Forever One

by L. F. Hampton

  But time grew short. Her birthing time neared. What was he to do?

  Finally, the problem of going to Dara V was settled, but not by him. Cayla won a diplomatic victory. She had invited the Council to convene on Kasara. Her audacity amazed him. And he couldn’t help feeling a little proud of her, in spite of himself.

  THANKFULLY, Cyclemintus had convinced the Alliance to convene on Kasara. Cayla had been quite pleased with herself . . . until she realized what hosting this meeting would entail. Never before had the Council members met on a representative’s world. The ambassadors had always convened in the neutral Dara V’s Council Hall. She could hardly believe that her message to Cyclemintus had won that Council victory. But what would they decide about the Xeetag incident? Was Vadyn to be held accountable for the destruction of Dalhum? Was she? She yawned, too fatigued to worry longer. She had worked all day getting the stone keep ready for the dignitaries. Now she was so tired she could hardly hold her eyes open, but so much work still remained. She could hardly believe it. Council representatives from the Alliance were actually coming. Coming to Kasara! Their chambers on Dara V were so bland, as neutral as the spaceport’s territory. Here they would rest, exposed to all of Kasara’s hospitality. And this was all her responsibility.

  Every day, she rose early, working steadily, despairing of being ready to act as hostess. Bah! Hostess? She’d rather lead another battle battalion. And in her heart, she was secretly glad that she had blasted the Xeetag’s world. True, nature had been taking its destructive course, but the world was declining way too slowly in her estimation. At least, Kasara’s warriors had rescued their imprisoned leader. Surely the Council couldn’t blame all of Kasara for the Xeetag’s destruction, could they?

  By the day’s end, she was ready for bed, but, today, she felt the need to check on Vadyn first, one last time of the many she did during the day. His lights were out, but his low moan drew her attention. She dared a mind touch and found that he struggled in the grip of another torturous nightmare. Against her better judgment, she waited, letting him dream for a while. Lycos, the red healer, said Vadyn must face his fears in his dreams, but it hurt to watch him in such torment. She probed gently for answers. His broad features contorted. It was the same nightmare; he was remembering his people struggling to fight the Xeetag. He relived the deaths of Tyrei, Elizabeth, and Logan. He berated himself. He should have known or at least expected such a trap. How could he continue to rule his people when he had failed them all so miserably? Then other memories came. Memories of torture, his claws slowly pulled from his fingers, one by one, brought a heated wave of sick sweat to her. In her mind, she heard the snapping of his bones when he tried distancing himself in meditation. His memories of helpless frustration filled her with unbelievable pain. Throughout all the torture, he had focused his thoughts on a pair of brilliant blue eyes and gentle hands that caressed and loved him—a human woman who in the beginning gave all to him only to reject him later.

  Hidden in her spy darkness of mind shadows, she swallowed a sob. How had she failed him so miserably? She had known him for years, accepting his gentle nature toward her without realizing that as Kasara’s ruler he had to be a fierce war leader, to do things perhaps against his combined human and Kasar nature. He was a genius of strategy and battle—a warlord, a slayer of Kasara’s enemies. But she had only asked him to be the being she had known as a child. The other side of him she didn’t want to know. Well, she had found that she really didn’t know him at all. When they joined, she hadn’t expected him to be so ruthless, so savage. She had only wanted the heroic image of the Vadyn that she had dreamed of all those years. And, she had rejected the real person. How foolish and juvenile she had been! Her imagined Vadyn was a pale reflection of the great leader he was in real life. He deserved so much more than the weak love she had given him. Perhaps that was why he still refused to see her, to rejoin with her. A thick barrier stoically stood in his mind, keeping them apart. True, it had protected her from the worst of his torment, but, now? Now, it just stood in her way. Her jaws clenched. A low growl escaped her control. She longed to sweep the barrier that separated them aside, but knew she didn’t dare.

