The Melier: Prodigal Son

by Poppy Rhys

  “Where is she?”

  “Imprisoned.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “For what?”

  Lucia’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “She tried to have me killed.”

  ****

  JRUVIIN

  All his life he'd avoided the Intergalactic Coalition like a disease he could outrun, and now he accompanied his partner to summon them. His fingertips slid along the desk belonging to the ambassador of Melierun—Val’Koy.

  Jruviin fought the urge to blend into the shadows, out of view, and disappear.

  A sense of cowardice lodged in his throat until he swallowed the stone into his gut.

  He wouldn't.

  Jruviin reminded himself this was necessary to protect Dania, no matter the consequences. Vu’Mal’Su wouldn’t get away with what he’d done. Not this time.

  "State your full names and titles for the record," the case manager uttered, sitting before the comm vid projected on the far wall.

  "Val’Koy of Gi’Moy and Val’Qa, First Prince of Melierun."

  "Jru," he tried. The manager lifted his head, suspicion blooming.

  "Your full name and title, please."

  Jruviin could feel the tension rolling off Val’Koy, but to his credit, he stood still in his peripheral.

  He hesitated, his self-preservation instincts on high. I do this for Dania, he reminded himself once more. "Jruviin of Piktiin of Mo'k Tok, Dravidim."

  That information, like a weight in his innards, only made him feel uneasy after vomiting it up.

  The liaison didn't instill any calm with his contemplative stare.

  "Can we move on?" Val’Koy interrupted impatiently, popping the tension like a boil and temporarily releasing the pressure. Jruviin inhaled a steady breath.

  He was only there as a witness. Vu’Mal’Su hadn’t committed any grave crimes against him. Not in the way he harassed and tricked his mates.

  A wry smile twisted his mouth. No, Piktiin was to blame for that. Maybe he’d lodge a complaint against him next.

  The thought was nice, even if self-sabotaging. If Piktiin went down, Jruviin would be dragged right along with him.

  ****

  VAL’KOY

  Val’Koy scrubbed a hand over his skull, nerves making his skin itch. The wait for the liaison to show—although merely hours—frustrated him. The sooner Vu’Mal’Su was hunted down, the sooner he could sleep peacefully at night.

  The need for vengeance burned him up from the inside, and he fucking hated it.

  Jruviin’s tail thwacked his ankle. “Stop, unless you want to scalp yourself.”

  Throats cleared around the room and the advisors perched around the table shifted uncomfortably, as they had been once he showed up with the Draekiin.

  No doubt it burned their scales that a Draekiin deigned to command him.

  Val’Koy stopped scraping his skull and smirked when the air grew heavier. He knew the hatred they held for their cousin race. Val’Koy’d been there, fought through it, and he was still breathing. Change hadn’t killed him.

  “I see you finally have some gold,” Gi’Moy flicked his ear from her seat at the head of the table. “You certainly took your time.”

  His mother always griped about how her sons rarely wore more decoration than their cuffs, and usually only during formal events.

  Val’Koy shrugged. “I was bored.”

  Gi’Moy sniffed, gave an exasperated huff and refocused on the doors. They swung open.

  “Apologies, Your Grace,” the newcomer said. Val’Koy recognized him as a popular journalist for the people.

  “What is he doing here?”

  “Come forward,” Gi’Moy commanded and curled her needlepoint claws. “He came to get your story.”

  Val’Koy’s brow ridge dipped. “My story? What about the liaison?”

  “In due time.”

  His tail twitched, irritated.

  “Do you have all the information you need, Hidaik?”

  “J-just a couple more questions for the prince, my Queen.”

  “Go on.”

  The door shut behind him and the red-skinned male retrieved his comm and set it to record. “On Equah,” he directed at Val’Koy, “how did you escape? I’ve read through the report and a section was redacted. Some speculate you and the Drae—err, Jruviin, murdered members of the local government.”

  Val’Koy leaned back in his chair and shared a glance with Jruviin before they both stared at the journalist. He wouldn’t admit to anything that might bite him in the ass later. There was no proof of the acts that happened, only the word of him and his mates. He could scream self-defense, but they were just words.

