Taren emerged from the shuttle. The draconis had opted to remain at the space dock, rather than to try and squeeze into the cramped shuttle.
“That went well,” he said.
Sam snorted. “I want to scratch someone.”
Taren smiled. “Truly? Show me your hands.”
Sam held out her hands palms up, frowning at him.
He snorted. “You don’t have claws, sister-mine. Though you did scratch me once.”
Their gazes locked. Smiling, they shared the memory of their loving.
Taren reached behind his back and held out a knife to her. “Take this. For when you want to draw blood.”
“I don’t know how to use a knife.”
“I’ll teach you. But the fact you carry an assassin’s blade, no one, kitten, no one is going to mess with you.” He slipped the knife into her belt. “I’ll find you a proper belt and sheath. When you come to Aves, I’ll induct you into my clan.”
“More ceremonies?”
“Naturally.” Taren studied her. “If anyone here insults you, kitten-sister…”
“It’s okay.”
“It is not. I expected civility at very least. Felinus can be so…so…”
“Yes?”
“Catty,” Taren said, unfurling his wings, flapping them for effect. The two young felinus retreated. “Listen to me, cat-boys. Pay very close attention. The fe’ha tu is my clan sister. Any insult to her is an insult to me and my clan. Tell that to all in this cat-house. Any offense and it is I who will demand apology.”
The two boys fell onto their knees, heads bowed.
Horrified, Sam stared. Taren’s reputation had preceded him. Just exactly what was his reputation? She didn’t want to find out.
“I will serve the fe’ha tu. My life is in her hands,” Zeren said.
“Good, we understand one another.” Taren nodded. “Get up off the ground, both of you. You’ve got work to do. And I…” He turned to Sam and bowed. “Must leave.”
“But why?”
He smiled. “You will miss me? Ah kitten! I’ll be back in time for the ceremony.”
“That mutatis thing?”
Taren blushed—actually blushed!
“No, Samantha, that is for you and Kuno. I will be there for the final phase.” He put a finger to her lips. “I know this is confusing. So little time, so much to learn. You have good instincts, rely on them. Listen with your woman’s heart and soul.” He kissed her cheek and straightened. “And don’t stand for any cat nonsense.”
“Not even from John?”
“Especially.” Laughing, he retreated into the shuttle and the felinus boy hurried past her, retrieving her bag from the interior.
John’s private apartments in the palace were located in the northern wing. Reaching it took nearly ten minutes of walking through carved marble corridors and porticos, decorated with luminescent gems, the walls inlaid with star-crystals. The ceilings were painted with vines and roses and other flowers from Chizan.
It was like Aladdin’s Cave, Sam decided, a feast for all the senses. Open walkways allowed the gardens to intrude, vines and roses spilling their perfume and color inside the palace.
She glimpsed rooms and atriums adjacent to the corridors through which she was ushered by the two boys. Occasionally she saw men and women walking through the palace or sitting in rooms. All were dressed in gorgeous gowns, glittering with jewels, so beautiful to the eye it hurt to look at them for long.
Overwhelming was an understatement.
It was with relief when Zeren paused before an archway of delicate tracery and at his hand signal the door opened. He bowed Samantha into the room.
She paused, her heart thudding in her ears.
“It does not please you?” the boy asked.
“I…yes, yes. How could it not?”
She forced herself into the apartment.
The mauve walls were unadorned, but the cornices and architraves were carved with dolphins, whose eyes were glowing star-crystals. The floor was palest mauve and strewn with rugs woven from mottled green and purple and silver wool. Potted palms nestled in every corner. Seven doorways led off from the room and a floor to ceiling glass door to her left revealed an outside courtyard, shaded by rose vines. A fountain with a dolphin statue at its center sent sparkling water cascading into a sunken pool.
“Is there anything I may bring for you, my lady?” Zeren asked bowing. “Perhaps food and drink? It may be some time before the San Duran can join you.”
“He’s getting the Inquisition, huh?”
