I rose, gathered my clothing, and left the room, gently closing the door behind me. I dressed, and then dug into the satchel that contained my communications equipment, fishing out a small transmitter and a computer the size of the palm of my hand. I tucked both into deep pockets hidden in my vest and started toward the elevator. What I had to do couldn’t be done in the safety of the hotel room. I started to enter the code, then paused, feeling a horrible sensation of loss.
For a long moment, I stood there, staring at the unlit panel. Was I dreaming? Was I imagining all this? Had I finally lost my mind, now to dwell in some fantasy that never ended? I caught my breath and returned to the bedroom. Quietly, I entered, standing at the side of the bed to look down at Helios Dayspring as he lay sleeping. Even if I couldn’t see his face, I’d know the musky-spice scent of his sweat and the husky, melodic timbre of his voice. I’d know the feeling of his lips on mine and his touch on my body.
Feeling reassured, I returned to the elevator and set the security system. He’d sleep. If not, he’d know to wait or to call me.
I hoped. He’d always been frighteningly impetuous.
Down in the lobby, I found a discreet layout of the station and headed out into the main corridor. While it was a night cycle, the darkness of our room was artificial, and life resumed as normal in the corridors and alleys of the small city. Visualizing the diagram, I took a circuitous route to the station. I dropped several levels, found a small neighborhood of grocers, and then took a lift up to a skywalk.
The station was a dome and oriented on one vertical direction. The lifts occupied the center of the sphere, some for cargo, others for express travel from the docks to the penthouses. Neighborhoods radiated out from the center. I found the level I wanted and entered the communications center. Robust business had grown around interstellar communications. From the Aida, I could send messages that traveled from transfer to transfer. It sometimes took hours to relay a message.
With my own transmitter boosted by the systems here, I could communicate in real-time, with the benefit of anonymity, if needed. And I did need it.
I chose a business advertising secure communications and paid for an hour. The attendant escorted me to a chair in a small cubicle. It didn’t appear secure. I’d visualized a cone of silence, sitting isolated on a tube of soundproof glass. Instead, I could hear the murmuring of staff, felt the presence of someone nearby in another cubicle. I looked at the desk, and to my amusement, there were simple, multilingual instructions on how to follow the security protocol. I found the version written in common and followed the instructions.
I pushed a green button. Nothing happened.
When I pushed back my chair, I realized something had happened. The sound of the movement was muffled. I couldn’t hear my neighbor. I looked up and saw a distortion field surrounding my space, disguising my activity from others. I settled back into my chair.
I activated my transmitter and set it to scramble, then opened the comm unit and waited for it to project both the screen and a keyboard. I bypassed the keyboard function and set it to vocal.
“Units Red, Twelve-C, Seven-H, Eight-A and Eight-D. This is Captain Hawke, ID number Zed three-four-zero-one-one. Standby for transmission.”
As I watched, the icons for each unit appeared on the screen, a small circle rotating around the icon until one by one, they came online.
“Standing by.” The voices came to me as though they were in the same room, familiar and dear. Still alive. Still waiting.
“This is maximum priority. No chit-chat.” That would come later. We’d catch up and let each other know how we fared. We’d share stories, both good and bad. But now was for business.
“Status please. Location, mechanical and manpower. Go, Red Twelve-C.”
I listened to them check in, taking quick notes on manpower, firepower, and timing. When the totals were complete, my eye stung and I blinked. Once, I’d commanded hundreds of units, though we’d never been in space. Now, we were few. Just rag-tag mercenaries scrabbling to support the population of our planet. I calculated time and distance, as well as the task still before us. And I steeled myself for what was in essence an invasion. Our force was small, but our target was weak.
“This is an order to deploy immediately. We’ll rendezvous in orbit, outside communication range of HP1500.” I sent the date, time, and coordinates. “You’ll stand by for instructions.”
Silence. And then assent. Again, my eyes stung. They had faith in me. Still.
