Wyvern's Mate

by Deborah Cooke

  Drakina smiled as she took a seat. “I don’t expect such courtesy, Kraw. In fact, I owe you an apology for troubling you at this hour.”

  “I am certain you had cause, Highness.”

  Drakina looked him up and down, her slow survey making Kraw keenly aware of the flaws of his appearance. But then she smiled at him, and there was sympathy in her expression. “I would never have done it, Kraw,” she admitted softly. “No matter how vexed I was, but I had a sense that you might be as sleepless as I, and for a similar reason.”

  Kraw’s knees nearly gave out beneath his weight. The moment he had feared had arrived, and he felt that curious mingling of terror and relief. He didn’t believe that the princess would welcome the truth. This might prove to be his last night in the service of the royal family of Incendium. On the other hand, the secret had weighed heavily upon him, and he would be glad to surrender it—no matter what the price.

  “You look as if you should sit down, Kraw,” she said gently.

  “Not in the royal presence, Highness…”

  Drakina stood up, turned a chair, and gave Kraw’s shoulder a firm push. He sat down, then sighed with relief.

  She sat down opposite him and fixed him with a look. “You planned it all.” There was no question in her tone. “Why, Kraw? Why?”

  “I did not plan it all, Highness. I tried to serve your family in the tradition of mine…”

  She raised a hand for silence. “Just tell me, please, what happened.”

  Kraw studied her, discomfited that he could no longer guess her thoughts. The sparks had died, which was encouraging, but there was a solemnity about her that he did not associate with the princess Drakina. He licked his lips. “Did you…”

  “I have conceived the crown prince, Kraw,” she said, interrupting him. Her hand stole over her belly. “The egg will hatch in the summer. My father is pleased.”

  Kraw exhaled, glad that one hurdle had been cleared.

  “Tell me of the Terran,” she urged. “The MindBender.” She smiled a little. “The greatest MindBender in the galaxy. Why exactly was he supposed to kill me?”

  The viceroy’s gaze flew to that of the princess, and he realized that she already knew much of the story. He sighed and frowned. “It was a wager, of the kind that they make on Xanto over the fates of the condemned. It says little good of the gamblers, to my thinking, that they sport with the lives of these creatures, making wagers and posing challenges, giving the condemned hope of survival if they can succeed at some ridiculous feat, then betting upon their success. It is barbaric. But when the MindBender was condemned to be executed, I understand there were many such proposals made to the Xantonians. They accepted the one that amused them most.”

  “That the MindBender could live if he killed me.”

  Kraw nodded.

  “Whose proposal was it?”

  “You must know, Highness, that there are those who did not agree with the ruling of the tribunal in the fate of Prince Canto…”

  “I have heard a name already,” she said then stood up and paced the width of the room and back. “Tell me, Kraw. I would know the worst.”

  Kraw winced. If she had heard the tale from the MindBender himself—and who else could have shared it?—then she knew the worst of it. “I have been warned against the crown prince, Urbanus.”

  “Gemma’s fiancé,” Drakina said, as if he did not know.

  “But there is no evidence, Highness.” Kraw took a steadying breath. “Your father chooses not to indulge in rumor, and the last time Queen Arcana was challenged, the furor was difficult to calm.”

  “He is known to enjoy his pleasures, Kraw, and to be extravagant.”

  “That might put him in the company of those gambler on Xanto but does not prove his involvement.”

  The princess fixed him with a glare. “The Carrier named him.”

  “Ah.” Kraw rubbed his brow, knowing she would not like what he said next. “Incendium law code forbids the inclusion of testimony from a condemned man, be he citizen or nay.”

  The princess pursed her lips and looked out the window. “Continue, please.”

  “I heard the rumor, your father dismissed it and forbade action upon it. Truly, I would not have thought it possible for such a quest to succeed so consoled myself that the situation was not dire.” Kraw sighed. “Until one of the astrologers divined the identity of your destined mate.”

  “Troy, the MindBender.”

