by JC Cassels
She shook her head. “Not really, no.”
“Then it’s settled.” He relaxed into the pillows. “Home. Kids. Job. No more adventures.”
Andre patted him on the shoulder chuckling. “Oh, my boy,” he chortled. “You’ll find a way.”
***
“Can I talk to you a minute?”
Bo looked up and found Royce leaning in the door frame. With a wave of her hand, she cleared away the holographic display hovering over The Barron’s desk.
“Sure. What’s up?”
Royce stepped into the study and closed the door behind him. “You know, a lot of things have changed since the last time I saw you in that chair.”
Bo leaned back in her seat and smiled. “It was my graduation from the Academy,” she said. “You came home to give the commencement speech.”
“Yeah, and I argued with Galen over your assignment to the Frostfire detail.”
She grinned at the memory. “I was so angry with you. I thought you didn’t trust me to do a good job.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t trust Galen not to throw you in over your head,” he clarified. “And I was right.” He dropped into the chair across the desk from her. “You do realize that working out the details of the new alliance with the First Sector is going to be a diplomatic nightmare, don’t you? You’re going to have your hands full.”
“I know.” Bo sighed. “Not to mention rebuilding here and sorting through the mess Galen left.” She gestured toward the stack of reports in one corner of the desk. “That is going to take some time all on its own. I don’t know how I’m going to manage it all from here, let alone from Trisdos.”
“So Blade’s leaving?”
“Eventually. He can’t stay here forever. He’s the Sovran Heir. After Rameus’s little power play, he’s going to have to step into the public role to ensure his succession.”
“And you’ll have Sovran duties, too, as his wife.”
“Don’t remind me,” she said. “It’s hard enough just being The Barron.” She canted her head at him. “Did you just come in here to remind me how much work I have ahead of me, or is there something you wanted?”
Royce swallowed and shifted in his seat. “It’s about the kid, Gray’s brother.”
“Nix.”
“Yeah.”
“What about him?”
“I know Gray and his organization are considered hostile, but the kid…”
“Nix is my friend, Royce,” Bo said. “I don’t hold him responsible for his brother’s crimes.”
“Good, because I’d like to formally request your permission, Barron, to foster him…as my son.”
Bo couldn’t contain her look of surprise.
“Hear me out,” Royce said quickly. “He doesn’t have any family. His dirtbag brother killed their parents. He’s too young to be that alone. Gray’s organization is scattered and his captains are all fighting for position. It’s only a matter of time before some genius gets the idea to put a price on the kid’s head to keep him from bucking for his fair share of the business. I feel responsible for him. Thanks to me, he’s got nobody to protect him from that. Plus, he’s not a bad kid. He’s just been left to raise himself for too long. He needs somebody to correct his course every now and then, to watch his back.”
“Fosters have to stay groundside until they reach majority, Royce.”
He nodded. “I know. Truth is, Princess, I’ve been out in the deep dark for too long. There’s nothing out there for me but being jumped in some dark alley one night. I’m tired. I’m ready to come home.”
“It’s a huge responsibility,” she said, “but you’re more than capable. Nix would be lucky to have you foster him.”
“So I have your permission?”
Bo nodded. “You have my blessing.”
“Thank you.” Royce smiled. “That brings me to my second request.”
“You want to live here at the caer?”
He shrugged. “Well, that’s kind of implied,” he said. “I want to serve as your First Minister.”
“You?” she said. “You want to govern?”
He nodded. “I know. I know what you’re thinking. I haven’t lost my mind, I promise. I’ve had a long time to think about things.” He sighed. “A part of me blames myself for Galen, for Bhruic, for everything that’s happened. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, so angry with my brother…”
“Angry?”
“Over your mother,” Royce said. “Edge was my son. Marissa was under contract to me long before she ever met your dad. My parents wouldn’t have approved, so I kept our relationship a secret. I loved her, but I wasn’t man enough to step up and take care of her when she told me about my son. She ended our contract. A few years later, she met Bhruic. I couldn’t… that’s why I left the Black Wing. That’s why I asked permission to join the Inner Circle. They’d been trying to recruit me for some time and…” he broke off, shaking his head. “Anyway, after she left, after she died, I came home and there you were. My Marissa with Barron eyes.”
