Without a Front: The Warrior's Challenge (Chronicles of Alsea Book 3)

by Fletcher DeLancey

  She smiled. Fahla really did know what she was doing.

  CHAPTER 6:

  Release

  “Let’s get you off this bed and out of my healing center.” Tornell pressed a control pad, and the restriction bed hummed its way from the elevated position Tal had been using to a fully horizontal one. “Roll to this side, please. Now bend your knees… Yes, good, put a hand here…” She took Tal’s upper arm in a surprisingly firm grip and helped her into a sitting position.

  Tal slid her legs over the edge and thrilled to the touch of her feet on the floor. And what a treat to not be viewing the world through that damned head ring!

  “You look a little squished,” Micah said.

  “Thanks, Micah. You’re always good for my self-image.”

  Salomen moved closer and put a hand on her shoulder. “He’s lying, you look fabulous. How do you feel?”

  “Odd. It’s very strange being able to move.” She patted Salomen’s hand and stood up, swaying slightly. Her sense of balance was off after so many days. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, as both Tornell and Salomen dove in to help.

  They stood back, and after a few pipticks she took a step, then another, walking slowly across the room to one of the chairs Micah and Salomen had spent so much time in. She sat down, carefully rested her back against the chair, and let out a sigh of pure happiness. “I cannot tell you how good this feels.”

  “By the look on your face, I’d say pretty good indeed.” Micah had also been smiling nonstop, having had his gel gloves removed half a hantick ago.

  Salomen sat down beside her. “Are you sitting because of the novelty or because your legs are tired?”

  “The novelty. I won’t be running my usual ten lengths tomorrow, but my legs feel fine.”

  “Excellent,” Tornell said briskly. She made a note on her reader card and slipped it into her coat pocket. “I’ve just signed you out of the healing center. As of now you are a visitor, not a patient. And remember—”

  “I know. Gentle movement for the first two days.” Tal stood and offered her palm for a farewell touch. “Thank you. I’ve appreciated your gentle hands. And if you think I’m an irritating patient, pray you never get Colonel Micah in here for anything worse than hand burns.”

  “Don’t believe her,” Micah said.

  “Oh, I do.” Tornell looked up at his imposing bulk. “In my experience, the bigger they are, the louder they whine. Please try to keep her out of trouble, Colonel. Good day and good health to you all.” With a wave she was gone.

  Micah held out a gear bag. “Don’t take too long in the shower, or we’ll have to go and check on you.”

  “What do you mean, ‘we’?” Salomen demanded. “If anyone checks on her, it won’t be you, warrior.”

  “This is going to feel wonderful.” Tal hefted her bag of clothes and turned toward the bathroom door.

  “Do you need any assistance?” Salomen’s tone was now one of utter politeness. “Perhaps you shouldn’t shower alone.”

  “Perhaps not, but any assistance from you is not likely to be all that helpful. Gentle movement, remember?”

  “I can be very gentle.”

  “Excuse me,” Micah said. “There’s someone else in the room.”

  Tal laughed as she walked into the bathroom. Leaving the bag and robe in the drying area, she stepped onto the tiled shower floor and activated the unit. Warm water poured over the protruding shelf in the corner, creating a wide waterfall that was continually filtered and fed back into the system. She gloried in the feel of it on her skin—particularly the new skin of her back, which was exquisitely sensitive. For a moment she imagined Salomen touching that skin, then reluctantly quashed the thought.

  The soap sponge held a floral scent she wasn’t fond of, but at this point it could have smelled like an unventilated training room and she would not have cared. After five days of disinfecting bed baths, this was bliss, and she began scrubbing with ruthless efficiency.

  It didn’t last. As her mind wandered back to a familiar fantasy, she found herself passing the sponge across her breasts in a sensual manner that was rather ineffective for the purpose of cleaning.

  The bathroom door opened. Tal continued soaping herself, now moving on to her legs and trying not to smile too broadly.

  “Andira,” Salomen said in a strained voice. “Stop that.”

  “Stop what? I’m taking a shower.”

  “Just so you know, I’m not looking. And I don’t want to feel that, either. How can I concentrate on anything else when you’re putting these thoughts in my mind?”

  “What else is there to concentrate on right now?” Tal put the sponge back and picked up the comb. Now her motions were decidedly sensual as she slowly pulled the comb through her hair, enjoying the sensation of its smooth glide as it distributed a silky hair cleanser. She heard the door slam shut and laughed. It was only fair that they should both be suffering.

  She stood under the warm water in hedonistic pleasure, until the soap had long since been rinsed and there really was no excuse to remain any longer. Even then she would probably have stayed, but Salomen and Micah were waiting.

  The drying cloths were luxuriously soft, a necessity if they were to be used on new skin. A few passes with the dehumidifier dried her hair, which she could swear was a lighter blonde now that she’d finally managed to wash it. Gathering a few strategic pieces of longer hair from the front, she pulled them to the back and clipped them in place to hide the burned patches. She had considered cutting it all short, but Miltorin had advised against it when they discussed the news coverage. If she emerged into the public view with a radically different look, he warned, people would ask too many questions and their “light injuries” story would come apart.