The boy looked down at his feet. “I do not understand. Forgive me, but I have never met a human before.”
“I won’t grow a third eye, or a fifth limb. Not anytime soon.”
Aarn nudged Zeren in the ribs. “You are such a scaredy cat.”
“I am not,” the other youth protested. He looked up at Sam. “What may I bring you?”
“I’d really like a vegemite sandwich and a pot of strong tea.”
“Vegemite?” Zeren’s brow creased.
“Viethemiter.” Aarn slowly articulated in felinus.
Sam mouthed the word, too, consigning the felinus pronunciation to memory. Feegle it—why did the cat language have to be so difficult? She was going to have to teach these boys some Aussie speak.
“Veg-e-mi-te,” she said.
“Ah, yes! Harimal San Duran has a private store. For you, I can gain access to it.”
Samantha bit her lip. Vegemite: out and about in the galaxy, a protected culinary delight of a Chizan Prince. If she wasn’t so damn tired and worried, she might have dissolved into hysterics.
“And what tea may we bring? Chizan has excellent varieties.”
“I’ll leave the tea choice up to you.”
The boys bowed out of the room and Sam opened the glass door leading onto the rose covered terrace.
She walked to the balustrade and looked down. Below her, nearly one hundred feet, she saw more gardens where cats and people roamed among the flowers and shrubs. Chizan was warmer than she anticipated. The golden sun caressed her skin, but inside she felt cold.
Sam inhaled. Chizan’s cinnamon-scented air welcomed her. Odd, that word, she thought. The planet was welcoming her? And what of its inhabitants? What welcome would they give her?
Returning to the apartment, she pushed open doors. Two rooms were empty. The third was a sitting room, overstuffed cushions spread around the floor with low carved wooden tables and filigree copper lamps. Bookshelves lined the walls.
The next door led into a bedroom. A large round bed on a raised dais dominated the room, its mauve silk coverlet embroidered around the edges with silver. Lengths of sheer silk hung down from the ceiling, falling around the bed. A large fluted crystal vase sat on a pedestal against the wall, full of farseth, the sacred purple roses of Chizan.
Sam walked forward, running her hand over the silk drapes. Through an open doorway she saw the bathroom. With its deep sunken bath, it resembled a Roman bathhouse. The walls were pale blue, the ceiling painted with an underwater scene, reminiscent of the holo image John had ordered at Rendezvous. The dolphin-shaped taps were crystal and gold. The aqua floor tiles were cut into mosaic forming a rolling wave stretching from wall to wall.
She ran the bath and settled into the warm water, lathering her skin with lavender soap contained in a prismed crystal decanter at the side of the bath.
When she emerged from the bathroom, dressed in her old bathrobe, she found the table set with a gold platter containing vegemite sandwiches, the crusts removed. Another platter held a variety of cut fruits: peaches, strawberries and pear, as well as unknown Chizan delicacies. A gold tea pot contained a strong brew of steaming tea.
Sam poured it into a fine bone china cup and tentatively sniffed. Almost like Lady Grey, but other Chizan spices combined with the bergamot and lemon. She sipped. It was delicious. She drained the first cup and poured another. Then bit into the sandwiches.
She demolishe
d the fruit, licking her fingers of juice. The licks reminded her of a lifetime ago when John had licked her from head to toe. She had reciprocated. The memory stirred, cramping her stomach. She wanted him, needed him, burned for him. Could not get enough of him. Her hands shook so much she spilled tea over her bare feet. She set the cup down on the saucer.
A doorbell chimed and moments later a tall man bowed into the room. Dressed in a flowing black silk caftan, with that familiar swirl across the high collar, he was nearly six foot six. His blue-black hair hung to his waist, silver streaks from each temple extended the length of his hair. His grey eyes studied her intently, before he lowered his gaze. He bowed again and held out a carved wooden box.
“With the King’s compliments. Where may I put it?”
“Ah…on the table. Thank you.”
The man glided across the floor, his bare feet lightly slapping the tiles. He turned to her after he had placed the box on the table. “Is there anything I may bring for your comfort?”
