Sailkeeper's Bride
Annie Windsor
Arda book 2 -
To:
My precious family, especially my Manysouls. Without your help, I’d be nothing, and nowhere.
Special thanks to my critique partner Cheyenne. You keep me in line.
Prologue
Ki Tul’Mar hadn’t struggled as the Ord’pa forced his neck to the chopping block and chained him to the loop on its surface—but he struggled now to see the fireworks in the Eastern sky.
The battle had come planetside, and this gave even the die-hard law followers pause. Some were thinking to let the Sailmaster live a few moments longer, if only to turn back this threat.
Akad was certainly of this mind. Of course, Akad had been doing everything within his priestly powers to draw out the execution.
Ki was grateful, until the moment he could no longer sense his wife, his child, or his sister. Thinking so many of his heart’s family dead, he wanted to die himself—but then the stars caught fire.
And Ki thought he caught a glimmer of Elise’s life force.
Forcing his way to his feet, pulling at the chopping block’s ring with his bull’s neck, Ki snarled at the red-robed Ord’pa. The poor lesser priest stepped back, even though he was armed with a double-bladed axe and every muscle in Ki’s body wore a chain.
Reaching his thoughts to all available pa, Ki located a crashing speeder. With lives inside. He couldn’t read them well—Elise, but not Elise. Krysta, but not Krysta. And another. Primitive, yet not primitive.
Not bothering to sort it out, Ki flung almost the full force of his psi power into slowing the ship’s descent. He left only enough energy to keep the Fleet sailing. The rest went to his task.
In his mind’s eye, the blazing bubble of pa skimmed treetops, coming closer—and then his actual eyes could see it. A twisted, mangled piece of a speeder.
The crowd gasped and murmured.
Ki guided the flaming bubble to a halt above the Tuscan clearing, and lowered it to the ground beside the Platform.
Immediately, the priests and witnesses set about putting out the flames, using coats and psi power and what water could be had.
Akad leaped off the platform and waded into the ruined ship—but quickly ran back out again, screaming like a hog at slaughter.
This caused the Ord’pa to raise his horrid axe beside Ki.
At that moment, the crowd around the speeder fell away. Many yells and shouts could be heard, and then Ki saw the reason.
A woman came stalking from a rent in the dead ship’s side, wielding a great emerald sword above her head.
But not just any woman.
Ki’s mouth fell open in wonder.
Lorelei. By the Gods. The Lorelei have come!
Her clothes were torn and smoking, leaving her barely clothed. Great tendrils of pa marked her hands, arms, chest and face, ending in stark flame patterns about her smudged, desperate eyes.
And yet, this wild woman looked and felt familiar. The curve of her hips. The grace of her walk. The wild abandon of her moon-kissed blond tresses.
Elise. It had to be Elise.
And yet…not. She was changed. Different.
As she approached, Ki realized that somehow, Elise had merged with pa, like a true Ardani. Raw pa had touched her, and yet instead of burning her or killing her as it would most primitives—or at best touching her and fleeing when put down—the universe’s life force had joined with her flesh and spirit.
How could this be?
More screaming filled the clearing, this more untamed than the bestial noises coming from Elise.
Another naked female left the smoldering wreck. This one was firehaired and pale, but also covered in magnificent pa designs. She held not one sword, but two ruby blades.
A third woman, oddest yet, followed. This one was completely silver, soaked in pa, iridescent in night’s cool light. And she bothered with no simple blade or dagger. No. This one held two blasters, one in either hand.
Krysta?
Ki had no time to ponder the meaning of the strange sights before him, as Elise had reached the Platform.
She climbed the steps slowly, and lesser priests scattered in every direction.
The Ord’pa trembled. His axe rattled in his hand.
Witnesses crowded back, away from the avenging spirit.
Ki stared at his beloved, and tentatively reached for her thoughts.
Shanna?
Elise’s silver-framed eyes blazed as she looked at him. Her mind joined his, and the force of her rage nearly blew Ki off of his feet. Her sword still glinted above her head, and she locked her hands on its hilt.
