To The Princess Bound

by Sara King

  He twisted to look up at her, his blue eyes gentle. “Because you were in pain, Princess,” he said. Then, more softly, “And I don’t hate you. I hate myself, for being stupid, and I hate your father, for being cruel. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m too tired to work that kind of energy without full use of my hands. Even with them free, it might be a stretch. I’m exhausted.”

  And, even as Victory watched, he fell into a light doze. Victory examined him, caught yet again by how beautiful he was. Like one of the great cats in her father’s menagerie. She hesitated a moment, then nervously found the key between her breasts, knelt beside him, and began unlocking the cuffs.

  As his big wrists slid free, they slumped to the floor and stayed there. He started to snore.

  Victory crawled around in front of him. “Hey,” she said, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. His body dwarfed hers, and she was once again aware of how much larger a creature he was than she. “Dragomir.” When that didn’t wake him, she gingerly shook his huge shoulder, calling his name some more.

  He continued to snore, oblivious to her touch.

  Victory narrowed her eyes. “Slave.”

  Dragomir jerked and opened his blue eyes, startled. He put his hands on the rug in front of him and started pushing himself into a sitting position, then stopped and stared at his arms, then at her.

  “You’re free,” she said, trying to ignore the fears that were building within her. She gestured at her ankle. “I’m waiting.”

  Instead of rushing to do as he was told, a slow grin spread over Dragomir’s face. He moved forward and, before she could pull away, took her hand in his.

  Seeing her fingers swallowed by his big palms, Victory cringed. “I’d prefer you use my ankle,” she said, trying to tug her hand away. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with—”

  He kissed her knuckles, gently but firmly keeping it in his fist. She was just about to call for her Praetorian she felt the rush of energy flooding through her arm, washing into her core. She felt herself go limp under the golden glow, reveling in the total relaxation it left behind.

  The Emp’s power blazed through her, burning away her fears, leaving her utterly calm and secure. Then he opened his eyes and gave her a weak smile.

  “Thank you,” Victory managed. “I—”

  He tilted forward, falling face-first onto her lap, where he started to snore. Victory was still staring at his huge body, pinning her to the carpet, when she heard the knock on the door.

  “Victory?” her brother shouted.

  Startled, Victory scrambled to get out from under him. She was only halfway free when her brother threw the door open and stepped into the room. He glanced at the slave, then at her, then at the slave again, a startled expression on his face.

  Victory flushed until she thought her face would explode. “We didn’t do anything,” she growled, wriggling the rest of the way out from underneath his huge form.

  Her brother lifted a hand to his face and coughed, obviously hiding a smirk. “Your guard said you needed me?”

  Victory finally worked her foot free and stood up, brushing herself off. Looking him in the eye, she said, “I need you to make me disappear.”

  Her brother laughed. Then, when she did not share his amusement, he blinked, looking as if he thought he may have misheard. “…disappear?”

  Victory told him what she had found in the Constabulary of Numbers.

  “He always liked you more,” Victory told her twin, as her brother’s face reddened. “I think he’s been planning for you to be on the throne since I hit puberty.”

  Matthias’s look was darkening to a stormcloud. “If only this wasn’t making perfect sense.” He balled up a mailed fist and slammed it into his thigh. “I thought it was odd that he was planning a pleasure cruise. Seemed like a real spur of the moment kind of thing, and Father doesn’t do that.”

  “He does when you make him angry enough,” Victory said dryly.

  Matthias shook his head. “The Imperium needs to know about this. The records should be easy enough to track…”

  Victory snorted. “We’re talking about Father, here. He’s probably got a completely separate set of accounts that he shows to Imperial auditors.” She gestured in the general direction of her father’s chambers. “He’s an insomniac. What do you think he’s been doing in there every night?”

  Matthias raised both brows. “You think he’s in there falsifying accounts for the entire kingdom?”

  “He’s got the royal blood,” Victory said bitterly. “His brain works just as well as yours or mine.”