  She looked into the mirror with a wry smile. Amazing how even hair could become an issue of global importance. Miltorin had actually brought in a stylist to determine the best arrangement to cover up the damage, and she’d had to lie there and listen to them discussing hairstyles as if they were planning the next campaign against the Voloth. Thankfully, they had agreed on a simple solution.

  Her uniform slid on like an old, comfortable skin, and when she pulled on her boots, she felt ready to take on the world. Strolling out of the bathroom with her jacket in hand, she said, “That was the best shower I’ve ever taken.”

  Micah chuckled. “Better than after you had to pull me out of that mud bog?”

  “Better even than that.”

  Salomen simply looked at her, the joy in her emotions warming Tal’s senses. “You look…the way you’re supposed to.”

  Tal tugged her in for a gentle kiss. “I feel the way I’m supposed to. Better, actually. The skin on my back isn’t the only thing I’ve acquired in here.”

  Salomen kissed her again. “Come, tyrina. Let’s go tell my family about that other thing you’ve acquired.”

  “You’re not always going to be kissing now, are you?” Micah asked as they filed out of the room.

  “It’s possible,” Tal said cheerfully.

  “I’d better warn Salomen’s Guards,” he grumbled.

  CHAPTER 7:

  Publicity

  They flew to Hol-Opah in a military transport, though Tal would have preferred her private one. At least they didn’t have to bring an entire contingent of Guards with them, since half of the original Guards were still at the holding. Tal had kept them there to protect the Opahs from curiosity seekers or possible reprisals, and to ensure the privacy of the family on their own land. But she couldn’t do anything about their privacy in town, and Granelle was currently housing a contingent of journalists.

  After Healer Tornell’s revelation that she had already assumed their bonded status, Tal had called Miltorin to her room for a media strategy session. His suggestion: hit two targets with on
e throw. They could control the narrative to publicize her good relations with the Opahs and simultaneously hide her bond with Salomen in plain sight. Since few would imagine the Lancer finding a bondmate in the producer caste, introducing her as a lover would satisfy everyone’s expectations. “People see what they want to,” he said.

  Salomen agreed. So did Shikal and Nikin, not realizing that they, too, were seeing what they expected.

  Accordingly, the six most-watched journalists on Alsea received a message from the Office of the Lancer, inviting them to send vidcams to the meeting between Lancer Tal and the Opah family. Their equipment now sat dormant in a holding rack near the door. Tal glanced at it, wishing she could prevent what was about to happen. Once the transport landed and those vidcams were activated, life for the Opahs would never be the same.

  They passed over the Silverrun River, a landmark she now knew as well as the State Park itself. Looking upstream, she saw the distinctive bend that marked the southeast corner of Hol-Opah land.

  Salomen reached for her hand. “I’ve dreamed of bringing you back home every hantick since it happened. Thank you for making this our first stop. I know you have a few hundred other things to do.”

  “None of which are as important as you and your family. I know where my priorities lie.” Tal indicated Micah, who was watching out his window. “You can thank the good colonel for that. He’s the one who taught me that a warrior with a whole heart was a better servant to Alsea than a warrior with only half a heart.”

  “Colonel Micah is a very wise man.”

  “Yes, he is. I try not to tell him that too often.”

  “Perhaps you should tell him soon.”

  She looked at him again, noting the tension that he was trying so hard to hide. “I know. That’s another top priority.”

  As planned, Shikal, Nikin, and Jaros were waiting at the landing area behind the house, wearing rain cloaks to ward off the light drizzle. Tal could sense their apprehension from inside the transport. As soon as the Guards were in place and the vidcams had been deployed, she walked out with Salomen, stood in the doorway of the transport to give the world a good look at the two of them holding hands, and then sealed the visual by nuzzling her ear. At least, that was how it would appear.

  “First performance, tyrina,” she whispered into Salomen’s ear. “Try to look as if you think I’m the hottest thing walking.”

  The smile that spread over Salomen’s face was completely natural, and Tal smiled back before leading her down the ramp. Walking straight up to Shikal, she raised both of her hands. Though visibly startled at a gesture normally reserved for very close friends or family, he reached out without hesitation. A flood of relief and gratitude poured off him as soon as they made contact and he could sense her.

  “Well met, Shikal.”

  “Well met, Lancer Tal.” In a slightly louder voice, he said, “In the name of our family and our honored ancestors, I thank you for your generosity in returning so soon after your healing. None of us can sufficiently express our sorrow, our shock, or our shame for what happened here.”

  The cadence of his speech was stiff; he had rehearsed it.

  “None of you here were responsible,” she said, ignoring the vidcams hovering around them. “Your sorrow and shock I understand, but the shame does not belong to you. My greatest regret is that your family has been so shattered by this event. I never once held you, your sons Nikin and Jaros, or your daughter Salomen to blame for the attempt on my life.” She wished she could include Herot’s name in that list, but her only concern now was damage control for the rest of the Opahs.

