Rebel Prince (The Coalition Rebellion Novels Book 3)

by Justine Davis

  She didn’t care how ridiculous it had sounded. It was a small price to pay for that grin.

  Another explosion, the largest yet, echoed up the mountain. Regretfully, she knew they could no longer stand here and talk of what she most wanted to speak of. And as much as she wished he would not go, she knew he would, so it might as well be now, in the beginning, before the Coalition made it impossible for him to even get there to fight.

  “You must go,” she repeated. “They need you.”

  “And I,” he said slowly, “need you.”

  From this man, it was a stunning admission. Both of his own feelings, and perhaps more importantly, his right to them. It was a small step, but it was a step, and for now it would have to do.

  “I will stay alive, Rina. We have much to discuss, you and I.”

  He grabbed her then. Pulled her hard against him, and kissed her. The heat that exploded between them obliterated, for a moment, even the sound of the attack.

  And then he was gone. Since she had told him to go, feeling so bereft seemed silly, but there it was.

  She took heart from the knowledge that the hero of Galatin would fight again, and the Coalition had a big surprise coming.

  SHAINA THREW out a hand as she skidded to a stop, halting their headlong race down the mountain.

  “There is someone approaching.”

  Lyon came to a halt beside her. “Danger? Or someone fleeing the attack?”

  “I don’t think so.” She didn’t clarify which, so he assumed the no was for both possibilities. She glanced at him. “Check your shiny rock.”

  He grinned at her, suppressing a wince as the action tugged at his sore mouth and nose. He pulled the orb out of his pocket. It appeared as before—cool, with that odd sheen on the surface. No dull, bluish pulse. “It agrees.”

  “But it might be wise to see them before they see us, even so,” she said.

  He agreed, and they stepped off the path and back into the trees, where they could see but not be seen.

  “Be nice to know what the real range is on that thing,” she observed as they crouched behind the low branches of a tall groundsweeper tree.

  “When there is no screen involved? Yes.” He looked down the mountain. A spiral of smoke was visible even above the trees now. They had made rapid progress now that they were going downhill. “We may learn that soon.”

  “If it reacted as it did to one man, it’s going to burn a hole in your pocket before we ever get to Galatin.”

  “I may wish for an off switch, with enemies all around,” he agreed. “We should have a plan. Just wading in without one isn’t going to be much help.”

  Their first instinct had been to hasten back to Galatin, and they had set off at a run. The first thing that occurred to him was to make their way to the Council Building, where the last great battle for Galatin had taken place, but once they got closer, circumstances might dictate differently.

  “Let’s deal with whoever this is first,” she said. “Then we’ll figure out—”

  She broke off suddenly as a figure darted quickly from the cover of one boulder to another, taking care even though the battle was far below.

  “What in Hades?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Lyon answered, his mind racing at this sudden, unexpected appearance. He looked at Shaina, whose brow was furrowed. She shifted her gaze down the path. It appeared empty, not a flicker of movement.

  “Might as well let her know we’re here,” he said.

  Shaina nodded. She lifted two fingers to her lips and let out the piercing whistle that, to his lifetime annoyance, he had never been able to match.

  “You didn’t need to be so loud, I’m right here.”

  Shaina whirled, and Lyon’s head snapped around as a petite female with a short cap of Triotian blonde hair stepped out from behind the large rock barely fifteen feet away.

  “You’ve lost none of your stealth, I see,” Lyon said with a wry grin.

  Shaina, a little to his surprise, ran to her, enveloping the woman they’d thought of as both sister and aunt in a welcoming hug. He supposed it had something to do with the way she’d left things on Trios. He followed, giving Rina a hug of his own. She had ever been there for them, and was the bridge between them and his or Shaina’s parents, on those occasions when one was needed.

  “Did he send you?” Shaina asked.

  “Not exactly,” Rina answered. “He was coming after you himself, but I thought it might be less . . . volatile if I came instead. Your mother agreed. He surrendered.” Rina grinned. “She’s the only one who can consistently beat him at anything.”

  Lyon was glad to see Shaina smiling widely despite it all. He took her hand and squeezed it in support. She looked at him, her gaze lingering for a moment, and that smile curved her lips, that soft, gentle smile that was so unlike the wild, reckless companion he had always known.

  “Well, well,” Rina said, crossing her arms before her as she studied them both. “So it finally happened.”

  Shaina sucked in a breath and lowered her eyes, and Lyon thought he saw a tinge of color in her cheeks. His cool, unflappable Shay, self-conscious?

  “Is it so obvious?” he asked.

  “To one who loves you both and knows you well? Yes.”

  Shaina looked up then. “We have so much to tell you.”

  “I’m sure. But—”

  “There’s a battle on,” Lyon said. “And we need to get there.”

  “Yes. So I suggest we get moving. I don’t know what the status is down there, so we’d better be on watch for Coalition scouts or patrols on the way.”

  “We’ll have warning.”

  Rina glanced at Shaina. “No, even more warning,” she said. “He’s got a fancy rock now.”

  Rina blinked. Shifted her gaze to Lyon.

