The Bastard Prince (Blue Moon Rising Book 3)

by Blair Bancroft

  K’kadi shrugged. Not know. Not do before.

  Tal stifled a groan and gave the orders for all but two Herc ships and a patrol of three frigates to stand down. After a tense wait for confirmation from King Nekator, the Herc ships headed back to their respective space docks, anticipating a grand celebration of the resurgence of Herculon power.

  As the Herc ships faded into the distance and the frantic pace of battle settled into a more normal rhythm on Astarte’s bridge, Kass sidled up to the Comm officer. “Any word on Andromeda?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

  “Down at sea, Herc ships on site. Rescue in progress.”

  Kass murmured her thanks. But battlecruisers were never intended to be evacuated at sea. It was not, after all, expected that any Reg battlecruiser would ever be evacuated. But surely some provision had been made . . .

  Did it matter? However well organized the evacuation, Kass knew who would be the last person off. Honor shone from Rand Kamal like a beacon glowing in the night. (How he could be a member of the despised House of von Baalen she had no idea. A sport of nature perhaps?) For the moment she and K’kadi had done all they could . . . but the Hercs’ attitude toward the incapacitated Reg ships had her worried. Were the Hercs rescuing Andromeda and her crew, or . . . making sure none lived to fight another day?

  Chapter 29

  Three days later the rebel visitors, from Tal and Kass to Dagg Lassan and family, assembled in King Nekator’s court. Among the dignitaries on the Herculon side were the Thanos family—father, mother, and daughter—Fleet Admiral Timaios Andreadis and his top commanders, as well as General Nikomedes Drakos. Unfortunately, Drakos, who had been expected to be a strong ally, had turned surly. Whether because his ground forces had been not been part of the great battle for Herculon space, or because he had heard rumors about Alala and K’kadi, no one could be certain. But when the prisoners from Andromeda were turned over to General Drakos, what had been an uneasy alliance became a glaring problem. Every effort Tal made to discover what had happened to the crew of the downed Reg battlecruiser was met with nothing more than assurances that “many” had been saved, but the captain must understand it took time to arrange transport. With such a massive effort, there had simply been no time to count heads. Soon, very soon, a report would be ready.

  Time? Kass had scoffed. Were they bringing Andromeda’s crew back by slow boat?

  And now, after three days with no word about Rand Kamal and his ship, the guests from Blue Moon were being engulfed in an embarrassing amount of pomp and circumstance. Praises were sung, medals presented. The visitors did their best to smile and be gracious, though Kass feared only she and Anneli managed to appear truly sincere in their appreciation of the moment.

  As yet another fanfare faded into silence, King Nekator declared, “I have a proposal to further unite our causes.” He spoke directly to Tal. “You ask for our aid against the Empire. And, yes, you have demonstrated a willingness to fight and an array of remarkable weapons. But I would wish additional assurance of the future of our alliance.” Nekator paused, beaming at his now rapt audience.

  Kass shot a quick glance at Tal, finding his most stony face. Apparently, he was as ignorant of the king’s intentions as she. Not good. A shiver ran up her spine.

  “I suggest an alliance of a different kind,” Nekator pronounced in ringing tones. “Marital as well as military.”

  Into the stunned silence, Hypatia Kalliste’s shocked rasp of breath echoed to the farthest corners of the vast room. She bolted upright in her chair, her dark eyes fixed on the king.

  He ignored her, his gaze zeroing in on Anneli. “I would have that one,” he declared.

  B’aela grabbed Anneli, supporting her as she swayed, overcome by shock. K’kadi stepped to her side as well, slipping an arm around his mother’s shoulders.

  Dear goddess, what would Tal do? Kass wondered. This wasn’t the moment to tell Nekator what to do with his offer. Victory over the Empire was the shining goal they had to keep front and foremost. And yet . . . they could not sacrifice Anneli.

  Tal took a step toward the king—and also to the side, managing to end up in a protective stance in front of K’kadi’s mother. “Majesty,” he replied, forcing his voice to cool respect when he wanted to erupt like one of K’kadi’s fireworks. “We are honored by your request, but Dama Amund is spoken for. She accompanies us because of her position as First Concubine to King Ryal of Psyclid.”

