by Liz Craven
With a toss of her head, Ilexa flicked a long lock of hair off her shoulder. “That will be all,” she announced haughtily and ignored the searing look she received in response.
Thane turned his attention to Lia, and the emotion faded from his face. As stoic as ever, he saluted her and left without uttering a word.
Ilexa watched his retreating back through narrowed eyes, and Lia wondered what had happened between the pair. Whatever it was, it had been explosive.
“Next time you try to escape, let me know. I can carry a stunner and take that arrogant jackdaw down for you,” Ilexa said, prompting a smile from Lia.
“Problems?” Lia asked.
“That man thinks he’s my keeper,” Ilexa replied with a sniff.
Her sister-in-law displayed such outrage that Lia refrained from suggesting Thane stay Ilexa’s keeper rather than her own. “I take it you object?”
Ilexa stretched her long frame across the foot of the bed, occupying the space Asha had vacated. “He and Talon have been best friends for as long as I can remember. He seems to think that gives him some authority over me. I have enough older brothers. I don’t need another.”
Lia had seen the heated look in Thane’s eyes and doubted his feelings were fraternal. She wanted to ask what had happened, but valued her own privacy too much to pry into the affairs of others. “I apologize if my…departure from the promenade caused you problems.”
Ilexa waived a dismissive hand at Lia, much like she did to her brother. “I’m just glad you are well and there is no lasting damage. Anything else is between you and Talon.”
At the mention of Talon, the smile faded from Lia’s face.
“Was he a terrible brute?” Ilexa asked sympathetically.
“We had words.”
“He worried greatly about you,” Ilexa confessed. “Talon doesn’t handle extreme emotions very well. He always has to be in control, and when he’s not, he gets angry.
Uncomfortable with the focus of the conversation, Lia changed the subject. “Thank you for keeping an eye on Asha.”
“Actually, she’s been a delight. Once we got her aboard ship, she behaved like a well-mannered pet.”
“She knows she’s safe.” Lia didn’t know how she reached that conclusion, but knew it was true.
Asha raised her head and gave the side of Lia’s face a lick with her wide tongue. In response, Lia scratched beneath her chin.
Ilexa sat up and ran her elegant hand along Asha’s spine in a slow stroke. The purring increased until the bed vibrated beneath the smiling women.
—
Talon leaned against the portal in his cabin and stared at the stars whizzing past. The chime of the door drew him from his reverie.
“Enter,” he called, not moving from his position.
“Talon,” Thane said in greeting before settling in a chair near the portal.
A comfortable silence fell over the room as Talon marshaled his thoughts. He and Thane had shared a dorm room at the Academy all those years ago and fought shoulder to shoulder in more combat situations than either could count. Of all the people in his life, Thane knew him best.
Lia was the only bone of contention between them. Thane had been disgusted by the idea of an arranged marriage and had long encouraged him to accept the Damaia was gone, regardless of whether she was dead. Despite their disagreement about Lia, Thane had faithfully followed him on his search for her.
“I talked with Lia,” Talon finally said, not turning from the portal.
“I trust you impressed upon her the dangers of evading her guard?”
Talon nodded. “I did.”
“But?” his friend prompted.
“She doesn’t want to return to N’yota. She doesn’t believe she’s the answer to the Prophecy.” He hesitated. “Or doesn’t care.”
“You can deal with that. What’s the real problem?”
Damn. Thane knew him too well. “She remembers me.”
“Of course she remembers you. She was twelve when she disappeared.”
Talon shook his head and turned to face his friend. “We made a public appearance every year on her birthday. She told me how much she enjoyed those times.”
“And?”
“I dreaded those appearances. They were such an annoyance I was barely civil to Lia when I saw her.”
“At the risk of repeating myself, ‘and’?”
Talon shoved a guilty hand through his hair. “She mentioned how much she looked forward to them, and how I was the kindest person in her life.”
“Ah,” Thane said.
“What kind of life could she have had when she lived for an hour and a half every year? And just to spend time with someone who scarcely acknowledged her existence?”
“You feel guilty.”
“Of course I feel guilty. She’s my wife. Her childhood was hell and I couldn’t even be bothered to notice.”
“She’s no longer a child,” Thane pointed out.
Talon huffed out a breath and punched the portal with his fist. “I didn’t know what to do with Lia as a child, and now I don’t know what to do with her as a woman.”
Thane flashed a leering grin. “You don’t know what to do with a woman?”
Talon’s nostrils flared in irritation. He and Thane had chased—and caught—women since their Academy days. Often competing with each other and wagering on conquests. Usually he would laugh at a jab referencing their exploits, but Thane’s amusement where Lia was involved raised his hackles.
“You are speaking of my wife,” he warned his friend through gritted teeth, hardly aware he had shifted to a battle stance.
Thane lifted his hands in a peaceful gesture. “I meant no offense.”
Talon’s body relaxed. By the gods, this woman had tied him in such tight knots he was ready to attack his closest friend. He nodded his acceptance of Thane’s apology.
