by Eve Langlais
“Marriage isn’t always about more stuff,” Michi huffed. “It should be about other things, too.”
“Like?” Lunilla sounded genuinely puzzled.
“Like…” Love or affection would be mocked, as would lust. What did that leave? “Compatible taste in cake.”
“You’d base your future on cake?” Lunilla smirked. “Go right ahead. When you die, my portion of the family treasure will get larger.”
Michi sucked in a breath. “That was cold.”
“But true, little sister. We’re not children living at home anymore. We are an empire.”
“That is stronger when there are many of us.”
“I agree with the many, and the less family I have, the more my children inherit.”
The challenge was clear.
“You might be ahead when it comes to heirs, but my husband is lusty. I’m sure we’ll soon catch up.”
Damon coughed. Choked even. “Um,” he said in a gasp, “while this family reunion is awesome, perhaps we should get going. Need I remind you, princess, we’re only docking for a short time.”
“How adorably delusional.” Lunilla’s hips swayed as she crossed the room and chose a floating, silver-covered settee to perch on. “No one comes to La’zuun for a short visit. It’s a pleasure world. Meant to relax the mind. Engage the body.”
“I can do those things on board the ship,” Damon replied.
Maybe not the relax-the-mind part, but I can see my body being engaged. However, siding with Damon right now wouldn’t go over well with her sister. Luni didn’t like being ignored.
Michi placed a hand on his arm. “Surely, husband, a few more moments with my sister are allowed. We’ve just arrived.” Michi shot him a look, but he didn’t seem to get it. He thought she had a choice with this visit.
She didn’t. Lunilla ordered. People, especially little sisters, obeyed.
“Maybe a few minutes,” he grudgingly acquiesced.
“Sit.” Lunilla pointed to other floating divans.
Michi chose the one closest to the door and accepted a drink from the hoverwaiter. She pretended to sip on it before asking, “How did you know I was on the planet?”
“I keep close tabs on my siblings.” Spoken with a toothy grin that appeared too hungry.
“Are the children here?” She’d not seen her nephews in a long time.
“No. This is a vacation. No progeny allowed.”
In other words, a lot like home where the children had their own separate wing along with a troop of nannies to care for them.
“It’s a lovely place you’re in.”
“It’s adequate.” Her sister’s nose wrinkled. “I would have preferred something grander, but some emperor and his entourage reserved the palace.”
“How awful,” was Damon’s dry reply.
“Indeed. Almost as awful as my sister accidentally wedding a first mate. How did that happen?”
“Because it seemed a better choice than wedding the Kanishqui commander.” Actually, the more time passed, the more she could see advantages in her choice of husband.
“Why does it matter how it happened?” Damon grumbled.
“It matters because I am curious as to how you came to find my sister. Especially if she was being held prisoner,” Lunilla stated. “It seems rather fortuitous that you happened along.”
“We didn’t just happen along. Someone hired us to save her.” Again, her husband jumped in with the truth, completely oblivious to her sister’s machinations.
What is she doing? Because she knew Luni. If she’d brought Michonne to her, then there was a reason.
“Someone hired you to save her?” Lunilla sounded surprised. “Who would do that?”
Michi knew. “Papa, of course. He wanted his little girl saved.” She batted her lashes. “You know how he dotes on me.”
Lunilla gnashed her teeth. “He dotes on us all.”
“Thank goodness he loves me so much he sent Damon to save me.”
“You weren’t in danger of dying.”
“I might have been safe from death, but it was the other parts that worried me. We can’t all be as lucky as you, dear sister, and marry a demi-god.” Lunilla had wed into the most prestigious family in the universe. The son of the goddess Karma herself. There were a few entities that claimed deity status. Given their seeming immortality and inexplicable powers, no one dared to gainsay them. What was interesting was the fact their progeny didn’t inherit the same attributes.