  When he was ready, she’d be there for him. The weakness of that statement sent a wave of anger through her. Another snarl escaped her throat, startling her with its fierceness. Damn it! She wouldn’t wait any longer. Stripping quickly down to bare skin, she slipped into his bed, and, while he slept, she planted kiss after kiss on his face, his neck, his chest and shoulders, anywhere she could reach while she held him loosely in her arms.

  With his head thrown back, his eyes closed, Vadyn dreamed of the first time he had joined with Cayla. And it was such a wonderful dream. In it, he wasn’t alone anymore. She was with him again, completely with him. The barriers he erected to protect her from his pain were gone. They were together again as they had been that first joining. No secrets, no doubts, no obstructions. Whole. Joined in mind, heart and love; forever one. Later, he finally slept a dreamless sleep, the first he had in weeks.

  Cayla left quietly at first light, knowing that she had won this round even if he never remembered. This night would sustain her for the other lonely ones ahead.

  VADYN CALLED his warriors to order in the meeting hall. The day of the Alliance’s arrival had dawned cold and clear, just like his thoughts. He had only moments before their arrival. Thunderous clapping echoed from the vast assembly. Growls rose into a solid roar. Heavy feet stomped, making the floor thump. This was the first meeting with his warriors since his recovery. He still felt lightheaded as if in a dream. Before him, the sea of fighters parted. A vision stood there, patiently waiting with her red hair a bright beacon, but her jaw stubbornly tilted at him. Slowly, he made his way to her. He took her arm, drawing her forward, but she moved stiffly at his side, self-contained, without a tremor betraying her feelings. He wondered at her closed thoughts but didn’t push. He had been the one refusing to see her—no wonder she was still angry. But no one would know. She was a gracious and attentive mate, her hand resting lightly on his arm. Under vivid royal purple silks that whispered stiffly when they walked, they paced through the crowd, reaching out to acknowledge this warrior or that one with special attention, a touch here and a pat there. He heard murmurs regarding Cayla’s beauty—how their symmetrical unity impressed even the most skeptical. No one doubted that they ruled jointly. Cayla, with her cloud of cascading fiery hair, even slow with her advanced birthing, exhibited every bit of the haughty regal countenance that Vadyn, with his gaunt features, wore at her side. He stared at his waiting silent warriors. How could they be so blind to the fact that Cayla lacked a strong protector? A protest jerked him about to meet her narrow-eyed gaze. A frown wrinkled her forehead, ruining her royal demeanor. With a murmured promise to get back to her, he kept his rumbling growls down to a minimum and finally spoke to his warriors although his throat felt stiff, unused to the raised volume.

  “This afternoon, all of you are to welcome the Alliance members to our world. But—” He paused, lifting his head. The corners of his mouth twitched on a growl. “If they harm one thing while they are here, no matter who they are or what world they represent, you are welcome to take whatever action you deem necessary.” Cheers, echoes, and hooting calls filled the hall. He turned and drew Cayla forward. She had stood silent, pale-faced, but her gaze glittered with cool blue fire. Whatever emotion she held remained a mystery. He stared into the crowd, trying to see what she saw there.

  Cayla watched the golden imperial lieutenants who stood as Vadyn’s silent guards risk cautious, curious glances at each other. They, too, seemed puzzled by the el’kota and his mate’s distant demeanor. She knew their thoughts. After all they had shared she could read them like a book even if she wasn’t linked to them. They obviously were confused by the coolness they saw between their leaders. Hadn’t they witnessed the great love that connected the two? At her nod, the royal lieutenants di
pped their heads, giving her their complete allegiance. But she was still hesitant in greeting the others of the crowd. For weeks, she had remained nearly lost in grief and worry over Vadyn. Sequestered with him these long days, she hadn’t even sought out her lieutenants. Now, she felt embarrassed over her lack of proper etiquette. What was she supposed to do next?

  A Council messenger wearing Alliance livery stepped suddenly between Vadyn’s lieutenants. “El’kota.” The long, slender Weistra struck one fist to his chest, bowing slightly from the waist. “Members of the Council have arrived. Where do you want them housed?”

