Rebel Princess

by Bancroft, Blair

  From under her eyelashes Kass glanced at the man she had loved for so long, at the strength of his face, the determined set to his jaw. And finally she fully understood his sacrifice. For her, Tal Rigel had given up the world he grew up in, its comforts, privileges, and advancements. And at last she was taking the final step in doing the same, giving up her right to be Psyclid’s ParaPrime and queen.

  With every word Jalaine intoned, she and Tal were moving into a world of their own making. An uncertain world . . . yet Kass’s heart was warm, her soul sang.

  “Talryn Joffre, will you have this woman to be your wife, to love and cherish through good and ill, through joy, pain, and the everyday trials of life . . .”

  “L’ira Faelle, will you have this man to be your husband, to love and cherish . . . as long as you both shall live?”

  “I will.”

  Jalaine lifted their clasped hands, enclosing them in hers. “Then may the goddess bless you and Omnovah look favorably upon you both. Go forth as husband and wife, being kind to each other, and doing good for others as the responsibilities of your position demand.”

  Kass caught an appreciative gleam in Tal’s eyes as he recognized that her mother was improvising a bit on the traditional Psyclid wedding ceremony.

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  Now there was a part of the ancient ritual that was never omitted! Kass’s amusement was cut short as Tal pulled her to her feet, wrapped her in his arms, and soundly kissed her to the accompaniment of general chuckles and applause, punctuated by a squeal of joy from M’lani.

  “Might I remind you that we’re in the midst of the enemy,” Jagan drawled, at his most acerbic. “We don’t need guards pounding on the door, wondering about the party in here.”

  And just like that, Tal Rigel transformed into S’sorrokan. She should be used to it by now, but . . .

  “Our apologies,” he was saying to Ryal and Jalaine, “but we’ve stayed far longer than planned. Do you then agree to Mondragon’s plan to organize Psyclid’s talents?”

  King Ryal frowned. “I still have grave reservations, but”—he glanced at his queen, a silent communication passing between them—“neither we nor our people wish to continue living as prisoners in our own homes. Therefore, as much as it worries us, we accept Jagan’s plan as the only apparent means by which we may be ourselves again. Living the Psyclid way, in peace and bothering no one.”

  “Papa?”

  “Speak, L’ira.”

  “You should know that Jagan, K’kadi, and I have already used our skills in combat. They have proved most effective. They are, in fact, the only reason we are here. K’kadi keeps our shuttle invisible, I brought us over the wall, while Jagan allows us to walk the palace and grounds undetected.”

  Ryal’s blue-green eyes flashed. His benign features turned grim. “You have brought K’kadi into your rebellion?”

  “He brought himself, sir,” Tal interjected. “He serves well and with enthusiasm.”

  “He has killed?” If her father were a dragon, Kass thought, he’d be snorting fire.

  “No, sir, but I have,” she told him. “Rebellions are not bloodless.”

  Jalaine gasped, Ryal turned his face away.

  Jagan’s voice cut through the sudden silence. “And more will die before Psyclid is free, both Regs and our own. It is the price we must pay.”

  “My goal is to find a compromise,” Tal said, standing tall, every inch the rebel leader. Kass’s heart, already bubbling with love, brimmed over. “A way between a peace so complete a country cannot defend itself and a militant form of government that lives only to conquer. I will do this. But I need the help of Psyclid’s hidden assets to do it. When we take back Psyclid, the battle will only have just begun. I will need Psyclid’s special talents for years to come.”

  “All my children,” Ryal said hoarsely. “While my queen and I live in comfort and dine on delicacies, you risk them all.”

  “Not M’lani,” Kass countered.

  “Yes, M’lani!” her sister declared. “You don’t think Papa’s going to let Jagan loose on the populace without someone in the family to keep an eye on him.”

  Fizzet! How could she have been so blind? Of course M’lani’s offer to wed Jagan would include her being set to keep him in line. Kass wasn’t sure which one she felt most sorry for. M’lani would pay a high price for taking on the responsibilities her sister had just given up.