“We’re going home.”
I heard the release of breath, a shaky laugh. And I knew I had to give them more. I swallowed hard and blinked again, trying to see past the tears in my eyes. I rested my head on my fists and fought down the emotion.
It had been so long. I swallowed, but as I spoke, my voice was unsteady.
“Mission accomplished. He is safe.”
I heard a sob. A soft gasp. A murmur of disbelief. They had questions. I knew they had questions, but I couldn’t find my voice. I pictured Helios upstairs in bed, his skin soft, his hair long, and sensuality radiating from his very soul. How could I prepare them?
I didn’t need to prepare them. He was different, but he was still Helios, and I’d trust the Sun to give us the leader we needed.
“He is well,” I said. “He is whole.” But he had a secret that many would kill for. And he needed me—us—to protect him. I decided to trust my soldiers. They’d followed me into space, forsaking their families and friends. They’d sacrificed so very much in order to find their king. So I shared the story—most of it, anyway. I swore them to silence and I knew they’d obey.
When I finished, I disconnected, then laid my head down on my arms, and I cried.
Chapter Ten
I STRUGGLED not to feel like a rube fresh from a backwater planet somewhere, but in fact that’s exactly what I was. Never mind that I was royalty; I felt gauche and naive among the various pilots, space cowboys, and the artificial world that revolved around them.
Griffin and I had remained holed up in our lodging well into the following day before we’d finally sated our lust and slept off our exhaustion. Hours had been spent making love and memories. He’d taken me fast and hard on the sofa in the living area, slow and leisurely in the oversized bathtub. He’d roused me in the middle of the night with soft touches not meant to incite passion. Griffin was simply reassuring himself that I was there and real.
Those hours were precious. He fed and loved me with his body and his actions. Griffin braided my hair and then oiled my skin, rubbing my aching muscles till I was nearly mindless with lazy arousal. I’d collapsed amid the pillows, my hand buried in his thick hair as he sucked me off with drugging deliberation. That two-room suite will forever represent Paradise in my heart.
Business finally drove us out of our room and into the vibrant world of the space station. Prostitutes strolled the halls—male, female, and otherwise. They openly displayed their faces and weren’t accompanied by owners or pimps. They owned themselves. They had licenses and a guild that protected their interests. A few of the more elite wore dangling bracelets with charms denoting accomplishments. I was told they were members of the Guild of the Bacchi. Those exquisite creatures were more courtesans than prostitutes, accomplished in arts other than sex.
Stores and restaurants dotted the hallways, and various businesses clustered together based on their purpose. The lawyers were conveniently housed near the agricultural sales offices, and banks weren’t far from either. Lower down, department stores were shoulder to shoulder with cafes and restaurants. The bawdier drinking establishments were several floors down, near the hourly hotels. Some things were universal. The place was a bustling hive of activity, almost overwhelming once we left the quiet of the hotel floors.
Griffin and I ended up in a low-key restaurant, not too highbrow, but not a dive either. I was uneasily aware that my appearance was drawing looks from passersby and patrons alike, but after a few moments, the novelty wore of
f, and I began to ignore the looks. As long as the hair cascaded down my back, I’d be drawing attention. When a drunken pilot lurched in our direction, my lover growled, giving him the full force of his one-eyed glare.
Problem solved. Though I rather wished I could once again grow a beard.
The food was hearty and tasted excellent even to my discriminating palate. If U’shma had given me anything, it was an appreciation of fine food. We ate, and I found myself watching the people around me. I gazed at the décor of the restaurant, even the movement of the waitstaff. I was starved for new sights and sounds. Griffin watched me as a parent watches a child, with quiet amusement and affection. He answered my questions patiently and allowed me to pay the bill so I could grow accustomed to handling money and interacting with people in a normal fashion. Showing my face, meeting the eyes of others, kept me slightly on edge. My training was deeply ingrained.
