The Melier: Prodigal Son

by Poppy Rhys

Dania stopped pacing, satisfied she had something to go on, and faced Val’Koy. Another question begged to be asked. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a twin?”

  ****

  VAL’KOY

  His eyes narrowed at the subject of his sister. “How did—"

  Lucia.

  He side-eyed his in-law, who suddenly found her flimsy nails especially interesting.

  Val’Koy hadn’t purposefully kept the existence of Gi’Calla away from Dania... he’d just forgotten. He’d worked hard to banish his twin from his mind, but just the mention of her brought his final memory flooding back... from so many, many months ago...

  “So, it is true.” Gi’Calla withdrew her hand. “You are no better than our perverted brothers.”

  “You are wrong,” he murmured.

  Val’Koy had just told her he might have a half human son, long ago, before he got on that ship with Gi’Ren. His secret would be safe with her. No one, except him, visited her anymore after all. He remembered all too well the twisted sensation of shame and hope.

  His twin had always been the one quick to anger, quick to pass judgement, and always so serious. There was no gray area with Gi’Calla; only black or white. He’d thought her unending somber attitude was attributed to the immense responsibility of governing their people, a duty that she’d been groomed for her entire life.

  Val’Koy had always known Gi’Calla would be a force to be reckoned with, a firm and just ruler of their people.

  His gaze roamed over Dania, her dark eyes searching for answers, as he reconsidered that belief, because he knew now, life was full of gray. Hardly anything was black or white.

  He understood his brothers. Their fierce devotion to Lucia, devotion he now felt toward Dania, it couldn’t be denied. The idea of being with another, it churned his gut and left a sour taste on his tongue.

  He realized that made him, his brothers, abnormal, in the eyes of their people. Taking lovers was natural, even when mated to another. Sex and love were often separate, but not so for humans. At least, predominantly, as far as he could tell.

  He’d observed the tension, and struggle, that Lucia fought with when taking on a second mate. His eyes slid to her again. She was happy presently, but Val’Koy understood better how overcoming ingrained customs and beliefs could make one feel irregular and frustrated.

  “She convinced our mother to let you live,” he’d protested in defense of Lucia.

  Gi’Calla shouted, “I would rather be dead!”

  Whether Lucia knew it or not, her intervention to have Gi’Calla locked up kept his twin from becoming a martyr to the dwindling group of conservative zealots. She wouldn’t take her own life either, as that would only make her a coward in the eyes of her followers.

  Instead, she was stuck there, in that beautiful prison, for the rest of her lonely existence.

  “Cease any correspondence beyond this room,” Val’Koy told the guards at his back. His twin whirled around, lengthy black locks riding the air, and shock so clearly written upon her face. “The former princess is to remain isolated in truth from this moment on.”

  “You would deprive me of the crumbs I receive now? To cut me off entirely from news of my loved ones?”

  “Is it not fair, all things considered? You would do the same to me, given the chance, if I followed a similar path as our brothers’.”

  At this, her lips flattened, that aura of superiority she was quick to display shining through.

  He nodded slowly. “I thought so.”

  Turning, he made his way to the exit, guards parting, opening the doors for him. Stopping at the threshold, he looked over his shoulder. His twin showed him her back. “Goodbye, Calla.”

  He’d left, knowing it was the last time he’d ever see her. Thinking it was the last day he’d see his family, his home, as he’d departed with Gi’Ren toward the fate of Vu’Mal’Su’s blackmail.

  “One day,” he said, voice thick as he curled his knuckle down Dania’s soft jaw, “I will tell you about her.” Even if it meant dredging up the past, he’d be transparent.

  “I believe you.” She wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her chin on his chest when she tilted her head back. “Now let’s go get our mate back.”

  ****

  JRUVIIN

  “Nothin’ to say?”

  Jruviin stretched his legs while he sat in one of two chairs at the metal table. The other was occupied by his interrogator, Lim. A googly-eyed male, his species one that Jruviin didn’t recognize, with tight gray skin, long and gnarled fingers, and a round, lipless hole for a mouth. His voice sounded like reeds whistling in the wind when he spoke.

