Lord of the Storm

by Justine Davis

  “Darian.” It was a shocked, unbelieving whisper.

  “At your service,” Dare said, with mocking deference.

  “So it’s true. I had heard you escaped, but I didn’t believe it.” So Califa had not turned her in, Shaylah thought in relief. “No one has ever escaped,” Corling added in shock.

  “I did. And came looking for you.”

  His eyes wide with panic, Corling turned on Shaylah. “Captain, what is the meaning of this? What have you done?”

  Before she could speak, Dare cut her off. “Do not blame your captain, General. She had no choice.”

  Stunned, Shaylah stared at him. What was he doing? Why was he looking at her like that, so impersonally, as if he’d never seen her before this moment? And then it came to her, words spoken into the silence of the night. I’ve been too long without choices to take them from someone else.

  He was, she thought incredulously, giving her a way out. Even now she could claim duress, that he had taken over and forced her to bring him here. She could salvage her career, or at the least be able to continue to fly.

  And he would be the price. She would never see him again . . . unless, she thought with a shudder, she was ordered to fight him. And his people. The people she had come to know and care for. The people who had never given up despite the odds, people with courage of a kind the Coalition would never understand. Glendar, Lisaire, the boy Pavel . . . and Alcaron, with her unborn child, a life begun to replace a life lost, awaited by all with joy.

  “He is right,” she said suddenly, firmly. “I had no choice. Not once I saw the Coalition for what it truly is, an evil, malignant thing, spreading its ugly tentacles across a universe, destroying all good and innocence in its path.”

  “This is treason, Captain! I’ll see you dead for this!”

  Corling was sputtering, his face turning red, but Shaylah had eyes only for Dare. In the moment she had spoken, she had seen him swallow tightly, and for the briefest of moments he had closed his eyes. Then, letting out a breath, he was once more the imposing prince, once more the man whose sheer impact kept a Coalition general from even looking at the door, let alone trying to make a break for it. She knew what would come next and moved to the con to fulfill her part of the plan. She had heard the sounds coming from amidships and knew that Dare’s men were fulfilling theirs.

  “You’ll see no one dead, Corling,” Dare said coldly, in that voice of command that left no room for equivocation. “Except perhaps yourself, if you fail to do as I say.”

  “My men are just outside—”

  “And mine are inside.”

  On the cue, the ten men he’d brought, armed with the best of the rebels’ weapons and clad in the uniforms Alcaron and her helpers had been all night making out of whatever fabric they could find and dye to the royal black and gold of Trios, stepped into the conroom. They bore no resemblance to the shabby band they had been mere hours ago; they looked, as they were intended to, like part of a well-supplied and outfitted army.

  Corling gaped at them in shock. “This is impossible. And here, aboard my own flagship—”

  “Are you truly so oblivious?” Dare asked with a brow raised in mild curiosity. “We have long left your flagship, Corling. You have no one to save you now.”

  The man whirled, staring out the viewport where the Darkstar was shrinking in the distance. He really hadn’t noticed that they were moving, Shaylah thought incredulously. Well, perhaps she should make it clearer. Her hands moved on the controls, and the Sunbird shot forward with a burst of speed that made them all sway. And the Darkstar became a distant shadow in the viewport. The bluster seemed to drain out of Corling; he sank down into the navigator’s chair.

  Dare nodded at Shaylah, and she set the Sunbird on self-pilot and moved to the communications station. When she was ready, she nodded back at him.

  “You will order your forces to withdraw, Corling.”

  The man stared up at Dare in shock. “What?”

  “You heard me. If you wish to live past this moment, you will order all men and equipment to vacate Triotian space immediately.”

  “You can’t—”

  “I have.”

  Corling’s face blanched when Dare’s hand came to rest on the hilt of the golden sword; it might be ceremonial in intent, but the blade was still deadly.

  “It will do you no good,” Corling said with an attempt at his former swagger. “They will be back, and this time there will be nothing left of your planet but stellar dust.”

  “If they come back,” Dare said calmly, “they will be blasted out of the sky. Your entire Legion could be wiped out with just five fusion cannons. We have ten.”

  Shaylah saw the general’s eyes widen. “So it’s true,” he hissed. “You do have them!”

  “As you well know. The readings must be obvious, even to you. My people have always had them.” Dare spun the fabrication as smoothly as the silk of Shaylah’s robe. “But they could not find the armory that held the others amid the rubble you left behind.” He smiled icily. “I did.”

  Corling went even paler. Dare advanced until he was a bare foot away, towering over the now broken man. “It is only out of respect for the traditions of my world that I give you this chance to save your forces. And yourself. Give the order, or I will destroy them all right now.”

  My God, Shaylah thought, he was overpowering. I almost believe him myself. That Corling did became evident in the next seconds; he took the headset she had dialed in on the Coalition battle frequency and gave the order.

  “We will take you to Legion Command now.” Corling stared up at Dare in surprise at the words. “My men loaded aboard a small shuttle from your flagship. We will release you, out of range of Command security ships. If you can remember how to fly—if you ever knew—you should make it.”

  “Fly?” Corling looked aghast at the idea.

  “You will deliver this message: If they wish to try again, my warriors—and cannons—will be ready and waiting.”

  “I can’t do that! They will call me treasonous! They will say I should have fought you . . .” Corling stopped, his face coloring with the truth of his own words.

  “If you insist,” Dare said, more than a hint of eager zeal in his voice, “that can be arranged. There is nothing I would like better than to personally pay you back for what you did.”

  Corling’s color faded; this time he went ashen. And said nothing more.

  “That’s what I thought,” Dare drawled out.

  He turned to Shaylah. “Set course for Legion Command, Captain.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched in a triumphant grin he was trying to suppress. His eyes were brightly, vividly green, his body straight and proud, and Shaylah knew she was seeing the man he’d been born to become. Moisture pooled in her eyes, and she turned to follow his command while she could still see.

  DARE PACED THE room restlessly. They had returned to Triotia early this morning, to assess the damage and begin repairs. This room, once his father’s office, had been converted to a bedchamber, the Sunbird reduced to cargo ship to transport the furnishings from the caves. The other room they had first made habitable was the council chamber next door; the rest of the Senate building would take much more work.

  Dare made a pretense of looking at the plans spread across the table in one corner. After repairing the damaged warning systems, they were already salvaging parts to replicate Paraclon’s failed experiment that had become their savior; they could do that a lot sooner than they could come up with the cannons themselves, Dare had explained. Then he would begin work on the huge shields, the field of protection that had been opened in innocence to let the Coalition in.

  His pretense didn’t last long, and he was soon pacing again. Shaylah could feel his tension, but couldn’t begin to guess at the source. His colossal bluff
had worked—the Coalition had pulled out—and while there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t return and try to fulfill Corling’s wish of total destruction, for now, it seemed, they were safe. And if the Coalition did come back, Shaylah had no doubt that Dare would manage to come up with a plan to stop them. What she didn’t know was if she would still be here to see it. But surely they wouldn’t force her to leave now, knowing that, branded as traitor to the Coalition, she had nowhere else to go.

  “Dare, what is it?” she asked at last.

  “Nothing,” he growled, a lie so obvious he looked sheepish even as he said it.

  He made another circuit of the room, stopped again at the table, then, with a sharp, abrupt movement, swept the plans to the floor with a violence that startled her.

  “Damn, but I hate this! I swore I would never be helpless again, yet here I am, powerless, waiting for a decision I have no part in making.”

  Shaylah looked at him wearily, then at the door to the council room, where several of the men had disappeared as soon as it was pronounced fit. “Do you mean the meeting of the council?”

  “Yes, damn it.”

  “But . . . what are they deciding?”

  “Only the rest of my life,” he said grimly.

  Shaylah’s brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. What—”

  “My lord?” The respectful voice accompanied a tap on the door. Dare was across the room in an instant, yanking it open. It was Renclan. “They are ready for you now.” His gaze flicked to Shaylah. “And you as well.”

  Startled, Shaylah followed Dare into the council room. As she passed him, Renclan murmured to her, so softly Dare could not have heard.

  “I am sorry. I was . . . wrong about you.”

  Shaylah had no time to react to the surprising words; she was ushered into the council room. A long, makeshift table had been set up, and five men, with Glendar in the center, sat behind it. Most of the rest of the surviving Triotians were also gathered in the room. As Dare, then Shaylah, came to a halt before the table, Glendar rose. He cleared his throat impressively.

  “We have reached a decision on your request, Prince Darian.”

  Dare drew himself up, not looking at Shaylah. “I thank the council for its time, regardless of the judgment,” he said stiffly, as if fulfilling a ritual.

  Glendar nodded with equal formality. “Yes. Hmm. Well, we have taken into consideration many factors. That the subject, Shaylah Graymist”—Shaylah’s breath caught in her throat as Glendar said her name; had they been deciding what to do with her?—”was an officer in the Coalition. That she aided, if not participated directly in, the new campaign against us.”

  Shaylah’s heart sank. They were going to banish her.

  “However,” Glendar continued, “we have also taken into consideration that she saved the life of the rightful heir to the throne of Trios, brought him out of slavery, risking her life to do so, and brought him home to lead his people to victory and freedom. And that she was an instrumental part of that victory, and in the process rejected an opportunity to return to the Coalition and her former life.” He cleared his throat once more. “When all is weighed and measured, we find there is no decision we can reach but one.”

  He turned to Shaylah and, dropping the formality, smiled at her. “Welcome to Trios, Shaylah. Your home, if you wish it.”

  She made a tiny sound and felt her knees wobble. She would have slipped to the floor had not Dare’s strong arm come around her, supporting her. She buried her face against its muscled strength, only able to murmur a soft “Thank you” over and over. Dare pressed a swift kiss upon her hair.

  “Well,” Glendar said in barely concealed amusement as he watched them, “I can see that we’d best hurry with the rest of this.”

  There was laughter around the table and the room. Shaylah heard it and lifted her head, not understanding.

