by Autumn Dawn
“Greetings.” Nikon studied them. In the fiery blush of sunrise, his helmet reflected red. “Rather far from home, aren’t you?”
Kynan kept his peace, waiting.
“I understand your queen has a sudden craving for fruit.”
The implications of that statement were not lost on Kynan’s group. Tersely, Kynan demanded, “Why are you here?”
Slowly, Nikon reached up and removed his helmet. It was the ultimate gesture of vulnerability, and an unmistakable pledge of truth. His blond hair was cropped short, and his green eyes were flat, grim, a perfect match for his stern features. “I may be your enemy, Kynan Kingsfriend, but I am the last man who would poison your women. Steal them, yes. Murder all hope of future generations, no. My men have collected fruit from the Mother Tree for you. I understand time is short? Accept them now, and I will collect on my debt later.”
Kynan eyed him, wondering who his spies were. “You know who loosed the virus.”
“No, but I know you’ve recently taken a wife. Aren’t you eager to bring her medicine? Your time is short, Kynan.” It was a warning.
They needed the medicine. Now was not the time to hesitate, and though Dagon might want his head for it, his sovereign could sort it out later. Kynan had a feeling that Nikon had combed the swamp for at least ten miles and would guard every tree against interlopers. This time, Nikon had won. “Done. I‘ll tell Dagon to expect you.”
He just hoped this costly fruit worked, or Dagon was going to bury him with it.
***
Dagon spent more time on his knees in his grandfather’s chapel than he cared to admit. The small chamber was built of unassuming gray blocks with a small amount of carving around the windows and block that served as an alter. There were no images in the room or glass in the windows, but the austere chamber held majesty for all that. Generations of kings had knelt on stone floor seeking guidance, wisdom and peace, and the walls had absorbed that golden outpouring, radiating an invisible aura of divine reassurance.
Odd how moments like that could make a man turn to the faith of his fathers, Dagon mused. He hadn’t made a habit of coming here, privately believing that God had abandoned his generation. The threat of extinction hadn’t made him bow, but the threat to his new family had humbled him in an instant.
Dagon looked up and contemplated the ceiling. It was hard for a man to admit he couldn’t save the world. Ultimately, that honor rested in his wife’s small hands, and in the forming hands of his daughter. Men might rule the world, but women created life, made it grow within them. Without the womb there was no kingdom to govern, and a king was as useless as the next man.
His knees creaked as he pushed away from the floor. Giving the alter one last nod of respect, he sought out his wife as he had every night since the quarantine, willing to face decontamination every time he left rather than let her sleep alone. In a week, perhaps, they would have the final verdict. Either the virus would have run its course or the Mother Tree would have done its job.
The waiting was killing him.
Kynan had brought back the fruit yesterday, along with news of Nikon’s deal. Dagon had a fair idea of what he would ask, and he wasn’t comfortable with providing it. Unfortunately, he had little choice. Honor demanded he give Nikon the same chance he’d given him.
Vana wasn’t going to like it.
***
“Bottoms up.” Vana couldn’t suppress a grimace as she took a hearty sip of the Mother Tree’s juice, shuddering as it went down. Astringent, with a bitter aftertaste, the liquid had the medics all excited and the women who had to drink it grouchy. It was killing the virus and all signs said that her tiny daughter was thriving on it, but it didn’t make it taste any better.
Kelsa’s image eyed her balefully from the view screen. “You couldn’t have found a medicine that tasted any worse, could you?”
Vana raised her brows and took a deliberate sip, trying not to flinch at the taste. “I don’t know, I think I’m actually getting used to it.”
Pinching her nose, Kelsa waited a minute to kill her taste buds, then took a gulp. Shivering, she demanded nasally, “Couldn’t the cooks add some sugar or something? I feel like I’m drinking straight vinegar—with alum.”
