Prophesied: Interplanetary League series

by Liz Craven

  Standing on her tiptoes to see through the wall her guards formed, Lia noted the child showed no fear, despite staring down an irate Inderian.

  “It’s not for the Damaia,” she said, revealing the rose she’d secreted behind her back. “It’s for you.”

  It took every ounce of discipline Lia had not to laugh at the stunned expression on Syval’s face.

  “Me?” he growled.

  The little girl nodded. “You had to leave your home and come live with strangers, just to protect the Damaia so no other little girl’s parents get killed because they are aligned with one of the Houses.”

  Lia’s heart turned over at the innocent revelation.

  Syval shifted uncomfortably and the guards began to relax. Finally, Syval managed to say “Thank you” and resumed his position at Lia’s side.

  The child skipped back to her place in line while Syval fumbled with the flower, clearly uncertain what to do with it.

  Knowing his training required him to keep his hands free, Lia couldn’t resist teasing. “You could always tuck it behind your ear.”

  The look Syval shot her nearly singed the skin from her body.

  The little girl’s gut-wrenching sincerity haunted Lia through the rest of the day. By the end of the visit, she was exhausted from the weight of both her guilt and N’yotan expectations.

  She entered the bedroom she shared with Talon and pitched face first onto the bed, longing for the simple existence she’d known in the mines.

  “Tough day?” Talon asked, startling her. She hadn’t realized he was there.

  “Very,” she replied, the covers muffling her response.

  She felt the bed dip when Talon sat down next to her. “Want to tell me about it?”

  “Saille School for Girls.”

  Talon’s hand dropped onto her shoulder, a warm, comforting weight. “There are schools like that all over the world for both boys and girls.”

  The grief she heard in her husband’s voice was almost enough to start her crying. “I was always told about the violence and death they created me to stop, but they never showed me any of it.”

  “Maybe you can use your position to draw attention to these lost children. Find some of them homes.”

  “How?” she asked, the hopelessness of the school still pressing on her.

  “We’ll think on the best way to do it. Simply by visiting the school, you’ve drawn more attention to the children’s plight than they’ve ever received.”

  That simple fact nearly broke her heart. Changing the subject, she asked, “How was your day?”

  “Tedious,” he replied. “I spent the day in budget management meetings. I’m glad tonight’s just a quiet family dinner. If I had to deal with a formal state event, I might snap.”

  Lia groaned loudly into the mattress. She’d avoided telling him as long as possible. “I invited Lord Constantine to join us for dinner tonight.”

  She knew when Talon stood by the angry bounce of the bed. He wasn’t pleased. She hadn’t expected him to be.

  “Lia, we agreed to only allow those we trust into the residence,” he thundered. “That’s the only reason we minimized security within the house.”

  Sighing, she pushed herself up from the bed. Apparently it didn’t take a state event to make Talon snap. She did it all by herself.

  “I’d like to get to know him,” she said reasonably. “I can’t do that at public appearances.”

  Talon began pacing. “Have you considered he might be behind the bombing of the palace? It took a lot of money and connections to obtain a neutron bomb. And you invited him to a private dinner with limited security?”

  “Is there any evidence Lord Constantine is involved? Any link from him to the bombing?” Though she thought of him as Constantine and addressed him as such, she couldn’t seem to refer to him without his title.

  “No,” Talon admitted angrily. “But the bomb came from a Home Guard installation. The base is one of our most secure with top-grade surveillance. No one could just walk out with a neutron bomb. Someone had connections and access.”

  “When did you learn this? And when were you going to tell me?” she demanded, suddenly angry herself.

  Talon had the good grace to flush. “The investigation is ongoing.”

  She wasn’t about to let him get away with that. “What else has the ‘investigation’ uncovered?”

