Too Close to the Sun (The Sun 1)

by Popp, Robin T.

  “I’m dying,” he said, sounding truly old and sick.

  She sighed. “I hope you don't expect me to feel sorry for you.” But she said it without rancor in her tone.

  “It’s over. You won.”

  “Did I?” She gave a half-laugh. “Somehow I thought winning would feel better.” She picked up her sandwich and walked to the door, stopping when she heard his sigh.

  “Victor would have made you the perfect husband and leader. I don’t know that I can find someone that perfect again.”

  “Victor wasn’t as perfect as you thought.”

  He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “He was a Harvester. And he found you, not the other way around. Nicoli wasn’t just protecting me in that fight. He was protecting you and the rest of the planet from the Harvesters. Think about it.” She turned and walked out.

  * * * * *

  The rest of the day passed slowly, but eventually the two suns set and Angel found herself knocking on Rianol’s door.

  “Come in.” Even from the other side of the door, he sounded nervous. “My quarters are not as big as yours,” he apologized after she walked in. “But I think we’ll be comfortable here tonight.”

  She stopped in front of the bed. Large enough for at least three people, it had head and footboards made of Coronadian knotty wood.

  “We’ll have to share the bed," Rianol said, coming to stand beside her. "In case someone barges in on us or checks the room later. It needs to at least look as if we slept together.”

  Angel nodded and took a leisurely stroll about. There wasn’t much to the room. A desk, a couple of chairs and a wet bar in the main room, with a bathroom off to the side. She’d have to talk to Rianol later about separate quarters. For now, she just wanted to get through the night.

  “How about a drink?”

  “Sure,” Angel answered. “Martian ale?”

  Rianol smiled. “One Martian ale coming up.” He washed his hands at the wet bar sink, then poured the neon blue liquid into a glass. She took it from him with a nervous smile. She wasn’t really thirsty, but hoped it would soothe her nerves. She took a couple of sips as she finished circling the room.

  It was a short trip, so when she completed her tour, she went over to the desk and sat in one of the chairs beside it. “What do we do now?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t really know. I guess we could talk.” He picked up the drink he’d poured himself and took a swallow. When he lowered the glass, his hand shook.

  “Rianol, are you okay? Don’t tell me I make you nervous,” she joked, looking at him instead of where she was trying to set down her glass. She missed the table and the glass slipped off the edge, onto the floor. The blue liquid spilled everywhere.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She scooted off her chair to stoop by the mess. “Rianol, do you have a towel or something . . . Rianol?”

  He stood trembling, mesmerized by the liquid seeping into the carpet. He didn’t seem to hear her when she spoke.

  “Rianol?”

  “You spilled.” He sounded aghast.

  “Yes, I did. I’m sorry, but I’ll clean it up if you’ll toss me a towel.”

  “No. I’ll do it,” he snapped. Picking up a rag, he whipped by her and started to dab the liquid from the carpet. “You’ll have to be more careful.” He sounded as if he were speaking through clinched teeth.

  “Sorry, Rianol. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  As if realizing how absurd he was acting, Rianol looked up at her. “I’m sorry. I like things clean and neat.”

  “I understand,” Angel said, trying to sound as if she really did.

  He finished cleaning the floor, then walked back to the wet bar. He washed his hands after throwing the soiled cloth into the trash bin.

  “I’ll fix you another drink.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’m not really thirsty.”

  “I think you should have one anyway. To calm you for the rest of the evening.”

  She wanted to protest, but didn’t want to argue with him when he already seemed so upset. “Okay, fine.” She picked up the fallen glass from the floor where he had overlooked it and started to hand it to him.

  He had already poured her drink into a new glass and was standing with his back to her. She saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a small vial. She couldn’t see what he was doing with the vial, but knew he was putting some of its contents into her drink. Did she confront him with it? Or pretend she didn’t see and not drink it?

  She stood up as he put the vial back into his pocket and turned around. “Rianol, I think maybe we’re rushing things.”