  And he was clearly pissed at Jruviin’s lack of fear.

  “Let me repeat,” he tapped the table, “you’ll spend your miserable days in a hole, getting ass-fucked by the scum of the universe. Criminals who would laugh at your record.”

  Lim had said this three times already. He was running out of steam.

  “Sounds more entertaining than this, you colostomy bag.”

  Lim’s enlarged, hairless head sprouted bony nodes that darkened. Jruviin would have to thank Dania for the insult, even if he had no idea what it meant, only that she claimed she’d need one if he and Val’Koy continued to ‘ruin her ass’.

  Colostomy bag. He chuckled. Humans were odd.

  Lim shut down his comm device, the list of charges hovering in the air disappearing with it, and then stalked from the room.

  Jruviin exhaled and his smirk disappeared when he lifted his cuffed hands to scratch his forehead. The IC wanted the family business. Piktiin, the contracts, warehouses, manufacturers—everything and everyone...

  In exchange for his freedom.

  Tempting. Extremely tempting.

  Despite his lack of love for his father, he didn’t think he could do it. Didn’t think he could ruin the lives of so many people. Family units would be destroyed, younglings left without parents or guardians and abandoned to carve out an existence in this harsh universe.

  And then what? Someone else would fill the void and supply weapons to those who wanted them. It was a never-ending cycle. He’d rather rot on a prison planet than leave a path of destruction that wide. He’d done enough damage already.

  Couldn’t be much worse than Tundrin, after all.

  He shoved the thought of his mates and younglings from his mind.

  Jruviin would break if he didn’t.

  ****

  DANIA

  “He’s entitled to legal counsel,” she calmly reminded the head agent, Rickin, who’d nearly gotten his face ripped off by River planetside. Thankfully her wolvenk decided to stay with the younglings. She missed him but knew his presence would’ve only made this harder.

  Agent Rickin, a human with a bright red curling mustache, shot her a dubious glare. “He’s responsible—”

  “Allegedly,” Dania reminded.

  “—for the genocide of civilizations. He isn’t entitled to legal counsel.”

  “What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

  “Ma’am,” Rickin sighed, “this isn’t a crime drama.”

  Dania pinched the bridge of her nose and then brightened. “We’d like to see him.”

  Agent Rickin didn’t move.

  “Listen,” she leveled him with a glare of her own, “you wouldn’t still be here if Jruviin admitted to any of the crimes you’re stacking against him. Either let us see him, or I’ll happily standby while your superiors rip you a new asshole after a complaint is lodged against you from the Melierun royal family.”

  “One of which is also a member of the Dor Nye Assembly,” Lucia added, flicking her fingers through the air as if it were no big deal. “So, make that two formal planetary complaints.”

  Dania locked gazes with Lucia, a silent thank you sent her way.

  “Well?” she directed at Rickin. “What’ll it be?”

  Gi’Ren, standing somewhere behind them, grunted, and Dania thought it might be one of
approval. She hoped, because the guy’s lack of verbal communication in general only made him scarier, even if she’d seen him turn to goo around Lucia’s younglings. Dania already suspected her own young would have the same power over him.

  “Fine,” Rickin caved, and pointed, “but just you. No one else.”

  Val’Koy stepped forward, menacing growl clicking in his throat, but stopped when Dania rested a hand on his robed chest. “It’s okay. I’ll be back.”

  “You better,” he softly threatened, placing a possessive hand on the nape of her neck, leaving his or else to settle with Rickin.

  The door buzzed, unlocking, and Dania moved through, following the broody agent through stark white halls, bereft of any telling signs or marks. Just door, upon door, upon door.

  She’d get lost real quick.

  “Two minutes,” he warned, unlocking one. “Not a nanosecond more.”

  “Thank you,” she ground out as she stepped inside and watched the door slam shut.