Once we finished at the restaurant, we strolled, and I spent hours looking into shop windows, gazing out the observation ports, and simply experiencing the novelty of freedom. All the while Griffin was watching out for my safety.
We finally stopped at the farm bureau and arranged for the immediate transport of a shipment of grain, fruits, vegetables, and meat to the home planet. I still thought it odd that the planet didn’t have a name, just a designation number: HP1500. To me, that sounded like a piece of equipment. I began to wrack my brain for appropriate planet names. It was more difficult than it seemed; you don’t go about naming a planet the same way you would name a dog.
As Griffin settled in to negotiate with the farm agent, I strayed into the corridors, watching the crowds and listening to multitudes of unfamiliar languages. Most were humanoids, but there were some strange species I’d never seen before. Some looked human but had unusual coloring or markings on their skin. I saw more than one wearing environmental masks; obviously the oxygen-rich station was hostile to their systems.
As I walked, a tingle up my spine spoke of company—possibly dangerous company. I came to a stop and leaned up against the wall so I could watch both directions. I folded my arms, a hand on the pommel of the sword I’d insisted on carrying.
Energy and projectile weapons were expressly forbidden on the station, but many wore blades. I was uncomfortably aware of the fact that my hands were still stiff and sore and that the slender blade I wore belonged to Griffin. Still, I’d face the challenge head-on. I propped a booted heel against the wall, ready to kick away for a little extra drive. The adrenaline spike began its normal reaction in my system. My muscles started to ache, and I took deep breaths, allowing my brain to disengage from the crisis.
It was Tomas’s bodyguard, Carlotta. She wore a stunning red dress suit that skimmed her sleek, dangerous body. She was still heavily armed, and she approached me with a smile.
“I expected you’d be helpless without your watchdog, but your senses are good. Though I’m surprised that your bodyguard left you unattended.”
I remembered the role I’d adopted in our meeting the other day. “Perhaps he’s not the guard.”
She rolled her eyes, smiling slightly. She glanced down at my hands, which were still healing. Still, I wasn’t going to admit anything.
I relaxed a bit, noting that the corridor was quiet and had little traffic. Not a good place for me in an ambush, but I didn’t get the impression that she was here for a fight.
“He isn’t my guard, Carlotta. We’re partners.”
She cocked a brow at that. “Lovers, I’d imagine, but partners? He walks just behind you and to the right, keeping his blade hand free. He’s your guard.”
I chose not to answer.
“Sleeping with the bodyguard is dangerous for both.”
She had a point there. Ostensibly, Griffin was my guard, but I’d take a blade for him. In fact, with the imprint still active, I’d do pretty much anything for the man. In a sense, I was still a slave.
“Your point?”
“Are you hiring?”
My jaw probably hit the floor at that. “Weren’t you employed just last time I saw you?”
“Yes, but Tomas forgot to mention all the services he expected me to provide. I had to remind him—rather forcibly—that I don’t provide sex. He was more than a little intrigued by your performance and expected me to relieve him.”
I straightened up from the wall and began to walk slowly. She fell into step beside me.
“He tried to rape you?”
“I suppose that’s the appropriate term.”
She was tall, and in her heels, came just inches short of my height. It wasn’t the sort of clothing she’d wear to work in—was she wearing an interview suit?
“Why us?” I asked.
“You two are so infatuated with each other, neither of you will be looking at me in a sexual sense. Well, maybe you will, but not enough to bother me.”
I grinned. She was right on the mark with that comment. She was exactly the sort of woman I’d like in my bed if that space wasn’t already occupied.
“Besides, I know who you are.”
That brought me to a dead halt. I turned, my hand on the sword.
“What?”
She smiled slowly, and I was acutely aware that the hall was now empty. This was an access corridor with little traffic. I was mere yards from Griffin, but it might as well have been miles. Adrenaline caused my skin to prickle, and the chip responded by settling heavy fatigue through my muscles.