  “It’s a long story,” he said.

  After a moment she nodded. “And I have one for you as well. But for now, we need to go.”

  There was really no way to talk as they headed down; the path wasn’t really wide enough for two, let alone three. So they focused on a quick pace, and as the explosions from below picked up in intensity and frequency, they picked up speed. They went on and on, covering ground quickly, steadily. Moving at three times the pace they had on the ascent, he thought they just might make it to the bottom by nightfall.

  Which could be either benefit or detriment, he thought leaping to dodge a rock. Darkness would hide them, but make it harder to see what was going on. And now the explosions had lessened, and knowing why became crucial.

  He pondered possibilities as they went, trusting his body to handle the job of getting there. He was feeling the same way he did when his blood was up and he was racing across some forbidding obstacle at home. As if he couldn’t put a foot wrong, and if he did, he would recover, or even convert the misstep into further momentum. Everything was working, and he was starting to feel as if he could run straight down this mountain without pause when Shaina, in the lead, threw up a hand and stopped.

  They skidded to a halt. They had nearly reached the outcropping of rock they had climbed to gain a field of view downward when Mordred—although they hadn’t known then it was him—had been behind them.

  “Someone is here,” she whispered as he and Rina came up beside her.

  This time Lyon checked the orb immediately. It was unchanged. Not an enemy then. He spared a brief moment to wonder how he had come to so trust it after one experience. What if the warning about Mordred had been its last, or its only? What if it only worked inside the screen? What did he know of it? Perhaps it was calibrated somehow, and would warn only of great dangers and pass over lesser ones, such as someone outnumbered three to one. Did it even know they were no longer alone?

  More likely the question should be
are you insane, wondering that about a “fancy rock?”

  Even just thinking the words Shaina teasingly used warmed him. And then something brought him sharply out of his ill-timed musing. A man stepped out from behind that outcropping of rock.

  Lyon stared. He heard Shaina gasp in shock.

  “But you’re supposed to be dead!” she exclaimed.

  Indeed, Lyon thought. But there could be no doubt—he’d seen the pictures, watched the cinefilms too often to mistake him. Without the eye patch, yes, but there was still no doubt.

  “Bright Tarkson,” he breathed, awe echoing in his voice.

  The man looked startled. And, oddly, Rina was looking at them with the same kind of pride she had always shown when they’d done something particularly clever.

  And then she was looking at the man, the hero of Galatin, a man they had never expected to ever see in the flesh.

  “I told you,” Rina said to him.

  Chapter 40

  “WELL, WELL,” SHAINA said, crossing her arms, purposely mimicking Rina’s reaction to them.

  She realized now how obvious it must have been, simply because it was just as obvious here. The electricity between this woman, who was so much a part of their lives, and the man they’d known only from history, the vaunted hero of the siege of Galatin, one of the few men her father and the king spoke of in tones of utter awe and respect, was palpable.

  They had been but small children when her parents—and Rina—had gone to stand with the Arellians, but the memories were vivid still. That Rina had met Tark—he was so famous on Trios only the one name was necessary—during the Battle of Galatin years ago was well known. Shaina herself, along with Lyon, had grown up hearing tales of his courage, his fierceness, his brilliant tactics. Tales told with sadness at his heroic death, still and ever fighting.

  But Shaina had never realized that for Rina it might have been more than that.

  So was this what had been behind that touch of sadness she had always sensed in Rina? Had she found her one true mate and then thought him lost to her forever? And since he was obviously not, as they all had thought, dead, why had he not communicated with her? How had she found him now?

  She shook her head sharply; she was starting to sound like Lyon, ever questioning, analyzing. Maybe what had erupted to life between them had simply made her overaware of such things. Or curious about things she had always put off wondering about.

  “So you’re the one,” Lyon said. “I always knew there was someone she was missing.”

  Tarkson looked oddly uncomfortable. Which made no sense to her. The man had faced down horrific odds and won, why would he be—

  “Why did you let everyone think you dead?” she demanded. “Why did you let Rina think you dead?”

  “Shaina, he had his reasons, now—”

  “I know, I know.” She glanced at the woman she loved as if she were blood. “He’s the Hero of Galatin and I should be polite, but when have I ever been when someone I love is hurting?”

  “Never,” Lyon said in that mild tone that always somehow soothed her. “You hold nothing back when it is someone you love.”

  She wasn’t sure he’d intended it, but images of that precious, golden time in the sun swept through her mind in a rush. It was so powerful she could almost feel it all again, their bodies joined, the joy flooding her and wiping away any lingering resistance to the destiny of it with the sweet knowledge this was right, meant, and as it should be.

  “I—” Tark’s voice broke slightly as he spoke for the first time. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I am glad she had you.”

  “I love you both, but this is not the time,” Rina said. “Hold it until we are all home again.”

  So, he was coming home with her, Shaina thought. Or at least, Rina thought he was; she had caught a flicker in his visible eye that made her think he wasn’t quite sure. She sized him up anew, this time not as the historic figure she’d learned so much of, or even as the man her father had such admiration for, but as the man Rina obviously loved.