  Where did they house them, indeed? Cayla suddenly didn’t even want them on their world. Had she made a dreadful mistake?

  Chapter 18

  VADYN DIDN’T WANT any of them in his home. When he had first received word that the Council was coming to Kasara for their meeting, he had resolved not to admit them. After their denial of help against the Xeetag, he had raged against even bothering with the Alliance. What good was Alliance membership when the Council didn’t even believe evidence placed right under their very noses? But Cayla, with her gentle persuasion, made him see reason.

  The Council had acted as they only could have with the evidence presented. The Xeetag members had hid themselves and their motives effectively. The Council was not to blame. Yet, he still harbored doubts about their coming to him now. Nevertheless, he hastily issued orders regarding the arriving dignitaries and their guards. Cayla just watched him silently.

  “Put all carnivorous members in the east wing with their assemblies. The rest go in the west wing.” Surely enough area existed between the two sections to ease any worries the members might have regarding offense as well as security. He didn’t miss the way his lieutenants looked to Cayla for her approving nod.

  Even Batla watched him intently before he questioned, his tongue sucking over a long tooth. “What about the blood-drinkers?”

  He flinched, realizing he had forgotten the noble Valtarie who had held his suspicions regarding the Xeetag and their treacherous natures. Eloquent beyond imagination, this race of graceful, winged beings had the disgusting habit of drinking warm blood for sustenance. It mattered to no one that they only drank the blood of herd animals bred specifically for that purpose. But not one of the Council members would ever dine with or near the Valtarie. He laughed to himself about such squeamishness. One would think those honored Council members had never fought in bloody wars. Then again, some members were dirty little assassins who didn’t hesitate in slipping a knife into an enemy’s ribs. He snorted at such foolishness. “Put them in the middle wing and post extra guards. The Valtarie might have strict taboos, but they also have impeccable manners. Any squeamish member doesn’t know them well. But—it won’t do for our gentle Weistra to be exposed to their vile presence.” Vadyn smiled knowingly for his guards’ benefit. The Weistra seemed to follow the wind in their Council decisions, but their quiet unassuming vote could still sway a count one way or another. It had certainly done so recently on Dara V. He swallowed, barely containing another growl.

  Too bad the vote hadn’t swayed in Kasara’s favor then. Well, he silently promised, the members would have a lot to answer for. Thinking vile retribution, he prepared his home for unwanted and unwelcome visitors. He hoped Cayla knew what she was doing. After all, this was her plan.

  CAYLA WATCHED Batla march in parade formation before the palace’s guards, greeting the dignitaries as they arrived at the hall. His stony countenance kept the curious speculation about the el’kota silent while delaying the Council meeting for days. The warlord remained unapproachable—angry or in quiet solitude. Not one Kasar or Council member was brave enough to confront him. She was surprised that all still listened to her even though the el’kota had returned. After all, she was just the ly’teal. Her main job was keeping the members happy as she watched Kasara’s stores depleted. Damn it! Was she only a housekeeper? She had led the final assault on Dalhum! The thought that all the dignitaries assumed her to be just Vadyn’s mate and pleasant accounts manager burned her. Well, she had been spoiling for a fight ever since Vadyn ordered her out of his room. The fight didn’t matter with whom. She’d prefer to battle her mate, but, since he was unavailable, anyone else would do. Surprisingly, no one wanted to take her up on her invitation. All visitors definitely stayed away from her stormy presence. Even her Kasar warriors quickly and quietly avoided her although they kept a stealthy pace with her.