“You—you bastard!” she roared, and brought the sword down with the force of a thousand warriors. The blade smote the chain binding Ki to the chopping block. Sparks flew, and the chain’s links exploded.
The rest of Ki’s chains fell to molten dust at his feet.
Below the Platform, the firehaired Lorelei let out a whoop and rattled her dual ruby blades. “Y’all want some of this? Come on!” She stamped the ground. “Who’s your mama? Huh? Who’s your mama now?”
Chapter 1
Fari Tul’Mar, Sailkeeper of Arda, never believed he would feel the Ardani mating fervor.
He had lived 120 stellar years. He was large and powerful even by Ardani standards, fit, battle-trained, and bloodthirsty when challenged. He guarded his brother Ki, the Sailmaster, with a ferocity akin to beasts of the woods. Fari knew the schematics of alien vessels as well as he knew the frigates and speeders in the Royal Fleet. His lawkeeper’s mind stayed three steps ahead of potential adversaries and saboteurs.
He had no time for lunacy, and absolutely no time for a shanna, a soul’s mate.
And yet, the moment Fari saw Georgia Steel swing her swords in front of the Tuscan Platform, the fires of mating madness had scorched him thoroughly. Stellar week after stellar week, he had been forced to consume calming elixirs prepared by the High Priest Akad. Without the drugs, and without satisfying his mounting desires, Fari would surely lose his mind.
On this day, one more in a long line of endless, grating days of frustration, he tamed his lust enough to fulfill his duties to Arda. Fari took these responsibilities more than seriously. He had learned at a tender age that mistakes and carelessness could cost precious lives.
The stables of Browntown, on the far side of Camford Lake, had been burned. The townspeople had called to the Tul’Mar Clan for help and defense, and that meant the Sailkeeper’s involvement. He had made the journey by Chimera, without hesitation or delay.
As Fari stood in Browntown amidst the smoking rubble, he used the full measure of his psi gift to see what might elude duller minds. Behind him, the town’s meager population stood in silence as he worked.
There. Fari narrowed his eyes. Wood burned beyond char. Accelerant.
And there. The way the structure collapsed inward. Accelerant spread in a careful circular pattern. This was not done in passionate rage. This was cold. Calculated.
“A message.” He stroked the stubble on his cheeks.
The smoldering ruins cast sinister shadows on the scarred ground.
No Chimeras had died. They had been stolen.
Fari strode across the ashen boards to get a view from the back. Almost immediately, he caught an irregularity in the nearby dirt—and an all-too-familiar object.
“Knador!” Arda’s worst curse left Fari’s lips even as he knelt to grab the rare black falcon feather. Grinding his teeth, he crushed the plume in his fist.
Darkyn Weil and the Outlanders. And they had left him a message, neatly carved in the dried, flaking earth.
The end of time is coming. You must prepare.
Fari kic
ked dirt over the irritating words and crammed the broken feather in his pocket. No need to distress the citizens. At least not yet.
When he turned to explore the barn once more, Fari was taken aback by the grim, resolute expressions of the townspeople. They eyed the ground where he stood, and then glanced at the feather poking from his pocket.
He sighed.
There were no secrets here.
Serious trouble was afoot, and Arda’s gentle folk—the very souls who would be counting on the might of Tul’Mar to defend them—already knew.
* * * * *
Fari rode Tor, his blue Chimera stallion, toward Camford at a dead gallop. His black hair whipped his shoulders, and his black breeches and tunic flapped in the wind. As the road wound back to the castle, grain fields, grassy plains, and thick clumps of forest flew by.
Old lore held that the Lorelei, wild women who protected the Tul’Mar line, once lived among those ancient trees—but the Lorelei were phantoms no more.
Legend had come to life in the recent Battle of Camford, after a brutal speeder crash. Fari’s much-adored sister Krysta had been exposed to too much pa, the living substance of the universe. Her hair had turned shimmering silver, like pa itself. Elise Tul’Mar, Fari’s sister-by-marriage, also received a full-body pa mark in that crash, as did her cousin Georgia Steel.
