by Susan Grant
“The publishers are putting out novels in Basic now,” Linda explained, peering over the primitive eye-magnifiers perched on her nose. “I’m a book reviewer on the side. Cach, Ragan, and Asaro, too—must-read classics. I recommend them highly.”
“Talk books in the car, Linda, or we’ll be late.” Ilana gave Tee’ah a sealed mug and piece of bread shaped like a wheel. “Breakfast on the run,” she explained and herded everyone out the front door.
Tee’ah hurried along beside her, envisioning Ian desperate and sorry, all the while struggling to stay afloat in the torrent of energy that was his sister.
The in-dash satellite navigation in the shiny black electric car Ian had rented guided him from LAX to his sister’s place in Santa Monica. Gann sat next to him, Muffin was hunched over in the back seat, and the rest of the crew had stayed behind on the Sun Devil.
Ian parked behind Ilana’s house. He glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror and ran a hand over his stubble. “Muffin, toss me my shaver.” Looking like an escaped convict wasn’t going to help his standing with Tee.
Muffin unzipped Ian’s duffel bag. There was an ear-ripping shriek, and the big man’s head bounced off the car’s ceiling with a muffled thud.
Gann twisted around. “What in blazes is the ketta-cat doing here?”
Muffin rubbed his head. “Hell if I know!”
Ian killed the engine. “Whatever you do, don’t let anyone see it. Animals are quarantined state to state. This one’s from across the galaxy.”
Gann reached around his seat and pushed Lara’s pet into the duffel. It gave a muffled yowl in protest. “I miss her, too,” he said under his breath, zipping the bag nine-tenths shut. “But you’re a troublemaker, just like she is.”
He hooked the bag over his shoulder and exited the vehicle, then followed Ian up an outside flight of stairs to the second floor. A piece of paper taped to Ilana’s door fluttered in a strengthening breeze coming off the Pacific. Ian tore the note off the wood. “They’re not here.”
Muffin accepted the news with professional calm, but Gann didn’t try to hide his concern. “Where are they?”
Ian struggled to make out his twin sister’s scrawled handwriting. “Ilana’s working…downtown LA…on the roof of the Court Tower. It’s the tallest building in the city.” He folded the note. “She’s got both Tee’ah and Lara with her. Let’s go.”
They hustled back down the stairs and into the car. Ian merged into traffic on a street busy with summer visitors, then he accelerated onto a high-speed lane reserved for electric vehicles leading directly downtown.
Gann’s hands flew to the dashboard. “Great Mother.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The other ground cars”—he swallowed—“they’re too close.”
Ian tried not to laugh. “They’re supposed to be.”
“I journeyed in a similar vehicle, years ago, with Rom. But we never reached this velocity.”
“On an electric speedway it’s perfectly legal; trust me.” He pictured Tee, wondering what she thought of Earth, or driving on the highway. Or seeing the ocean for the first time. There were so many places he wanted to show her, so many things he wanted to experience with her, not the least of which was more incredible lovemaking.
She left you.
The gnawing worry that Tee wanted nothing more to do with him sharpened into impatience to make things right between them. Their futures were intertwined. He was prepared forevery conceivable argument to the contrary; he wasn’t about to let her go.
He flipped on the vehicle’s digital entertainment system. The images of Vash representatives and Earth’s statesmen clashing in public and private forums didn’t lighten his mood. “The Senior Galactic Trade Minister is camped out outside the U.S. president’s office,” he muttered. His friends’ command of English was weak, and Ian found himself translating the news as it unfolded. “I’d guess he’s awaiting word from Rom on how to proceed.”
Ian wondered what Rom would tell the minister now that he thought he’d recalled Ian. Earth would never cooperate as long as they believed there was little hope of a true partnership with the Federation.
Find Tee, his instincts told him. Everything else will fall into place.
Still, no matter what his instincts said, reuniting with Tee in the middle of L.A. was going to be anything but simple.
