Coalition 02.5 - The Kingbird

by Justine Davis

  “You are,” he said quietly, “a queen worthy of Trios.”

  She knew that from him there was no higher praise, and she leaned into him in silent thanks.

  Dax’s faith in Rina proved well-placed, although even he drew back a fraction when the girl slid them past an outcropping of rock that seemed to loom far too close to the front viewport. The ship was indeed quick, and before Shaylah had time to marvel at the speed with which they were traversing the narrow canyon, they burst into free air above a deep, crystal clear lake ringed by fields of undamaged Triotian grass and tall, regal trees.

  Dax whooped. Dare muttered something about next time coming in like a sane person, from above and not through the canyon. Shaylah’s chest tightened with the certainty that this had been the perfect thing to do.

  Rina pulled back from the station and grinned, clearly exhilarated.

  “Controls to you, cap’n,” she said, pride echoing in her voice, and for the moment, the shadow was gone.

  “I have the controls,” Dax answered.

  True to his promise he went for land first. The new Evening Star flared, pivoted—he was seeing that she was ready to take off headed the right direction if that emergency should arise, Shaylah realized—and then began to lower. Dax set the ship down so precisely and lightly in the field in front of the lodge that it took a moment for Shaylah’s sense of motion to assure her they had indeed landed.

  Before he’d shut down the engines the children were on their feet, heading for the door. Dax grinned at them and hit the lever that released the hatch. With a smooth whoosh, the door opened and lowered. Lyon and Shaina were outside before it touched ground, leaping clear and rolling in the thick grass with delight. Rina followed, jumping herself even though the ramp was down by then. The laughter of all three of them echoed across the clearing as they headed for the lake to test the water.

  “They do know there’s not a screen to be had here, nor holo-projectors?” Dax said.

  “They do,” Dare said. “My father held this place for respite from that, as well as the demands of his position.”

  “And respite we shall have,” Shaylah said, looking at her mate as he watched the children, a slow, warm smile curving his lips.

  “You are ever the wisest,” Califa said to Shaylah as she looked from Dare to the three who seemed of an age now. “And in present company,” she added, glancing back at Dare again, “that is saying a great deal.”

  Shaylah’s chest tightened again. Let us have this moment, she thought. Just this moment, without shadow, without fear. Let it pass with no urgent call to return, no signal of imminent attack. Let us have this and we shall have the heart to go on, to keep this beautiful world safe, to rebuild her, repair her, and turn her once more into the jewel of a galaxy.

  * * *

  “I THANK YOU, my queen.”

  Dax dropped down on the grass beside her as she watched the children and Rina, and even Califa, splash gleefully in the crystal clear, sun-warmed water of the shallows as Dare stood in the warm sun and watched with obvious enjoyment.

  “It was a good idea, wasn’t it?” she said, ignoring his teasing form of address.

  “It was indeed. But that is not what I offer thanks for. It is a rare ruler who would bow to a skypirate.”

  She turned to look at him then. His eyes, soft jade compared to Dare’s vivid green, were fixed on her. “I saluted you, Dax. Skypirate, flashbow warrior, my best friend’s mate ... and the man who saw what someone he loves needed, and provided it. I’ve never given you anything you haven’t earned.”

  “I would argue that,” he said, his mouth quirking into a wry smile. “But I’ve never forgotten and never will that it was you who turned the tide long ago, when my life was in the balance. It was you who first rose and stood beside us that day.”

  “You have repaid me many times over, by saving the soul of my dearest friend, who I feared forever lost to me.”

  Dax’s gaze shifted to the lake, and she saw by the change in his expression when he had focused on his mate. “It was my soul that was saved.”

  “That you both came home to us is one of the greatest miracles Trios will ever know.”

  From the lake, Califa let out a joyous burst of laughter as she helped Rina, Lyon, and Shaina stack themselves up foot on shoulder, and then dodged as they toppled into the water with squeals of silly delight.

  “I think I shall have to build that pool I’ve been thinking about,” Dax said.

  Shaylah knew what he meant. It wasn’t simply for the children or play, but that Califa’s leg troubled her little in water, and she could swim as well as ever, with no sign of the old injury that sometimes made her limp no matter how hard she worked to keep it strong.

  “I know just the spot,” she said. “On the south side of the palace, along the wall. It would get the heat of the sun most of the day, and with the palace wall right there, it would stay warmer longer.”

  “Perfect,” Dax agreed. “If the royal family will allow it, of course.”

  “On one condition,” she said, putting on her most queenly air. “The Defense Minister—or his reckless daughter—must not look upon it as an opportunity to see if it’s possible to jump from the ramparts into the pool.”

  Dax drew back in mock horror. “Are you saying I’m a bad influence?”

