“Truth, warrior?”
“Truth,” Batla growled, clearly insulted to be questioned. He hesitated then said, “Sire, if I might speak freely.” At Vadyn’s nod, he continued. “I think this whole separation matter is stu—silly. The ly’teal loves you. I saw this with my own eyes many times.” Golden admiration shone in his glowing remembrances. “And, you? You love her. Besides, she is your mate. Take her whenever you please.” He shrugged. “I do not see a problem here.”
No problem? Vadyn barely contained himself. “The problem, lieutenant, is that I couldn’t protect her. She needs a strong Kasar warrior at her side. Our affections have nothing to do with it.”
“Bah.” Batla rolled his eyes. Only his great age kept Vadyn from ripping out his throat. The old warrior knew it, too; his eyes practically danced. His purr was defiantly amused. “The ly’teal had all of us at her side, but”—he raised his hand—“she only led the warriors on the basis of your joined knowledge, honored el’kota. Surely, you realize that she could never have managed such a feat without you. You were the driving force of her courage, her battle strength. Her human diplomatic sources may have united us, but her war strategy came from you.” He pushed a blunt finger none too gently into Vadyn’s chest. “Your love and connection is all she needs. I personally think the ly’teal can protect herself. She doesn’t need you or anyone else for that.” His growl vibrated dangerously. “Our ly’teal is intelligent enough to know who she wants as a mate. And I think she definitely wants you.” He gave a slight grin. “And her belly swells with the evidence of that.”
“I—” Vadyn suddenly lost all his reasoning. In all their years together, Batla had never once spoken so eloquently. And the old warrior had never shown any affection for anyone. Now, in addition to grieving over Tyrei whom he used to fight at every turn, he was protecting a female leader. When had the old one changed? Suddenly, he had a headache. “I’m tired. Go away, Batla. I’m going to sleep now.” He jerked the blankets up over his fully clothed body, turning his back on the old lieutenant.
“May you dream of successful battles,” Batla snorted and closed the door on Vadyn’s roar, a human retort that sounded a lot like “go to hell.”
IN A STONE fortress as large as Vadyn’s it was easy to get lost. And with all the dignitaries and their guards, dodging her warriors wasn’t easy, but Cayla wanted to be alone. Suddenly rounding a corner, she bumped into a solid muscled wall. So white he nearly glowed, the winged guard stepped back, letting her fall unaided at his feet. Encumbered by her swollen belly, she grumbled at the being’s odd lack of aid. She glared at him from her knees, only to lose her anger in amazement.
The six-foot-six-inch guard was draped in a gossamer white scarf that barely hid his sex, but, far from taunting her, he kept his gaze averted. Dazed, she stared up at the most angelic face she had ever seen—Cyclemintus, the Valtarie leader she had met on Dara V, had never looked like this! Delicate white brows graced wide, silver-tipped lashes that nearly closed, avoiding her stare. Broad curved lips refused to lift in any kind of apology or greeting. He stood like a glowing marble statue, holding a long silver sword at attention across his chest. With skin as white as alabaster molded over chiseled muscles, he had majestic, luminous wings rising behind him in a curved arch. She realized that this Valtarie guard was not as large or as regal as the one on Dara V, but still she thought he looked like the angels depicted in her mother’s Earth Bible.
“What is this?” Musical, harmonious tones combined into one vibration greeted her as another Valtarie approached. This one was dressed in a flowing pearl-encrusted gown and exhibited extreme age in his regal bearing. Gaunt bones protruded predominately at his cheekbones and temples, but his vibrant midnight eyes flashed fire. She knew those lens shielded eyes. Gods! How much Cyclemintus had aged in such a short time! The guard sang his answer to Cyclemintus’s question.
“An accident occurred, honored one.” He dipped his head but made no other move.
“Did you touch her?”
“Only by her accident. She did not see me as she rounded the corner.”
“Is this true, honored ly’teal? He didn’t touch you?”