  “Yes. A MindBender, a convict hired to assassinate you and a Terran. Truly, Highness, I did not know which was the worst of his credentials!”

  Drakina watched him closely, and Kraw did not doubt that she saw all of the anguish he had experienced. “Did you tell my father?”

  The viceroy bowed his head. “Only that he was the Carrier. Forgive me, Highness.”

  “You could have warned me.”

  “No, not with your father so set against Terrans and you so determined not to wed. I had to contrive a situation in which you might conceive the crown prince. I would have arranged for an escort for you, Highness, to ensure your protection.”

  Drakina smiled. “But I declined them, just as I defeated Urbanus’ plan.” Her gaze was shrewd. “Is there more for you to confess?”

  The viceroy swallowed. “I cannot speak of it, Highness.”

  She held his gaze, then nodded once. “And what will happen to Troy? The MindBender?”

  “He has been returned to Xanto and will be executed.” Kraw’s tone softened. “He accepted the wager, but he lost, Highness. He did not kill you.” He rubbed his brow. “I suppose this spares your father the unpleasant task of denying the Carrier a role as your Consort.”

  Drakina stood silently at the window, and Kraw wondered what claimed her attention. The city was alight, as always it was, and the starport gleamed high overhead. He could see a shuttle descending, but knew her vision was more keen than his own. She rubbed her belly absently, her hand tracing little circles upon it, and he had never seen her so thoughtful.

  “Troy lost on purpose, Kraw,” she admitted finally. “Because he loved me.” Her voice softened and fell low. “He asked me to tell our son something good about him.” She paused again. “I believe Troy is my HeartKeeper.”

  Kraw knew he had to ask the unwelcome question. “Are you certain, Highness? It would not be unusual for a MindBender to mislead…”

  Drakina spun to face him, conviction in her pose and her tone. “I know it, Kraw,” she said. “Just as I know that I love him in return. I had to consider whether the tumult I felt was a fleeting passion, but every moment we are apart, convinces me that I love him. I don’t want to live without Troy, Kraw. I will not let him be executed, and I will not let Urbanus remain unscathed in this. I need your help.”

  “I would be honored to be of any assistance, Highness.”

  “When will they kill him?”

  Kraw winced. “It will not be long, Highness. Justice is quick in Xanto and I believe there have been payments made…”

  “But it is not justice, Kraw.” She flung a computer wafer at him, and he caught it. He realized it was loaded with precedents and galactic law codes. “He was a slave. He was seized from a planet we are supposed to defend from knowledge, sold illegally on the shadow market to the Gloria Furora, and tortured when he refused their commands. No court should have condemned him.”

  “Highness! I had no awareness…”

  “No one did, Kraw. I expect a great many credits changed hands to see this done. No one wanted to remember who ordered that Arista be killed.”

  Arista! Kraw was glad that he was sitting down. His thoughts flew as he recalled the details and Gemma’s fury at the death of her friend.

  Then he thought of practicalities. “Highness, if this is to be done, we shall need a legal opinion compiled and a formal appeal…”

  “I know you will arrange it all, Kraw.” She leaned closer, her eyes glittering. “My HeartKeeper has been shown many injustices, and I will see t
hem righted.”

  “Of course, Highness, though we must begin immediately. You have done much of the labor, but the argument should be dispatched by second light at the latest…” The viceroy fell silent in his planning as Drakina caught his face in her hands.

  Much to his astonishment, she kissed him quickly, her gratitude and impulsiveness bringing tears to his eyes. “Thank you, Kraw!” Then she swept to the door. “In the meantime, I am going to Xanto, to claim my Consort.”

  “Wait! Highness! Your father will not accept a Terran in his court.”

  Drakina’s eyes flashed green fire. “My father will accept my Consort as the father of his heir, or we shall abandon Incendium together and take the boy with us.” She took tall and looked formidable. “Truly, my father is the least of the obstacles before us.”

  Kraw bowed to disguise his smile of delight. If anyone in the court could change the mind of King Ouros, it was Drakina, and in this matter, he believed she was right. “I understand, Highness.”