  “I’m saying she’s her father’s daughter.”

  Dax’s expression changed abruptly. All amusement vanished. And when he spoke, his voice was as dark, as shadowed as she’d ever heard from him. “And because of that, her future will never be what I’d hoped for her.”

  This wasn’t the first time she had sensed some darkness in him when it came to his little girl. But before she could probe further Dare joined them, prompting Califa to abandon the cool waters to the youngsters and Rina.

  The four of them sat in companionable silence, watching their family. Shaylah sat quietly, enjoying the novelty of the king and the flashbow warrior stretched out barefoot in the sun.

  Finally even Rina gave up on the energetic horseplay and left the water to join them, as Lyon and Shaina began a competition.

  “I’m getting old,” she said in an exaggerated whine.

  “You’re Triotian,” Dax retorted. “Talk to me in another century or two.”

  Rina laughed and settled down into the grass. Like many Triotians, she automatically reached out to pass her fingers over the thick, living carpet. Shaylah saw the movement, and remembered Wolf’s reaction when she’d first brought him home and they’d come across a patch of the stuff. It had been her first true inkling of how much every element of this remarkable planet meant to him.

  Lyon let out a whoop as he won the short race out to the large rock several yards off shore.

  “It’s good to see him play,” Dare said softly. “He’s so serious most of the time.”

  “It’s his nature,” Shaylah said.

  “And he feels the weight,” Califa added.

  “The weight?” Dax asked.

  “Of his future.”

  Shaylah saw something flicker in Dax’s eyes again, the same thing she’d seen earlier when he’d spoken of Shaina’s future. But he looked away, out toward the children, and the moment passed.

  “Do you ever think about ... the predictions? That they are destined to be bonded mates?” Rina asked, staring at the pair. When silence met her, she shifted her gaze back to them. “I know, we’re not supposed to talk about it when they’re around, but they’re far enough away.”

  “It would be a good match, I think,” Dax said.

  “Just what I was thinking,” Rina agreed. “A perfect balance. Shaina, so brave and clever and reckless, and Lyon so brave and wise and thoughtful.”

  “But we agreed we would have no one push them toward it. If it is to be, it will happen on its own,” Califa said.

  “I do think about it,” Shaylah said, “but only in the sense that were it to happen, our families would be bound forever, and I like that.”<
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  Califa smiled. “As do I.”

  “We are already bound forever,” Dare said. “You do not come so close to losing everything and everyone who matters and not bind them to you as closely as possible when you regain them.”

  A moment of solemn silence reigned before Dax broke it. “And that wisdom is why you’re the king, and the rest of us merely your humble servants,” he said with a grin and a mock bow.

  “Humble? You?” Dare laughed, a full, deep-throated laugh. “The man who practically set off pyroflares the one time you beat me”—he gestured at the rock the children were swimming back from now—”in that race when we were children?”

  “One time? I beat you three times!”

  “Your memory is as warped as your instinct for self-preservation.”

  “If your royalness will recall, I only let you win that first time because it was your birthday.”

  “And I you on yours, so those don’t count. And you only won that last trip because you ignored my father calling us back.”

  Dax looked vaguely uncomfortable at that. “He did say he wasn’t the king on that trip. But I would have won anyway.”

  “Keep believing that if you must.”

  “Truth,” Dax said. “I’ll prove it.”

  Dare eyed his brother in all but blood warily. “Oh?”

  Dax leapt up, grinning. “Race you,” he said.

  Dare was on his feet in an instant. He yanked his shirt over his head as Dax did the same. Not for the first time she thought of the difference between them, Dare’s scars, other than the ones at his wrists and ankles from long ago chains, were buried more deeply. Dax’s were visible; he had been wounded more than once in his career as the skypirate who had terrorized the Coalition, and the thin, criss-crossing lines on his back were mute testimony to what he’d gone through, what he’d risked.

  She glanced at Rina, knowing the reminder those scars were. He had taken that flogging for her, putting himself, albeit in disguise, in enemy hands in an effort to find out what had happened to her mother. He had not only learned she had been murdered by the Coalition long ago, but had nearly ended up dead himself. All for a child he barely knew anything about, except that she was Triotian.

  He would do the same for any of them, she thought. As would Dare. And Rina, Califa, she herself.

  She laughed as the two men, for this moment in time back to the children they had been, challenging each other constantly, raced into the water. Lyon and Shaina had reached the shore, and now stood there staring at their fathers, looking more than a little startled.

  “It is worth more than any gold to see them like this,” Califa said.

  Shaylah looked at her old colleague, fellow officer. “Yes,” she agreed.

  “Right now war and the Coalition are the last things on their minds,” Rina said. “And the children’s, too.”

  “They do carry such weight,” Shaylah said, thinking of Califa’s words. “It cannot be easy, being the children of two such men, living legends as they say.”