  “Dania?”

  She whirled, relief surging through her that Jruviin was physically unchanged. No signs of blood or abuse met her eye.

  Dania covered the distance, bashing against his chest for a hug. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry!” She blubbered into his black jacket that he’d bought on Sau-sai Hub. His arms lifted over her head, cuffed wrists looping around her shoulders while he held her close.

  “What are you doing here, my Dania?” His low, whispery voice sounded accusatory, yet satisfied.

  “We don’t have much time,” she pulled away and uncurled herself from his lithe body. “Tell me what they want from you. Is it your father?”

  Jruviin’s black mask of feathers drew tighter together, his lips thinning. “They told you?”

  “No, but it wasn’t hard to figure out. What did they offer?”

  He sighed, dropping back into his chair. “My freedom.”

  If possible, Dania’s heart would’ve sank. She could see it written on his face: he wouldn’t give up his father.

  A sudden swell of anger curled her fingers into fists at her sides because that asshole didn’t deserve the goodness Jruviin had to give. “I’m begging you, don’t go to prison for that sad lump.”

  “Not about him,” Jruviin admitted, shaking his head.

  She didn’t understand, but they were running out of time. "They'll let you go if they get a bigger fish. I don’t care what Rickin says about crime dramas."

  “What?” He looked so confused.

  “Remember that thing you said on Sau-sai about the mercs...” she lifted her eyebrows, hoping he’d remember what he said about supplying the Greesh, because if crime dramas had taught her anything, it’s that there were always people listening and one shouldn’t voice their intentions aloud.

  Enlightenment relaxed his features, but then he scowled. "No."

  “Tell me how to contact Piktiin.”

  “No.”

  "No?” She shrieked and shoved her hands into her curls, beyond vexed. “So, you're just gonna let them ship you off to your death? Away from me? Away from Val’Koy and those four innocent younglings that I nearly died carrying?" Her voice hit a shrill, angered pitch by the end.

  "You heard the charges. They are true. I aided in genocide."

  Dania shook her head. "How dare you. How dare you let me fall in love with you and then quit on me this way. Do you hear me?"

  "Dania—"

  "Is it so easy to leave us behind? Our younglings with one less father, Val’Koy and I with one less mate. Broken."

  Jruviin stepped forward, quilled brow furrowed with something other than defeat. Was it frustration? She hoped so, because she was frustrated as fuck. He needed a taste of that.

  "This is the hardest thing—"

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  "Easier said than done."

  "Fight for yourself, for us. Let me help you. I can do this Jruviin, just... Do you trust me?" Her hands cupped his strong jaw, their foreheads pressing together, her soul begging for it not to be the last time they’d touch.

  "Implicitly."

  "Then give me what I ask, or I swear to the five trade planets I'll take everyone down with me when I go fucking mental on this whole institution."

  Jruviin’s lips twitched and his eyes softened. "You have become a force, my Dania."

  "You better believe it." She let her smile slip just for a moment. "Now tell me how to find your father."

  ****

  Dania took a long, deep breath and let it out in a shuddering whoosh from the safety of Val’Koy’s chambers on the ship.

  I can do this.

  She held Jruviin’s comm in the palm of her hand, the one he’d received while aboard Piktiin’s ship. His wily father had preprogrammed his contact information into the device, and Jru hadn’t yet erased it.

  She scratched her brow. Right now, she didn’t have time to analyze that tidbit.

  “Are you well?” Val’Koy asked, his hand sliding against her neck, thumb pushing against her jaw to coax her head back. She allowed it, eyes catching his. The diamond shaped pupils danced, proving he tried his best to control his emotions.

  “I’m okay. Just nervous. I don’t want to screw it up.”

  Val stooped down, his lower pair of hands grasping her hips and pulling her close. He kissed her. The act somehow said, ‘you got this’.

  Dania took another breath, stepped back, and opened a connection. Seconds ticked by before Piktiin answered, his face—that of a withered, harsher version of Jru—taking up the screen.