  “We need to go,” Tal urged. To Ryal and Jalaine, he added, “You may expect Mondragon’s return as soon as we’ve finalized the plan.” He bowed, only to find his father-in-law’s hand outstretched. Kass sighed. They were doing it again, exchanging one of those superior, knowing male looks as they shook hands. Reality struck. Dear goddess, what had she done? She’d always thought to come home one day, that all this would be hers.

  An ancient and honored text popped into her mind. Whither thou goest . . .

  Tal and Kass. As long as they both should live.

  This was it, then. Good-bye. But surely not for another eight years . . .

  Kass threw herself into a hug with her mother, then M’lani. Her father. Fiercely, Ryal hugged her back. Gently, but firmly, Tal drew her away. They were leaving. Don’t think. Do your job, don’t think. Anton and Joss took up their positions at each end of the line, and the five of them were into the passage, Jagan’s shield closing around them.

  Back through a maze of corridors, up and over the wall, across the short open space to the woods. Not so much as a murmur from the guards or a squeal from the ring of electronic sensors. Kass allowed herself a small smile of triumph as they entered the shelter of the forest’s dense foliage. No matter her churning personal emotions, they’d done it. They’d penetrated Regulon security without so much as a single glitch. And accomplished so much more than she’d anticipated. Great goddess, she was married! And no longer the Princess Royal.

  She felt the loss, she wouldn’t deny it. But what she’d gained was so much more. She hoped Tal knew that—

  A hiss, an abrupt hand signal from Jagan stopped all five in their tracks. Kass’s wandering thoughts thudded back to reality. If she hadn’t let her mind wander, she would have felt it when Jagan did. Power. All around them. Psyclid power, bless the goddess, not the click of P-11s going hot, but there was no doubt they were no longer alone.

  Chapter 37

  “Show yourselves,” Jagan said softly, keeping his head high, their invisibility cloak firmly in place.

  “What’s going on?” Tal whispered in Kass’s ear. She shushed him with a wave of her hand.

  “Anton, Joss, keep your weapons down,” Kass ordered softly. “Don’t even look menacing.” As if that were possible! “We’re surrounded, but by our own people. I’m assuming they’re friendly, but at the moment there’s no way to tell. And I think some among them can see us.”

  A dark shadow on the path in front of them coalesced into a tall, virile Psyclid of middle years, his image slightly distorted by Jagan’s shield. His confident stance and sharp eyes set deep in a rugged face proclaimed him a leader, even in the dim light of only one moon and the ambient glow from the palace. He was, Kass thought, a man physically and psychically powerful enough to face an empty path and know cloaked figures stood before him.

  “And you may show yourselves,” the stranger replied. “I would see if my experts are right when they tell me only the Sorcerer Prime is gifted enough to break into the palace under the Regs’ noses.”

  “Name yourself,” Jagan ordered

  “T’kal Killiri, commander of Crystal City resistance.” Proud. Defiant. “My men surround us. It is safe to uncloak.”

  Kass felt the sharp stab of Jagan’s surprise. And a surge of pride in her countrymen. No waiting for the Sorcerer Prime to come back and save them. They’d organized on their own.

  “Rifles down!” Kass reenforced her earlier order as Jagan dropped the shield and they faced T’kal Killiri without distortion. Evidently, the Psyclid rebels took
her orders more seriously than the marines. She heard two thuds as the P-11s hit the ground, leaving Anton and Joss emptyhanded. A softer clatter as the marines’ Steg-9s followed, Tal’s as well. So-o . . . the gift of telekinesis was not as uncommon as she had thought. A low growl of protest from Anton. Beside her, Tal was maintaining his customary cool façade.

  Killiri dropped to his knees before Kass, revealing a long riot of curly brown hair tied at his nape and flowing down his back. “Highness,” he murmured. “We felt the Sorcerer Prime but were not certain you were with him. You have been gone too long.”

  Kass held out her hand. Killiri kissed it. “Too long,” she agreed. But this was no time for sentiment. She might no longer be heir to the Psyclid throne, but she was still the elder daughter of a king. “Now explain to me,” she ordered, “how you knew we were here.”

  The local rebel leader rose to his feet. “With respect, Highness, I cannot reply until you explain what you are doing here with three armed Regs.”

  Kass studied her toes while sending a message to Jagan. Is he for real?

  Yes.

