by Y. M. Roger
“Find our hediya, and get her to safety!” It was a thought from the hearts of both cognate and beast, “We will deal with Kilgar once that is assured!”
But as the hydenna rushed into the thicket, Balstir prayed the demercriere did not follow them – that Kilgar was able to gain the upper hand in their unprecedented etkencomp.
It was time for this madness to end.
The huge demercriere took one look at the sketched image of Kilgar on the shining tile floor beside the trash can and roared in victory – a loud ‘I told you so’ to the miserable cognate that he finally allowed to present.
We will not leave here without them!
Kilgar found himself in the middle of a small combined kitchen/living area – his head pounding both from his on-going mental battle and from the healing process that he hoped his beast had not completely kahrolasd. He reached out to steady himself on the wall as Mysstree’s spiced peppers filled his olfactory once again, and his eyes drifted downward to the sketch at his feet.
Kilgar shakily reached down to pick up the remarkable likeness of himself except …
“Holy gods!” he whispered to himself as he ran his hand up the side of his face – particularly through the deep scar there – and then through his hair, “She really does not see this.”
She has only what the information called ‘duygus sight’ which means she can see strong emotions but no images. Except her mate and his belongings, you esholeshek! Only her animal actually sees as you and I see.
“So, if that is true, she sees the essence of something and not the actual thing itself.”
Hmmmmmmm. Seems, then, she should see you as a large ahmak, and not the yakisik male drawn in that picture, yes?
“Siktir git!” Kilgar cursed under his breath as he folded the paper up – having no uniform and, therefore no pocket, in which to place the picture, “Mysstree?!” he called as he walked toward the only doorway save the one his beast had broken through.
When he entered her chamber room, Kilgar had to catch his breath. There was an actual living Tristana tree growing through the roof! Kilgar had never seen another one here in the Southern Provinces! It was the very kind of tree both he and his beast loved to climb as they were growing up in Tristanin – the kind in which he would hide and lose himself for hurs when he was supposed to be learning some courtier saçmalik to please his parents.
A grin ghosted over his shocked face.
The knick-knacks on the walls were all his or things that had to do with him – his victories, actual items long lost, a program to the competition when they had first claimed the championship title – and, holy gods! the zipkin on which he had learned to spar that his sire had broken and discarded in a punishing rage when it was clear Kilgar would never be the courtier his family wanted him to be. And she had repaired it! The large rug under his wandering feet was sewn from the rare hemp that had been his favorite in his oldest brother’s import/export business – one he could never afford before he had become champion but a desire he had abandoned once he moved to the South with Hondo in his and his beast’s intention to start completely over. Even the cover over the majority of her bed was made from his favorite silken materials long since abandoned for more industrialized forms of mechanically-produced mercantile. His progenitor had had one almost exactly like it on her bed when he was just a young male – before his beast had presented – before the disappointments associated with it.
With them.
I told you before, esholeshek – they are our home.
Kilgar could not help but bend over and lean his face against the material and rub himself against it – it was even more heavenly now that it smelled like her peppers. It was soft and comforting and it was his Mysstree’s …
A low, comforting growl rose up inside of him from the animal with whom he had been at odds since awakening this morning.
They are our mate, Kilgar; we have to find …
“Are you the male she has prepared for her entire life?”
Kilgar startled at the gentle female voice – he could not remember the last time that both he and his beast had been so distracted that another being was able to get close to them without their knowledge.
Even though she only stood in the doorway whereas he was on the other side of the bed.
Kilgar tensed as he raised his head, but his beast completely relaxed after sensing the cowering thaintarr beneath her placid exterior. The female angled her head in question as Kilgar rose and then sat on the bed – angling his nude body away from her in case she was sensitive about those things.
Since when do you care what others think?
Kilgar ignored the beast’s prodding – he had a mate now, and he needed to act accordingly.
His beast rumbled in smug satisfaction.
“Where did she find …?” Kilgar trailed off, his hand indicating the entirety of the room.
The tender female smiled sweetly but almost sadly at him
“Our Mysstree has collected these things over her entire lifetime, beyfendi,” the female’s voice made the demercriere almost purr inside, “That tree, for instance, was but a tiny sapling when my mate helped her dig it up and bring it home,” the female laughed nervously as she looked at Kilgar with guarded eyes, “It has definitely been an adventure with our hediya.” The female chuckled again but did not advance – her hesitancy evident in her tense posture.
“You call her hediya?”
The female sighed heavily as she tried to relax her posture somewhat – she still would not enter the room with him.
“Mysstree was abandoned as a baby, beyfendi. I suppose her real parents did not want the burden of a blind offspring – they probably did not know that her altre would one day be able to see.”
Both Kilgar and his beast bristled at the thought that their mate was anything but perfect in every way – that any progenitor would throw away a life so coldly.
Even though you have not been on board the whole time with our female, heh?
Once again, Kilgar ignored him, choosing instead to continue his conversation with the female who was, apparently, his Mysstree’s adoptive guardian.