  And self-defense would be a lie. Attacking Trik and Raim in the middle of the night was murder, no matter what color anyone tried to paint it.

  Val’Koy wouldn’t lose any fucking sleep at night over it either.

  “Your Highness?”

  “Next question.”

  He tapped his comm again. “Is Dania Dennik of Dor Nye to be the second human to officially join the royal family?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t hesitate. Dania was theirs.

  Hidaik glanced at Jruviin. “Is Dania Dennik also mated to Jruviin?”

  “Yes,” he answered again and eyed those around the table. “Is that a problem for anyone in this room?”

  Silence met him, even if the air didn’t get any clearer.

  “Is that all?” Gi’Moy asked Hidaik.

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Good. You will display this in a favorable light,” his mother threatened calmly, but everyone knew Gi’Moy’s calm meant turbulence brewed beneath the surface and no one wanted to see that storm. Another uncomfortable shift in the atmosphere. “Spin it however you like. The Therran woman who united two foes, or love, or survival—all three if you wish—but it will be good.” Gi’Moy left the ‘or else’ to linger in the space between them. “Have I made myself clear?”

  “Y-yes, of course, Your Majesty, absolutely clear.”

  ****

  LUCIA

  Lucia twirled a lock of her long hair between her fingers as shock radiated through her while she listened to the meeting from the gallery above. If her eyebrows could reach into her hairline, they definitely would’ve.

  Did Gi’Moy just defend the Draekiin?

  She abso-fucking-lutely did!

  She side-eyed Val’Zun beside her. He’d gone rigid whenever they were in Jruviin’s presence—much like every other Melier, especially the staunchy advisors around the table.

  The guy seemed nice. Polite, even. She liked him, and felt kinda bad for him. Lucia knew what it felt like to be in his position—fresh off the ship and in hostile territory where the Melierun inhabitants thought the scum under their boot deserved more respect.

  It was hard, but times had changed. A little. At least Gi’Moy wasn’t threatening him. The queen had been downright welcoming in comparison.

  That little bit made her smile.

  “Our younglings softened your mom up,” she whispered to Val’Zun who couldn’t hold back a twitch to his lips. His version of a small smile.

  Win.

  She poked his side and he reverted back to a scowl.

  “Stop your poking,” he grumbled.

  “Or what?” she teased.

  “This is no time for games,” he hissed, halfheartedly brushing her poking hand away before grasping it to stop her third attempt.

  Annoying Val’Zun never got old.

  The journalist left, and Gi’Moy sent for the Coalition liaison. The subject of the Trepnil emperor was brought up and Lucia’s playful mood flattened.

  She’d heard the shit Dania’d been through at the hands of Vu’Mal’Su. It was even worse knowing Val’Koy hadn’t been able to put the Trep down.

  Lucia understood why. He chose his mates over revenge. Even Val’Zun and Soren could grasp the importance of that.

  Family is everything.

  Dania and Jruviin were now
part of this family, and it warmed her heart knowing the queen fought for that in her own way. She wanted to get ahead of the rumors, give the people a story they could understand, relate to, or even support.

  Lucia was rooting for them. Val’Koy had changed, and the part of her that had come to view him as her brother, it beamed. She was proud.

  A shuffling drew her attention and she looked over her shoulder to find Gi’Ren slipping in and stuffing his huge frame into a seat behind her.

  “You missed your mom scaring the journalist.”

  He lifted a hairless brow, the scar on his face moving slightly. “What?”

  “Never mind. So, what do you think of Jruviin?”

  For so long, Gi’Ren had beat himself up about Val’Koy’s disappearance, as if he could’ve known. The brothers had words once Dania’d been in the clear and Val’Koy had left her side long enough to visit.

  It wasn’t often Lucia had seen Ren angry, and she was glad. It was fucking scary.

  Val’Koy’d faced it like a pro, unfazed, and then they’d worked it out. Because, at the end of the day, they were both just content to be alive and in the same room again.