  Then she would have to chance the truth. Ignoring a surge of warning from Tal, she asked, “Have you heard of the rebel leader S’sorrokan?”

  Killiri narrowed his eyes, obviously puzzling over such an odd question. “Highness, everyone has heard of S’sorrokan.”

  “Then offer your hand to the Reg standing next to me. You will able to say you shook hands with S’sorrokan.”

  Kass felt not only Killiri’s surprise but the waves of shock echoing out of the woods around them. The Psyclids had felt the Sorcerer Prime, suspected Princess L’ira was with him, might even have known Regs were with them, but S’sorrokan was a surprise beyond their wildest speculations.

  The two men shook hands as a host of shadows moved out of the trees, materializing into a solid ring of men and women, all of them staring unabashedly at the remarkable combination of Princess L’ira, Psyclid’s Sorcerer Prime, and the rebel leader S’sorrokan.

  “We are here not only for a family reunion,” Kass said, speaking loudly enough for all to hear. “We came to request royal permission for the Sorcerer Prime to organize Psyclid talents into a cohesive force.”

  A sibilant whoosh of shock from the members of Crystal City’s resistance. Even T’kal Killiri took a step back. “The king would allow enlasé?” he inquired hoarsely.

  “Do not tell me you haven’t tried it,” Jagan inserted. “It is clearly the best weapon we have.”

  “A bit of experimentation is one thing,” Killiri returned defiantly. “Mass joining of talents is another. A dangerous other. That is why it is forbidden.”

  Jagan stood tall, power radiating from every pore. “It is the only way we can be free, and I promise I can control it. Ryal and Jalaine agree, which is why enlasé is no longer forbidden.

  Killiri crossed his arms over his chest. “And when does this insanity begin?”

  “When I—”

  Tal cut Jagan off. “The Sorcerer Prime and I must coordinate our plans. He will return when we have worked out an approach which he has convinced me will work.”

  Killiri nodded, if reluctantly, but Kass was left unsatisfied. “You still have not answered my original question. Are you implying, T’kal Killiri, that your psychic gift is strong enough that you were able to penetrate a shield set by the Sorcerer Prime? Frankly, I find this hard to believe.”

  The resistance leader nodded, approving the validity of Kass’s question. “You are right, Highness. We have some powerful psychics among us, but none who could penetrate the sorcerer’s cloak at a distance. If there had not been an—ah—incident, we would never have known you were here.”

  Incident. Kass closed her eyes, drew a deep breath. Dear goddess, it had to be K’kadi.

  “Tell us about this incident,” Tal ordered. At the moment he was unsure what annoyed him most. Being ignored for most of this confrontation of Psyclid factions, or having Kass, his wife, present him as S’sorrokan to a band of complete strangers in the midst of occupied territory. Then again, he wasn’t pleased to see Reg weapons scattered on the ground at his feet. And now an incident. Fyd!

  “I’m waiting, Killiri. Explain.”

  The Psyclid resistance leader shifted his booted feet, his stance diminishing to a less defiant pose. “You may not be aware, honored Captain,” he replied after an apologetic glance at Kass for allowing S’sorrokan to seize the moment, “that at night our parks are the haunts of young lovers out for a stroll or perhaps running off an excess of exuberance.”

  “Among other things,” Jagan muttered.

  “Indeed, Sorcerer Prime, but in this case it was an overabundance of high spirits. The young lovers ran straight into the side of your shuttle.”

  Kass gasped and grabbed Tal’s arm. “Tell me they weren’t hurt!”

  “The young man was considerably staggered,” Killiri continued, “but the young woman was even less fortunate. She fell unconscious, for no visible reason, in the middle of an empty clearing.”

  “And?” Tal prompted, suddenly grateful they were surrounded by Psyclids, not Regulon troops.

  “The young wizard aboard the shuttle evidently felt the disaster and was so upset he lost control of his illusion. The shuttle popped into view.”

  “Oh, no!” Kass’s fingers bit into Tal’s arm. Mondragon swore, and Tal thought he caught an inadvertent groan from the ever stoic marines.

  “Continue!” he snapped. “Give us the whole, Killiri, not just a tidbit or two.”