  Finally, she discovered a place where at night she could be herself. In the weapons arsenal, she could scream and yell about stupid males all she wanted. But mostly, she trained in weapons’ art all by herself, her guard outside. After all, she held Vadyn’s battle knowledge. She worked through the training sessions for hours. Sweat matted her hair, pouring down her back and between her breasts in tickling torrents. Her eyes stung from that trails that rained down her forehead. Reasoning didn’t matter. She was too large with her child to be doing this—still she didn’t stop. She couldn’t sleep. In fact, she hadn’t for days. Tormented by thoughts of Vadyn and his suffering as well as his present insufferable attitude, she vowed to never again let him get near her affections. He had hurt her for the last time! The night she had shared his dream physically would be his last taste of her. For a moment, tears threatened before she straightened her shoulders. Someday she would make him pay for hurting her, for making her dream about him nearly every night. Someday. For now, she devoted her time to her training. She would be in top form to protect the el’kota from the Alliance’s Council. She had led his troops for him. The Council’s punishment, if there was to be punishment, was hers and hers alone. Not even the warriors would suffer, she’d see to that. But, with the thought of facing the Council, fear rose like a stone in her throat. She swallowed hard and continued her practice.

  With two-handed swords, she slashed an invisible enemy in front of her before she tucked and rolled, always careful of her child. Again and again she destroyed an invisible foe. Never once did her pregnancy hinder her movements. She was in top form, as sprightly as any jungle cat. A thin grin spread her lips. The official Council meeting was finally set for tomorrow. She would be ready for anything. Her vicious sword slashed in front of her. She was Kasara’s ly’teal and would act accordingly. Her warriors expected it of her even if the el’kota didn’t.

  Finally tired, she grabbed a towel from the stack of fresh linen. Stripping off her offending hot battle garments, she stepped under the cool waterfall that flowed underground. The water was cool but not cold. A kick to her midsection said otherwise. Her child, obviously, felt the decrease in temperature. She rubbed the swollen bump and frowned. Her belly swelled more each day with her child’s growth. He felt as if he had four arms and legs for all his activity. Damn the warlord, he hadn’t even asked once about her condition. While he had once been so anxious for her to conceive, he now acted with bland indifference. Blast him. And to hell with the way she ached for his touch. Last night, she had nearly ravished him in his sleep so great was her need. Was she going crazy? She jerked her hair up, soothing soap over her neck, letting the foamy lather from a chip of barsa tree cleanse away her sweat. Its spicy scent coated her skin and hair, reminding her of the many times she had been intimate with Vadyn. He had always carried the spice of barsa in everything he wore; even his hair smelled of it. In her mind’s eye, she saw the picture of him rising above her with all that hair curtaining them together. A drawing pull began between her legs. Moisture gathered. Oh, blast him! She touched herself and moaned. Her head fell back as she thrust her fingers inside her need. The strain of trembling legs awoke her to what she was doing; she was too heavy for this prolonged standing, so stupid for yearning for him when he acted as if she didn’t exist. With a frown, she ignored her body’s demands and stepped into the hot mineral spring whirpool that bubbled gently in the damp bathing room. This time, she groaned at the bruises the heat found. But the pain was not enoug
h; it was never enough to make her forget. Nothing could bring on soothing meditation, but still, she tried.

  Not bothering to light the lamps since the gentle glow of the walls with their phosphorus brightness provided all the illumination she wanted, she laid her head back and sighed, searching for elusive calm.

  HE HID IN THE shadows like some spy, watching in awe. He couldn’t help himself. Obviously, Cayla didn’t know the walls’ vegetation also provided enough green light to reveal her to the pair who waited in the doorway.

  “Seen enough, sire?” Batla whispered, politely averting his gaze from the sight of the mineral spring.

  “I find I’m tired after all, Batla. I changed my mind. I don’t want to soak.” Vadyn pulled back from the bathing area. “I just want to return to my room.” He didn’t miss the amused grin on Batla’s face and gave a warning growl. Even his own lieutenant was making fun of him. Swatting away Batla’s helping grip, he hurried, hobbling along like a broken-winged bird all the way back to his room. But he was nearly panting with the effort. Sweat trickled down his armpits. Even Batla’s voice annoyed him.

  “Slow down, el’kota. The ly’teal didn’t see you. And I won’t tell her.” He met Vadyn’s gaze with a serious glance. Obviously even the ly’teal’s naked intimacy didn’t faze the old warrior. Not as it did him. He still felt the hardness responding in his groin.