“And she can see these things but nothing else?”
The female took another hesitant breath before answering with a question of her own – Kilgar noticed her hands trembling this time as she raised them to fold her arms in front of her.
“Can our Mysstree see you, beyfendi?”
You know, this conversation would be a lot more relaxed if you could simple show aegis to the docile female.
Kilgar quickly stood as if he had been physically prodded to do so – he truly had completely forgotten himself given the over-whelming day they were having – and displayed formal aegis complete with a deep bow.
“My sincerest apologies, hanfendi,” Kilgar stood to his full height again, “I forget myself with the revelations of the day. I am Kilgar Marid, Captain of Prince Hondo Sadid’s Red Guard.”
Balstir’s progenitor visibly relaxed even though some blush crept up into her cheeks as she nodded and smiled sheepishly at his bold state of undress – her eyes diverting to the side and down.
“And, yes, it is without question that your Mysstree is our …” Kilgar trailed off as a glint of deep green liquid oozed down the tree trunk near the ceiling – the torn ceiling, “What the godsfall …?” He stepped to reach up and touch his finger to it and brought it to his mouth and nose.
Chili peppers.
His beast roared inside and Balstir’s mother shrank backwards as Kilgar stepped toward her in panic.
She is kahrolasi bleeding! Find her!
“Where are they, hanfendi?” Kilgar was more panicked that he had probably ever been as he grabbed the female’s shoulders and demanded, “Where is Mysstree?”
Looking as if should would die from fright, the female man
aged to point out the back window and eek out, “Balstir saw Miannmarr run into the woods a little while ago.”
She had not even finished the sentence when Kilgar took two strides beyond her and toward the opening that used to be the front door only for the action to be completed by the huge demercriere at a full run out of it and toward the forest beyond.
Their mate was injured, and she needed them.
Now.
The silence that hung in the cargo bay was anything if not tense. Hondo’s gaze slowly drifted from his brother to the Empress Runa and back again. Runa waited, almost frozen in time as the magenta mist flowed freely out of her large nostrils and danced across the floors. Gods! But she was utterly breathtaking with a radiated power that Hondo could actually feel roll over him. Here was the rightful ruler of their Empire – not his sire.
The thought nearly floored him.
And here stood his Rafal, unmoving himself except for the sawing of his breath in and out of him – his eyes wild with a mixture of anger and of need. If the legends were true – if an Empress truly could read a being’s feelings and know their hearts – then this Runa had to know what her Chiyoto was to Rafal. Even though Hondo was definitely not a mage – no auger or magician – he was Rafal’s brother, and it was perfectly clear to him what Chiyoto meant to Rafal.
She was well and truly his shioliah. This Chiyoto was Rafal’s life – his brother had never acted with the depth of feelings that drove them here today.
Never.
Finally, Rafal spoke.
“I sa-a-aid,” he paused, a small almost taunting grin trying to pull across his lips, “You are a self-absorbed, kichi—”
She interrupted Rafal with a threateningly growl – the intense vibrations from which affected the cargo as well as the two males standing before her. Runa’s eyes flashed with something akin to intrigue – the anger having been depleted quite a bit over the prolonged time during which they had stared at each other.
Hondo found that quite intriguing – it was almost as if Runa and Rafal were beginning to come to terms with one another. He actually found himself smiling inwardly at that thought … and the coming ‘celebration’? Well, that was looking more and more like the Empire was in for a dramatic change indeed …
To Runa, Rafal’s desire and devotion for Chiyoto emanated off of him in waves as the dragoness carefully eyed the beginnings of the Ilişki bond markings on Rafal’s hands and now-bared chest.
He did not shrink away from her – not even in the least. And Runa only hummed in the slightest as she eyed Rafal quizzically. Displayed like this, she could almost see what her Treasure saw in the insufferable male. Physically, he was quite … . hmmmmm … alluring … for a cognate. His ego, on the other hand … well, she had her own list of personality flaws for this Rafal Sadid.
Runa shook her mane in irritation as the hatred she wanted to harbor for the over-bearing male cognate was quickly and inexplicably receding even though she maintained her offensive posture in front of him.
“No-o-o-o,” she chuffed, an almost amused light flickering in those magenta depths, “That we will re-visit later,” Runa lifted her tail to twirl the tip about once again as she pulled back and away from them only in the slightest, “Before that, Prince Sa-a-”
Rafal immediately responded by stepping forward, his voice becoming harsh once again.
“I said that I am no one’s kahrolasi prince, Runa,” his tone more diplomatic but still hard and brokering no argument, “And that includes you, my Empress.”
Runa bristled somewhat at the second time he addressed her as his Empress – the fact that it was meant to be a double entendre not lost on her – but even as she allowed for his taunt, Junko’s words echoed loudly through the dragoness’ memory.
“Remember, proud Runa, he was always only Chiyoto’s Prince and no one else’s.”
“Really? No one’s, Sadid?”