  “No one can pin down exactly when the neutron bomb was stolen. Someone tampered with the security feeds, putting them on a loop. That might have happened weeks or months ago. The last visual inventory was taken seven months back, and that’s the last time the bomb can be accounted for,” Talon said, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

  “So the odds are whoever took the bomb knew I was returning now,” Lia concluded.

  “I love that mind of yours,” he replied, clearly impressed with her reasoning. “We are taking a closer look to see if there were any breaches in the secrecy regarding the search for you. When we headed in the vicinity of Tmesis, we only had a faint buzz from the probe we sent to locate your transmitter. It just as easily could have been interference in the transmission.”

  “That means whoever took the bomb knew you might find me when you left.”

  “That’s likely.”

  “I want you to keep me informed as the investigation progresses,” she said quietly.

  He nodded. Taking in the lines of concern etching his face, Lia decided to let the subject go. They couldn’t solve the mystery tonight.

  “We still have the problem of Lord Constantine,” he pointed out.

  “He’s coming alone and will no doubt undergo a cavity search before Vardin lets him in,” she replied in a tone dry enough to chafe.

  When they descended the stairs for the meal, Lia was surprised to realize she was nervous. Perhaps even more than when she’d given the two speeches broadcast live across the entire planet.

  But she needn’t have worried. The crush of people around the table, unimpeded by the strictures of formal etiquette, laughed and debated at incredible decibel levels. Lia’s head swam as she tried to follow the conversations.

  Teresa and Ilexa had chosen seats next to one another and across from Thane. Or perhaps Thane had chosen the seat across from them. She couldn’t remember.

  “I hear you will be leaving us soon,” Teresa said to Thane.

  “My service time to the League expires soon,” he replied. “It is time for me to return to my homeworld and assume my responsibilities there.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know you were capable of stringing that many words together at one time,” Ilexa interjected snidely. She jumped and shot her mother a look, telling Lia Teresa had kicked her under the table.

  “Forgive my daughter,” Teresa said. “I taught her better manners.”

  Irritation crossed Ilexa’s face, but Lia missed Thane’s response when Talon tensed like a bowstring at her side. She followed his gaze and wanted to laugh at the sight of Captain Brisby leaning around Malachi to address Lord Constantine.

  “So, you fathered our little Lia,” Brisby accused, staring unblinkingly with his bug eyes at Lord Constantine.

  Lord Constantine appeared a bit ill. No doubt shocked someone would broach such a subject in his presence. Lia doubted her existence was considered appropriate conversation around the Lassan dinner table, much less any reference to who contributed DNA.

  “I did,” he managed, taking a sip of wine in a blatant attempt to hide his discomfort.

  “Who’s her mother?” Brisby demanded.

  Lord Constantine choked on the wine.

  Lia took pity on the man. “The woman who contributed the ovum for my conception is a member of the Gemadam House. The two Houses have almost no contact.”

  Brisby snorted and turned back to Lord Constantine. “You saying you ain’t never met our girl’s mother?”

  “I have not,” Lord Constantine replied. “I can count on one hand the number of times I have been in
the same room with a member of the Gemadam House. I assure you, those meetings were brief.”

  “Damn, girl,” Brisby said incredulously to Lia. “You want me to take you outta here? I always said you’d make a damn fine pirate.”

  Lord Constantine dropped his fork with a clatter. “I beg your pardon!”

  “She’d be a damned fine pirate,” Brisby repeated proudly.

  “I’m having a new show,” Mal announced, sitting forward to block the two men from each other’s sight.

  Lia bit the inside of her cheek at Mal’s not-so-subtle change of subject. “When?”

  “In three months. It’s a new series of mine on rebirth.”

  “I can’t wait to see it,” she said, fondly.

  Mal winked at her, before turning back to Lord Constantine, while Tristan effectively distracted Brisby.

  Sitting at the table, Lia felt a sense of contentment she’d never known. For the first time, she let the feeling of belonging wash over her and enjoyed the satisfaction of family.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lia smiled when she descended the stairs for her first appearance of the day and saw Caden standing in place of one of her Inderian guards. The young man looked like a child dwarfed by the other guards. Still, the League soldier stood proud in his uniform, not looking at all intimidated.