Lunilla never let them forget her children were one-quarter gods. She smiled fondly. “I am blessed to have my dear Herc and darling babies, Ares and Hermes. And now that you’re married, you, too, can have children.” She cast a glance first on Michonne then Damon. “I’m sure the geneticists can smooth out any problems.”
The snub crested past subtle into insulting. It brought out the best in Michi. “Even they can only do so much with some flaws.” She raised a hand to the tip of her nose and rubbed it.
Her sister—who’d had surgery to correct hers, and whose sons would need it, too—flushed. “You should have married the Kanishqui commander. I always wanted some freaks for nieces.”
“Aren’t you lucky. I’ll have beautiful human ones instead.”
“If they live. Children can be so fragile.” Her sister’s smile held the warmth of a dry, minus four-hundred-degree day on the icy plains. She was much more dangerous, too. Especially since she’d dropped the veneer of civility.
Michi stood. “This has been a lovely visit, but I really should depart now with my husband. Need to get started on those children.” She offered her own insincere grin. “Kind of like apples, they are just so much better when they’re made naturally.” The dig wasn’t lost. Her sister valued her body too much to let it undergo the vagaries of birth and was much too in control to allow another female to carry her genes. She relied on the more modern electronic womb. Yet, there were those that claimed those born of machine weren’t the same. They were often drawn to the tech.
“You can’t leave yet. We have much to catch up on. Come and let us go to the garden. We’ll leave your husband here. Herc will be along shortly to entertain him.”
Damon did nothing when the guards, silent until now, drew close, flanking him.
“So kind of you to invite us, but we’re leaving. My husband needs to ensure the ship is ready for departure.” She made to move toward Damon, only to have her sister clamp onto her arm.
“I said we weren’t done, sister. This would have been much simpler if you’d married the Kanishqui commander as planned. Do you know how much you cost me?”
“Cost you?” The realization dawned as she stared at her sister. “That’s how the Kanishqui force got through our defenses so easily. I knew Papa didn’t want me to marry it.”
“Papa wouldn’t have cared once it was done. And we both know how he feels about Kaniman hybrids.”
It wasn’t the fact that the children were butt ugly with tentacles and an inability to speak in human or Kanishqui. Papa had no use for them because they were sterile. Kanishqui and humans could mate, with help, but their progeny would never reproduce. Which meant… “You were trying to ensure when I died you got a bigger share.” Because sterile family members couldn’t inherit.
“Not me. My heirs. My sons.” Said with a haughtily lifted chin.
“I’ll see you those sons and throw in some daughters.” She’d birth an army if she had to. While daughters were preferred by the Dkar to expand the family and make alliances, in most cultures, it was the males who inherited instead.
“Don’t start a war with me, little sister. We might not be allowed to directly kill each other”—or they were automatically out of the will—“but I can make things difficult.”
Michi tilted her chin. “So can I. Husband, I’d like to go back to the ship now. That is, if you think you can get us there.”
“Did you have to say it that way?” he groaned.
She tossed him a look, and her lips twisted a li
ttle as she said, “Is this your way of saying you couldn’t possibly handle these two rather humanoid guards and that you’re going to let my sister have her wicked way?”
His lips pulled down. “I expect you to explain this to the captain. Tell him it wasn’t my fault.” Uttered a moment before Damon moved. His arm lashed out and hit the first guard in the chest, causing him to cough and reel. He whirled and kicked at the other guard, who started to raise his weapon, only Damon snared it. He pulled it free, flipped it, and fired.
The guard dropped. Damon pivoted and shot again, the other guard’s weapon discharging harmlessly into the ceiling as he fell.
“Gua—” Her sister opened her mouth, and Michi was on her, slapping a hand over it. Lunilla bit her, and Michi yelped.
“Get off me,” her sister snapped.
“Call off your guards,” Michi retorted, grappling with Lunilla.
“Things were much better before you came around.”
“You can leave anytime you like,” she offered.
“I hope you die a quick death and are forgotten forever.”