  His eyes narrowed and she could almost see the thoughts racing around in his head.

  She waved a hand toward the door, trying to act casual. “I’m going back to my room. I need a little more time.” She started for the door.

  Rianol set down the glass and started to walk toward her. “I don’t think we should wait.”

  “I do. It’s too soon for me.”

  Then he was there beside her and before she knew it, he punched her in the jaw and everything grew dark.

  Chapter 30

  Consciousness, when it came, slammed into her with a force equal to the blow that had knocked her out. She noticed the pain in her jaw, but ignored it. It was her inability to move her arms or legs that had all her attention. She tried to assess her situation without opening her eyes. She was lying on something soft, which she assumed was the bed. Her arms were stretched above her head and metal cuffs around her wrists held her secure. Her legs were shackled as well.

  “I know you’re awake, An’jel. I didn’t hit you that hard. Can’t hit anything that hard.” Rianol’s tone sounded bitter.

  Angel opened her eyes to see him standing beside the bed, legs spread and arms crossed over his chest.

  She had to clear her throat a couple of times before her voice worked. “Why?”

  “Haven’t you guessed by now?”

  “Are you working for my grandfather?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. There was a manic edge to his laughter that she hadn’t noticed before and when he looked at her again, it wasn’t with the eyes of the Rianol she’d come to know. This man was crazy. Or...

  “You’re a Harvester.”

  “We prefer the term Magdatians, but yes.”

  “I, we, thought Victor was the leader.”

  At the mention of Victor’s name, Rianol’s eyes grew solemn. “No. Victor was not our leader. I am.”

  “Did you kill Herrod?”

  “No, Victor did. He saw you two fighting and took advantage of the situation. I believe he hoped to eliminate Colonel Romanof.” Rianol shook his head. “Victor never had the patience to wait and plan things through. Oh well. Victor’s last act of sacrifice proved his worth. With Colonel Romanof out of the way, I can continue as planned.”

  “You won’t succeed. I’ll stop you.” Angel stretched her head back, trying to see how her hands were secured. Rianol had locked her into a pair of handcuffs with a special chain that allowed them to be secured to the headboard. She pulled, testing their strength while Rianol stood by and watched without apparent concern that she would free herself.

  “Struggle all you want. The more you do, the more the bed will look slept in.” Rianol came forward and ran a finger down her cheek. Then as if the touch of her skin was offensive, he rubbed his fingers together. “After all, tomorrow we’ll want to look convincing.”

  “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man--”

  “I wouldn’t be so hasty to offer threats.” Rianol shouted over her. “Unless of course you don't care what happens to your mother.”

  “What have you done to my mother?”

  “Oh, nothing yet. But tomorrow morning, when we make our little announcement, Sorrah will have a tiny hypo in her possession, containing a deadly poison and she'll be sure to stand close to your mother. One wrong word from you and your mother will die. Very painfull
y, I might add. So, before you do anything rash, you might wish to reconsider. You just buried a husband. Are you so willing to bury your mother as well?”

  * * * * *

  By morning, Angel was exhausted. Between her discomfort from being chained to the bed and her fear of what Rianol might do should she fall asleep, Angel had forced herself to stay awake all night. When Rianol finally released her, Angel felt too stiff and too tired to do more than glare at him.

  “Get undressed,” he ordered.

  Angel rubbed her wrists, trying to work circulation back into her arms. “Why?” As she watched, he stripped off his shirt.

  “We’re about to have company.” He smiled at her. “Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of you. You’re not my type.”

  “Why’s that? Too independent? Too Coronadian?”

  “No. Too female.”

  Angel gaped at him. “Victor was your lover.”

  “Very astute of you. Now take off your clothes or dear old mom gets a hypo for breakfast.”

  Somehow, knowing he had no interest in her sexually made it easier. As Angel did as he ordered, a thought occurred to her. “You poisoned my mother? How?”

  Rianol spared her a quick glance. “Tainted massage oils. Now climb into bed and get under the covers.”