“No. And, he didn’t help at all either.” She sputtered and rose up, awkward with her pregnancy. Her single-toned voice rang flat, sounding so unlovely. Even Kasar purrs and growls didn’t equal the Valtarie’s spoken form in such a musical way, almost as if numerous voices harmonized together. Cyclemintus’s scowl didn’t look convinced. “Honestly, I’m unhurt,” she assured him. During the whole conversation, the guard had never once looked at her. Only Cyclemintus met her gaze. She saw the reflection of his protective lenses. His words sang again.
“I render an apology on behalf of the Valtarie. If he had harmed you, he would die.”
“What! Surely you wouldn’t kill one of your own people over an accident?” She was shocked, and it showed in her voice. He spoke, singing words again.
“You are female. He is only one of thousands of our males. If he offended or hurt you, he would die.”
Cayla didn’t doubt the sincerity behind the Councilman’s words, but she struggled to grasp what he had spoken. Shaking her head, she finally responded with, “I still don’t understand.”
“We, Valtarie, honor our females. We have very few.” The Valtarie’s voice became even more sadly melodious this time as he looked off into the distance. “They are the life givers, the saviors of our race. But—” He shook himself back to Cayla’s presence. He gazed at her pregnant condition in what she took to be envious revered awe. “Our females have become so few in number that we guard them with our very lives.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know your customs.” She shivered to think what would have happened to the guard if she had suffered a skinned elbow. “Do you know why your people have suffered a loss in birth rate?” At his puzzled look, she continued. “Kasara has lots of healers. We might be able to help.”
“No, I don’t think you can help, ly’teal. You see, we have been in decline for a long time. I must ask that you keep our secret. This will be our last meeting with the Alliance. I came only because I feel that we failed you and your honorable mate on Dara V. I should have watched the Xeetag entourage closer. I missed their departure and didn’t know of your party’s abduction. I came today for your mate’s sake. You will be at Council?”
At her mute nod, he escorted her to the corridor’s exit. “Meeting you in private has been a privilege, honored ly’teal.”
She bowed slightly, tipping her head. At least one Councilman thought her worthy. “The privilege has been mine, honored Cyclemintus.” Thinking on his great responsibility, she quickly added, “If we can ever be of aid to Valtar, do not hesitate to call on Kasara.”
He bowed his silver head, and his great wings arched. A chill crept over her. She had a strange feeling that the Valtarie’s death waited close by on the wind.
THE MORNING OF the Council meeting dawned amid chaotic preparations. Cayla was too busy to seek Vadyn out and tell him of Cyclemintus. Security abounded with teams of various guards with standard weapons. All members of the Alliance shared their weapon technology with each other. No one nation was ever greater armed than any other. All was shared by the allies, that is, it had been until the Xeetag had violated that agreement with their new cloaking device. But that was of little consequence now. The Xeetag were no more. And the Kasar now had that cloaking information to share. The techs had only needed one such ship, and they had, luckily, captured the one that had invaded their skies.
Vadyn watched the preparations for the meeting from his balcony with mixed feelings. Would the Council ask for his resignation as Kasara’s ambassador? Kasara’s own Elders had already turned down his resignation. He growled softly as he remembered how the old ones had vigorously welcomed him back—waxing rather enthusiastically over Cayla’s pregnancy. Could the Alliance Council really blame Kasa
ra for fighting back against the Xeetag? He bristled, feeling his fur rise on his neck at the thought. Low snarls escaped from deep in his chest. But he prowled the confined balcony, oblivious to the grumbling noises he made. The Council was made up of fools if they really thought the Xeetag nation had acted honorably. His nervous pacing stopped. He had come to a gut-wrenching conclusion. If he had to resign to protect his people, he would, just as he would step aside in favor of a strong leader for Cayla. Kasara needed the Alliance’s protection, even faulty such as it sometimes was.
Don’t go making foolish decisions, el’kota. He jerked in surprise at Cayla’s cool thoughts. He had thought himself mind-shielded. Where were his shields? For a moment, he tried resisting her but soon realized that her wisdom did calm his scattered mind. She continued on in a neutral vein as if unaware of his attempt to shut her out. Hear what the Council has to say. Perhaps, they have come to offer an apology for being wrong about the Xeetag—and for not believing you.
He gave her a hesitant reply, not really happy about the intimacy, but she deserved an answer. I doubt that. The Council never apologizes—since they are never wrong.