Georgia. My Georgia.
Fari’s eyes narrowed. His cock hardened, and a wave of madness swept his soul. If he did not put rein to his thoughts, he would be forced to drink more of the elixir in his pocket.
Georgia. His shanna. Even a mental image of his destined mate could instantly push him toward insanity. Fari pictured Georgia’s fiery hair and shapely body. Her smooth, freckled skin called to him, as did her tempting vine-like pa mark. And yet she rejected him at every turn.
His fists tightened in Tor’s flowing mane.
The situation was unacceptable. Surely the crazed half-Earthling half-Ardani female would soon see reason and accept him, as she should have done the first moment they met.
One day, I will ride you, Georgia. As surely as I ride this splendid beast.
That thought was enough to necessitate a swig of calming liquid.
Fari felt his tongue burn as he tasted the hateful fluid. Beneath him, Tor snorted and sang as if to bring his master’s concentration back to the task at hand.
Chimera and rider thundered beneath azure skies and the bright light of big sun and little sister, Arda’s daystars. Fari felt the drive of purpose clearing his fogged mind. Gradually, his intense desire abated.
He had other urgent matters to attend after the morning’s investigation. After nearly one hundred and twenty-five stellar years of tenuous peace, the only opposition faction within the Tul’Mar realm was suddenly discontent.
Why would Darkyn Weil and his Outlander fools start trouble now?
The Outlanders had troubled Arda’s main society since the first recorded times. They had always lived separately and secretly in tribal groups, refusing trade and interaction, waiting for Ma’ord’pa. The end of life. The end of time. The doom of Ardani civilization.
Tanna Kon’pa. That’s what they called themselves. “The People.”
As if no other people existed.
Outlanders considered themselves guardians of the ancient wisdoms and the ancient ways. Generation after generation of Outlander children had been raised to believe that one day, they would be the only hope for Arda’s survival.
Which was, of course, ridiculous.
“The People” were not even telepathic. They had no pa mark, and thus, no direct connection to the living matter of the universe.
Suspicious bastards. Fari swore silently as the Tul’Mar family castle came into view. Prepare for the end of time. The end is near—always the same foolish message. Arda should have blown itself to bits long ago, if Outlander propaganda were the least bit accurate.
At the moment, though, Darkyn Weil’s timing was abysmal.
Ki Tul’Mar had taken the Ardani Fleet on patrol to ward off another incursion from OrTa. Lord Gith had been defeated in the Battle of Camford a few stellar months ago, but the stinking lizard had not been destroyed. As long the slaver lived, he would try to reclaim the woman he believed to be his property: Ki’s shanna Elise.
Fari snarled.
That would never happen. Ki would die before surrendering Elise, and Fari would die with him. As was Ardani custom, Fari had sometimes joined Ki and Elise for long sessions of sensuous lovemaking. Elise was a warm and caring woman, a golden-haired blessing from the gods. She would never ever become an OrTan pleasure slave.
Elise was nearing delivery of Ki’s firstborn, and the babe would be heir to Camford’s legacy. In Ki’s absence, Fari was responsible for Elise’s safety—and the safety of petulant, maddening Georgia.
Fari reined Tor at Camford’s massive gates. Georgia. My shanna. Will you forever reject me?
As he entered the grounds, his pa mark, the shape of a great bird in flight covering his broad chest and sides, burned with Georgia’s nearness.
“Where is she?” he murmured, fumbling for the elixir even as his cock responded to her proximity.
There. In front of the stables.
Georgia’s hips swayed as she walked, leading her yellow Chimera. Krysta was with her. The two women had been for a morning ride.
And probably a morning fuck, Fari grumbled to himself, borrowing the Earth word for sex. He liked its harsh, intense sound. The image of Krysta making love to his shanna didn’t anger him, except for the fact that he had been left out. It was commonplace for Ardani to share their mates with first-degree, same generation relatives.