“What an awful thing to say. And here I wasn’t going to wish you lost all your wealth and were forced to live on a colony planet, begging on the streets, scrounging in the garbage for food.”
An inarticulate cry burst from Lunilla. She shoved Michi away from her, and Michi lost her balance, tripping over the inert body of a guard. Her sister took that moment to flee.
A grunt had her whirling to see her husband was a little busy. Apparently, the meeting was watched, and when trouble was spotted, more soldiers had poured into the room—and they all wanted her husband.
He tussled with the guards, boldly punching, even kneeing them. His skill, while impressive, wasn’t a match for the numbers against him.
And the guns.
Weapons fired, and yet somehow Damon remained unaffected. The bright spots hit him, and his body shimmered as if absorbing it.
A body shield. She’d never even suspected. Nice, and for one of that quality, pricey. He fired in return, dropping the soldiers, creating a heaping pile of bodies.
“Are they dead?” she asked. Not that it mattered. This kind of attack wouldn’t go unnoticed.
“Sleeping. I had my gun set to stun. And I’d be less worried about them than your psycho sister. If that’s a sample of your family, then I’m really getting worried about meeting your daddy.”
“He’s actually not as a bad as my grandmother,” she muttered. Nana had been known to kill family members that got on her bad side. “We should leave. Lunilla isn’t the type to accept losing.”
“Did I hear her right?” he asked, lacing his fingers through hers and tugging her through the kitchen area and then out a door into an alley. “Did your sister try and arrange a marriage between you and the octopus?”
“Yes.” A brilliant move and one she should have expected. She’d known of her sister’s ruthlessness. She’d just never been subjected to it as the youngest.
Until now. Would this mean she needed to expect her other sisters to make attempts, too? Lunilla’s admission at least answered the question of how the security of her home was breached and her kidnapping achieved so easily. She’d have to better guard herself in the future.
“Are you worth that much?”
“Haven’t you checked?”
He shot her a glance. “Yes, but astronomical isn’t really a number.”
“It’s enough to make all kinds of people a little stupid.”
“A little? Again, your sister tried to marry you off to seafood.”
“Because she’s not allowed to have me killed.” Entire family lines had disappeared before the Dkar religion introduced a codicil that banned direct acts of deadly violence against family members.
“Does this spat mean I won’t have to endure family dinners?”
“There will be dinners,” she said, dropping her voice to an ominous level as he took her through a long alley lined with concrete ditches.
“And lots of kids, apparently. You want quite a few by the sounds of it,” he noted, changing track. He paused at the corner of the alley and peered out cautiously.
“A half-dozen, maybe more, to ensure some survive to their adult years and can take over the family wealth.” While the Dkar did not condone, and punished, assassination attempts, it still happened.
“That’s pretty cutthroat.”
“Welcome to my culture.”
“Are there any more surprises I should know about?”
She didn’t reply. One didn’t just talk about it. Only those indoctrinated could know all the secrets.
“Is your father really going to kill me?”
“Not if I can help it.”
He paused at the corner of another alley to face her. “Not reassuring, princess.”
“Neither is this rescue so far. Do you even know where you’re going?”
“Nope. I figure at one point we can pop out and ask directions to the ship.”
The ship, which she kind of wish she’d never left. But what could she do when she received the missive? After her sister was done bragging about yet another heir, she added a postscript.
Accidents are so common in the marketplace. Hope your new husband doesn’t have one. L.
She knew better than to meet her sister alone. Yet how could Michi stay onboard with that threat hanging over him? Not that she would tell him that was why she left. Admit she cared what happened to him? He’d never believe it.
Or would he? He had, after all, come to her rescue.
She leaned up on tiptoe and kissed him. A quick embrace that had him muttering, “What was that for?”
“For being my husband.”
“Save that for later. Let’s get out of here.”