Ha! He felt her snorted scorn. Never? In his mind, he could almost see her delicate brows arch, but he didn’t see her in any of the shadows from the balcony.
Never. He looked around his immediate area and still didn’t find her.
Then they are idiots. Even great leaders can be greatly mistaken from time to time. He felt her ridicule on the word great and quickly hid the shame that swept hotly behind it. He held himself together by the thinnest of threads, rather proud of the cool steadiness of his reply.
Well, this time they were certainly wrong about the Xeetag. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. The bulk of his bandaged fingertips mocked him. He dropped his hand and scowled. Never again will Kasara be so vulnerable. If the Council decides today that we were wrong to fight, we will pull out of the Alliance. We have other friends in the galaxy. We will survive.
Cayla heard Vadyn’s teeth gritting together in grim determination before she stepped from behind the silken drapery and relaxed some of her rigid control. She was getting good at skulking about the palace. That was the only time she could spy on her husband. Be at ease, warlord. She laid one palm against his hardened jaw in his bristled surprise. His eyes rounded so that she dropped her hand, unsure if he wanted her touch. She kept her mind touch neutral. I have spoken to Cyclemintus. He supports you. Such a heated blast of rage swept through her that she jerked back. For long moments, his anger flowed in red waves. Surely, Vadyn wasn’t jealous of Valtar’s winged lord? She speculated for just a moment. Or was he jealous that she had discussed mundane politics with another male? She rejoiced at the passionate reaction even when she tried convincing him to calm down. Vache was the last thing they needed in the coming meeting. Even level-headed Kasar warriors sometimes lost their intellectual powers when anger forced them to react in kind. As el’kota, Vadyn needed to face the Council with all his control in full force. At present, he gazed at her with enigmatic golden eyes, nostrils flared, breaths rushing in and out. Anger or lust?
She stared back, lost in the moment, lost in the golden heat. Rising passion became a keen wild scent in the air. Her knees grew weak, and she nearly buckled when Vadyn raised his hand toward her. She leaned into his touch, welcoming his mouth on hers. Such wonderful warmth flowed, such love, on her lips and in her mind. They parted their kiss—trumpets sounded.
Council called all members to the meeting hall. Vadyn dropped his hand from her neck, closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath. He opened his sight and looked into Cayla’s cool composed features. She hadn’t fled his jealous rage as he thought she might; she had just turned it into wild passion. She knew him and he knew her. He made his decision, all previous foolishness aside. He—would—never—give—her—up. He would kill any male who stepped between them. And, from now on he would protect her with every breath he took, just as he knew she would protect him. Together they ruled, each as strong as the other. He should have never doubted himself or her. Stay with me here. He brought her hand to his forehead. In here, I will soon reveal all to you. But for now, you are to leave the palace. Get to safety quickly. Batla and the twins have orders to take you and our gentle serving people to the Valley of the Suns. Go with them.
Cayla swallowed the angry surge that swept through her. Did he really think her so fragile that she needed to be hidden away at the first sight of danger? By the gods, after all they had just been through?
A sudden sweep of love surrounded her, drowning her in the soft depths of his thoughts. But she was suddenly furious. Now, when he had to go, he sent her the love that he had withheld for so long? Now! Why, she ought to—her tense shoulders drooped with newly discovered knowledge. Vadyn feared this meeting might go badly, and he had grabbed this last chance to make amends. He sought to protect her and their child—again. She felt humbled. I understand, warlord. Her heart beat with a quickened tempo as she watched him depart through misty vision. Would the Council really punish them for the Xeetag’s destruction? She made a vow to wreak havoc if they so much as harmed one hair of his head. The warlord might be an arrogant ass, but he was her arrogant ass. If anyone punished him, it would be her.
Chapter 19
VADYN SAT IN stunned silence.
The Alliance Council waited patiently for his answer. In the crowded stone meeting hall, he felt Cayla’s confusion through their mind connection. Her exclaimed What? echoed his thought. Why would the members vote for him to succeed Trifa as head of the Alliance? Guilt?