  “During this past moon,” she continued, “you treated me with the utmost honor, respect, and friendship. You made me feel less like a guest and more like part of the family, and I hope you will not allow recent events to change this. I value your friendship no less today than I did five days ago.”

  He closed his fingers over her hands. “I value your friendship even more after the fear of having lost you. If you felt like part of our family, then you sensed our true feelings. You are always welcome here on Hol-Opah.”

  “I’m glad you said that, since I plan to be here now and again. Hol-Opah’s horten soup is not to be missed.”

  His smile was unforced, the vidcams momentarily forgotten, and she moved on.

  “Nikin, it’s good to see you again.”

  “It’s so good to see you,” he said, clutching her hands in the strongest grip she had ever felt from him. “We were so worried. But you look fabulous.” He clamped his mouth shut and looked at her in silent pleading, embarrassment wafting off him.

  “Thank you,” she said with an easy smile. “My injuries were minor. I suspect the damage to your house was much worse.”

  “It was a mess,” he admitted. “Besides the damage to the room itself, we lost our mother’s portrait and all of her books.”

  Tal was shocked; Salomen hadn’t told her that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “The books can be replaced, at least those whose titles we remember. But the portrait is gone forever.” His grief was laced with anger, but he straightened his spine and met her eyes with an even gaze. “Nevertheless, we’re grateful. It could have been so much worse. Those are just things, and valuable as they are, they don’t compare to your life.”

  “But their loss hurts just the same, and I grieve that loss with you.” She squeezed his hands before crouching down in front of his brother. “Hello, Jaros.”

  With no warning he threw himself into her arms, nearly sending her over backward.

  “I was so scared!” His voice shuddered. “I thought the house was falling down, it was so loud, and then everyone was shouting and nobody would let me see you and then you were gone and you didn’t come back!”

  “Shhh. It’s all right. I’m all right.” She stroked his head with one hand while holding him tight with the other, and hoped that his desperate hold on her wasn’t pulling the new skin too much. “I know it was frightening, and I’m sorry I couldn’t see you until now. But I’m back and good as new. See?” She pulled back, smiling at him.

  He promptly buried his face in her neck again. “Please don’t leave. Please? I don’t want you to go.”

  “Oh, Jaros.” She looked up at the others, seeing her own emotions reflected in their faces. Of all the people who had been affected by this, Jaros had probably suffered the most because he didn’t understand.

  “I’m going to be coming here for a long, long time,” she said in a voice too low for the vidcams to pick up. “Don’t worry about me leaving, all right? You heard your father. I have a standing invitation, and I plan to make good use of it.”

  “Promise?” His voice was muffled.

  “I promise.”

  He loosened his grip but did not let go, and Tal did the only thing she could bear to do, even though she knew it would light up vidcoms all over Alsea: she gathered him in her arms and stood up. Looking over his shoulder at Shikal, she said, “I believe Jaros could use a drink of water, and I’ve been thinking about one of your excellent bottles of spirits for several days. Shall we go inside?”

  “That sounds wonderful,” he said with relief. Once they went inside, the vidcams would be deactivated and they could all behave normally again. All of them except Jaros, who was himself whether there were vidcams nearby or not.

  “I hope there’s some horten soup left,” Tal said.

  Shikal laughed as he led the way up the porch steps. “You’re in luck, Lancer Tal. We saved you some.”

  CHAPTER 8:

  Freedom

  The vidcams were sent back to Blacksun while Tal, Micah, and the Opahs passed a pleasant half hantick in the parlor, catching up on news and avoiding any mention of the most pressing issue. When the conversation faltered and Shikal and Nikin began to look uncomfortab
le, Tal asked if she could see her old room.

  “Do you want to?” Nikin said in surprise.

  “Yes, I do. I was…a little less than myself that night. I’d like to see what really happened.”

  “We didn’t think you would want anything to do with it, but…of course you may.” Shikal rose from his chair and led a general exodus out of the parlor and up the stairs.

  Tal thought she was prepared, but seeing the actual damage was a shock. Nothing of her cheerful, comfortable room remained. The debris and damaged furniture had been hauled out, leaving a bare shell. The plasma blast had thrown molten glass onto every surface, scarring the walls and floor with burn marks, and the area around the window had suffered extensive damage. The window seat was destroyed, as were the bookshelves on either side, leaving a jagged hole in the wall. It was now sealed with a transparent construction sheet to keep out the rain, but the temporary repair could not disguise the wreckage.

  Had Salomen been there when the blast hit, there would have been nothing left of her larger than a pastry.

  She held Salomen’s hand tightly as she took it in. “I didn’t realize how bad it was.”

  “It was bad.” Salomen pointed down.

  Tal followed the direction of her finger and felt sick. The floor was marked with a scattering of burns, except for one area. One body-shaped area, where she and Salomen had burned instead.

  “At least I managed to save part of the floor,” she said.

  “You saved our family,” Shikal said.

  “You saved Salomen!” Jaros, always more literal, pointed at the ruined outer wall. “Look! She would have died if she’d still been sitting there. But you pulled her off. How did you know?”