Rafal’s temper cooled even further as he realized that, for some odd reason, this was an extremely important question to Runa.
“I despise the title, Runa, because it ties me to my sire,” he breathed through his logical and truthful explanation, “I allow no one to use it. My trusted Dalis trips up once in a while, but that is because he has been with me since I was an adolescent still at kahrolasi Tristanin,” Rafal seemed to shore up the finality of the answer, “I am the Prime Magistrate of Bohrea Cardinal.”
Runa angled directly into his face again as she chuffed with an almost feigned impatience.
“No other? Your guards?” Runa got a mischievous glint in her eye as she actually raised her brow with the question, “Your consorts, perhaps?”
Rafal laughed his “negotiations only” diplomatic laugh, but the superficial smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
“No one, Runa. Especially not my guards,” Rafal sighed and feigned a chuckle, “And I have made it very clear to my shioliah that I have no consorts.”
Hondo nodded in agreement with Rafal’s statements, although he was not sure he and his input were even of concern to this powerful being at the moment.
Rafal and Runa stared in silence at each other again – Runa’s thoughts once again in the recent past.
“My Prince has wisely ordered your Green Trash cleaned from his …”
Rafal? That first night onboard the ICT, did you not tell Chiyoto that she could call you …
“Her Prince,” Rafal absent-mindedly finished his beast’s thought in a softly-uttered whisper.
Runa’s eyes flared again.
“What Sadid?”
Rafal got a faraway look in his eyes and Runa saw the colors on his chest shimmer just in the slightest.
“I told Chiyoto that I would be her prince if she would have me.”
Quiet words – Oh. So. Quiet.
But Runa clearly remembered them.
Silence reigned as no one spoke after that – it seemed as though Runa even stopped breathing.
And Hondo certainly did – this was nothing like the dominant, commanding Rafal that he knew and loved.
And Runa saw the truth written clearly on the faces of both Sadids.
My Treasure? Chiyoto felt the cover of silence lifted from her restless sleep. There is someone here you need to see.
“That pich, Jaylis, acted apart from you,” Runa’s hard statement was almost a question, but not quite, as the relief that she had not misjudged the arrogant and sometimes irritating male – a male that her Treasure adored with her entire being – flowed over and through her, “You did not order the assassination.”
“Runa? Who is it?” Chiyoto seemed dazed after being awakened so abruptly, but Runa only hummed internally to comfort her.
Arrange your hair and clothing as you would for an important audience, Treasure.
Without answering her Treasure’s questions directly, Runa allowed Rafal’s voice to filter through to Chiyoto’s absence.
“Runa, I would never order an attack on the one who has become my life’s breath,” Rafal spoke determinedly yet softly as he paused to reach out and gently touch Runa’s soft lip covering her sharp teeth, “Believe me, my Empress, without my shioliah, I, myself, am dead.”
An actual chuckle escaped the dragoness’ snout – along with a gentle stream of her magenta mist – as a small shudder traversed over her skin from their point of contact. Yes, Rafal’s touch sent a chill through Runa’s entire body as, for that one brief moment, the newly enthroned Empress of the Bohrean Empire and the incessantly-aggravating male to whom her Treasure’s heart belonged stood at peace.
Runa felt Chiyoto break into tears of joy inside of her at Rafal’s declaration.
Growling low and quite ominously, Empress Runa raised herself back to her towering, upright position with her final words of parting for now as she yielded presence to Chiyoto.
“You hurt
her in the least, Sadid, and I will end you.”
Rafal nodded once and found himself chuckling at the ever-contentious dragoness as she disappeared from sight, and the most beautiful female in the universe – her hair its fitting magenta with a sprinkling of chartreuse this time – appeared before him.
The hydenna stopped – nose to the air and then to the ground – to get a bearing on the correct direction in which to continue when a slight – barely noticeable, actually – rustling pulled its attention to the left up ahead. Silently, the large predator made a large circle so that his approach was upwind from the raised portion of the forest floor whence the noise had emanated and began stepping toward it.
Their hediya had never been very good at the game of stealth-n-recover when they had been young either.
When they were close enough to almost touch the now visibly shivering pile of leaves and underbrush, the hydenna yielded presence to his Balstir so as not to frighten the nestlinger.
Their hediya.
Balstir found himself internally thanking and comforting the overly-concerned hydenna as he positioned himself strategically over the pile and whispered.
“Our recovery, hediya,” Balstir wanted her to feel safe, “Your stealth is compromised.”
But instead of a calm gurgling sound as he used to receive when they would discover her hiding place, Miannmarr squealed a fearful cry and tried to bolt.
But Balstir fell upon the large, white primate before she could rise up to full height and take-off again – her four arms flailing with her two strong back legs pumping and pulling to get away as he tried to calm her.
“Miannmarr stop! It is Balstir, hediya!” Balstir said in a firm whisper as he stood and held her torso firmly to him – he fought with his other hand to subdue her arms, “You are hurt and we need to—”
Miannmarr bellowed again – the sound mournful and terrified.