A Blue Star Rising

by Cecilia Randell

“You do that a lot.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks.

  “At night,” he continued, “when you think I’m asleep, I’ll catch you sniffing me.”

  “Ummm…”

  “It’s cute. I like”—he swallowed—“I love that you want to.”

  “It’s not weird?”

  “Nah. Will you tell me when you figure it out? What I smell like, I mean?”

  She giggled. “Yes. It’s eluding me. Mo’ata is easy. He’s pine and herbs. But you… I just can’t put my finger on it. But it’s good.” She pressed back into him, wanting to sink into him, reveling in the pressure. “So, tell me. What? I know you know what ‘what’ I mean. No secrets, remember?”

  He sighed, the exhalation ruffling the small hairs at her forehead. “It should wait for the big redhead.”

  The bathing room door whooshed open, and her gaze met Mo’ata’s. His hair, darkened to a blood-red by his shower, was slicked back from his face, leaving the stark lines clear.

  What did that mean? Why was he being so evasive? Doubts she’d thought she’d put to rest surged to the front of her mind, and the enormity of the life and tasks to come confronted her. The big, world-saving adventure was over. All the stories usually ended there with a “happily ever after” or some such nonsense. They never covered exactly what the “ever after” consisted of. “You’re not going back, are you? Now that all this with Phillip is handled, you’re not lea—”

  “No!” he said, voice low.

  When did it get so deep? Blue shivered.

  “Of course not,” he continued. “Are you insane? No. I came here with you, if you recall, not because of Phillip. We didn’t even know he was still an issue. But I’m not sure…” His arms tightened around her. “I need to know where I stand. No, that’s not right. I need to know how I fit. And it sounds like you do, too. That’s what we’re doing, what today is for.”

  “Why wouldn’t you just tell me this?”

  “He’s telling you now.” Mo’ata sank to the ground before them, legs crossed. “As First Priden, it is my duty to help spot issues before they arise.”

  Blue shifted and opened her mouth.

  He held up a finger and cut her off. “But, you do not know that. There is no way you could have. We jumped into this.” He grinned at her, and she couldn’t help her answering smile. Not that she wanted to help it. “And while I love your list of terms, there are definitely things we need to nail down. Things that would normally have been discussed and decided upon before a joining.”

  Her eyes slid closed. Dammit. What was everyone’s role? She was supposed to figure that out? What else was she missing? Had she moved too fast? She concentrated on the strength of Forrest’s arms around her. No. She wouldn’t take back the moments she’d had with these two men for anything.

  Cloth rustled, and warm, dry lips pressed to hers. Pine and herbs overwhelmed Forrest’s more subtle scent, but his warmth still surrounded her.

  And there it was. Another moment to hold close to her heart.

  Mo’ata pulled away, and she looked up into his hazel eyes. “Now get cleaned up and dressed. As we said, there are plans for the day.” He cupped the side of her face and ran a thumb over the crest of her cheek. “Stop worrying. We’ve got you.”

  “Yeah, that’s the point.” Forrest released her and gave her a little shove. “Hurry, or I’m going to steal your turn in the shower.”

  Blue stood, careful to keep the sheet wrapped around her. “There are two bathrooms.”

  Forrest shrugged and grinned. “But all your things are in this one.” He climbed to his feet and took a step toward the still open door. Blue shoved his arm and darted around him, hitting the trigger to close the door. Her men’s laughter rang out, and she smiled.

  Steam curled up from Blue’s cup. Mo’ata had called it a traveler’s vessel—a mug that, though very lightweight, maintained the temperature of the liquid it held, whether hot or cold. When empty it also collapsed into a small cylinder that could be stored in a pouch and strapped to your belt. Apparently, vendors and restaurants didn’t provide to-go cups; you had to have one of these. A way of cutting down on waste, Mo’ata explained as they stopped at a stall near the entrance to the shopping district and he purchased one for each of them. Blue’s was, of course, blue, with a pattern of vines and flowers flowing up from the bottom. The flowers looked like little hearts. Forrest’s was a solid green and Mo’ata’s red.