  “Caden,” she greeted him warmly. “How are you? I thought you were reassigned.”

  He gave her a cheeky grin. “I was supposed to leave this morning, but Syval got a case of food poisoning, and the League sent me to fill in.”

  “I thought the Inderian government sent my guard, not the League.”

  “They did,” Vardin volunteered. “However, the League offered Caden as a courtesy replacement until Syval is back on his feet.”

  Caden bristled at being referred to as a “courtesy replacement”, but refrained from saying anything aloud. Still, Lia gave him points for having the courage to show his displeasure in the presence of the Inderians. Though she’d lost her fear of the fierce warriors, she recognized how terrifying they were.

  “I’m glad to see you again,” Lia told him, practicing her diplomacy. Specifically, how not to laugh at a young man’s show of pride.

  Caden turned his attention back to her, and his face relaxed into its customary grin. “I just got my orders this morning. What’s the schedule for today?”

  “This morning, we’re going to the palace,” Lia informed him.

  “Why? They’ve barely gotten the mess cleaned up from the explosion.”

  “I’m meeting with the architect and a designer. They’ve decided to let Talon and I have some say in what will be our home,” Lia explained and began walking towards the door.

  The Inderians fell into step with seamless precision. Appearing flustered, Caden scrambled to join them. “The first minister will be accompanying us?” he asked, sounding alarmed.

  A pang of sympathy thrummed through her. Caden’s service aboard the Aegir had failed to impress Talon, and Lia doubted he’d filled his report on the young man with acclaim and recommendations. No doubt, Caden dreaded encountering her husband.

  “No.” Lia kept her voice neutral, not wanting to embarrass him. “Talon got called into the legislative session to address a dispute over education policy.”

  “Oh,” Caden replied, striving to look casual.

  Lia exchanged a knowing look with Vardin as they moved outside to the waiting transport.

  The ride to the Prophecy Palace took mere seconds. It took longer to load everyone into the vehicle than to travel the two blocks. Lia swallowed her complaints with effort. She would have enjoyed walking in the warm, morning sun, but her security detail had adamantly refused.

  As she stepped from the vehicle, Lia paused to look at the palace. The large edifice towered above her, its graceful spires stretching into the sky. Built out of changara stone, the building glistened a golden yellow in the sunlight. Even the boards that hid the gaping, black hole where the bomb detonated didn’t curb Lia’s awe at the building’s beauty.

  A growl from Vardin got her moving again. Gods forbid she stand on the street and look at her soon-to-be home. She swallowed the sarcastic comment that rose to her lips. The last thing she wanted was another lecture from Vardin on the accuracy of snipers—and the subsequent rant on their cowardice.

  Once inside the walled plaza that led to the palace entrance, a young woman, not much older than Lia, approached them. She moved with a stiff gate, and Lia wondered if the woman’s discomfort related to meeting the Damaia or the security screening she’d been put through.

  Though striking in appearance, the woman would never be considered pretty. Her eyes were a little too close together and her nose a little too large. Still, her self-assured manner and stylish dress gave her a unique attractiveness.

  The woman halted before Lia and inclined her head with respect. “Damaia, my name is Kavana. I’ve been engaged to decorate your private, living quarters. I’m honored to work for you. Will the first minister be along soon?”

  “No, Talon is tied up today and has left all decisions to me.” Despite the woman’s stiff manner, Lia found herself liking the decorator. Kavana was no sycophant seeking to ingratiate herself by currying favor.

  The corners of Kavana’s lips twitched as if she were trying not to smile. “No doubt, like most men, he was devastated at missing out on a day of discussing fabrics and colors.”

  Lia smiled, remembering Talon’s barely suppressed glee at escaping the palace tour. “I’m afraid you are going to have your work cut out for you with the disaster this place is.”