“Oh Royce…”
He shook his head. “I don’t know how much my brother ever knew. He never said and I didn’t ask. I figure he must have known something, because he never once blamed me for leaving. When everyone else tried to pressure me into standing as his successor, he was my greatest champion. I owe him so much and I…”
He broke off. His eyes welled with tears.
Reaching across the desk, Bo gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.
“It’s my fault. If I had been able to put duty ahead of my feelings, Galen would never have had the opportunity to seize power the way he did.”
“No, Royce. They started working on this plan before the Trade Wars. They would have found some other way.”
He shook his head. “I played a part in it,” he said. “And my son died because of it. I don’t want that to be my legacy. I want a chance to make things right. I want a chance to be the Daecus-born son of Barron Clan I was supposed to be. I need to accept responsibility, Barron. Please. Let me do my duty and be of service to my Clan. I have a lot to atone for.”
“I would never ask it of you,” she said. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Please, Barron. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I have to do it, to prove something to myself and to you.”
“You have my complete trust, Royce. Now and always.”
“Then let me serve.”
She drew a deep, cleansing breath and released it in a shuddering sigh.
“With pleasure,” she said.
She shoved a stack of documents across the desk.
“You can start with these.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Bo braced her hands on the bluestone parapet and drew a lungful of the cool air scented with damp loam and the sweet fragrance of pilla fruit blossoms from the lush hillside to the north of the caer. The valley stretched out beneath the rocky cliff on which her home had stood sentinel for millennia. Far below, the Green River cleaved through the landscape, awash with a riot of color. In the distance, light glinted off the air and spacecraft flying in and out of New Gallis. Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to the warm light of Mondhuoun’s sun.
Home!
How many times had she dreamed of standing in this very spot and taking the view.
“Well, my love, it looks like your adventuring days are behind you now.”
A small smile touched her lips as her husband’s arms slid around her waist. She relaxed against him, leaning into his sturdy chest and covering his arms with her own.
“Nothing to look forward to but the endless drudgery of responsibility,” he said. His teasing tone conveyed his enjoyment of the situation. His whiskers tickled her soft skin as he brushed a kiss to her cheek.
“Shows you what you know,” she said. Turning in his embrace, she rested her hands against his chest. “I’m The Barron, and Barrons always manage to get into some kind of mischief.”
He gri
nned. “I have no doubt that you will manage to find something to get into.” He sighed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to stick around to keep you out of trouble.”
His eyes crinkled with amusement.
Her fingertips traced his brow as she studied the face she knew so well, and loved so much.
“What?”
“I was right,” she said.
“Of course you were. What were you right about?”
“Your eyes.” She leaned back against his arms. “They are the color of the bluestone.”
He chuckled. “Your home.”
“You are my home.”
Bo pulled him closer for a kiss. Their lips touched, but he held a part of himself aloof. She pulled away and searched his face.
It was all there, in the deepening lines around his eyes, and the tension around his mouth. Distance. Sorrow. Regret.
“What’s wrong, Dev?”
His lips parted to speak, then closed again. He stared past her at the distant horizon a long moment. Shaking his head, he sighed and rested his forehead against hers.
“You know I have to leave at some point,” he said. “Andre wants me on Trisdos. It’s time I stopped running and shouldered some of that responsibility.”
He lifted his head. His blue eyes expectantly studied her.
Bo nodded her encouragement. “I know.”
His shoulders heaved with the weight of a thousand worlds as he lowered his gaze and sighed. His chin dropped to his chest in resignation.
“How do I ask you to come with me when you finally have everything you’ve fought and sacrificed for?” He looked up at her, naked pain filled his eyes. “How can I ask you to leave here? This is where you belong.”
Something akin to relief flooded her, easing the ache in her chest and letting her take a deep breath. A fond smile touched her lips.
“You and me.” She sighed. Her fingertips lightly caressed the hard line of his jaw, scraping her nails along his whiskers. “We’re about as complicated as things get. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”
“Through sheer dumb luck.” His apprehension eased.