  He also acquired bags for each of them. Made in a cross-body design, they were another item each shopper was required to provide on their own. Blue remembered them from the couple of days she had spent exploring before returning to earth after her first, fateful adventure but hadn’t made the connection. Now, she saw they were everywhere. Oh, not everyone had one, but the majority did, from those wearing the robes of ministry employees to the sleek suits favored by Martikans, and even a few mercenaries—outfitted in their armor—sported them.

  Blue sipped her beverage—a light tea called pango—as she wandered through the lower shopping district at street level, her prida flanking her. Garfield and Vivi pulled against their leashes, their big eyes taking in the bustle of the city around them.

  Mo’ata was correct, the three of them needed to establish the ground rules, or—despite everything they’d been through together—this arrangement wouldn’t work. They were a family now. A prida. That was how she needed to start thinking of them. Blue twirled her wedding ring on her finger. Wedding. Damn.

  Exhilaration filled her, and her heart expanded. Phillip and the crystals of Padilra were not the end of her story, but just the beginning.

  A smile bloomed, and she stopped in her tracks, spinning to face her men. Forrest matched her grin, and Mo’ata gazed down at her, face serious but his expression held a new animation she hadn’t seen before. He was enjoying their outing just as much as she was.

  “So, what’s the plan?” she asked. “You said you had one for the day?” A swift wind gusted past them, winding its way through the streets and beyond. A shaft of light cut through the air just in front of her nose, highlighting the specks of dust that had been kicked up.

  “Shopping first. There are some essentials you both need, and the inn will not be providing them forever. Most we can have delivered. The bags are for incidentals.” Mo’ata’s head tilted. “And of course, we must find something for you to wear tonight. I know of the family hosting the gathering, and as lovely as you look in jeans, they will not be appropriate.”

  “What about—”

  “Shopping first,” he said again. “Trust me, you’ll feel better once you have things of your own. Then we will stop at a place I know for lunch, and we’ll get the rest worked out.” He closed the distance between them. “We have the time, Blue. Shopa. This needs to be done, but we have the time.”

  She rested her forehead against his chest. After a moment she nodded, the smooth leather of his vest soft against her skin. “I think I’ll need to be reminded of that for a while.”

  Forrest grabbed her hand. “Come on, pixie. Let’s do some exploring.”

  “Wait, who’s paying for all this?” Dorani Faust’s words came back to her. We wish to help provide for you, she’d said. And obviously someone had been providing for Blue, for them, since they’d been back. Ugh, so many details. A list. That was what she needed, a list. Wait, had she started one…?

  “I am. I have accounts here in the city, funds from my work with…” Mo’ata said. The crowd pressed in on them before moving on. They stood in the flow of traffic like a badly placed traffic cone. “There is plenty. I haven’t had much of a chance to spend it.” He smiled. “I like spending it on you.”

  Right. The Order. Which was still on the down low. To the rest of the worlds, they were supposed to be just another clansman, David Faust’s prodigal daughter returned from a closed world, and her romantically involved friend, all caught up in the machinations of a mass murderer. Only select people knew the truth. She had to remember
that.

  She let out a breath. “Okay. Good. I wasn’t sure yet if I wanted to take the Fausts up on their offer, and—Dammit. Did I even tell you about that?”

  Mo’ata’s expression stiffened and he shook his head. “No. You did not. But Forrest filled me in. It is a good idea to avoid any obligations, set or implied. I have enough saved to get us by for now.”

  “And we’ll all be getting jobs at some point,” Forrest chimed in.

  “Can one of the things we pick up today be a notebook and pen? I left mine at the inn. And then we can start a list at lunch. I have a feeling this is going to be a longer list than my other one.”

  They resumed walking. “And what’s this list going to be called?” Forrest asked. “Crap To Do? Prida Practices? Ways to Waddle?”

  Blue laughed, recalling Forrest’s previous references to ducklings. “Quack,” she said. “No. I was thinking something along the lines of ‘Best Practices for Blue’s Boys’ or some such.”

  Mo’ata drew himself up and puffed out his chest. “I am no boy.”

  Her gaze roved over him. “No, you certainly aren’t.” Then she wagged her brows, and he laughed a joyous, throw-your-head-back laugh, one she expected from Forrest, or even Felix or Trevon, but not her Mo’ata. It made it all the more special.

