after a second, as though she'd realized she was making a mistake in showing her weakness. Drawing herself up, she nodded to me as though I was the hired help and stepped into the quarters I'd set aside for her. Her maid gave me an unreadable look before following, the door sliding shut between us.
I stared at it for a moment, certain that I should have said more. But there would be time for that later. For now, I had a course to plot. With a dissatisfied snarl I made my way up to the cockpit.
"She seems nice," the Darkfang said as I settled into the control chair. I growled under my breath, and the answering chuckle made me wonder whose bright idea it was to give the ship an AI in the first place. Yes, it meant that I could fly on my own safely. But if it meant being mocked by my own spaceship, I'd rather take my chances alone.
"Don't start," I said. "Let's just get out of here. Or am I going to have to tear your processor out to get some peace and quiet?"
"I've already talked to the Shadow of a Forgotten Love," the ship told me, ignoring my threat. "We have clearance to depart as soon as we like."
"You get a reprieve then," I said, engaging the thrusters and lifting off. The princess's escorts were still watching as I left the protective shield and headed out into the vastness of space. I wondered briefly what they thought of this arrangement. Perhaps they were glad to be rid of their arrogant princess.
"We're three hours away from the first jump point," Darkfang told me as I set the controls. There was something in the simulated voice that told me it was doing more than just giving me an update on my own flight plan.
"It will take more than a week to get home," I told her. "I don't need to start speaking with Immorata right now."
As an AI, Darkfang didn't have a face. There was no expression to tell me I was being petty by putting it off. There didn't need to be, the silence was enough.
"Fine. I'll see if she wants to talk," I said as the moment stretched out. Somehow despite the silence I could feel my ship's approval. "You don't have to gloat about it."
"I never would," Darkfang said sweetly, and I laughed. She was a warship, bloodthirsty in battle and capable of tearing a hole in space. We'd shared the joy of victory, and bittersweet moments of loss. But I hadn't imagined her taking an interest in my love life.
We met in the common room. It was a space set aside for warriors to spend time during the long flights between battles and it echoed emptily with only three people in it. It was funny, I'd grown used to having the space to myself but sharing it with another made it feel too big.
It didn't help that the furniture was made for Acherans. My princess looked tiny, perched on the edge of a chair with her robot maid pouring her tea. She reminded me of a doll, like my sister used to play with.
Getting us both into the same room had taken longer than I'd expected, the maid acting as a secretary and go-between. I almost thought that Princess Immorata was avoiding me, trying to put off spending any time with me. Which was ridiculous, we had to get to know each other sometime if we were going to spend the rest of our lives together.
> I tried to ignore the fact that I'd had the same instinct to avoid her. If Darkfang hadn't prompted me to talk to her, I wouldn't have made the effort myself, so I was being somewhat unfair.
Now that we had met, however, it was hard to think of a topic of conversation. The princess sipped her tea, not doing a great job of hiding her discomfort, and I couldn't be doing much better. I cast around for some topic to start with.
Her clothes? She'd changed from the remarkably impractical gown to one that was marginally better, though I had to admit the floating red fabric suited her well and it was good to see her without the ridiculous headdress she'd worn earlier. But I knew far too little of imperial fashion to have a conversation about that.
"I hope you're finding your cabin comfortable?" I asked, cursing myself as soon as the words were out of my mouth. That was perhaps the blandest opening I could have imagined. But at least it was something, and the princess set down her cup delicately to venture a smile at me.
"The room's fine," she said. I almost thought I saw her frown, and then the expression vanished. Human faces could be very expressive or infuriatingly hard to read.
After a moment's pause, she continued, almost hesitantly. "Is there any way to turn down the heat? I asked my maid, but she hasn't been able to."
I sighed. She was moving to Achera and the heat bothered her? At least here, though, it was a practical concern I could do something about. Immorata flinched almost imperceptibly at the sight of my teeth as I smiled. "Of course, Your Highness. I'll instruct the Darkfang to lower the temperature for you."
Silence descended awkwardly again, and I tried to think of another gambit. This was going to be an infuriating journey if we spent it in silence, not to mention the marriage afterward. I felt my hands tense and forced my muscles to relax with an effort.
Apparently, the princess had similar thoughts, because this time she broke the silence. "Have you known many humans, ah, my lord Xendar?"
Did she stumble over my title because she didn't think a 'barbarian' race like ours deserved such? I tried to keep my anger in touch, telling myself it was just nerves. It was hard to believe that, though. An Imperial Princess was raised with court etiquette from birth, and the idea that Immorata would lose that trained poise under stress seemed absurd.
My fingers were tightening again, squeezing the metal armrests. I let go and lifted my own cup, sipping the xor-fruit. I might wish it was wine, but for now I didn't want to risk getting drunk and causing more offense than I already was.
"I've met imperial forces on the battlefield," I said. "But I've not spent much time socializing with humans if that is what you mean. The ones I've fought have been honorable foes, though, and skilled."
That was a small exaggeration, but a diplomatic one. And in truth I had no complaint about the soldiers I'd faced themselves. It was the imperial lords who'd sent them into Acheran territory I had a dislike for, not the hapless troops I commanded.
"Hopefully we can avoid more of that," the princess said. "The fighting, I mean. Between your people and mine."
"Yes, well," I coughed. "Yes, that's the point of this joining after all. A mate-bond between our royal houses will make war a lot less likely."
Her smile was weak, unconvinced, and I wondered just how much she actually cared. Was she having second thoughts about this arrangement? Fires of Achera, that would be the worst outcome — bringing her home only for her to back out of the bargain our families had struck. Aside from the humiliation for me, the insult would make a war almost inevitable.