  It was fortunate Tal’s broad shoulders hid the horrified expressions on the faces of the Amunds, mother and son. B’aela, however, reflected Kass’s reaction—amazement at Tal’s quick thinking, followed by a strong urge to laugh.

  Nekator waved a careless hand. “I prefer the blonde, but the dark-haired one will do.”

  “No. A thousand times no!” B’aela’s hoarse whisper reached no farther than their small group, but her expression left the king in no doubt about her answer, even before Tal spoke, conjuring a greater lie than any he’d told since he became a rebel.

  “Majesty, I regret to inform you that B’aela Flammia is a priestess of the Golden Crystal, sworn to celibacy by the rules of her Order and the laws of Psyclid. Marriage would be a heinous act against the commands of her goddess.”

  Nekator, clearly annoyed, flicked his gaze over the small group from Blue Moon. “Then I will take that one,” he said, pointing to Talora. “Not as queen, of course, but as an honored concubine.”

  Not bound by years of court training, Talora didn’t hesitate to utter a resounding, “Never!” Turning to Tal, she added, “I’m sorry, Captain, but I can’t, truly I can’t.” Dagg Lassan, proudly defiant, stepped in front of his daughter, as Tal had with Anneli. Ripples of surprise, unease, and outright anger echoed around them. Evidently Herc gratitude went only so far.

  K’kadi dropped the arm that was still around his mother’s shoulders. He strode forward, stopping only when he was directly in front of Alala. Taking her hand, he led her before the king, probably the only person in the room, including Alala, who was not surprised that she went willingly.

  He did not bow to the king. Standing tall, he said in a voice every person in the room heard inside his or her head, Mine.

  A stifled moan from somewhere. Anneli? Kass wondered. Or Talora?

  Nekator stood up, open-mouthed. Kass couldn’t tell if he was more shocked by K’kadi’s claim on Alala or by hearing a voice in his head.

  Again, Tal took the lead. “Majesty, it might well do. They have been attached for some time.”

  “She is promised to me,” Nikomedes Drakos roared, stepping forward, fists clenched. “You can’t have her, Boy!”

  K’kadi regarded the dashing Herc general with all the arrogance of a prince of the House of Orlondami. And then he looked down at Alala. Want him? Azure eyes questioning, he flicked a hand from Alala to Drakos.

  Silence, while Tal heard a distant bell tolling the end of his dreams of an alliance with the Herculons, though not a sign of emotion showed on his face.

  When Alala said nothing, K’kadi turned her toward him, taking both her hands in his. Take me?

  Like any properly brought up scion of a great house—now or ten thousand years past—Alala expected to marry for land, money, or power. And the strange boy from Blue Moon held a certain appeal . . .

  He’d followed her around like a faithful pup.

  He’d grown stronger, wiser. More attractive.

  She rather liked Blue Moon.

  Shoulders stiff, Alala pulled away, turned toward Drakos. “Nik—General—our families have talked of our marriage for years, but love has not touched us. If I take the Psyclid, your pride might be hurt, but not I think, your heart. As for me . . . if I loved you, I would not listen to what the sorcerer says.” She shrugged. “This is my fate. I am willing to seal the alliance.”

  Oh blessed goddess, Kass thought, is this not the fate of us all? She might have gone to Tal with love, but it had been her fate to be bargained as a pawn in a greater game. With
M’lani following in her footsteps, taking Jagan when Kass would not have him. And now K’kadi was making the sacrifice. Binding Hercula to the rebellion. Sealing a fate he had sensed as the fiery ball of Tycho plunged toward Blue Moon.

  Not that any of their choices had been wrenchingly hard, but sometimes she wished they had been able to live their lives outside the House of Orlondami.

  “Now that little matter is settled,” Drakos snarled, “Captain Rigel and his companions can enjoy the fate of the precious Regs they seem to care so much about.” The angry young general thrust his arm high, and four guards marched in—two heavily armed escorts and two dragging a bloody captive between them. A moan from the usually stoic B’aela was Kass’s first warning, as the guards tossed the battered and almost unrecognizable prisoner onto the marble floor between King Nekator and Tal. “There, Majesty,” Nikomedes Drakos declared, “is the man the rebels wanted us to rescue. And just who do you think he is? Not just an admiral commanding a battle wing, but the Emperor’s own nephew. Now what do you think of your fine new allies?”