Vana’s mouth twitched in sympathy. “Sugar and cooking kills its active properties. The medics are trying to dehydrate it into pill form. Until then….” She raised her brows in helpless resignation and downed the rest of her drink, grateful it only took a small glass to get the desired effects. On the bright side, the orange tonic had cured her morning sickness.
Grateful to have the morning ritual over with, she waved to the harem on the view screen and turned it off until Kelsa could find a private terminal. She figured the communal juice drinking would make the medicine go down easier, and so far she’d been right. Thanks to a sense of humor she’d fostered about it, they now took it as a rite of passage unique to women, one of those bonding rituals that men could never share, like PMS and childbirth. Of course, so far none of the men were complaining about being left out.
Kelsa’s signal flashed on the consol, and Vana turned on the view screen. Unusually serious, she studied Vana’s face. “Have they found out who gave you the virus yet? I think Kynan knows more than he’s telling me.”
Averting her eyes, for Vana had been warned not to discuss it, especially over the public terminal, she gave the stock answer. “They think it was someone from Nikon’s side.”
“Uh huh.” Kelsa’s brow rose. “I think I have a better idea who it might be.” Smart enough not to say more, she merely watched Vana for clues. “Are they going to get the death penalty? Attempted murder seems intense enough to warrant at least that.”
Vana sucked in her cheeks and fiddled with her water glass. “It’s not up to me. As the injured party, I’m not likely to be called as an impartial judge.”
“What about Dagon? Will he have a say?”
“It’s up to the counsel this time.”
“Is the suspect at least under guard?”
“It’s being handled, Kelsa. We don’t have enough evidence yet to make a formal accusation. You’ll know as soon as everything goes public.” It wasn’t a blessing to know the details of the case, not when Dagon’s mother was the prime suspect.
Dagon hadn’t been surprised at where the direction of the evidence was going. No one knew Ellyn’s moods better, and he’d known that Ellyn wouldn’t take Vana’s public insult at the adoption ceremony lightly. She held a grudge forever, and while she could act in the best interests of their people—helping the women to settle in, initially helping to make Vana queen—she put her personal interests ahead of any political or philanthropic instincts. Her many public indiscretions were just a sample of her willfulness, and she wouldn’t hesitate to ruin Vana’s life, uncaring of what it did to Dagon and their people.
Bringing her to trial would be touchy. Dagon was determined to see her punished to the full extent of the law, but their society was staunchly conservative. He judged the odds of his counsel rendering a strong punishment as slim. It would help that women were no longer so scarce, but Ellyn was a former queen and a revered matriarch. It wasn’t going to be easy to overcome their protective instincts.
“You can’t let her get away with it,” Kelsa said softly, voicing Vana’s thoughts. “She tried to kill your baby.”
Vana took a deep breath. “Let it wait. Hotheaded justice is no justice. She’s going to get what’s coming to her…Dagon will never rest until this is taken care of.”
Sadly, she wondered if Dagon would ever be able to rest afterward, either.
***
“Lighten up, Dagon!” Kynan parried Dagon’s strike with unusual force and disengaged, panting with anger and exertion.
Dagon stared at Kynan before allowing his guard to lower an inch, reluctantly recognizing his burning muscle’s need for air. “Sorry.”
Shooting him a skeptical look, Kynan sheathed his sword. “Tell that to my wife afte
r you explain why my head is no longer attached.” He moved to the side of the room and swiped up his water jug, taking a hearty swig. Sweat trickled down his throat as he brushed his wet bangs off his hair. “Counsel being difficult?”
Dagon looked away, heading for his own drink. “Always. I think I might have them close to seeing sense, though. Exile isn’t the answer, not for attempted genocide.” He kept his face closed, though he wanted nothing more than to destroy something. The mirrored walls of the practice room would do for a start.
Kynan, who knew him better than anyone alive, sent him a slanted look and gestured toward the door. “Come on. You need a session in the steam room, and then we’ll have some lunch.” He waited until Dagon reluctantly fell in line, then canted his head. “Congratulations. I hear the medics are going to release your wife from quarantine in the next couple of days. That should help you burn off some tension, aye?”