  “Yes,” Matthias said, frowning, “But even Father isn’t infallible.”

  “His assassin killed one of my Praetorian last night,” Victory said. “He poisoned the cheese I told Cook to set aside for me.” She then told him about the man with the ice-blue eyes and scarred lip that she had recognized from the hall.

  Her brother paled. “You’re sure?”

  “Lion has been looking for him,” she said. “Everyone’s seen him, but no one knows what his job in the castle is.”

  Matthias frowned. “Have your Praetorian buy everything you eat or drink from now on from the marketplace. Don’t go anywhere without a full guard. At least eight. Ten would be better.”

  “That doesn’t address the root problem, Matt,” Victory growled. “We need to figure out how to uncover what Father is doing to the Imperium, and we need to do it fast. The assassin is a distraction. If Father is removed from the equation, then the assassin will follow.”

  “Well,” Matthias said, “I know they’re already investigating him for the war. It looks really bad that he hasn’t settled the rebellion yet.” Then he looked at her, his green eyes concerned. “But proving it to them will take months.”

  “That’s why we’re going to help me disappear,” Victory said.

  Matthias frowned at her. “You can’t stay in the palace. Even the lowliest servant has been given the entire royal family’s picture to memorize and identify, in case one of us decides to go wandering around in our nightrobes in the middle of the night. You would be recognized instantly.”

  “We have friends,” Victory said. “Nearby planets. The old bachelor who gave me the emerald necklace…”

  “He died,” Matthias said. “And any friend we send you to, Father would have spies in their homes. Word would get back to him.”

  “I could take a vacation to the Core,” Victory growled.

  “On whose account?” Matthias demanded. “If you’re dead and someone is spending your money, they’re going to try and figure out who.”

  “What about your account?” Victory demanded.

  Matthias snorted. “Mine? I use mine for a set of clothes once a month, a few puzzles I pick up at market, and to pay my Praetorian. A voyage to the Core would definitely stand out.”

  And Victory had determined as much, long before ever calling for her brother. Reluctantly, she glanced at the sleeping man on her rug. She swallowed, hard. “Um. There’s another solution.”

  Her brother frowned at the Emp. “Him?”

  “Dragomir had an idea,” Victory managed. When her brother only waited, she blurted, “I, uh, could stay with him.”

  Her brother laughed. “As if the natives aren’t going to gossip when a princess and her royal guard get dumped in their village, guests of their local healer.”

  Victory’s face reddened. “I, uh, could pose as his, uh…” She swallowed, hard.

  Matthias frowned. “His wife?” He snorted. “That would be just as suspicious. He was captured at swordpoint, carted off and has been missing for almost two weeks. What do you think they will say if he comes back married?”

  “No,” Victory squeaked, her throat suddenly seeming to close on her. “His…” She swallowed, tried to force the passage open. “Slave.”

  Matthias’s brow hit his hairline. “I’m surprised that you would even consider it.”

  “Father has his hands in every pie on this pl
anet,” Victory said quickly. “The only real safe place for me is up in one of the mountain villages, where the Imperium is like a distant boogeyman.”

  “I know that,” Matthias said. “But to trust him like that…”

  “Trust him like what?” Victory demanded. “We drop me, Lion, and Whip off with him, he tells everyone that he healed a princess and the Imperium is paying him in slaves. That simple.”

  He chuckled. “And you’re just going to act the cowed and demure little slave girl for a couple months while I cooperate with Imperial investigators, is that it?”

  Her face reddened, but Victory stood straighter. “If that’s what it takes. I have done it before. I can do it again.”

  Matthias snorted. “And your collar?”

  Victory froze. “What?”

  “The Imperium collars its slaves. You would have to wear a collar.”

  The thought was so horrifying that she could only stare at him.

  Matthias shrugged. “It probably wouldn’t have worked, anyway. I know you, sister. You would have opened your mouth in front of one of his guests, berated him for being a cad, and the gig would have been up. I think I might be able to hide you in a ship hold for a few weeks. Then maybe set you up to earn your keep in a stone quarry. A camp cook, maybe?”