But she rallied, smiling an almost-convincing smile. "You're right, we're here to stop a war. I'm sorry, I'm just a little overwhelmed. I've never felt so far from home."
"We've not even left the system," I pointed out, trying to make it sound comforting rather than patronizing. I wasn't sure if it worked, or how to interpret the little sigh that Immorata let out at that. It sounded sad, almost lost, but she was making an effort to hide her feelings and it wasn't clear what, exactly she was hiding.
"I know it won't make much sense to you, but I feel as though I'll never see home again," she said.
"If you need more time on the Shadow of a Forgotten Love I can turn back," I offered. It wasn't a happy thought, but if she was going to back out, better that she do so here and now. And perhaps she just needed a run-up to this mission. Maybe if she packed a few more fripperies from home, she'd feel more comfortable.
But the flash of sheer terror on the princess's face told me otherwise. She pushed back from the table, nearly falling from her chair as her face went pale.
"No!" She bit off the command and drew herself up, visibly struggling for control. I didn't know how to respond, or why she might be so frightened by the very idea of returning to her own ship. Before I could find a diplomatic way of approaching the question, she'd retreated behind her emotionless mask.
"If we're going to do this, I want it done," she said coldly. "No turning back. Now if you'll excuse me, I will retire to my room."
With that, she turned and swept from the room, giving me no chance to respond. Her maid followed without a backward glance, leaving me to growl with frustration at the door as it slid shut. This was going to be a long trip, and after that a longer marriage. I just had to hope that the peace was worth it.
5
Hope
The door to my room slid shut and I sighed with relief. Even now I couldn't relax, not properly — the robot maid was bustling about the small room on some inscrutable tasks. It shouldn't matter if I slipped up in front of her, since she was loyal to Heriam, but I knew that she would be reporting back on me. Even in this, the most private space available, I was locked in with a spy.
It's only for a little while, I tried to tell myself. And it'll get easier to keep the mask up.
I hoped it would, anyway. I knew it had slipped a few times back there, though I didn't know what Xendar had made of my outbursts. Perhaps it would be better to stay in my room for as much of the rest of the journey as possible.
I sank down on the bed and groaned. Even sleeping was going to be a chore. The mattress was hard, uncomfortable, and the pillow felt like wood. Nothing like the comfort a princess would be used to. At least I was probably better able to cope with it than Immorata would have been, but why couldn't I be impersonating her back in the luxury of her home?
Okay, the answer to that was obvious. First, I'd be caught in minutes by someone who actually knew the princess. And second, she wouldn't have run away from that. If I'd had a choice between this trip and hiding out on a pleasure planet with some hunk, I knew which I'd have chosen.
Although I had to admit that, as hunks went, Xendar wasn't bad. For an alien, anyway. It was hard to close my eyes without thinking of his muscular torso, and I felt a flush creep onto my cheeks as I tried to relax. I needed something to distract me, obviously.
"Did you pack anything for me to read?" I asked. No chance of any of my favorite authors, of course, but who knew? Maybe the princess and I had similar tastes in books, and anything was better than just lying here.
Wordlessly, the maid passed me a tablet. Did the robot even speak? So far I hadn't heard a sound from her. Or should I call a robot 'it'? Another thing I didn't know. Frowning, I looked at the tablet and, on the third attempt, managed to activate it.
There were books on it, so that was something. Unfortunately, they all seemed to have one theme — Immorata. Each was dedicated to her, and most were collections poetry. I flicked through a few, but they were either impenetrable or so sycophantically desperate to please that I felt sick reading them. I couldn't understand why she would like to read this much about herself.
Maybe she didn't, I thought, dropping the book and sighing. Maybe Immorata would be just as bored by this as I was, maybe she didn't read. I didn't want to assume I knew her from the few little clues I had. Whatever the reason for this being on her tablet, though, I wish I'd had something fun or interesting to read instead.
Thi
s was going to be a very long trip.
The days passed slowly, and each was the same. I woke, showered in the strange alien bathroom, and the maid dressed me. Every outfit was different, and each was equally impractical. Despite the amount of luggage that the servants had brought aboard, I started to wonder where all these clothes came from. There had to be some magic to it, I thought.
The food was equally impressive and strange, the maid preparing it for me. That, too, had to take up a lot of space in the luggage. But I had to admit that it was delicious, even if I couldn't identify any of it. Pretending it was all perfectly normal was a challenge, but at least it was something to do. The rest of each day I spent in abject boredom, trying to find something of interest in the princess's reading material. There was nothing to do but read and sleep.
And every night's sleep brought dreams I'd rather not have had. Some were close to nightmares of being chased in the forest, hunted like an animal by creatures I couldn't see. Even more disturbing, though, were the dreams of Xendar. His magnificent figure haunted my dreams, alien as he was. I dreamed of what that dark blue skin would feel like under my fingers, or against my body. What his touch would be like, how he'd kiss. After each dream I woke frustrated, aching, and worst of all knowing that his cabin was just across the ship. That I could just go to him — and risk ruining everything.
Instead, I would turn over and try to go back to sleep, only to fall into the arms of another dream. And when the night finally ended, it would be more of the boring routine.
On the third day I couldn't take being cooped up anymore. I didn't care if going out into the rest of the ship was a risk, I had to do something to get out of this cabin. Striding out of the door, I looked around the ship.
It felt strangely empty, clearly designed for more people than just the two of us. Or three, if a robot maid following me counted as a person. Making my way from room to room, I looked around and let myself experience the wonder of my situation for the first time. I was in space! That had to be worth something. How many people from Earth had ever been inside a ship like this?