A reluctant smile tilted Dagon’s lips. Sleeping was all he’d been able to do with his wife in the last, eternal days, with all the monitors on her every hour of the day. It would be one less stress to be able to lie with her, sleep with her in his arms without having medics hovering in the background.
He’d forgotten how vicious celibacy could be.
It was more than that, though. He missed their quiet moments, the peace of knowing that she was safe at home or in her lab. The thought of her lab had his lips tightening again in anger, but that wasn’t the only thing eating him alive.
Nikon had an appointment with him in five days. Dagon knew what he wanted, and he also knew how women were treated in his society. High priced, sterile prostitutes, servicing those who could pay. Nikon’s people had taken the few of their women that were left and decided they were best “utilized” by sharing among those who could afford it. Differences like that had carved a deep chasm between their people eons ago, and he wasn’t eager to turn helpless women over to be used like whores. Even Nikon’s own mother serviced many men.
That wasn’t the worst of it, though. In the absence of women, Nikon’s men had turned to each other. Though he was careful not to speak publicly about it, it was well known that Nikon opposed it, though it would cost him his kingdom to try to reform it without bringing in more women. Rumor even had it that his rule was a shaky one, growing more difficult by the day. Already he’d weathered several assassination attempts. Guarantees from him under those circumstances would be hard to accept.
There was one card Dagon could play, hopefully one Nikon would recognize. He knew enough of Nikon to realize that he was not like his father or grandfather. He’d been fighting for change in a corrupt system for years now, gathering men around him who felt the same. With a leader like that, a small core of men could hold a line of defense against the whoremongers, though it would mean fighting their entire nation to keep any women Dagon might give him.
If Dagon did authorize his men to steal more women from Earth for Nikon, he would demand that Nikon set himself apart and fight that war if necessary. Nothing less than a blood oath would convince him that Nikon meant to protect his women.
There was, off course, one other thing he could suggest, but he had his doubts that Nikon would go for it. Men born to power were reluctant to give it up, and he couldn’t see Nikon walking away from an empire built on his ancestor’s sweat and blood.
The course of a nation might be decided on their coming interview.
They’d reached the locker room. Shaking off his dark thoughts, Dagon shed his clothes and followed Kynan into the steam room, praying it would help to settle him until he could hold his wife again.
***
“Congratulations, Tzara. There’s no more trace of the virus in your system.”
Vana grinned at the jubilant medic and turned, plastering a big kiss on Dagon’s relieved face. “See? Now the next time I want to stay up late working on a project, you’re going to cheer me on, aren’t you?”
He laughed and pulled her close for a longer kiss. “I’ll move our bed in there if I have to.” Conscious of the celebrating medics, he put his arm around her and escorted her from the room, eager to have her alone. In spite of his desire, though, he grinned proudly at the men and women lining the hallway, cheering and clapping their Tzara’s triumph.
Vana laughed and waved as people threw flower petals, as teary-eyed as some of the grateful men saluting her. Though the women understood what she’d done, none of them felt it to the depths as did the men who’d been saved from extinction. To them, she’d saved their very future, and there would never be a day when she’d lack for reverence and fierce devotion. The fact that she already carried their Tzar’s daughter nearly elevated her the status of saint. Had their society not been so rigidly paternalistically religious and based on a single deity, she might even have been worshiped; their adoration was that strong. Many generations later, she would still be known as the Queen Mother, the salvation of their race.
None of that mattered to Vana just then. All she wanted was Dagon in her arms, and by the dark fire in his eyes, she was going to get her wish with interest.
The moment their door closed behind them, Dagon flattened her against it and devoured her mouth. His hands were everywhere, ripping fabric rather than bother with stubborn fasteners.
“Dagon!” she gasped with surprise, astonished by his haste.