Thane lowered his hands, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers. “You have spent your life considering your obligation to the Damaia. Never in our acquaintance have I heard you refer to her as you would a woman.”
“She’s not just any woman,” Talon warned.
“No, she’s your woman,” Thane agreed. “But she’s still a woman.”
The conversation was making him dizzy. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you should woo her. Charm her. Just because she’s your wife doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve at least a little of the effort you’ve put into casual relationships. Women enjoy feeling pursued and wanted.”
Talon turned Thane’s words over in his mind. His friend was right. Lia was beautiful, smart and strong. She fascinated him, but the physical attraction he felt had been tinged with guilt, as though reacting to the Damaia as a man was sacrilegious.
Lia was his wife. He had put less effort into a relationship with her than he had with one-night stands. A slow smile began to cross Talon’s face, and his guilt evaporated as he gave himself mental permission to seduce his wife.
“I think you might have a point,” he told Thane. “It’s time I get to know Lia, the woman.”
Thane rose, inclined his head and left Talon to his planning.
Chapter Nine
Lia smoothed her hands down the sides of her form-fitting dress and studied her reflection in the mirror. With her side healed, she wore the curve-hugging sheath without discomfort. It was nice to have an outfit she had selected for herself. She cocked her head to the side and smiled. She looked good.
A chime at the door signaled Talon’s arrival, and she hesitated a moment before granting him admission. When his formal invitation to dine had come that afternoon, she had been surprised and suspicious. His cold departure several days before grated her pride, and she had determined she would remain aloof for the duration of the meal.
She met Talon in the living area and stared nonplused at the small flower he offered her.
“I stole it from the arboretum,” he confessed with a sh
eepish grin. “Don’t tell the botanist, or she’ll skin me alive.”
She reached out with nervous fingers and took the flower by the thin green stem. It had been over a decade since she’d seen a real flower, and she’d never been given one before. She lifted the delicate blossom and studied the white petals before inhaling its sweet scent. “It’s lovely,” she told him, eyeing the fragile blossom. What did she do with it now?
“I’m glad you like it.” Talon moved to the cabinet above the cooling unit and removed a glass. He filled it with water and brought it to her. “It will last longer if you put it in water.”
Grateful for his advice, she placed the stem into the water and put the glass on a low table beside the chaise.
“I’ve arranged a dinner for us with a spectacular view.”
Talon offered her his arm and she gingerly took it. He led her through the ship, past the bridge, and into a small room. Three of the walls were floor-to-ceiling portals. A small, round table, covered in a white cloth, sat in the middle of the room.
Lia sat in a chair Talon pulled out for her. He circled the table to sit across from her. The intimacy of the setting caused her skin to flush, and nerves had her wanting to shift in her seat.
Talon pressed a button and a silent, uniformed soldier delivered the first course and withdrew without saying a word.
Uncomfortable, Lia fiddled with the cutlery beside her plate.
“You know, it was hard for me to return to N’yota after all those years as a League soldier. I hated giving up space for planetside life,” Talon told her conversationally.
“It was?” Genuine surprise brought her head up, and she met Talon’s gaze.
Talon raised his eyebrows and forked up a bite of salad. “You think I didn’t have a life of my own?”
She flushed, feeling a pang of guilt. “You display such devotion…”
“I am. That’s why I surrendered my commission and ran for public office.”
“What did you dislike about returning to N’yota?”
“It’s not N’yota, per se. It’s any planet,” Talon replied, pouring them each glasses of rich red wine. “Planets smell.”
“They smell?” she asked confused.
“I got used to living on ships. There’s no smell on a ship. No dirt, no plants, an auto-filtration system…”
“And planets smell,” Lia said, grasping his point. “Tmesis must have been overkill for you.”
“It made me appreciate trash heaps,” he admitted.
Lia laughed. Although she had long been immune to the rather unique smell of Tmesis, she still remembered the horror of her first weeks on the moon. “A flower garden, it is not.”
Talon lifted his glass, and they toasted the stench of Tmesis.
“Did you miss anything else about space travel?” Lia asked, wincing at the banality of the question. She was out of practice with small talk, or rather, had never learned the art.
“The hum.”
“The hum?”
“Ships hum. They vibrate with the engine. Although you can’t really hear or feel it when aboard ship, once you’re planetside, you notice the absence of the hum.”
“I didn’t notice the absence of a hum while we were on the station,” Lia commented.
“Stations have a hum.”
“They have a hum?” This was conversation?
“They have engines that help keep them in orbit and maintain their stability. Those engines hum.”
“Oh,” she said.
The uniformed man reappeared with a trolley. He removed the salad plates, placed dinner plates before them, and set a covered silver server in the center of the table.
Uncomfortable with anyone waiting on her, Lia gave the server a weak smile. “Thank you.”
The server nodded and withdrew again, while Talon poured her another glass of wine. She lifted her glass to her lips and watched the stars streaking by appear to decelerate.
“Are we slowing down?” she asked.
“We are.”
“Is something wrong?”
“I asked the captain to stop during our dinner.”