  “Not to mention their mothers,” Rina said pointedly.

  Shaylah laughed.

  “It is good to see you laugh as well,” Califa said. “Being queen becomes you, but it is a heavy burden.”

  “Today,” Shaylah said, “I am not a queen, nor Dare a king. It will all be there when we return, and we will begin again, but for today ... let’s just be this family.”

  “Agreed,” Califa and Rina said simultaneously. They all three laughed.

  The race was a tie.

  * * *

  “THEY NEVER RUN out of energy, do they?” Dax’s tone was dry as they scrambled up over a pile of rocks that was partially blocking the trail. So much, he thought, for a restful afternoon.

  “Would that we could borrow some of it on occasion,” Dare agreed.

  Shaina and Lyon ran ahead, as usual. Warnings to stay within sight were heeded for a short while each time, but then something would catch their eager attention and they’d be off again, leaving their fathers to catch up.

  “I think our mates were wise to stay behind,” Dax muttered as he spotted the two scamps up ahead.

  “They deal with it enough at home. More than we do.”

  “Yes.” Dax grinned. “For a fighter pilot and a tactical genius, they make very good mothers.”

  They were long past the stage where references to their lives before were uncomfortable. Dare only smiled; that smile that always showed when he thought of his mate.

  “Did you ever think we’d wind up like this, chasing two little rapscallions through the mountains?” Dax asked.

  “I never dared hope,” Dare said quietly. “Especially after ... Brielle.”

  Dax looked at his king. He rarely spoke the name, except on her birthday, when tradition ordained a memorial tribute. They had only once spoken of it, when Dare had rather coldly told him what had happened. Dax knew him well enough to know the coldness was the only way he could get the words out.

  “I loved her, Dax,” he said quietly. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do,” he said.

  “I still think of her, though I do not speak of it.”

  “As do I. She was my sister. She ever will be.”

  “I know.”

  Dax studied Dare’s face for a moment. “I do not hold it to your account, Dare. You did what she wanted. What you had to do. She would have died anyway, and in a much more painful, ugly, horrible way, at the hands of masters of brutality.”

  “Yes. But she was my bonded mate, to be the mother of my children. It pains me still.”

  Dax felt the old, familiar pang. He’d long ago stopped trying to quash it. Rina had taught him that.

  “Rina told me once, when I found her weeping in her quarters, that the pain was the only thing that made her parents still seem real to her. Funny how children can teach us things.”

  Dare went quiet as they caught up once more, only to have Shaina and Lyon spot something else and dash off to investigate.

  “For a long time I had thought I would never be able to father a child,” he said after a moment.

  Dax stopped mid-stride. He turned and looked at his oldest and closest friend. “What?”

  “The Coalition ... took steps. It would have been inconvenient for them if their slaves were capable of breeding.”

  Dax’s breath caught. “They ... did something to you? You never told me.”

  “Not something I wished to trumpet. And as it turned out”—he glanced at the boy ahead of them, now carefully inspecting yet another rock fall—”my worry was needless.”

  Dax followed his glance. “Yes. It was. He’s an amazing boy, Dare.”

  “Yes.”

  “He will be an amazing leader, when the time comes.”

  Dax knew that Dare was ever conscious of the burden his son would one day bear and how determined he was that the boy would have the tools he needed. Yet at the same time he wished for him to have some bit of carefree childhood, as much as could be managed in a time of war and constant vigilance. It was a fine balance, but the proof of success was just ahead of them, in the boy who showed every evidence he would become as fine a king as his father now was. Already he had the clever mind and the ability and willingness to learn. Most of all he had his father’s strength of character; the strength that had enabled him to survive where most had not.

  “Yes, he will be,” Dare said. Then with a wry expression, added, “But I hope to put that off for some time.”

  Dax laughed. “You’re good for another century or so. Longer, if your genes run true.”

  “A much more pleasant prospect, now that we know our mates will be beside us,” Dare said.

  “Bless Larcos for figuring that out. Until he found that link to the water, I thought it was just coincidence that outworlders live longer here.”

  Dax knew both of them had made peace with the fact that Triotians lived longer than Arellians. They’d had to. They’d lived with the certainty—they
thought—that if they survived the constant battles with the Coalition, one day they would have to survive without the women who had made the fight worth it. But the few outworlders here showed no signs of aging at what would be their normal rate on their home worlds. Including Shaylah and Califa.

  It had been a mystery until the former medical officer from Dax’s crew had linked the gifted longevity with the water supply—a secret no one other than Larcos and the four of them knew. There was, Dare had decreed almost immediately, no point in giving the Coalition yet another reason to come back to Trios in full force. Every outworlder was already getting the benefits anyway.