  Today was shaping up to be a wonderful day.

  “Okay.” She tugged on Forrest’s hand, still held in hers. “Let’s get this show on the road.” She set off, not even knowing where she was going. But wasn’t that half the fun sometimes?

  “Show on the road?” Mo’ata asked behind her, low.

  “Means to get started,” Forrest whispered.

  “Ah. Another idiom. I fear I will never learn them all.”

  “No one ever does, really,” Blue said, still leading the way. A display window caught her eye. Feathers of all shapes and sizes adorned cushions, arranged to show them to their best advantage. One, iridescent like a peacock feather, glowed with reds, golds, and oranges. “It looks like it’s on fire.”

  Mo’ata, his features reflected in the glass, frowned down at it. “That’s a miriski feather. The shopkeepers are getting bold. I don’t like it.” He met Blue’s gaze in the window. “It’s from Falass, which is closed.” He focused on the feather once more. “Smuggling is always going to happen, everyone knows this, but to flaunt regulations like this… I will have to report it.”

  Garfield stood on his hind legs and pressed his nose to the glass, a squeaking growl escaping him. Was their day about to be derailed?

  “But I can do that later. Right now, we have some shopping to do.” Mo’ata grabbed her hand and tugged, this time taking the lead and guiding them along.

  The next couple of hours were filled with shop after shop. Soaps, hair cleansers, towels. Brushes, dryers. Pots and pans and dishes. Most of it would be delivered once they’d found an apartment. The rest was sent on to the inn or stashed in their satchels. Blue was in a furniture shop—the sixth place they’d visited—perusing a display wall of mirrors when she caught sight of a pair of bright blue eyes, framed by dark hair, stubble, and a wicked grin.

  Chapter 2

  TREVON

  Trevon’s eyes met Blue’s in the mirror, and he grinned. She’d spotted him. Good. Time to roll out the next part of his plan.

  Now that Phillip and all that business had been taken care of, he was at zero. His debt had been paid, balance equal on both sides of the ledger. Oh, Forrest still had his penny, but that was a separate transaction, a separate commitment.

  Trevon checked the back left of the store. The rest of Blue’s prida was still there, examining a furniture set. The upholstery was a deep blue with a lighter pinstripe. He had a feeling there would be quite a few items with that color in whatever apartment they settled in. And that it would get overwhelming after a while.

  I should find out what her second favorite color is.

  The cubs were there as well, straining at the ends of their leashes. There wouldn’t be much time before the other two spotted him. He needed to hurry. Coming up behind her, he leaned in and inhaled. She still wasn’t wearing his perfume. A small part of him mourned this, but the larger part had to concede that he hadn’t done anything to warrant her acceptance of his gift. Everything up to this point had been owed.

  That was what today—and this encounter—was about.

  “Are you—are you smelling me?” Blue spun to face him, and her eyes widened. Only a handspan separated them. He had no doubt that she had expected him to give her some room.

  Her eyes narrowed, and she moved, pulling back her fist and letting fly. He shifted, letting it hit his shoulder and deflecting the majority of the force. It hurt. She’d put some real force behind it.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about you hitting me.” That was a lie. He loved it. If she felt no compunction about attacking him, she was no longer holding back. And he didn’t want her holding back, not with him. He wanted her comfortable enough to express her emotions, even if it was anger.

  Though he wasn’t sure what he’d done to anger her. At least this time.

  “Dammit, you are not supposed to be here. Today is for me and Forrest and Mo’ata. It’s ours. We’ve barely had any time alone together, and you just come waltzing in—”

  He laid a finger across her lips, cutting her off. That made sense then. “I won’t be long. I just wanted to tell you my intentions because I want to be very clear about them so there is no confusion, no misunderstanding.” He slid his finger over her lips and to the tip of her chin, then suppressed a smile as she sucked in a breath and her cheeks colored. “The debt between us is paid. For Phillip and the crystals. Everything from this point on you may consider my courtship.” He glanced at the rear of the shop where the other two men had been. Both were headed toward them, eyes narrowed. “Well, my courtship of your family, as it were.”