  “The damage will not cause me much difficulty. Miccar’s the one with the work cut out for him.”

  “Miccar?” Lia asked.

  Kavana turned and fixed a pointed look at a tall, frazzled man hurrying towards them. Almost cadaverously thin, he had a long face with pinched brown eyes and no discernable bottom lip.

  He stumbled to a halt and conked his head against Kavana when he bowed. Jerking upright, he addressed the top of Lia’s head. “Damaia, I am Miccar Vanter, the architect hired to repair your private rooms.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” she replied.

  He nodded vigorously as though he were agreeing with someone only he heard. “Follow me, and I’ll show you what we’ve done so far.”

  Without waiting for a response, Miccar spun on a heel, teetered a moment, and strode towards the ornate doors of the palace. After shooting a questioning look at Vardin, she followed Miccar at a more relaxed pace.

  They wound their way through the lower level of the palace, stopping to wait when Miccar disappeared. It took a surprising amount of time for the man to realize he’d lost the group each time he vanished. Caden and the Inderians became annoyed, but Kavana and Lia found the architect’s manner amusing.

  While waiting for Miccar, the fourth time, Lia touched Vardin on the arm to gain his attention. “What happened to the cadre of soldiers that travel with us?”

  “The palace guard has been assigned your security for the morning. Additional soldiers would be in the way and confuse the chain of command.”

  Lia nodded and Miccar popped back around a corner, ending the conversation.

  “This way,” he called and darted off again.

  Picking up the pace, she was surprised to find he led them out the back of the palace into another walled courtyard.

  “I thought we were here to see our suites,” Lia said, edging closer to Vardin.

  “Yes, yes,” Miccar replied, nodding with a fervor. “But first your husband wanted you to see this.”

  He pointed across the courtyard and Lia approached several strange looking devices with caution. When she drew closer, she discovered her glass working pipes leaning in the corner. Next to them gleamed an identical set in high quality metals, tied with a bow.

  Vardin joined her in front of the large bricked device. “A gift from your husband. When you move in, he will have the engineer who de
signed the setup explain how the furnaces and other devices work.”

  “I didn’t realize what this was at first,” she admitted.

  Vardin nodded. “You will not find xyreon exhaust on N’yota.”

  “Thank the Powers,” Lia muttered.

  Kavana approached them, and Lia saw Vardin tense. The decorator stopped a respectful distance away, though Lia felt it had more to do with fear of Vardin than any actual respect for the Damaia. The woman gestured towards a far wall. “Future plans for the palace include a gimfrey habitat on the other side of that wall.”

  Lia couldn’t help the stupid grin that spread across her face. Talon might have ditched the trip to plan the décor, but he was still making sure the place had everything she might want.

  “Come. Come.” Miccar bounced. “We must see the private apartments.”

  Vardin snatched the ping-ponging man up by the front of his shirt. Miccar paled and stared at the Inderian, hanging as still as death.

  Concerned, Lia started forward, but Caden stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She couldn’t hear what Vardin said, but when he released Miccar, the man moved towards the door on slow, shaking steps.

  Walking to the apartments, Miccar actually took time to explain the palace design and materials. Every region of the planet had contributed to the construction. The stairs they climbed were laid with marble from the Prophetess’s township. Glass windows came from the lone continent in the Southern Hemisphere. By the time they reached the apartments, Lia had seen construction materials from all corners of the world.

  Miccar paused at a simple wooden door. Once he had begun lecturing, his spastic manner had vanished, and he’d glowed with pride. “This is the entrance to your suites, Damaia. The High Priest and Priestess finished blessing them only yesterday.”

  Vardin stiffened at Lia’s elbow. “The rooms have been blessed?” he asked. Though his tone remained neutral, Lia sensed his alarm.

  “Yes,” Miccar answered, blinking rapidly with renewed nervousness.