Only John, Sam wanted to reply, but figured that was out of the question. “No, thank you.”
“The San Duran wondered if you would like to choose some jewels for your ceremony. He has many heirlooms.”
Sam ran her fingers over the pearl necklace about her throat. She rarely took it off. “No, this is enough.”
The man’s gaze narrowed. “If that is your desire.” He bowed and turned, his robe flapping around him as he departed.
Sam let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding. The man set all her senses on edge. Some felinus could do that just by their presence. This guy exuded confidence, arrogance and danger. Taren-the-assassin she could handle, but not this felinus.
Curiosity led her to the box and she flipped up the lid. Lying inside, neatly folded, were three silk robes. As she shook out each robe, she discovered that the sandalwood box had scented each garment.
One robe was plain black, with the Ronsevaal colors across the high collar, another was cream, threaded with silver and gold. The last was stunning--neither green, nor black as she held it up to the light. Shadows rippled over it, masking its true color. About the hem and collar and at the end of each bell-shaped sleeve were tiny farseth roses with crystal petals.
In a silk purse at the bottom of the box Sam found a gold chain. She lifted it up and saw at its end a tear-drop shaped star-crystal. Green, flashing with mauve and silver. It spun on the end of the chain, sending colors coruscating over the walls. The effect was hypnotic. Very few people outside of Chizan had seen star-crystals, let alone possessed one. But rumor was rife in the galaxy about the power of the crystals. Some insisted the stones were sentient and bonded with their owners. Others spoke of the power infused in the crystals and how such could be wielded by the felinus shamans. How much was true and how much was myth?
She slipped the chain over her head and the gem lay in the valley between her breasts.
Every robe was too beautiful and precious for ordinary wear, so Sam carefully hung them in the wardrobe and brought out a pair of shorts and t-shirt.
She slipped on her worn togs. Familiarity brought some confidence and normalcy, and on Chizan she was going to have to get strength where she could. Taren’s advice to John echoed in her ears.
She finished the pot of tea and reclined on the bed. Tired. No, beyond tired. Exhausted. She lay back and closed her eyes. Just a nap…
She woke slowly, languidly. Familiar scent washed over her. Warmth. His mind caressed.
Turning, rising on her elbow, she saw John sitting in a chair beside the bed, leaning back. His tawny eyes glowed with fire and amusement.
“How long have you been there? Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You know I like to watch you sleep.”
“You do?”
“Yep.” He smiled. “I imagine what I’m gonna do to you when you wake.”
Sam pushed herself up from the bed and walked to him, straddling his thighs, facing him. She kissed him gently. “I missed you.”
“You’ve been cared for in my absence?” Not quite a question, his chin lifted to the table and the wooden box, the remnants of her tea.
“Vegemite sandwich does wonders for a gal.”
John grinned. “They raided Hari’s private cache?”
“I know, stealing a guy’s vegemite, how low can I go?”
“Hari won’t mind, my fe’ha tu.”
Sam traced her finger over his lips. “Just what does that mean?”
“It is a title. Mate, wife, my everything.”
“How do I say it for you? Fe’ha tuan?”
“During mutatis all will be revealed.” He touched the chain around her neck and lifted it, drawing the crystal from beneath her t-shirt. His gaze narrowed on it, then lifted to her. “Where did you get this?”
“A servant. Though, I don’t think he was actually a servant. He looked at me as if I was a bug he’d like to crush. Anyway, this guy brought it along with the caftans. This was in the bottom of the box.” Her gaze searched his. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Show me the robes.”
“Now?”
“Indulge me.”
Reluctantly, Sam slid off John’s lap. She tugged the wardrobe door open and John fingered the gowns.
He smiled. “He’s a clever bastard, my father.”
“What?”
“The crystal, the clothes, he brought you the gifts himself, to meet you, to dissect you.”
Cold dread washed through her. “That guy was your father? He didn’t look like you, or Hari.”