  He had seconds before the clansman reached them, and the boy wouldn’t be that far behind. He captured a strand of her hair and twined it around his fingers. The blue was fading. Her eyes went wide and she swayed, and for a moment he contemplated stealing another kiss, but he dismissed the whim. The timing wasn’t right.

  A scuff of leather on tile signaled the arrival of Mo’ata, and Trevon spun, meeting the slightly taller clansman head on. Pulling a card from his pocket, Trevon pressed it to the other man’s chest. “She’ll need something good for tonight. I know a place. You’re welcome.” He grinned, tipped his head, and spun back to Blue in time to catch her quick-flash smile before she wiped it from her face. “Until later, little star. Don’t forget to invite me to the housewarming once you’ve found a place. And if you need assistance with that…”

  “We don’t.” The boy’s tone was flat.

  Trevon tipped his head in acknowledgement. Fair enough. He did still have work to do there—the penny had yet to be traded in. Per his understanding of the custom, he couldn’t do just anything; it had to be something the boy specifically stated and redeemed it for. It was an interesting way of doing things.

  A soft pat on his leg pulled his attention down. Garfield had stretched up, propping himself up on Trevon’s thigh. Big blue-gray eyes stared up at him.

  “Hello, little monster.” Trevon ran his fingers through the thick ruff that was beginning to form around the cub’s neck. “Taking care of our girl?”

  Forrest snorted but held his silence. Mo’ata’s gaze bounced between Trevon and the cub as he fingered the seamstress’s information, a slight frown pulling his lips down at the corners. He didn’t appear angry, though, merely contemplative. “Thank you,” he said. “We will pay the shop a visit.” His voice matched his face. Then his gaze cut to Blue, and his eyes widened just the slightest before narrowing on Trevon. “Come to state your intentions?”

  It surprised a laugh from Trevon. He wasn’t giving the clansman nearly enough credit. “Actually, yes. I didn’t expect you to be familiar with Martikan customs, at least not on this front.”

 
Mo’ata nodded. “I will make sure it is taken up during our family meeting.” Then he shifted, easing Blue back and slightly behind him, blocking Trevon from any contact.

  And there it was, Trevon’s in. It was simple of course, and he should have seen it long before now, but he’d been concentrating on the situation with Padilra and his debt. The clansman would do what he had to in order to protect Blue, and, to an extent, the rest of the prida. But per clan culture, the shopa was the key. So that was Mo’ata’s priority. All Trevon needed to do was demonstrate that a connection to him was to Blue’s advantage. The clansman would do the rest.

  Perfect.

  “Until later, then.” He inclined his head, spun on his heal, and strode from the store.

  That went well. He tugged on his left ear. He missed his piercings. And he’d had his eye on a new set of studs—lapis and silver. Eh, maybe the blue won’t ever get old.

  He caught the movement of black armored suits on his right periphery. Guards. He sighed and glanced down at his ragged canvas trousers and faded black shirt topped by a scuffed leather jacket. He could put on his old clothes and place the metal back in his face, but it didn’t change the fact that he now had guards. The bonds of responsibility tightened on him, restricting and, in some ways, freeing. The majority of his choices these days were all the clearer, and often all the more painful for it.

  His next stop would only serve to highlight this.

  He rounded the corner and climbed into the transport waiting for him. A minute later, after his guards had caught up, they were off. Storefronts, metal catwalks, and people flashed by as they traveled into the lower portion of the central shopping district and into Zeynar territory. When they were a few streets from Nya’s shop, he instructed the driver to stop. This would be easier if he approached alone.

  He hoped he was wrong about her involvement. But he didn’t think he was.

  Pushing open the door, he took in the medley of scents. Alluring and subtle, they drew shoppers in, enticing them to linger and partake of a bit of luxury. Nya knew her trade well. Two women wandered the shop. One, a brunette with a lovely figure and the skills to show it off well, tilted her head in his direction, causing a lock of her hair to curl against her chest. It was a practiced move, one designed to draw the eye. Trevon allowed his gaze to roam—it was only polite. Then he met the woman’s dark gaze, gave her a small smile, and shook his head.