  Victory shuddered. “I’ll take my chances with the Emp.”

  Matthias looked at her carefully. “You realize that, when he walks you off of the ship, you will be in shackles. Slaves are delivered in shackles. Period. You would be putting yourself at his mercy.”

  Victory lifted her head high, though the idea left her feeling sick with terror. “And you will station a squad of Praetorian in the woods outside town, to rescue me if he decides to take advantage of it.”

  “I could,” Matthias said, “But the fewer people who know about this, the better, and if a squad of my Praetorian suddenly weren’t showing up in the palace anymore, then I think it would raise suspicions.” He shook his head. “Like I said, sister. We can find something else for you. How about a chambermaid to a native baron?”

  “I’ll go with the Emp or not at all,” Victory snapped. “The only reason I’m even able to function with you standing so close right now is because he worked his energy through me, not moments before you arrived.”

  Matthias gave her a shocked look, and she realized what he thought she meant by ‘energy.’

  “No!” Victory snapped. “You cad. His power. His consciousness. His love.”

  “Is that what you call it,” Matthias chuckled.

  Victory narrowed her eyes at her brother. “The psychic anomaly that makes him an Emp.”

  “I know,” Matthias said, grinning. “I’m just enjoying the look on your face. It’s too cute.” He sighed, looking down at the Emp. “You trust him enough to put your life in his hands like that?”

  No, a part of Victory whimpered. Then, “Do I have a choice?”

  Matthias considered. “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t involve washing someone’s laundry or cowering in a back room in fear that another man might walk through the lunch line?” Victory demanded.

  Matthias gave the sleeping Emp a curious look. “So he really did heal you, then? I’ve heard conflicting reports.”

  “It’s temporary,” Victory growled. “He spouted some native nonsense about energy puddles and machines and told me he’d have to have me trust him before he could truly fix the problem.”

  Matthias grunted. “He was the most talented Emp on my list, according to our accounts. Possibly the best on Mercy, but my staff has only documented about half of them.”

  Victory’s mouth fell open. “You’ve been documenting Emps and letting them live?”

  Matthias’s face darkened. “I’ve been protecting them.” At her shocked look, he said, “The jump mutations are a fact of life. And, as your friend has proven, they can be an extreme benefit to society. Hell, the royal lines themselves were caused by jump mutations.”

  “But if one were to become an assassin…” Victory began.

  Matthias wrinkled his nose. “The only violent jump mutation that I’ve seen has been the one that initiated the royal lines. Too much brainpower, not enough empathy. Just look at Father. You look at the average Psi or Emp or Kin or Shi and you’re going to find someone who just wants to be left alone.”

  Victory stared at him. Finally, she broke into a grin. “Brother, I love you.”

  Matthias’s frown faded slightly. “Then you approve?”

  Victory glanced at the man on the ground. “After meeting him? Absolutely.”

  He peered at her much too closely. “And you’re so certain of his good intentions that you’re willing to tromp off a ship in shackles and watch while I and my Praetorian leave you there.”

  No, Victory thought, even as her mouth said, “Yes.”

  “You’re lying,” her brother said, his green eyes full of understanding. “You’re scared to death.”

  Victory looked away. “Do I have any real choice?”

  He grunted and looked at the man on the floor. “If I were to have to make the decision, right now, with my life on the line, I would say that you can trust him. I had him on the rack for three days trying to provoke him enough to attack me. We didn’t even get a blip on the sensors.”

  Victory jerked her head to give her brother a sharp look. “Then it was true? You tortured him?”

  Matthias shrugged. “I didn’t enjoy it, and I’m sure that the men I released are simply going to spread more hatred for the Imperium, but it was necessary. I needed to determine what kind of man he was, and whether he was going to try and use his powers to harm you.” Then Matthias cocked his head. “He hasn’t, has he?”