  “The boy came racing out of the shuttle, with two Regs chasing after him.” Kass’s head dropped even farther. “There was, I believe, some heated discussion, with the Regs—ah—rebels, I understand. The Regs insisted the couple stay on the ship until your group returned, while your young man and the young lady’s companion insisted she be taken to a medical facility immediately.”

  Tal drew a deep breath, blew it out slowly. This wasn’t the moment to lose his temper, no matter how much he was tempted. “And then?”

  “A number of people—fortunately Psyclids all—had gathered by this time and someone had the sense to send for me. Equally fortunately, the young lady recovered, your young wizard restored the cloak, and since no one wished to disrupt a rebel operation, all was well.”

  “I need to know how you found our group. My men would never talk.”

  “You, like all of your kind, underestimate our talents, Captain. One of our people plucked it from the young man’s mind before I got here. One even insisted she felt the presence of the Princess Royal and the Sorcerer Prime, though at the time we thought her meshug.”

  Fyd! “Then you are aware,” Tal offered slowly, “that you hold the rebellion in your hands.”

  “I am.” Silence enveloped them. Tal tried to thrust away the ugly images of worst case. Sixty meters from the shuttle—he would not, could not, allow things to go wrong. Yet the odds of getting out of this on their own were slim to none.

  T’kal Killiri broke the extended silence. “Many years ago, early in my career, I was a captain in the palace guard. I was present several times when Princess L’ira scolded the king and queen and the Council of Elders, warning them that Psyclids must learn to defend themselves. When no one listened, she left us, saying she must learn from the Regulons how to fight. There was great consternation, but in the end we all discovered she was right. Just as certain Regulons”—the resistance leader trained his shrewd gaze on Tal—“discovered they too must fight the Empire’s aggression.”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Jagan intoned the ancient adage. All around them, heads nodded, though Tal suspected the two marines behind him had not joined in.

  “We will work with you,” Killiri decreed, “and with the Sorcerer Prime, though I have grave reservations about working forbidden magic to accomplish our goal.”

  Jagan nodded. “Then I must change your—”

  A sharp hiss from one of the Psyclids in the ring aroun
d them. Killiri’s head jerked up. “A patrol approaches. To your ship immediately. Go!”

  A brief thanks, quick handshakes. Retrieving their weapons from the ground, they ran for the shuttle. Tal and Jagan scooped Kass up between them, her toes skimming the ground. Jagan formed a hole in K’kadi’s renewed shield, and they were in, engines roaring to life.

  I’m sorry. Even over the noise of takeoff, Tal heard Kass’s words inside his head. He glanced down into amber eyes misted with tears. Marriage. Forced. So sorry.

  He squeezed her hand, lowered his lips to her ear. “Later, dushenka, later. I promise a full demonstration of just how sorry I am to be married.”

  Foolish man, you’re supposed to be angry.

  “Why should I be angry? I just added an entire planet of psychics to the rebellion. Hidden assets, Kiolani, a vast treasure of hidden assets.”

  The roar of takeoff faded. Kass glowered at him. “Let me assure you, Captain, that only Tal Rigel comes to my bed. Not S’sorrokan. I am a spoiled, selfish princess. When in my bed, my husband must think only of me.”

  “Do your telekinetic skills stretch to getting us there right now?” he whispered, blowing softly into her ear.

  Kass heaved a sigh. “If only . . . I’ll work on it.”

  “So . . . anticipate.” He could feel her inner glow. “Your bed or mine?”

  “Dimi!” Kass exploded. “I never thought . . . I cannot possibly make love in papa’s bed!”

  Tal threw back his head and laughed, all too aware of too many eyes watching in fascination. Kass, dissolving into giggles, joined in. “We’re on our way to toppling an Empire,” she choked out, “and I’m worried about where we’ll sleep.”

  “Sleep? We just got married. I don’t plan to sleep for at least a week.”

  A seductive smile curled Kass’s lips. Later, husband, she promised in words only he could hear. We will see who lasts the longest.

  Tal leaned back in his seat, squeezed his eyes shut, and wondered if he’d ever grow so old just thinking about making love to Kass didn’t get him all hot and bothered. If only Kass could pull off another miracle and transport them back to Blue Moon in ten seconds flat. Where he could lose himself for a few precious moments in the act of loving and being loved.