  She could certainly see why. He was the kind of man who would stand out in any throng. His hair was as dark as Lyon’s was golden, as dark as her father’s even, although shorter. He was as tall as Lyon, and despite being noticeably older, was as lean, and looked even tougher. Or rougher. His unshaven jaw was strong, his gaze steady. The eye patch detracted little, in her view. In fact, it added to the air of toughness, made it clear this was a man who would let nothing short of death stop him.

  She was sorry he had been so damaged, but that he had survived it spoke to her of strength and courage. And made the stories about him even more believable. Bright Tarkson, the hero of Galatin, here in the flesh. This was truly becoming a memorable trek.

  “I didn’t expect to catch up to you,” Rina said to Tark then.

  “This is a good spot to do some reconnaissance,” he said. “The city is masked from here down. And the first wave appears to have ebbed.”

  “Knowing them, the first demand for surrender has already been made,” Rina said. “What have you seen?”

  “It appears they have not changed their tactics. Starting with lots of firepower from their ships to soften things up. I don’t think they’ll dare send fighters, not over Galatin itself, they know of our defenses.”

  “And then wave after wave on foot?” Rina asked. “As before?”

  “That would be my guess.”

  “Where will they put them on the ground?” Lyon asked.

  Tark turned his head. “There are a few possibilities . . . Your Highness.”

  Lyon quickly shook his head. “I require no such address from the hero of Galatin,” he said firmly. “Call me Lyon.”

  Again Shaina saw surprise in the man’s expression. And somehow sensed it was at more than Lyon’s unpretentious request. Belatedly she realized she had dispensed with all proprieties when she’d blurted out her earlier question.

  “I,” Shaina said with a wide smile, “am just Shaina.”

  Tark shifted his gaze to her. And somehow it softened, although it seemed hard to credit in such a strong face. “You are very like him,” he said quietly.

  However she felt about her father just now didn’t matter. Not in front of this man. Not when he spoke with such admiration and respect. “To my pride, and occasional dismay,” she said.

  Tark smiled. It changed his entire appearance, and she saw in that moment the dashing, bold warrior Rina must have known all those years ago. She felt Rina’s look, and gave a one-shoulder shrug. Her anger at her father seemed rather pointless now. As perhaps it had been all along.

  “He deserves nothing less,” Tark said. And she saw in his expression a touch of humor, and knew that he meant the dismay as well as the pride.

  “Indeed he does,” she said wryly.

  Lyon had been watching them, smiling. But now he scanned the sky. “They’re staying safely distant. No sign of small fighters in the air.”

  Tark nodded. “I’m sure they haven’t forgotten we have fusion cannons protecting the city, thanks to your father.” His mouth twisted. “Although I doubt they’ve been manned in some time. We can only hope someone in Galatin still knows how to use them.”

  Shaina looked at him curiously. “You don’t know?”

  “I . . . have been out of the city for a long time.”

  Something flashed between he and Rina, and Shaina saw both pain and a touch of anger in Rina’s face. There was obviously more to this, but she doubted they would discuss it now.

  “What is the status, in the city?” Lyon asked. “Are they prepared?”

  “Some few are. Most are not. They would rather believe this day would never come.”

  “Did they have no sign this was coming? Enough Coalition ships for a planetary attack would be hard
not to notice,” Shaina said.

  “Unless you were determined not to,” Rina said, her tone sour. “Most of Arellia seemed focused entirely on this party that’s been going on for days now.”

  “I’m surprised they didn’t hold until the anniversary,” Lyon said. “They care so much for symbolism.”

  “We believe that was the original plan,” Tark said with a nod, and Shaina thought she saw approval in his gaze. But not surprise. He looked like a man whose expectations had been met.

  My Lyon will exceed them, sir, you will see.

  Even in her thoughts she accorded him the esteem he deserved, so often had she heard her father speak of him with respect, and sadness at his death.

  “Does my father know you are alive?” she asked suddenly.

  Tark blinked at the sudden, unconnected question.

  “He knows,” Rina said softly.

  “Good,” Shaina said. “It will gladden him.”

  Tark lowered his gaze, as if even this embarrassed him. Rina smiled at her. “Why did they change to today?” she asked.

  Tark looked at her once more. “We think because they realized that if we spotted them, we would expect it that day.” He let out a disgusted sigh. He looked down the mountain toward the spirals of smoke, fading in the wind, now, in this lull. “They give us too much credit. Had they known how ill-prepared Arellia would be, they would have sent a smaller force sooner and still won.”

  Lyon frowned. “Did your people think they were gone forever?”

  When Tark did not speak, or even look at them, Rina explained quickly. The evidence ignored, the resistance to the idea, and to the people who tried to sound the warning. Including, Shaina guessed, Tark. How could they have ignored this man, of all men?

  “Do you think they are attacking elsewhere, other planets in the sector as well?”

  “It would not surprise me,” he said, turning back to them. “They have been gone for a long time, enough time to rebuild and advance their weapons and ships and other capabilities.”