  Her tired brain fought against her fatigue, searching for possible ways out of this predicament. Finding none, she followed his instructions, pulling the covers up to her chin in an effort to cover her nudity. As she did, she cast a glance at Rianol. She hadn’t realized how thin and frail he was beneath his clothes. As he walked to the bed, she noticed the slight twist of his right foot.

  Perhaps feeling her eyes on him, Rianol glowered at her. “Don’t worry, my dear. I find this decrepit body as disgusting as you do. And thanks to your and Romanof’s efforts, it will be a while longer before I have the new transfer unit up and operational.”

  Rianol crawled in beside her, but didn’t look any happier about being there than she did. He’d barely tucked his legs under the cover when a knock came at the door.

  “Come in.” Rianol shouted, quickly draping an arm around Angel’s shoulders, pulling her close.

  “What is so urgent that I had to come here...” Her grandfather’s voice fell silent as he stepped into the room and saw them. For a moment, his face mirrored his shock. Then he pulled himself together. “What’s the meaning of this?” He demanded of Rianol. “What are you doing with my granddaughter?”

  “We’re invoking the Rite of Consummation,” Rianol replied smoothly, squeezing Angel’s arm to no doubt remind her to keep quiet. As if she would risk her mother’s life, she thought disgustedly. “As you can see,” Rianol continued. “We spent the night together, as man and wife, and need only make a public declaration to legalize our marriage.”

  “Is this true?” Her grandfather glared at her.

  Angel could only nod.

  "You dare do this to me."

  "You left us no choice," Rianol replied.

  Her grandfather seemed to age before her eyes, all the fight going out of him and he didn’t look at either of them before leaving the room.

  Rianol jumped out of bed and crossed the room, apparently unconcerned about his lack of dress. He shut the door and turned to give her a smile. “That went well, don’t you think?”

  * * * * *

  Yanur stepped to the outer fringes of the crowd gathered in the village’s public square. The tracer tag embedded in the necklace he’d given Katrina indicated she was here. He’d told her he’d come for her, as soon as he took care of Nicoli’s body. Had she believed him?

  He surveyed the faces in the crowd, feeling the anticipation and excitement in those gathered there. And his concern grew.

  Then he spotted her. She would never hear him over the noise, so he pushed his way through the crowd, until he stood behind her.

  “Katrina.” Her name was a prayer on his lips.

  At the sound of his voice, she turned to him and her eyes lit up with joy. Then, so quickly that he wondered if he’d mistaken her initial reaction, her eyes clouded and her expression grew solemn.

  “Hello, Mr. Snellen.”

  Mr. Snellen? What was this? “Katrina, I’d like to talk to you.” He looked pointedly at her companion, recognizing Sorrah, the maid Katrina hated. “Alone.”

  Katrina’s glance darted to the maid before turning to him. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  For a moment, he doubted himself. Had he been wrong thinking there was more to what they shared than mere friendship? Then he saw it, a flicker of emotion in Katrina’s eyes. Fear.

  “Very well,” he said to her. “I’ll leave.”

  He saw the desperation in her eyes when he turned to leave, but he didn’t go far. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the neuro-tazer. He pressed it to the maid’s neck and she crumpled into his waiting arms, unconscious. The crowd, too distracted by what was about to transpire at the podium, didn’t seem to notice as he dragged her off to the side and set her against a tree.

  When he turned around, Katrina was there. For a moment, she stood and stared at the unconscious maid. Then a smile broke across her face and she threw herself into his arms.

  “I knew you’d come back. Your timing, as usual, is very good.” The look of love she showered on him left him breathless.

  “You really need someone to watch over you,” he scolded.

  “Are you applying for the job?”

  Yanur looked deep into her eyes. “Yes, I am.” He lowered his head, touching his lips to hers, putting his heart and the promise of a lifetime into a single kiss.

  * * * * *

  Angel approached the square in a dreamlike state. Fatigue and frustration dominated her emotions and thoughts. She was barely aware of the villagers gathered in the square or how all eyes turned expectantly to watch as she and Rianol walked onto the stage.