  With a grave show of patience, Tal shook his head. “You never heard of hostages, General? What better one could we have than Admiral Rand Kamal? We are, of course, grateful to Hercula for saving Andromeda and her crew, as we requested, but we will gladly take the Regs off your hands. Psyclid has a great many empty barracks from the days of the occupation. Housing and feeding the prisoners will be no difficulty.”

  It wasn’t that Kass hadn’t known she’d married a natural-born leader, but Tal was thinking so fast on his feet, he practically took her breath away. Fizzet, but he was magnificent!

  “How enterprising of you, Captain,” Drakos shot back, animosity clinging to every syllable. “You have acquired Colonel Thanos and Admiral Kamal in under ten minutes.”

  “Spoils of war, General. Without our warning, without Psyclid magic, the Regs would be sitting on the Herc throne, and you would be bowing low. “I claim Admiral Kamal and his crew. You may have Andromeda—if you can salvage her.”

  “No!”

  “General Drakos,” King Nekator thundered, “you will stand down. “For whatever reason Captain Rigel wants the prisoners, he is entitled to them. To us, they are nothing but a burden.” To Tal he said, “Go in peace, Captain. We are grateful and will not forget our side of the bargain. When you need Hercula, we will be there. And far better trained than for the battle just won. “Colonel Thanos.” Alala stepped forward, saluted smartly, then stood at attention. “It is your choice to return to the rebel headquarters with the sorcerer?”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  “So be it. As I say, so shall it be.” With a wave of his hand, King Nekator dismissed the court.

  Three seconds later Tal had his arm around Rand Kamal, with B’aela and Anneli on his other side. A curt nod from Tal, and the Herculon guards backed away, turned on their heels, and marched out. “You’re almost worth the trouble you’ve caused,” Tal whispered in Rand’s ear, and felt more than heard the admiral’s weak chuckle. “So how many survivors are we talking?”

  “They wouldn’t tell me,” Kamal ground out through swollen lips. “Dragged me off the bridge, locked me up. The rescue took a long time, that’s all I can tell you.”

  “And then they beat the hell out of you.”

  “And you want them for allies,” Rand mocked, just before he managed to turn his head far enough to see who was holding him up on his other side and was stunned into silence. B’aela? Omni be praised. And a remarkably fine-looking blonde hovered beside her. He hadn’t thought he was in bad enough shape to hallucinate. Guess not.

  Chapter 30

  “Three hundred twelve?” Tal gaped at Admiral Andreadis, whose aide had wheeled him to the Rigels’ suite less than an hour after the award ceremony.

  Andreadis offered a thin smile. “General Drakos may be hot-tempered, but he is remarkably efficient. And on a planet primarily composed of islands, there are a great many boats. As much as our people disliked saving the lives of our enemies, they followed your orders to save the ship’s crew.”

  “I trust they have been treated with more respect than their commanding officer.

  The old admiral shrugged. “This is war, Captain, and none of us command saints.” Continuing through Tal’s seething silence, he added, “I have not come to bandy words with you, Captain, but to offer a solution to your problem. You came here with a ship crammed with extra personnel and materials—all intended to save us, which you have done. But there is no way you can accommodate three hundred more. However . . .” Andreadis paused, the wisdom of decades of experience lighting his dark eyes. “We owe you more than aid against the Regulons, as it is now clear we will have to fight them, with or without you. Therefore, I have requisitioned a merchant ship large enough to accommodate the prisoners—not comfortably perhaps, but then they are the enemy, are they not?”

  “You’re giving us a ship?” For once Tal’s glib tongue failed him.

  “More substantive than a medal, wouldn’t you say?” the elderly admiral asked, lips twitching. “Or . . . I suppose you could call it a wedding present. We are, after all, adept traders and wealthy enough to gift our saviors with a sample of our merchant fleet.”

  “Admiral . . .” Tal gripped the old man’s hand. “To me this is a pledge of alliance stronger than any marriage. Thank you!”