He finally found an alley he liked, or at least an exit that met his approval, because he slid open a door and tugged her through the back into an active part of La’zuun. The slave market.
Being sheltered didn’t mean Michi didn’t grasp what she saw. Framed in windows were people. Mostly humanoid, female, and pretty. Two breasts, three, a handful. Big lips. Long hair. Wide hips. As young as the laws allowed. And old, for those with that fetish.
To his credit, Damon didn’t peek at the naked flesh on display. He tucked her close to his side and maneuvered them past those gawking, pointing, and, in many cases, purchasing. Slavery was a fact of life in the universe. Some of them captives of fate, others volunteering to earn money to pay off debt or to help family.
Suddenly, he veered them in the other direction. She laughed. “Did you just find your bearings?”
“I think we might have some company.”
“Who? My sister?”
“Try ex-fiancé.”
“He found us? I thought we lost him.” She tried to glance over her shoulder, but their quick pace and the crowd made it hard to see anything.
“We should have lost him. The chances of us both being here at the same time are…”
He didn’t have to say it because she already knew it was astronomical, which could mean only one thing. “Someone let him know we were coming here.” Their pace quickened.
“Except we didn’t even know we were coming until the captain told us.”
“The captain knew.”
“Jameson wouldn’t rat you out. More likely our route was being beamed by a mole, and they shadowed us until they could attack.”
“What can he possibly hope to gain? We’re wed. He can’t change that.”
“He could kill me and make you a widow.”
Over her dead body. “Making me a widow doesn’t reset the mark. The mark requires a period of mourning before becoming active again in order to prevent such a scenario.”
“Well, perhaps someone should explain that to him.” They veered abruptly again, this time darting into a shop offering oils. The warmth of the place hit her along with a flowery fragrance. Within the shop, the chaotic movement and sound of the marketplace vanished for
the more serene space of the oil store with its small bubbling pots.
“Where are we supposed to hide?” she asked, looking around.
“Not hiding, looking for a rear entrance. Where do you bring in the goods? The back door?” he asked the shopkeeper, a vermillion slug sitting in a corner smoking a pipe.
“Blurg. Da blurg. Blurg.”
“For fuck’s sake. Fine. I’ll buy this shit, whatever it is.” He pointed to a bubbling blue oil. The vendor extended a device, his slug-like body projecting a limb that kept going and going to reach Damon.
Damon slapped his hand on it, transferring the credits. “Now, where’s that back door?”
In moments, they were stepping into the alley, and just in time.
Rushing water over rocks. *Where did they go?
They gained precious minutes as the shopkeeper made the Kanishqui go through the same charade.
“Why are we running?” she asked, attempting to keep pace with her long-legged husband. “He can’t attack us here. There are rules.”
“Yup. And there’s also looking the other way and bribery.”
“You seem very experienced in this.”
He paused by another door, unmarked, and yet something about it drew him because he rapped on it.
“I’ve had to escape a few places in my time.”
The door opened, and a face peered out. The hawkishly long nose warted at the tip, the hair a frizzy black. “Whatcha want?”
“I need to get back to my ship.”
A bleary eye squinted. “It will cost you.”
“When doesn’t it?” Damon grumbled, slapping his hand against the credit reader.
“I’ll repay the expenses,” Michi offered.
He shot her a glare. “Don’t you dare. You’re my wife. My responsibility.”
The witch, whom Michi recognized by the crest burnt into her cheek—a switch in a circle—let them into her shop. The door slid shut, and the smell of something bubbling on a fire tickled her nose.
“Give me a moment to fetch the ingredients.” The witch waddled to a wall, the shelves a rare wood, the bottles on it labeled by hand and stoppered. The witch truly embraced her roots and made sure her business reflected it.
She pulled down three flasks, poured a measure from each into a bowl, then approached them. “Don’t move,” she admonished as she took a feathery whisk and dipped it into the fluid. Then she shook it at them. The droplets hit Michi’s skin, and she made a face.