Instead of answering, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her long and deep until she was with him again, as impatient as he. In seconds she was moaning, straining toward him, and he gave her what they both yearned for. Loosening his pants, he parted her legs and took her right there against the door, ignoring the faint rattle of the massive doors against the frame. Her moans only drove him on, and as his knees grew weak with pleasure, he wrapped her legs around him and carried her to toward the bed. They got as far the floor cushions before the heat consumed him. Giving up, he laid her down on the softness and rode her to paradise. Their journey culminated in a burst of white heat that tore cries from both their throats.
Dazed by the pleasure, it was several moments before Vana could stir enough to comment weakly, “Wow. I think you missed me.”
His short laugh shook both their bodies. “What was your first clue?”
Lazily stroking his back, she grinned against his chest as she felt his body rise for another round. “I don’t know. I had a feeling after you shredded my clothes that…oh….” she arched, suddenly uninterested in banter as he flexed inside her.
The second loving was longer, slower, though no less powerful. Halfway through they moved to the bed, and she lay there in the afterglow, drowsy with pleasure. “I think I’m going to have to get sick more often, if this is the welcome home I get.”
Unamused, Dagon sat up. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever do that to me again.”
The anguish on his face made her instantly sorry. Stroking his cheek, she murmured, “I’m sorry, love. Humor helped me to get through this. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Taking a deep breathing, he nodded shortly and lay back down, gathering her tightly to his chest. “It’s been a nightmare, adajah. You’ve no idea—” he swallowed.
Struggling upward against his hold, she was finally able to see his glittering eyes. She cupped his face, kissing his mouth before touching her forehead to his cheek. “Forgive me for worrying you, then, love. I was scared, too.” Hidden from his view, she managed a wobbly smile. “I knew how much I was gambling on that tree.” She winced, reminded of the nasty juice. “I just wish the medicine was easier to swallow.”
He positioned her so he could see her face. “You’ll take it every morning without fail. I’m thinking of making it a law.”
She laughed. “Oh, the women would lynch me for that. Thanks a lot.”
Dagon grunted in reluctant amusement. “They should kiss the ground you walk on. My men will, forever.”
Smiling at the thought of sainthood, Vana snuggled back down and yawned. “That could get embarrassing. Tell them to stick with thr
owing flower petals. On second thought, nix that. The janitors won’t be happy with them, and the gardeners would have my head.” Still mulling over silly thank yous, she closed her eyes and slowly drifted into sleep.
***
Dagon broke the news about Nikon to her after she’d had a few days to relax. He wasn’t happy to see the frown that drew her brows together, but she took it more calmly than he expected.
As so often happened, the discussion took place over a meal, eaten in the privacy of their room. He waited for Vana to relax and recline on the pillows around the low table, but she’d never overcome her culture’s tendency to sit upright during a meal. In lieu of that, he waited until her expression softened into tranquil enjoyment before explaining the situation.
She looked at him thoughtfully as she slowly finished a piece of fruit, seemingly deep in thought. “You’ve obviously put a lot of effort into safeguarding any women you might put in his way. Thank you for that. I wish you’d make it a condition that he defect first, though.”
“I can’t. Such an uncompromising condition might move him to agree, only to later return to his own people out of spite. I can’t force his hand—it must be his choice.“ Surprised by her calm, Dagon studied her, looking for warning signs. “You’re not objecting to bringing more women here. Why?”
She looked aside and took a deep breath. “I don’t like it, I don’t want to see it happen, and I think it’s horrible to barter with women you’ll have to steal first. Unfortunately, I can’t stop you, can I?” She looked at him almost challengingly, anger and fierce strength simmering just under her surface.
He met her gaze, his own implacable. Some things were beyond even her power to change. “No.”
Her jaw set. “So I’ve learned to choose my battles. If I can’t stop you from doing this, I can at least influence you to give the women every chance for a happy life.”
“Like I gave you?” he asked softly, letting her see the deep affection and love in his eyes.