  Gi’Ren grunted and shrugged a shoulder. “Val’Koy is happy. All I care about.”

  Lucia’s heart thumped in her chest and she grinned. “Oh, Ren,” she sighed. “You don’t talk much, but when you do, I get all gooey.”

  Zun groaned, and Ren looked freshly annoyed. Lucia chuckled and, while Zun was distracted, poked his side again.

  “Loo-Sha,” he warned. She covered her mouth and smothered her chuckles. Her comm quietly chimed and she answered.

  “Dr. Trex is summoning me.”

  “Everything alright?” Zun asked.

  “Nothing to worry about.” She pecked their cheeks and made a quiet exit.

  DANIA

  “I have news!” Dr. Trex exclaimed, animated in his uniquely nerdy way, which meant he discovered something ‘exciting’. “You’re a carrier of mutated genes. In fact,” he turned to Lucia, “you both are.”

  “Mutated genes?” Dania nibbled the inside of her cheek. That didn’t bode well.

  River circled her, bumping his fluffy head into her shoulder to beg for affection. He’d been guarding the babies again, and while it felt odd that he hadn’t been attached to her side, it was a comfort knowing he kept constant vigil over her younglings. She kissed his bony snout and hugged him close, stroking his thick fur.

  “English, Doc,” Lucia calmly reminded.

  “The red hair mutation! You’re both carriers.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, pale cheeks a rosy hue.

  “And that means...?”

  “Melier and humans are not as incompatible as we originally thought.”

  She and Lucia shared a dubious glance before Lu blurted, “Because of some red hair gene? That’s how we got knocked up by Melier men?”

  Dr. Trex nervously chortled and his face grew pinker while he cleared his throat. “Never one to beat around the bush, but yes, in short. We are examining the topic further, but I believe this is how Dania was able to carry the fetuses as long as she did without the ingestion of a specific cell.” He turned to her then and explained, “The synthesized cell that essentially tricks the immune system and stops it from attacking and aborting a Melier fetus. With Lucia’s pregnancies, she required this cell daily.”

  “If we both have the gene, why didn’t Dania need the cell?” Lucia tapped her chin.

  “I think it was your Yadana DNA,” he mused. “My guess is that it interfered with the natural progression of the pregnancies. Humans with one or more allele—err, alternative gene forms—are compatible with Melier, and Yadana are compatible with Melier, but together they clash, preventing unassisted procreation.”

  They blinked.

  “If—if—my theory is correct, that is,” Dr. Trex quickly amended, and then his eyes lit up. “If so, we could even perform gene manipulation, Lucia, if you desired to carry another youngling without cell—”

  “No. Nooo-ho-ho-ho,” she waved her hands in a hell-no fashion. “I’m done with having younglings. Done. Do you hear me? Done!”

  Dania bit down on her lips and tried—failed—to stifle her laughter.

  “As you wi—”

  Commotion from the hall drew their attention. A roar knocked the breath from her as if she’d been kicked in the stomach—she’d know that antagonized sound anywhere.

  Val’Koy.

  Dania took off running.

  FIFTY-FIVE

  DANIA

  "What's going on?” Dania took in the scene before her. Two brothers, Gi’Ren, the terrifying one, and Soren, one of Lucia’s mates, restrained a raging Val’Koy. His predatory teeth bared, eyes black as coal, and body straining against the hold.

  A jolt of terror seized her guts. She followed his line of sight to see Jruviin flanked by officials.

  "Jruviin, son of Piktiin of Dravidim, you're being apprehended for the illegal sale of banned weaponry, the result of which ties you to the genocide of three civilizations in two galaxies and is considered crimes against the universe." The Coalition agent gestured to the other two standing nearby, closing Jru in. "Cooperate and we won't use force. Strap him."

  The allegations sliced through her. “Wait, you have the wrong person,” she protested, taking a step forward, River at her side. “He’s a victim—wha—y-you’re here to take his testimony, not arrest him.”

  They pulled out the magnetic cuffs and Jruviin held out his wrists, his face impassive, as if he just expected this!