She chuckled. “So, are you saying that you’re going to leave me here to go play Sovran with Andre?” She lifted an eyebrow. “Or are you feeling me out to see whether I’d consider going with you?”
His lips twitched. “Both, I suppose.”
The sheepish look on his face hearkened back to the rascal he’d been in his youth. Maker, how she loved him.
“You are an idiot,” she said.
His smile widened. “We’ve established that.”
Bo shook her head, sending her hair cascading down her back. “A beautiful, stupid idiot.”
His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
“You think it’s a revelation to me that you have to make Trisdos your base?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Well…”
Her eyes narrowed. “Would it surprise you to learn that I’m fully prepared to go with you?”
“A little.”
She leaned closer. “There’s a marvelous new tech called interstellar travel.”
He grinned. “Okay…”
“It’s expensive, and complicated to operate, but I think I can shake some bones at it and chant the magic words to make it work for me.”
He chuckled. “Now you’re making fun of me.”
“I’ve been making fun of you.” She poked him in the chest with one finger. “Get used to it, because as long as you’re being an idiot, I’m going to mock you.”
He captured her hand in his and lifted it to his lips.
Her breath caught.
“You do know I have a brother for that, right?” he teased.
She grinned. “We’ve met.”
“But aren’t you needed here to run things now that Galen’s gone and Jaden is in exile?”
Her fingers tightened around his. “Royce has offered to take over as my First Minister.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Royce? Really? Huh?”
Bo nodded. “He’s asked my permission to foster Nix. Apparently, those two hit it off.”
“I’m glad,” Blade said. “Nix will never replace Edge, but looking after him will go a long way toward helping Royce deal with his loss.”
“And there’s no one I’d trust more to look after things for me,” she said.
“Nor I.” Blade released her hand and pulled her close. He kissed the top of her head. “I think it’s what your father would have wanted.”
“I think so too.” Bo leaned into him, resting her cheek against his chest. “So… Trisdos, huh?”
“Yep.”
Bo wrinkled her nose. “I’m not Madine, you know. I’m no party planner.”
“I’m a Predator, Bo,” he said. “I’m not exactly comfortable governing.” His arms tightened around her. “But nobody says we have to do this alone. You help me figure out the governing thing and I’m sure Tese will help with the social duties.”
“They’re coming to Trisdos?”
“Andre has already tasked Chase with keeping me out of trouble.”
Bo grinned. “He doesn’t know either of you very well, does he?”
“Apparently not. Chase has already started writing a bill for clone’s rights. He’s also been talking to Andre about tightening up anti-slavery laws so they apply to all forms of sentient life, potential or mature.”
“Well, if anyone can affect real change in that regard, it would be your brother.”
They fell silent, wrapped around each other. Under her cheek, his heart beat a steady rhythm, lulling her into a sense of contentment.
“You know, for the past seven years, getting to this place has been all I could think about,” she said. “Now that it’s all over, I’m not sure what to do with myself.”
“It’s time to find a new normal,” he said. His voice rumbled in his chest. “To figure out who we are without someone shooting at us all the time.”
She looked up at him. “Is that even possible?”
He flashed his famous grin. “Well, love, I reckon we’ll find out.”
In an alternate universe, JC Cassels is a space pirate. In this reality, she only writes about them. Author of THE BLACK WING CHRONICLES series, JC Cassels was born and raised in sunny Tampa, Florida and blames the local pirate lore, as well as her father’s frequent business trips to the Kennedy Space Center, for her childhood desires to be both a swashbuckler and an astronaut.
Equally unable to make up her mind on a professional field, JC worked simultaneously as a freelance writer for newspapers and magazines, and as a freelance audio engineer (among other things) for network television and live concerts. Both careers took her halfway across the world. She’s trying to figure out how to get to the other half. She still misses the limousines and the luxury hotel suites, but is happy to finally know where she is when she wakes up in the morning.
When not writing in her haunted hospital, JC lives with her husband, three geeks-in-training, dogs, cats, and chickens in a drafty old house somewhere in quirky rural Georgia.
Table of Contents
THE BLACK WING CHRONICLES
BARRON’S
JC CASSELS
Author’s Acknowledgments:
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX