by Susan Hayes
When a Vardarian mated to another Vardarian, they formed an unbreakable bond that lasted the rest of their lives. When the mate was of another race, the outcome varied. With the Ferrym and the Vinu, the bond was for life, but with the Reekar, the bond rarely lasted and never produced children. Reekar matings were sexually intense at first, but unless the couple or trio could build a lasting relationship outside the bond, it ultimately ended in heartache. Until they knew what kind of bond they could have with Phaedra, he wasn’t ready to accept her as their mate.
“This ship is huge!” Phaedra exclaimed, looking around her in wonder.
“This is the Santar, a royal cruiser class vessel. Fast, well-armed, and only for use by members of the royal family.” Tyr patted the gleaming white wall of the outer hull. “This has been our home for many of your months.”
“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She stretched her arms out and spun in place. “There’s more room in this corridor than I’ve seen in some personnel quarters.”
“Though it can be flown by a single being, the Santar was built to carry many. Crew, passengers, court followers, and those who assist them.”
She dropped her hands back to her sides. “Those who assist them… do you mean you have servants?”
Braxon didn’t know the word, but her reaction made it clear it wasn’t something she approved of.
“What is a servant?” Tyr asked.
“Someone who serves. Who works for those with money and power and does the jobs the rich one doesn’t wish to do. Cook. Clean. Help them dress.”
Braxon took a long look at the human female, and this time he saw more than her attractive features and small stature. During the meeting, she had been dismissed by the others and had to fight to be acknowledged. Now, she expressed distaste for something any court-raised Vardian female would consider her due – servants. Phaedra Kari was becoming more intriguing by the minute.
“There are what you call servants at the Imperial Palace. There are none on this ship, though. It would not be fair to ask them to leave their friends and family when we are capable of taking care of ourselves,” Tyran explained.
“But, you do have servants?”
Tyran answered before Braxon could stop him. “Of course. I’m a prince. I was raised with any number of servants and staff.”
“And what about Braxon? What is he to you? For that matter, what am I? Did you have him pull me out of the crowd because you thought you needed someone to look after you while you’re here?”
He’d never seen the expression on Tyr’s face before. It was a tangled mess of emotions, including dismay and confusion. No one had ever pushed back at the prince like this. Well, no one but Braxon.
“I am his anrik.” Braxon pointed to the scar on his wrist. “I am not his servant. We are blood-bound companions.”
“My friend,” Tyran added. “The only one I can trust.”
Phaedra’s expression softened. “So, not his servant?”
“Never,” Tyran replied. “And you are not servant, either. You are our mahaya.”
“I think it’s time you told me what that means.”
“It means we are powerfully attracted to you. Your scent drew me to you, helped me find you in the crowd. I thought I was looking for a Vardarian female, but I found you,” Braxon explained.
Tyran shot him an irritated look before turning his gaze to Phaedra. He took her hands in his and drew her close to him. “We are more than attracted to you, Phaedra. You are our mahaya, our mate. You will bind yourself to us and we will be a family.”
She jerked her hands out of Tyr’s and backed away from him in the direction of the door. “Whoa! I’m not binding myself to anyone. We just met!”
Braxon sidestepped to put himself between Phaedra and the door. This close to her, the acrid scent of her fear was strong. “Calm. There is nothing to fear here, Phaedra Kari. The choice to bind with us is yours to make. You will not be forced.”
“I’m not afraid,” she protested. “But I’m not calm, either. What he said. Is that true?”
“I don’t know. It is possible. There are tests we can run to be sure.”
Tyr started to speak, but Braxon silenced him with a warning look. Tyran might be convinced, but he wasn’t the one they needed to worry about right now. If she was their mate, then scaring her away was not in their best interests. Not if they wished to hang on to their sanity.
“What kind of tests?”
“Medical tests. A scan, then—” he tapped his wrist. “Blood?”
She straightened her shoulders and nodded. “Do it.”
She certainly sounds like the mate of an imperial prince, he thought to himself as he set off toward the medical bay. “Come. We can explain more as we run the tests. It won’t take long.”
“Why will neither of you accept what you know to be true?” Tyr asked.
Phaedra had started to follow Braxon, but she stopped to speak to Tyran. “I don’t know anything yet. I feel mild euphoria when I’m around you, and there are some other weird physical reactions, but that doesn’t mean I’m destined to spend the rest of my life with you. With either of you. Both? I’m going to need more information.”
“We would both claim you as our mahaya.” Tyr held out his arm and showed her the scar on his wrist. “We are bound by blood. When – “ he paused. “I mean if you chose to join with us, we would bind you to us the same way.”
They started walking again. The med-bay was on the main floor near the stern of the ship. It wouldn’t talk long to get there. Phaedra continued to ask questions along the way.
“You said you’re bound by blood. Does that mean you share your nanotech, too? The small machines in your bodies.”
“We do. We have mixed ourselves together,” Braxon tried to explain, hoping she understood.
“So, you carry each other’s blood and nanotech. What if you did that to me and our tech didn’t react well?”
Braxon paused. He hadn’t considered that. Of course, they hadn’t considered much of anything. There hadn’t been time to. “If the tests prove you’re our mate, we’ll ensure the binding would be safe for you.”
“I have a friend, Zale. He’s the one that designed the nanotech I carry. He’d be able to help with that. I mean, he could, if this is real, and if I say yes.”
“I don’t understand why you both keep saying ‘if’ this is real. It is. I am sure of it,” Tyr said.
“Because Braxon and I aren’t sure I’m this mahaya thing, even if you are.” She sighed. “All I was supposed to do today was witness my best friend get married to the men of her dreams and celebrate for the rest of the night. How did I end up here?”
“Our ancestors brought us together for a reason. You are destined for us, Phaedra. And then, together, we will lead the new colony,” Tyr said.
“Whoa again. Who said anything about leading?”
“You do not wish to lead?” Tyr sounded perplexed by the idea, while Braxon grew even more intrigued. He had never met someone who cared so little for power and all its trappings.
“I never said I didn’t wish to lead. I said no one mentioned it until now. When you said we had things to talk about, it was something of an understatement.” Phaedra was having trouble staying focused on the conversation. She’d been hit with so much new information already, and her physical response to them was distracting as hell. Not to mention the fact she was standing on an alien vessel with two aliens, one of whom seemed keen to marry her and the other who wanted to run tests.
Braxon paused in front of a large doorway and it slid open a second later. He walked through the door and gestured for her to follow.
Alyson was always trying to warn her that her habit of jumping in with both feet was going to catch up to her someday. It looked like that day had come. “Don’t make me regret gatecrashing your welcome ceremony.”
“What is gatecrashing?” Tyran asked as he followed her inside.
“It means th
at I wasn’t supposed to be there. I snuck in.” She got her first look at the medical bay and uttered a low whistle. “I’d say your medical technology is aeons ahead of ours. Make sure you remember that when the bargaining starts. The corporations will be at each other throats to get a piece of all this.”
There were four beds, each set into its own alcove and surrounded by monitors and machines she couldn’t guess the purposes of. In the center of the space was a circular console with seats and more monitors. As they entered the room, a hologram flickered into existence. The image was of a kindly looking female with golden scales, wings, and dark hair. She spoke in a calm, friendly voice, though Phaedra didn’t understand a word of it.
“Let me amend my earlier statement. The corporations won’t just be at each other’s throats, they’ll be willing to commit murder to get their greedy paws on your tech.” She pointed to the hologram. “If that’s an interactive diagnostic program, it’s probably worth a planet all by itself.”
“Too many unfamiliar words,” Braxon said, shaking his head. In the brightly lit room, his scales gleamed like newly minted gold.
“That is a hologram, right? A projected image connected to a computer program. One that can determine how to treat someone who is sick or injured?”
Braxon nodded. “If we are injured, the program will heal – treat us on its own.”
“Our medical technology is not nearly that advanced. At least, not that I’m aware of. My friend, Alyson, is a doctor. She’d be able to give us a better idea of its value. These tests. How will it work?”
Tyran pointed to the nearest bed. “If you lay there, this can be done quickly.”
“And then we’ll know if I’m your mate?”
“I already know this, but Braxon wishes to prove it to himself, and to you.”
“I’m glad he does, because I need some proof. We’re not the same species. We don’t even know if we’re uh, physically compatible.” She walked over to the bed, which was far too high for her. Before she could ask for a stool, Tyran stepped in and lifted her onto the bed. It was the closest contact they’d had, yet, and she had to bite back a moan as his arms closed around her, holding her close to his body for one exquisite moment.
When he set her down again, her pulse was racing, and her skin felt like it was on fire. Tyran was breathing heavily, too.
“Is this feeling part of being mated?”
“What are you feeling?” Tyran asked without moving away from her.
She censored her response because the last thing she wanted to admit was that she was turned on and feeling like she’d taken some premium bliss-inducing pharma.
“Hot. Giddy, like I’m a little intoxicated, and my skin is sensitive.”
Tyran chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound that made her breath hitch. “You are experiencing the sharhal. The mating fever. You are reacting to what you call pheromones. It means your body recognizes what you do not yet accept.
“My body is not to be trusted. It’s got a lousy track record,” she muttered, then lay back on the bed. It was the most comfortable thing she’d ever reclined on, and she made a note to include the design as yet another thing they could offer in trade. The way things were going, they could probably afford to buy a whole fraxxing system full of planets.
Above her lights activated, and she closed her eyes to shut out the glare. “Be still, please. The scan will not take long, and you will not feel anything more than a mild warmth.” Braxon’s tone was almost gentle, and she knew he was trying to reassure her.
“If I feel anything else, you’ll be the first to know.”
As promised, she didn’t feel anything more than a bit of heat during the scan. A few more tests, all just as gentle as the scan, and she was done. Sitting up, she let her feet dangle off the edge of the bed as she looked around. “How long until we know?”
“Not long. Maybe one-quarter of your hours.” Tyran moved in and offered her his hands to help her down. She took his hand and hopped off the bed, once again thankful she wasn’t wearing heels.
Instead of letting her go, Tyran pulled her in close and looked down at her, one hand lifting to stroke a loose curl away from her face. “Never did I dream our mahaya would be so beautiful.”
“We still don’t know that’s what I am.”
“I know.”
“You might be right, but that doesn’t change the fact we’re strangers. All I know about you is your names. This might be how it works for your species, but that’s not going to be enough for me.”
“But you feel the pull between us.” He stroked her cheek again. “Tell me that my touch doesn’t bring you pleasure.”
She turned away from his touch. “Pleasure is one thing. Together forever is something very different.”
“She is right, Tyr. We should not rush this.”
Braxon moved beside Tyran and bowed low. “I am Braxon Torr of Vardaria. Son of Kalis and Anjira.”
Tyran stepped back and then performed his own graceful bow. “I am Prince Tyran Varosa of Vardaria, member of the Imperial house, brother to Empress Neha Varosa, son of Talus and Kess.” He straightened and gave her a smile that made her brain melt a little around the edges. “But you can call me Tyr. If you introduce yourself to us, then we will no longer be strangers.”
She managed a passable bow of her own. “I am Phaedra Kari, daughter of Myra and Timothy.”
“What world do you call home?” Braxon asked.
“None of them. I was born on a space station called Plaisa IV.”
Tyran frowned. “Then who holds your loyalty?”
She laughed and shook her head. “My loyalty is to my mother and my friends. No one else.”
She was met with perplexed stares.
“Remember when Colonel Archer said I should explain why I’m not going to be welcome at the table during investigations? This is why. I have no loyalty to any faction, government, or world. I chose to live outside what most consider normal society. I don’t follow rules or even laws if I don’t believe they’re right. I want to make things better for everyone. Hacking is how I do that.”
She pointed to the data port on her wrist, then pushed back the hair behind her ear to reveal her second one. “I told you, I have implants that let me interface with computers. Not long ago, I used that ability to help expose secrets the corporations were trying to hide. Some of them suspect I was involved. They don’t like or trust me, and I don’t like or trust them.”
“You want to make things better, so you defy authority?” Tyran was grinning now, and she got a good look at the delicately curved fangs sat in the same spot humans had canine teeth.
“Yes.”
“That is why we are here. Things on our homeworld do not change. The empire is strong because we are many different species, but on Vardaria, there is no many. Only purebloods and a few who are considered lesser. It is wrong.” Tyran looked at Braxon, whose expression hardened for a moment before dropping his head in a slight nod.
“Braxon isn’t treated the same as you because he’s not a pureblood? Then how is he your -what did you call it – anrik?”
“My father chose Braxon because he believed he was the best choice. Later, he told me it was also because he wanted to be sure that at least one of his children understood that there were more important virtues than someone’s bloodline.”
She read between the lines. “Your sister doesn’t share that belief, does she?”
“She struggles with the idea. My father’s lessons have been weakened by the influence of her counsellors.” Tyran’s shoulders slumped, and his blue eyes darkened.
“And this colony you want to start, it will be different?”
“That is our wish,” Braxon confirmed.
“See, that’s the kind of thing I want to know. You might be willing to trust pheromones or fate, but I can’t do that.”
“We want to know about you, too.” Braxon pointed to the data port behind her ear. “Did you get that the same time as the na
nites?”
“No. I got my first data port when I was a teenager –a young woman, not even an adult yet. The medi-bots, I mean the nanites, were given to me by a friend to protect me from harm if the corporations retaliated for what I’ve done. I’ve only had them a few months.”
“Will you tell us more about what you did, and what secrets you revealed while we give you a tour of the ship? Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
“I’m fine. I was at a party tonight, with more than enough food and drink to keep me going. I’d like to see your ship, but what I’d really like is to look at your computer system. You said you had a translation program. I’d like to see if there’s a way I can access it.”
The two males looked at each other and had a quick conversation she couldn’t follow. “It might be best if you did that from here,” Braxon said.
“This could be dangerous to you. I don’t want you to be injured.” Tyran seemed less than thrilled with the idea, but she had her medi-bots and years of experience hacking into alien systems.
“If I’m going to be truly useful, we need to be able to communicate quickly and without risk of misunderstanding. It will be fine, Tyran. Accessing systems is what I’m best at. Before I do this, can one of you write down the name of the program in your language so I know what I’m looking for?”
Braxon moved to one of the stations and entered a few keystrokes, which appeared on the monitor above it. The figures were lovely, ornate, and completely incomprehensible to her, but if she could reference the pattern, she could find the program.
“Phaedra, I don’t want you to do this.” Tyran stepped in and put his arm out, blocking her from getting closer to the computer stations.
“Then you should have picked someone else for this job.”
“I forbid it.”
She looked up at Tyran and frowned. “You might be a prince, Tyran Varosa, but you’re not my prince. You can’t forbid me anything.”
He frowned, blinked, opened his mouth, then closed it again, while Braxon tried, and failed, to stifle a bout of laughter.