  Like he’d expected it all along.

  They grasped his arms and ushered him to move.

  “Where are you taking him? You can’t do this!” Dania shoved her hands in her hair. They weren’t listening! "Jruviin! Someone do something!"

  “Get your hands off me!” Val’Koy roared, the words barely decipherable with his baritone growl as he struggled.

  "Dania, be calm,” Jruviin said over his shoulder, his defeated tone cracking her heart in two.

  They were taking him. Her tear-blurred vision darted around the gathering crowd, most of which didn’t appear moved by the unjust arrest. “They've got the wrong person," she murmured, brain racing a klick a minute. She knew the charges were plausible. His past wasn't a secret to her.

  But he wasn’t that person anymore.

  Contentment had just begun to wrap its safe arms around her. She had her guys, her thriving younglings, and a beautiful place to call home... Even her family was on their way. This was everything she’d ever dreamed of. Everything was going to plan. Dania’d finally gotten what she always wanted...

  And the Intergalactic Coalition was dragging a piece of it away.

  She ran after him.

  “Dania!” Val’Koy bellowed.

  She shoved both hands against the agent’s back on the right, and he pitched forward. “Jruviin, run!” she shouted.

  The agent on the left turned, hand reaching to grab her—

  Jruviin knocked him to the ground, bared sharp teeth inches from the terrified man’s mug, and barbed tail hardened and ready to wield as a venomous mace.

  “Never. Touch. Her.” He grated, tone sinister enough that her prey senses went off, urging her to back away.

  Silence descended, the only sound the heavy panicked breathing coming from her and the clicking growl rolling from River as he dared the third agent to move.

  Jruviin slowly rose and turned to her. His cuffed palms reached up to cup her face, the calluses feeling hot and rough against her softer skin. “Dania—”

  “Why didn’t you run?” she whispered, chin trembling. “Why?” She pushed against his chest, the movement halfhearted.

  Jruviin rested his forehead against hers, his scent of sun heated sand and male musk curling around her like an embrace.

  “I won’t let them take you away,” she challenged. “They can’t take you away from me. From us.”

  “They will,” he said, an
d when Dania opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off. “Think with a clear head. We will figure this out.”

  Dania blinked, hot liquid spilling from the corners of her eyes.

  “Say you understand,” he urged, that black mask of feathers bunching above his nose in what she knew as a scowl.

  “I-I...” she swallowed and nodded. “I understand. Clear head.”

  Jruviin’s mouth covered hers, warm, firm, with the tickle of tiny feathers just around the edges, and then he let her go.

  She watched as the rumpled agents ushered him down the palace steps, into their waiting craft, and lifted into the sky. Eyes tracked the transport until the pinprick of the ship disappeared into nothing.

  Only then did Val’s brothers let him go. She heard a meaty thump, like fist hitting body, followed by a grunt, and then he was at her side.

  Dania clung to him and River.

  Clear head.

  She had to think with a clear head.

  FIFTY-SIX

  DANIA

  Dania wrung her wrists as she paced the ship’s bridge. A prince’s ship, one designated for Val’Koy’s use. The hum of engines beneath her feet, the stale scent of recycled air, and the faint clicks and beeps of various computer systems around the bridge did nothing to calm her.

  Trying to keep a clear head was extremely hard. She had to remember; this was the IC—they had ethical guidelines to maintain. It wasn’t like he was imprisoned on Tundrin or Equah.

  That calmed her.

  “Whenever I’m feeling stressed, breathing woosah usually helps,” Lucia offered.

  Dania glanced at her. She stood beside Gi’Ren and Val’Koy. Lucia’s mates didn’t want her to come, but Dania was glad the human woman was around for support now. Especially one who had experience with the Coalition, because Dania had zilch.

  This whole thing was giving her hives.

  She’d seen enough crime dramas to know there was some truth in everything, and if they’d taught her only one thing, it was that policing agencies wanted big fish.

  What could Jruviin offer? Nothing, yet everything. She had convinced herself that the IC didn’t really want him—they wanted Piktiin. The snake’s head.