  Victory bit her lip. “No,” she whispered. But, like her brother, she had given him every reason to do so.

  “Huh,” her brother said. He glanced at the sleeping man. “I was told by your Praetorian that they suspected he had done something, though you refused to talk about it. It was around the same time you came flying from your room in a rage… I heard you smashed all your statuary?” He glanced at the shelves, dressers, and tables now all empty but for the wooden statue of a reading mermaid that her mother had given her. He grunted. “That much seems to be true.”

  “Our plan is simple, then,” Victoria said, ignoring him. “I will stay in my room until you’ve made proper arrangements. My excuse will be that I feel suddenly very ill, and that it came on rather suddenly after my last foray to the kitchens, where I once again stole some cheese. In the meantime, my Praetorian will buy my food from the market and deliver it to me.”

  “We’ll need to move fast,” Matthias said. “Father will expect you to board the cruise in two days, and I’ve reviewed its flight path. There are plenty of places where it could flounder and never be found. It crosses the Boiling Rift, weaves through the Voidstar Mountains, and shoots up over both poles.”

  “Some pleasure-cruise,” Victory said bitterly.

  “That’s what I thought,” Matthias said. “My first thought, seeing its route, was that it takes every possible pathway to set itself up to be ambushed.”

  Victory frowned. “But Father is going to be on the cruise. He said so himself.”

  “He’ll be on it when it sails,” Matthias said, “But I’m willing to bet that he gets called away sometime before the cruise starts entering dangerous territory.”

  “And you with him,” Victory said, scowling.

  “It will be a military emergency, I’m sure,” Matthias said bitterly. “Something that the General Commander must drop everything to attend to.”

  “And then I cruise on, alone, and my ship is attacked and I’m killed,” Victory said. “And he has another excuse to prolong his war.”

  Matthias’s green eyes sharpened, and she watched her brother’s frighteningly quick mind formulate a plan. “I think,” Matthias said slowly, “That we’re going to let him kill you.”

  Victory spent the rest of the next two day
s more or less watching Dragomir sleep. She hadn’t yet told him that she intended to follow through with his plan, and was afraid to even mention it.

  Finally, however, the night before the cruise, Victory knew she had to tell him. As he woke, she told him of her brother’s plans, and how they would be faking her death on the cruise. “I’ll be going with you to your village,” Victory said. Then, when he hesitated, mid-yawn, to blink at her, she quickly explained, “Just as long as it takes for my brother to bring my father to justice.”

  Dragomir raised an eyebrow of disbelief. “You would go as my slave?”

  “I would wear a collar for show,” she said, flushing. “I am not a slave.”

  Dragomir chuckled and leaned back against the bed, crossing his dark, native arms over his muscular native chest. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

  Victory felt her face redden. “I would never demean myself so, if not in the name of keeping up the illusion.”

  He watched her for some time. “Do you trust me?” Dragomir asked finally, scanning her face.

  Victory’s mouth fell open. Of course she didn’t trust him. “I’ll pay you well, once I’ve been instated as the next Adjudicator.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” he said.

  “Trust has nothing to do with it,” she babbled. “You will be well-rewarded for your services.”

  “You put that collar around your neck,” Dragomir said, his blue eyes flashing, “And you’re putting yourself at my mercy.”

  “You’re not that stupid,” Victory growled. “I’ll have my Praetorian.

  “It’s a fact,” Dragomir said. “Your Praetorian will also be chained, and I’ll have an entire village at my back, should I need it. How does that make you feel?”

  “And I’ll have my brother’s entire armada,” Victory babbled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Put a collar around your neck and hand me the leash,” Dragomir said. He smiled sweetly. “Then I guess we’ll see.”

  “My brother would check in on me eventually,” Victory snapped. “And when he did, you would be a dead man.”

  “Unless I decided to take you somewhere else.”

  Victory froze, the idea not having occurred to her. Oh gods, her panicked mind thought. He could make me disappear again.