“Before you say anything about our reasoning or insult us by thinking we do this because of the horrid mistake of the Xeetag, honored Vadyn, we would like you to know that this vote was not entirely unanimous. In fact, we were tied until one deciding vote was cast.” Trifa inclined his chin toward the radiant Valtarie representative. Cyclemintus dipped his silver head in graceful acknowledgement. Trifa continued.
“You all know my time for retiring has arrived and a new Council leader needed to be chosen. After the Xeetag debacle, by majority vote, you have been elected. Do us the honor by being gracious and not delving into hidden motives.” Trifa crossed over to Vadyn, handing him the jeweled sword of office with a stiffened jerk. The old Ontoo never once smiled. In fact, his face looked as if he had eaten something sour; his lips thinned to such a straight line. Vadyn still held doubts about motives and said so.
“I have one question before I accept this honor.” He stood, holding the sword gingerly in his huge hand. It felt heavier than it looked. “All of you do know that I am mated with Cayla, the offspring of humans from Earth?” He didn’t acknowledge their low mutters. “This means I share my mate’s thoughts as she shares mine.” He looked sternly out at the crowd. “This connection could influence my decision making. She will be as much a leader as I am.” He ignored Cayla’s mind-echo of What? again.
“Honored Vadyn, were you not mind-linked with her mother before this?” Trifa gave the question as if bored.
Vadyn closed his eyes and quieted his irritation before he answered with a faint “yes.” Cayla felt his pain, his memories of the times Elizabeth as well as Logan helped him in his controversial votes in the Council. She didn’t speak to him. She only sent him comfort through their link. The tight pain in his chest lessened. Trifa continued in the same monotone as before.
“And did you not make wise and helpful decisions then?”
“As much as I could.”
“Then I do not see why your linking with a human would be a problem now. Especially since your mate was raised here on Kasara.” Only a few disagreeing mutters followed Trifa’s statements. Obviously some of the opposing members still felt doubt about his leadership. Trifa continued, unfazed.
“If you feel unconvinced, honored Councilman, perhaps you should know that when I was elected, it was not by
unanimous decision either. But I accepted the honor. The Council will be as always, democratic, ruled by vote. Sometimes we will vote incorrectly, as we did over the Xeetag.” He drew himself up, and his voice grew firmer. “We live with the dishonor of our mistakes. And we will learn from them. But the leader of the Council will only share in the error. All members who voted against an incorrect decision bear the blame, and for that, I most humbly apologize. I did vote against your actions regarding the Xeetag. And while I hope I didn’t influence any other votes”—he looked pointedly at the easily swayed Weistra before continuing—“I am to blame for not believing you. While I know my apology will not ease your suffering or bring back your friends, I do humbly offer it along with my promise.” He paused for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. “In the future, my people will remember this mistake and take care to weigh any decisions that they are asked to make. The Ontoo will remember you, honored Vadyn, and your sacrifice. Rule with wisdom.” Trifa bowed his white head, his long whiskers twitching. He swiftly returned to a seat among the Council members, leaving Vadyn to face the assembly. At the next meeting, another Ontoo, one elected from their people, would take Trifa’s place as representative of their race. He was officially retired.
Vadyn carefully held the jeweled sword of office in his hand. It felt weighty with the future. The flashing gems sparkled, bouncing a rainbow of radiant colors in all directions. The members shifted uneasily in their seats. Someone coughed. Another growled at the delay. Only the brightly glowing Valtarie, Cyclemintus, met his gaze when he looked intently at the group of Councilors. The dark, lens-covered eyes of the deceptive angel glowed as if he, too, apologized. He had said to Cayla that he would remember his mistake and honor Kasara’s next request. Vadyn inclined his head, accepting the Valtarie’s concern, then he lifted his head and hardened his jaw. He no longer felt the rush of jealousy in knowing that the male had spoken to Cayla. Actually, he felt good, knowing he had at least one friend here. Although he hated losing Valtar’s membership in the Alliance, he would be relieved to have such an interesting male far, far away from Cayla. He took a breath and began. “Fellow Council members, I do accept this honor of office. I promise to listen and rule with such wisdom and patience as I have. Accept my rulings as I accept yours, and may this Alliance survive for decades to come—whosoever holds the office of High Councilor.” Applause thundered along with hoots and growls.
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