  “Would you be so kind, Kraw, as to help with the arrangements? I would like to leave as soon as possible, and this time, I will take an entourage.”

  “Perhaps a diplomat or two, Highness?”

  Drakina laughed. “A good half dozen diplomats, Kraw, if you please. I know my weaknesses.”

  She was gone then, leaving Kraw with an enormous list to complete. He dressed in haste, summoned his seven most promising attendants, and launched into the most hectic day in all his memory.

  But this, this was the service Kraw loved to provide to his patron and king. Justice would be served, thanks to the intervention of Incendium, and King Ouros would receive all the credit.

  Kraw’s grandfather would have been proud.

  * * *

  And so it came to this.

  Troy had never imagined he’d end his days in a penal colony in a far corner of the galaxy, nor did he imagine that he’d be executed for using his skills as commanded. But there was no doubting the purpose of the black chair on the pedestal before him.

  He’d been roused at first light, had washed and shaved. He was naked, the better to ensure that he couldn’t hide any surprises from his captors, but he walked tall between his two jailors. His mind was numb, for he had been drugged to ensure that he couldn’t MindBend anyone in his vicinity.

  His heart ached.

  A crowd had gathered to watch his execution, and he was surprised by their numbers. He wasn’t surprised by their obvious anticipation. There was nothing like an execution to bring out the worst in every kind. The procedure had been explained to him, and he doubted there’d be much drama. Not enough to justify their gathering, but bloodthirst wouldn’t be denied.

  There was no hope of a reprieve. No one in all of the galaxy wanted Troy alive enough to challenge his execution.

  It wasn’t a surprise, but it was a disappointment.

  On Xanto, prisoners were executed by lethal injection. Troy would be strapped into the chair, made helpless, and the toxin, which had been precisely calibrated to his species and metabolism, would be injected into his arm. He’d feel as if he were falling asleep, but he wouldn’t wake up ever again.

  It would take less than four heartbeats. He’d been told as much and he believed it.

  Troy saw his old employer in the audience, as well as an assortment of familiar gamblers. Prince Urbanus who had set the wager against Drakina was there, and Troy wondered whether he knew that Drakina had conceived. He hoped that she managed to defend herself against future attacks, because he was pretty sure there would be some.

  Troy wished he could have survived to defend her himself, but that hadn’t been an option.

  The stone was cold beneath his feet, the penal colony of Xanto seeming even less hospitable on this cold and rainy morning. He could hear that the mines were silent, the work having been stopped so that the other inmates could witness his death.

  Troy was to be a lesson for them.

  In the days since his retrieval, he had been angry and he had been bitter. He had petitioned for appeal, based on Drakina’s arguments, but every request had been denied. He might still have been feeling the weight of the injustice done to him, but the drug that suppressed his MindBending powers left him despondent. Fatalistic. What would be would be.

  There was no point in fighting. He was vastly outnumbered and without his one gift, he wouldn’t get far. He sat down in the chair and caught his breath at the chill of it against his thighs. But then, he wouldn’t be cold for long.

  Troy found himself thinking of that hunt with Drakina, the way she’d raced after the boar. It had felt to him like a wild and reckless ride, but she’d been completely in control. He smiled, remembering the wind in his hair, the exhilarating sense of her power, the connection he’d felt with her that day. He was glad, despite the ending to his own story, that he’d taken Urbanus’ offer and had met her.

  She’d changed his life, thawed his heart, convinced him to love.

  Maybe they had been destined to mate.

  Maybe she would tell the kid something good about him.

  Troy’s ankles had been shackled as well as his wrists. His jailors tightened the strap that bound his chest to the chair. This was it. The end. He found his heart racing, even though he knew that would only make the poison work faster.

  They were about to blindfold him when there was a blinding flash of light.