Regardless of my skills, I’d never be able to defend myself against this woman. Not like this.
She dropped her hands to the front of her body, showing me they were empty of weapons. “I did the background check on Griffin Hawke and Markus Dayspring for Tomas. And yes, your cousin is very similar in appearance to you, but I used recognition software to verify your identity, Your Highness.”
“I’m not the king.”
“No, the king is missing. He’s been missing for years now. I imagine his return would cause chaos, not only among his people, but among those who betrayed him on Arash.”
“I thought the people of Talis have been enslaved by the Landauns.” I searched my memories for any information about the Talisians. Griffin had been slowly sharing the history of our people. He took my reeducation seriously, and now, I was deeply grateful for that knowledge.
“Some. Not all. There are those who rose to positions of power within their new situation. And there are those who managed to escape the planet.”
I didn’t know what to say. She’d know if I lied, and if I agreed, I’d confirm my identity. I’d be exposed soon enough anyway.
“Why? Why do you wish to serve me and Griffin? Our people are destitute. Our new planet is a wasteland. We have to sell our few precious items merely to feed our people.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Griffin approaching; his very aura promised violence. I shot him a look, pleading for restraint. Carlotta looked at him and then back at me. She waited to speak until he was at my side.
She tilted her chin in a slight gesture of defiance. But she’d gone pale.
“I was eighteen when my father sat down with the Landaun. They promised great things for our people—new technology and powerful weaponry. They promised him power. The rest of my family objected. We had no ill will toward your people beyond our different belief systems. But my father saw only the lure of power and riches.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “On my twenty-first birthday, my father lay dying in his own throne room. His last hour of life was spent watching the slaughter of his family. He was forced to watch the rape of his wife and daughters. I was left for dead, tangled amid the bodies of my brothers and sisters.”
I glanced up at Griffin. He watched Carlotta with an expression of cold distrust. I also noticed that he constantly watched the hall. She also noticed.
“There are cameras on this corridor, but no audio. I hacked the system earlier to find the quiet zones in the port.”
She was good. Very good.
Griffi
n looked at her fully, his gaze steady, his body poised for violence. “You are Carlotta Berne. Princess Carlotta Berne Trey, of the Kingdom of Talis.”
She bowed her head to Griffin. “And you are Captain Griffin Hawke of the Royal Guard of Astrum. You are the bodyguard of Prince Helios.”
He went stiff but remained otherwise still and quiet. I wished he’d speak. Was it safe to betray my loss of memory to a woman who had once been our enemy?
“Carlotta wishes to enter our employ,” I said.
Griffin cocked a heavy brow.
“She believes our involvement with each other is a liability. You’re too focused on me to do your job, and I’m too attached to you to allow you to do it.”
Glancing at the deposed princess, Griffin nodded in agreement. He looked humbled, which wasn’t a good look on him.
“I haven’t yet discovered why she’d be willing to work for her former enemy.” I looked at her and waited. She appeared calm and steady but betrayed her nerves with a slight fluttering of her lashes. It was a miniscule tell.
“After the invasion, I’d been living with a small band of refugees. We scrabbled to survive, to stay hidden from the marauding Landauns as they marched to war against the Astrum. Women were at particular risk, even from the surviving men of our kingdom. I’d been raised to the sword and taught the women in the group the best I could. There were soldiers among our number, and they taught skills to fight and survive. We scavenged battlefields for weapons and armor. Early one morning, we came upon a small band of Landauns. They had energy weapons, while we were armed only with blades. Many of my fighters fell. But the Landauns didn’t kill us; they meant to capture us once again. We’d be used as slave labor and prostitutes.
“It seemed all was lost when a small army of soldiers emerged from the surrounding forests. They were led by a man with hair the color of flame. I knew he was Helios Dayspring. Even in hiding, we’d heard that the Sun Priest had been leading raids against the Landauns, keeping them disorganized and confused.
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