  “So,” Glendar said in those formal tones again, “as to the other part of your petition, while we agree that Princess Brielle was in law your bonded mate and that she died in a noble and true Triotian manner, we also agree that sufficient time of mourning has passed. While by Triotian law she must be always remembered, we hereby release you from that bond.”

  Dare let out a long, shuddering sigh. Shaylah felt his body go slack, much as hers had at the news she was not to be sent away. “Thank God,” he murmured.

  “So, my boy,” Glendar said with a wide grin, “what do you say? Shall we plan a dual coronation? A new king and a new queen at the same time?”

  A cheer rose from the group gathered behind them. Shaylah stared at Dare in bewilderment.

  “What’s this?” Glendar said, watching her face. “Don’t tell me you haven’t even asked the girl yet.”

  “I didn’t feel I had the right,” Dare said, grasping Shaylah’s shoulders and turning her to face him. He glanced at the crowd in the room, all of whom were watching with obvious enjoyment. “This is not how I would have wished it done, Shaylah . . .”

  “Wished . . . what done? I don’t understand.”

  “I have told you what lies ahead,” he said softly. “It will not be easy.” He took a deep breath. “Brielle will always mean a great deal to me. Yet she was a fragile thing, and I fear what faces us now would have been too much for her. But not you, Shaylah. You are the bravest, strongest . . . and most stubborn woman I have ever known.”

  Shaylah blushed furiously under this open, public praise. “Dare, I don’t . . . What are you saying?”

  “Yes, Dare,” Glendar chimed in teasingly, “what are you saying? It’s not like you to be so . . . indirect.”

  “Quiet,” Dare snapped. “There is something she must know, and I don’t care to tell her in front of a crowd.”

  Chastened by their prince, the group divided to let them pass as Dare took her wrist and led her forcefully back to his quarters. He shut the door behind them. Then he turned her to face him.

  “You must know the extent of what I am asking, Shaylah. Queen of Trios is much more than just a title, it is work, hard work, and it will be much more now, with all that’s to be done, and . . . What’s wrong?”

  She knew she was gaping at him, but she was so utterly stunned she couldn’t help it. “Que—queen of Trios?” she whispered. “You are asking me to . . . bond with you?”

  “Of course,” he said impatiently. “What do you think this was all about?”

  “I . . . didn’t know.”

  “You had to have known by now.”

  “No. You never told me.”

  “I couldn’t. I had to be lawfully released by the council, and there was always a chance they would say no, a chance that they could not forgive your having once been an officer of the Coalition.”

  “Can you?” she whispered, all her uncertainty clear.

  He stared at her. At last, in a warm, vibrant voice she’d never heard from him except in the sweetest moments of passion, he spoke. “Ah, Shaylah, I’ve truly made a muddle of this, haven’t I?” He drew in a deep breath. “I spent a long time trying to explain away how I felt about you, telling myself it was gratitude, admiration, or just plain lust. And I was just too stubborn to realize why it never worked. Then, when I saw what Renclan had done to you, saw that my own people were ready to treat you as I had been treated . . .” He shook his head. “I knew then it was much more than that.”

  “Oh, Wolf . . .” The name slipped out, and Dare smiled.

  “I will always answer to that, for you,” he said, and Shaylah knew then that she had only heard those last two words before because he had said them in his heart. She lifted her hands to slip them around his neck, but he grasped her wrists and stopped her.

  “There is one more thing you must know before you answer,” he said rather grimly. She looked up at him, and, amazingly, he looked away, lowering his head s
o that she could not see his eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked softly.

  “I may not . . .” He stopped, then finished in a rush. “I may never be able to give you children. The drug they gave me to keep me sterile . . . I don’t know if it’s . . . permanent.”

  Shaylah smothered a tiny sound at the desolation in his voice. That there might be no heir to Trios, no livewire little boy, no younger, prickly Wolf like the one she’d seen on cinefilm, left a hollow ache inside her. But she could live with that, she thought. With him.

  “Do you think that matters?” she asked softly. “There are children enough here that have no parents. I would take any of them, or all, if you wish. That is not the one thing I must know.”

  His head came up then. “No? Then what is?”

  “The one thing you have not said, Prince Darian.”

  He looked at her blankly. Then his eyes widened in realization. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t feel I dared say it, not when I could not . . . promise you anything. Besides, I thought it was . . . obvious.”

  “Perhaps it was . . . had I dared believe it. But now . . .”

  It came instantly, fervently, and sent a sweeping tide of joy through her. “I love you, Shaylah. I love you.”

  He kissed her then, long and hot and hard, so fiercely she never heard the door swing open.

  “That’s my boy,” Glendar said with a laugh, making them separate with a startled jump. “Go straight to the most convincing argument!”

  Shaylah felt herself color deeply and buried her face against Dare’s chest. But it was hard not to smile at the round of raucous cheers that echoed from the council chamber.

  Epilogue

  “What do you think of Lion?” Shaylah asked.

  “What?” Dare said rather vaguely, still intent on the map before him. They had repaired the shields, repaired much of the town, built ten of Paraclon’s phantoms, and with the help of the remnants of the Sunbird’s weapons, put together an actual fusion cannon to bolster the bluff if it was ever called. It had been a productive year, if a hard one.