  Troy laughed aloud at the glorious sight of his Drakina. She appeared in front of him, not in the gallery for the audience. Her hair was loose and flowed around her as if it was alive. The tips lit with flames and she seemed to be throwing sparks into the air. She wore a dress of orange and red, one that flowed over her curves and could have been made of flame. It was feminine and sexy, but there was no hiding the sheer power of her body. Her eyes were glittering green, her lips curved in a satisfied smile.

  Trust Drakina to transport right into the middle of an execution. He knew the location had been precisely calculated for maximum effect.

  Troy was reminded of her entry into MacEnroe’s Pub and knew that she liked making an entrance. This time, she had an entourage, many of them as richly garbed as she was, probably thirty attendants who had transported with her. What an expense! Troy was impressed that they had appeared in rank and with minimal disarray. The audience stirred in interest that they would get a show after all.

  Drakina met his gaze and blew him a kiss, then turned to challenge the Emperor of Xanto. “You will not execute the Consort of the crown princess of Incendium,” she declared, her voice carrying over the audience. “You will immediately surrender my destined mate to my custody.” There was a protest, of course, but Drakina raised her voice. “His trial was so unfair that it seems likely the verdict was bought.”

  There was a bustle amongst the judiciary and the Emperor began to rise to his feet.

  Drakina raised her voice. “I have brought an auditor from the Interstellar Office of Accounts to review the transactions recorded on the books of the court,” Drakina continued smoothly. “The better to ensure that there is neither inconvenience or delay.”

  The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. The comments became louder in the gallery, but Drakina ignored them. She gestured and four of her attendants hastened forward with the official argument. Although it could have been summarized on a tiny computer sheet, Troy guessed that Drakina had brought it on scrolls for effect.

  There were a lot of scrolls. “I also have brought the appeal, brought by the King of Incendium on behalf of the prisoner, and all of the supporting arguments in its favor. I would be happy to second these lawyers to the Emperor’s court for the duration of the appeal.”

  “This is quite sufficient,” the Emperor declared, obviously trying to regain control of the situation, but Drakina continued as if he had not spoken.

  If anything, her voice became louder. “The prisoner, as my Consort, will be taken into the custody of the court of Incendium, for his own protection.”

  “I p
rotest!” declared the Emperor.

  “Because you would sell his fate again?” Drakina demanded in a booming voice. A large percentage of the spectators quailed. She pointed at the governor of Xanto. “It is an outrage that such games are tolerated in a universe said to be civilized.” She gestured and seven clerks stepped forward. “Here is the case brought against the Governor of Xanto by the Kingdom of Incendium for the violation of fundamental rights due to all sentient beings.”

  “But…” protested the emperor’s aid.

  “And here are the charges against the Pirates of Manganus Five, for seizing a Terran in violation of interstellar code,” Drakina continued, beckoning to another four clerks bearing scrolls. She folded her arms across her chest. “I leave the Gloria Furora to you, for the moment.” She inclined her head at some beings in the crowd. “There was not sufficient time to delve into the labyrinthine tunnels of their affairs.”

  The emperor might have protested, but Drakina threw out her arms and shifted shape in a blaze of golden light. Her dragon form glittered and she breathed fire at the sky, then at the podium of dignitaries. The emperor stumbled backward, his robes aflame, and Troy heard cries of consternation.

  He also saw Prince Urbanus scowl, then pivot and disappear into the crowd of spectators.

  Drakina was either unafraid of the prince of Regalia or had another plan for him. Troy trusted her to have planned for every detail.

  She turned a sparkling glance upon him, cutting through the drug’s haze with one look. With one slash of her talons, he was cut free, then she snatched him in her talons and took flight. She soared over the dark mines of Xanto in triumph, holding him close against the thunder of her heart. “I like you naked, Carrier,” she murmured, her tone teasing. “Maybe I will keep you this way.”

  “Maybe I’ll make it worth your while, princess.”

  She landed with grace, shifting shape so that they stood together on the stone path he had just walked alone. One of the courtiers from Incendium cast a fur-lined cloak over his shoulders and another stood before them with a small volume.