  “Ahh, the human,” he clicked, sitting back in his chair. “Where is my son?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. He’s been apprehended by the Intergalactic Coalition.”

  Piktiin sat forward.

  “He needs your help.”

  The snorting sound emanating from his nasal passage didn’t instill hope in Dania. "He should have come with his people. No aid will come from me. Lose my data, human.”

  “Wait—”

  Dania was going about this the wrong way. Her brain quickly ran through the information she had on Piktiin, which was limited.

  Why would he sell his son only to later save him from Greesh mercs and the Sau-sai courts? Something had changed.

  What?

  He denied Jru his help, even knowing he could blow his entire operation...

  It clicked.

  “What, human?”

  Val’Koy bristled in her peripheral.

  Piktiin wasn't concerned about Jru’s well-being. That wasn’t why he swooped in on Sau-sai. It was his fucked-up sense of honor and pride. He'd even touted the bounty on his son’s head was admirable. She remembered.

  Jruviin had earned his respect in the Hae’deth games...

  “I have a proposition for you.” Dania stood straighter, hoping her outward display of confidence didn’t show her true thoughts which were: oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!

  “How would you like to have the Intergalactic Coalition in your pocket?” she slyly smiled. “Or are you too chicken shit to work with a human?”

  She disconnected.

  Her heart bashed in her chest, eyes bulged, and sweat beaded on her top lip.

  Val’Koy stood there, incredulous scowl lodged between his slitted eyes. "Are you fucking insane?"

  "H-he'll call back."

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!

  "Really? Because your face says something different."

  Dania swallowed hard, wondering if she’d just fucked up their only chance to bargain with the IC. She didn't have to remind herself that Jruviin’s future was on the line here. Possibly his very life.

  The comm remained silent.

  Dania dumped it on the table with a loud clack.

  "Oh my god," she moaned, dropping her face into her hands. "What have I d—”

  The comm chimed.

  Dania’s head snapped up. They both stared at the device.

  “Well?” Val’Koy probed, still looking at
her like she’d lost her goddamned mind. “Are you going to answer it?”

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!

  Deep breath.

  Dania’s nostrils flared on her next inhalation, and she accepted the call.

  “I see your game, human,” Piktiin accused calmly.

  “My name is Dania, and that’s what you can call me.”

  The silence chipped away at her psyche as they stared each other down in a battle of wills.

  Piktiin cracked a harsh smile that bled his nefarious nature. “I have one condition.”

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!

  Her shoulders tried to sag in relief, but she held her ground. “Name it.”

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  DANIA

  Dania leaned forward in her chair and brushed an errant tawny curl over her shoulder. Three agents, including Rickin, sat across from her in the conference room back on Melierun. Under the table, Val’s large hand grasped her thigh. The act felt supportive, yet territorial at the same time.

  “You called this meeting,” Rickin pointed out impatiently, his strategically twisted mustache pursing with his lips. “Care to tell us why?”

  “Stupid male,” River snarled into her head, his mismatched eyes pinning Rickin.

  “They can’t all be as smart as you.” She stroked his ears that lay menacingly flat on his skull.

  “True, Mine.”

  Dania tamped down her sudden urge to snicker and, instead, tossed three data chips one by one onto the table. The summoned trio of agents regarded her bounty dubiously.

  "What's this?"

  "Bigger fish."

  Rickin wasn’t looking down his nose at her any longer. "How big?"

  Dania swallowed her smug smile. The last thing she needed was someone getting butthurt and denying the trade over something silly like pride.

  She gingerly tapped the first chip with her pointer finger. "Tor’s Black Fleet. That one's time sensitive, by the way."

  Satisfaction zipped through her at their murmurs to each other because the fish were only gonna get bigger.

  "The Greesh mercenaries’ top three hives." She circled the second, enjoying the way their eyes widened slightly, impressed.

  "And this one," she eyeballed the third, "gives you all the hideout coords of a little criminal known as Saltan."