“Why?”
“Watch,” he replied.
The ship slowed to a complete stop and rotated around until they faced a beautiful explosion of color. Lia gasped in appreciation as vivid shades of red and orange exploded around them. The colors swirled and danced to silent music, filling the dark void of space with a symphony of light. “What is causing this?”
“It’s a plasma storm in the Orious nebula.”
“It’s breathtaking,” she gasped.
“I know.”
She glanced at him and was surprised to see him staring at her. The implication of his words sunk in, and she felt herself blush. Embarrassed, she took a hefty swallow of her wine and turned her attention back to the soundless fireworks display outside the ship.
The silence stretched between them. Finally, Lia spoke. “It reminds me of the firestorms on Tmesis, but on a much larger scale.”
“Firestorms?”
“Sometimes the atmospheric pollution from the mines would catch fire. It created a spectacular firestorm in the sky.”
“Were they dangerous?”
“I wouldn’t recommend being caught outside during one,” she warned with a smile.
“I’ll remember that.” He returned her smile, and she felt a warm melting sensation in her stomach. “Were there any other benefits to life on Tmesis?”
His interest seemed genuine, and she decided to give him an honest answer. “I liked the freedom.”
“Freedom? That’s not something you usually associate with the Mining Guild.”
She laughed. He had a point. “No, the Guild is not known for its liberated policies. I meant the freedom I had to make my own decisions. To live life how I saw fit.”
“Toiling in the mines like a slave?”
She considered her words carefully. “That was just work. I enjoyed making decisions. Choosing my friends. Being treated like everyone else. There’s a freedom in that I’m not sure I can explain.”
“A freedom the Council never gave you.”
She started at his insight. “I suppose.”
“What else did you like?”
“I liked working with glass.”
“You do beautiful work.”
“Thank you.” His use of the present tense, implying she would be able to continue her art, lightened her heart. That or the wine.
“How long have you been working with glass?”
She hesitated. The wine was definitely going to her head, and there were things in her past she didn’t want to reveal. “Since I turned fifteen.”
“You have real talent. Even without revealing the artist as the Damaia, your pieces would command a high price.”
“People would pay for bits of glass?” she asked amazed. Sure, she had bartered with her pieces over the years, but she had never considered someone would pay credits for her work.
“No,” he replied. “But they would pay for the art you create with them.”
She felt heat rise in her cheeks and turned her gaze back to the firestorm. The compliment left her feeling very warm, and she felt her heart expand. She groped for a reply. “That’s kind of you to say,” she finally managed.
“It’s not kind. It’s true,” Talon replied, refilling their glasses. Pride filled his voice. “In recent years, N’yotan artists have been able to devote all of their time to their crafts. Traditions believed lost have resurfaced, apparently handed down through generations. League planets crave the N’yotan pieces. It’s become a major source of trade.”
Giving in to curiosity, she asked bluntly, “If you hadn’t been wed to me, to the Damaia, would you have run for first minister?”
An eyebrow arched upward. “I have no idea what path my life would have followed were we not bound together. I’ve never thought of it.”
“Never?” she asked, amazed. Living a life other than the Damaia’s had b
een her fondest dream growing up.
“Never,” he confirmed. He took another bite of his meal and chewed it thoughtfully while she pushed food around her plate. “I’m curious. How did you know of my election? I can’t imagine N’yotan politics are the topic of daily conversation on Tmesis.”
Lia felt strangely embarrassed. She didn’t lift her eyes from her plate when she replied, “A charity group set up a computer terminal for the miners some years ago. Whenever it worked, I would check interplanetary news.”
“N’yotan politics is hardly interplanetary news. You’d have to look up planetary items specifically,” he pointed out.
She raised her face to scowl at him. “Yes, I looked up happenings on N’yota.”
“Homesick?” he asked teasingly.
She sniffed. “Hardly. Wanted to make sure no one was looking for me.”
A triumphant half-smile played around his lips, and Lia scowled. They both knew she’d been curious about her home world.
The smile suddenly disappeared from his face, and his gaze captured hers. “I am sorry you suffered during your life on N’yota, and I want to apologize for my role in that suffering.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” she managed, stunned by the apology.
“I do,” he insisted, reaching across the table to take her hand. Her pulse jumped at the electricity that raced along her skin at his touch. “I never noticed how unhappy you were. Had I made an effort to get to know you, I would have discovered what your life was like. I could have done something about it.”
Damn it. Now her heart was turning over. Did he have to be so sincere? She didn’t like the unfamiliar longing she felt in her chest. It had nothing to do with the past and everything to do with the man holding her hand. “We were both children.”
“I was young when you disappeared, but still a man. I should have taken better care of my wife.”
Storms raged behind his eyes and his remorse tugged on her heartstrings. She tried to remember all the reasons she shouldn’t like the man, but couldn’t. “I don’t think it’s necessary,” she whispered. “But I accept your apology.”
He smiled and her heart flipped over again. At this rate, it was actually turning somersaults. He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb and she didn’t think to pull away.