“No, he probably glamored himself, too. I didn’t think he’d do that to you so soon.”
“He was very kind.”
“Oh yeah. He can be that, when he wants to be.”
“John…” She rested her cheek against his chest. “Come to bed. I want you. Can we get that mutatis thing over and done with, so we can have some peace and some proper loving?”
“We’ll go to the Temple tomorrow. Until then, we abstain.”
“Temple? Like the temple we had in the halo-room?”
“Kinda.”
“And we have to abstain? That’s part of the ritual?”
“Yes.” John smiled. “It’ll make the consummation all the more intense.”
“Is that a good or a bad thing?”
“Definitely good.”
“How was your meeting with the King?”
The subtle tightening of his arms around her, the tension coiling in his muscles, told Sam all she needed to know.
“You got chewed out?”
“Chewed and spat out.”
“Because of me?”
“Not entirely.”
“It’s okay, John. I know I don’t pass muster with most people. And you’re Ronsevaal, so…”
He lifted her chin. “Other people don’t matter, do they? You have friends. Taren is your clan-brother. And you have me. As you say, I am Ronsevaal, so I have certain authority and I used it, honey-cat. Made the bastard on the throne squirm.” He kissed her, a gentle chaste kiss, but the intensity spoke volumes.
Sam lifted her mouth from his. “But things have changed. Hari’s missing. The King’s own son missing. It means you have clan duty where none existed before.”
“You think so?”
“Humans aren’t as dumb as you think, cat-boy. I understand about politics and dynasty. Taren was most enlightening about his clan duty. I figure it’s the same for felinus.”
“Even more so.”
“And if Hari…” She couldn’t bring herself to speak it. If Hari is never found… “What does that mean for you. For us?”
“You are my fe’ha tu, Sammi. I’ll mate for love.”
“And for duty? You are San Duran, after all. If you’re last of the line, you might have to—”
“I would never.”
“Never is a long time, beloved.” She stroked his cheek. “The last time a royal felinus mated with a human woman, it led to his abdication. Didn’t it?”<
br />
“She died, honey-cat. He had the Madness. If a felinus loses his or her mate, it is worse than death. My father could not endure without her.” He paused. “You think too much, Samantha.”
It was one of the rare moments when he called her by her full name. He was angry. With her? Or with everything?
“Everything,” he whispered.
“Then come to bed. I can show you how to forget.”
John shuddered. “I need you, Sam. But the ritual—”
“To hell with that ritual. You are San Duran and I am your fe’ha tu. You gonna follow the ritual, or follow me to bed?” She stepped away, paused and looked over her shoulder, her brow raised.
Hand in hand, John and Samantha walked the pebbled path towards the crystal temple. The fluted columns were carved with farseth. Sam kept her mind fixed upon it, otherwise the apprehension would overwhelm her.
With every step the mutatis ceremony grew closer.
Located two hours from the palace, John and Sam had flown in the tiny air car, landing it in a heli-pad on the border of the wood.
They had walked the distance to the Temple a winding trail, overgrown with tiny white flowers. Beside the path, a stream tinkled and bubbled over crystal rocks, breaking the silence. The canopy of branches provided shade from the hot noon sun.
Sam’s heart thudded in her ears; her legs shook so much, she felt drunken. John’s hand over hers was trembling.
Arriving at the temple, Sam saw that outside it, on a thick white rug, platters of food and two goblets and pitchers of drink had been arranged, all kept cool by a laser shield.
“This is it?” Sam asked as John halted. “Just us?”
His lip quirked. “Did you think we would have to do it in front of witnesses? Kitten-mine! You’re so precious.” His knuckles caressed her cheek. “Trust me. When mutatis is over, no one is going to ask us if we reached that level. Our aura will mark us as mated.” He leant forward and kissed her.
The caress was electric, igniting Sam’s starved senses.
“I have something to ask you, T’serlan,” he whispered.
“What is it, T’serl.”
“Am I your beloved?”
Starlight Passion Page 4