Exercising great force of will, Fari did not grab his rigid cock and stroke himself to relief. He fancied he could smell Georgia’s light scent of wild berries and spring. Feel the brush of her skin against his throbbing pa mark.
Tor nuzzled Fari’s neck and hummed.
“I have no time for this,” Fari agreed. “I need to go to the war room and contact Ki. This Outlander problem…”
His words trailed off as Georgia entered the stables.
Will they fuck again, Georgia and Krysta? If I know my sister…
His cock throbbed hard against his belly.
Perhaps he could spare a few minutes to visit with his mate-to-be. If they could have a positive conversation, just one reasonable interaction, maybe he would be on the road to persuading Georgia to give him a chance.
Especially if Krysta had her primed for true satisfaction.
Grinning, Fari headed for the barn.
Chapter 2
Georgia Steel whistled quietly as she entered Camford’s massive stables leading Lia, her Chimera. Krysta Tul’Mar walked just ahead with her sleek purple Chimera filly.
The barn’s cool shade felt soothing to Georgia’s lightly burned skin. Akad’s lotions took the bite out of Arda’s dual suns, but it would be a while before she could tolerate the extra-hot morning light. Or the multitude of extra-hot eager gazes from warriors and civilians alike.
Ardani citizens gawked at Georgia wherever she went, and an endless line of fascinated suitors vied for her attention. Ardani warriors. Sex gods of unimaginable proportions. And they were each dying to touch one of the Lorelei.
“Mythical guardian of Arda’s royal family” had never been on Georgia’s career list, but she got the job thanks to her best friend and distant cousin Elise. Ki, Elise’s new alien husband, was a cross between a king, a sea admiral, and Captain Kirk. He was pretty cute, too.
In fact, “hunk” would describe most Ardani males. Georgia wanted to paint them all—vivid oils, bright acrylics—maybe even the occasional watercolor. Her artist’s eye was certainly getting its fill of perfect male models.
Elise had rescued Georgia from the drudgery of Earth’s pathetic breeding stock—even if she had nearly gotten them killed in a war between Arda’s fleet of star frigates and a bunch of OrTan slaver skulls. That freaky Lord Gith got his scaly
butt kicked when he tried to take Elise away from Ki, though. That was certainly worth the danger.
Georgia smiled. Since the big battle, she had been busy filling canvases with images of her new world, dodging panting warriors, spoiling Elise because she was pregnant, taking lessons with the priest Akad to learn to control her psychic energies—and experimenting with sex, sex, sex. Ki’s sister Krysta had been her willing subject.
Pretty soon, she planned to bed one of the mountainous soldiers in abundance at Camford.
Ki’s brother Fari, the Sailkeeper of Arda, would definitely volunteer, but Georgia found herself afraid of the hulking, brooding Fleet security officer. He was nearly seven feet tall and tended to act either totally arrogant or slightly insane in her presence—which was cause enough to feel uncomfortable around him. And yet, there were other reasons.
Fari Tul’Mar wanted to marry her, and Georgia was definitely not the marrying type. She had a planet full of perfect specimens to sample before she thought about settling down. And besides, while Elise had her three rules about trust and love, Georgia had just one: fuck ‘em and leave ‘em. No muss, no fuss. Sex was always better that way.
No doubt Fari didn’t agree with that line of thinking. With his devastating good looks and swagger—he’d just assume she’d be his for the taking, and keeping, if he wanted. He’d be just like all the jocks and sun-worshippers back in high school. The guys who thought they were God’s gift. The guys Georgia didn’t want to think about ever again. Just the sight of him brought up old pains. Ancient fears Georgia battled with her sharp tongue and bright paints.
The Sailkeeper of Arda was hot, no question. He’d make an outstanding model, and he’d probably be a great fuck.
But Georgia didn’t plan to go there.
Too risky. Too scary.
Krysta Tul’Mar, on the other hand, was tall and a little arrogant herself, but more normal. Most of the time, she didn’t scare Georgia at all. This morning, Krysta had been giddy and mysterious on their ride. She seemed to be…well, up to something.
Georgia itched to find out what that might be.
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