  With Rianol on one side, clutching her arm, and her grandfather on the other, Angel scanned the crowd for her mother. She was nowhere to be seen.

  “Good villagers of Scyphor,” Rianol began. “Hear me now. In accordance with the Rite of Consummation, I swear before all of you that An’jel ToRrenc and I, Rianol DeWintre, did consummate our marriage and stand before you now as husband and wife. Let anyone with a prior claim speak now or forever remain silent.”

  Angel prayed for a miracle, knowing none would come. Angel longed to remove the confident smile that crossed Rianol’s face as he looked out over the people. Then a voice shouted from the crowd.

  “I lay prior claim.”

  A buzzing started in Angel’s head, playing games with her mind. The voice she heard was a figment of her imagination, wishful thinking but nothing more. A low murmuring of voices began in the crowd and grew louder. Then they parted and a figure stepped forward.

  “Nicoli.”

  The name rushed from her lips on a whisper as she gripped the podium with both hands to steady herself. How could he be alive? It was a miracle. She wanted to race into the crowd, throw herself into his arms, but her mother’s life lay in the balance.

  “Colonel Romanof,” Rianol said with a sneer. “You’re a hard man to kill.”

  “I doubt you will be,” Nicoli responded. “Step away from my wife.”

  Rianol smiled. “I’m afraid you were declared legally dead at The Challenge fight. Your claim is forfeited. But don’t worry.” Rianol brushed the back of his hand down Angel’s cheek in a mock show of affection. “An’jel waited at least a day after your death before coming to my bed.”

  Nicoli stared at her, confusion and doubt evident in his gaze. “Angel?”

  She wanted to cry out, deny Rianol’s claims, profess her love for Nicoli, but she remained silent, dying a little inside. When Nicoli turned to go, she looked away, unable to watch, and spotted someone waving on the far side of the gathering.

  She looked closer and gasped. Her mother stood, smiling, beside Yanur. Sorrah was nowhere to be seen “Nicoli, w
ait...” The laser Rianol pulled from beneath his jacket and now held to her side caused the rest of her cry to die into silence.

  A gasp went up from the gathering, drawing Nicoli’s attention. He turned back.

  “You couldn’t stay quiet, could you?” Rianol growled at Angel, one hand grabbing her hair close to the scalp to hold her in place while the other hand brought the laser to her head. He jerked her hair roughly as he shouted. “You tell them we spent the night together.”

  Angel gritted her teeth against the pain, her eyes tearing involuntarily. “Never,” she ground out between clinched teeth. “I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man in the universe.”

  A hush fell across the crowd while Rianol stared about, wild-eyed, as if unsure what to do.

  “It’s over,” Nicoli shouted, training his own laser on Rianol. “Let her go.”

  Rianol pushed Angel in front of him as a shield. “You’ll have to kill me first,” he shouted, firing the laser at Nicoli. People screamed and fell, en masse, to the ground, as the shot missed its target. Rianol backed off the podium, pulling Angel with him. He fired three more bursts erratically into the crowd, then turned and ran toward the palace gardens, taking Angel as his hostage.

  “There’s a shortcut that way,” Katrina said breathlessly, rushing up to Nicoli and pointing to the far side. “Cut through the trees.”

  Nicoli didn’t wait. He ran as if his life depended on it, because it did. Angel made him want to live again. Without her, his life meant nothing.

  He barely noticed the sting of the tree branches as they scraped his arm when he pushed his way through the woods. All he could think about was getting there in time.

  He reached the spot where the maze opened up as Rianol emerged with Angel.

  “You can’t stop me,” Rianol shouted, pulling Angel in front of him again as he faced Nicoli. “I won’t let you destroy my dream.”

  There was a wild look to Rianol’s eyes and Nicoli feared pushing him over the edge. “You picked the wrong way to go about it, Rianol.” Nicoli tried to sound calm over the pounding of his heart. “It’s over.”