  “And all to save the enemy. You are a remarkable man, Talryn Rigel. It has been an honor to meet you. I have no doubt your future is bright.” With that the old man nodded to his aide, who wheeled him out. Tal rushed to open the door himself, assuring the Herculon Fleet Commander the honor was entirely his.

  “That many,” Rand Kamal said hoarsely, as he carefully closed the cracked-open door between the sitting room and the bedroom, where B’aela, Kass, and Anneli had been fussing over him. Until Admiral Timaios Andreadis had been announced and they’d shamelessly eavesdropped.

  “It’s certainly become . . . extremely complicated,” Rand said, dropping into a chair as his legs gave out. The ladies had been gentle, but dimmit, he hurt. He was likely going to be black and blue for a month, and how long did it take cracked ribs to heal?

  “If, right now, I was asked to make two lists—one friends and one enemies—,” Kass said, “I’d be hard put to know which names to put where.”

  A sob cut through the general murmur of agreement. They all looked at Anneli. “Why is he obsessed with her?” she demanded. “Why? He is far too young for marriage. He has no idea.”

  No doubt where Anneli’s mind was. Her nurturing instincts had distracted her from her horrified reaction to K’kadi’s impending marriage, but she was now back in full anguish mode.

  “I had thought he and Talora . . .” Kass’s voice trailed away. What more could she say?

  “Nekator won’t let us leave without a wedding,” Tal said as he joined them. “K’kadi marries Alala or the whole alliance blows up in our faces. We don’t have a choice.” Noticing Rand’s puzzled frown, she explained the situation.

  “They are both willing?” Kamal asked. Anneli wailed as every other head nodded. Rand reached out, taking and holding her hand as gently as she had tended his wounds. “It is never easy to let a child go, Dama. But just think of all the good that will come of it. A rebel alliance with Hercula could mean the end of the Empire.”

  Eyes wide, sorrow forgotten, Anneli stared at him. “How can you say that? Are you not the Emperor’s heir?”

  Rand offered a rueful smile. “Truthfully, Dama, I am not sure what I am. Confused? Resigned? Coming back to life at the scent of freedom? I know only that I can’t go back.” He huffed a breath, flashed a flicker of a smile. “And not just because I’m a prisoner,” he added softly.

  Tal snorted. “Well, ‘prisoner,’ I suggest you get some rest. “Getting a merchant ship ready to transport three hundred and twelve Reg fleeties is going to take both of us.”

  “Three thirteen.”

  Tal laughed out loud. “Put you on
the same ship with your crew? I may like you, Kamal, but I’m not crazy. You’d be off to Regula Prime in the blink of an eye. And don’t tell me you wouldn’t. You’d see your crew home, even if you never wanted to set foot on Reg soil again.”

  “Ah, Rand,” B’aela murmured, “he truly understands you. You are too noble for your own good.”

  “We are both Regs, distant cousins,” the Reg admiral returned with the hint of a smile. “Why would we not understand each other?”

  “Take my room,” Tal said, nodding toward the door to the suite’s second bedroom. “It hasn’t been used. B’aela, perhaps you can help Anneli discover what is being planned for K’kadi and Alala. The Hercs may opt for a spartan wedding—which would be good—or we may be in for some grand event that could keep us here far longer than I wish. Anything you can find out through the female grapevine would be greatly appreciated.”

  “Again, my thanks, ladies,” Rand added. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Dama Amund.” Anneli managed a tentative smile before she and B’aela returned to their room.

  “Kamal,” Tal said, waving Rand back into the chair he was struggling to get out of, “could I ask how the Hercs downed Andromeda? It seems so fydding unlikely.”

  “The invisibility maneuver. You always were a lethal tactician, Tal. Getting above us like that was brilliant. We lost most of our shields to that beast, and while that creature was taking out half our fleet, the Hercs concentrated everything they had on finishing us off. And they succeeded. As much as I admire your sorcerer’s tricks, it was your battle plan that took us down.”

  “Well, that’s a first. Didn’t you win most of our fights when we were boys?”

  “True, but I was quite a bit older, and I had bodyguards who pulled you off me every time it looked like you were winning.”

  Laughing, Tal gave his old nemesis a hand up. “Go. Get better. We have a lot of work to do before we can get out of here.”