From the top of the Court Tower, Tee’ah viewed the entire city of Los Angeles, glittering in the hazy, muted light of Earth’s star. The wide rooftop was windswept and seemed to touch the sky. Her skirt whipped around her bare legs as she gazed all around her. Glassy buildings nearby rivaled the dizzying height of the one she was on; chaotic roads below were busy with ground cars; huge white runes glowed on a distant hill: Hollywood.
She turned her attention back to the Earth dwellers working on the rooftop. Ilana radiated pure pleasure as she used her Sony to capture images. It was a gift, being free to practice a vocation she so enjoyed; Tee’ah hoped Ian’s sister understood her good fortune.
Perhaps succumbing to the urge to draw Lara out of her shell, Ilana had asked the woman for assistance. Now Lara stood among those who were filming, holding a “boom mike,” pointing it up and outward to capture sound while Ilana’s assistant, Linda, coordinated with the other Earth dwellers. Chaos reigned, yet there was a simmering energy given off by the Earthers which Tee’ah found fascinating. With such dash inherent in their culture, no wonder they were balking at the idea of being submerged in a galaxy-wide federation in which they played a minor role.
More Earth dwellers arrived: KCAL-TV news, their equipment stated. As a crisply dressed woman narrated, her companion filmed Ilana filming the Earth dwellers who were filming the actor, a man whom Tee’ah considered nowhere near as compelling as Ian, yet who was inexplicably the focus of so much interest.
Sudden movement dragged Tee’ah’s attention to the onlookers milling behind a row of barriers set up around the activity.
Crat. Flanked by Muffin and Gann, Ian jostled his way through the crowd.
Ilana’s assistant’s eyes widened. “Who’s that?”
“Buy new glasses, Linda,” Ilana said. “It’s Ian.”
“No, the big blond hulk—I mean hunk.”
“His name’s Muffin. He’s my stepfather’s bodyguard.”
“Muffin.” Linda’s mouth curved in a hungry smile. “Darn. There goes my diet.”
Tee’ah had no tolerance for such lighthearted conversation. “What is Ian doing here? He’s supposed to be in Washington.” Her heart wrenched. His mission was critical to galactic peace. How dare he flirt with the controversy she would undoubtedly bring him?
Part of her hoped he was here to see his sister, but the instant his gray-green eyes found her, he left his escorts behind. His expression was resolute, his strides long. His glossy, windblown hair and black leather jacket were more suited to a rebel trader than a galactic crown prince, but he commanded no less respect for it.
The crowd parted, allowing him past. As he closed on her, the world seemed to fall away. Conversation grew distant, the people around her blurred. All she felt was the wind tossing her hair, her dress fluttering against her bare skin, and her love for Ian, giving her a sense of time standing still.
She forcibly looked away, breaking the spell. “Why did you come?” she demanded when he stopped in front of her. “We’re over,” she said in English—one of his sister’s expressions. “You know that.”
“I made a mistake, pixie.”
“Yes, you did. By coming here. Look around you. Earth dwellers are taking pictures. You can’t afford to be seen with me—”
He pulled her into a fierce and possessive kiss. Then he slowly moved her back. “How’s that for being seen with me?”
Breathless, she touched her fingertips to her lips. “What are you doing?”
“Breaking the rules.” He gripped her shoulders, moving her back. “Come to Washington. Then, after that, we’ll work with the G
reat Council on the subject of you and me.”
“No. The timing is wrong. You have to concentrate on your future.”
“Our future,” he reminded her. “We’re a team, sweetheart, a great one. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
She hugged her arms to her ribcage. “Don’t do this, Ian.”
“Sorry, but I’m going to try my damnedest to win you back. We belong together.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Tingles spread from where his thumb stroked her cheek. “I know you know it, too. You wear your heart on your sleeve, remember?”
She made a sound of anguished exasperation and twisted out of his grasp. Ian went after her.
Lara grabbed Ilana’s hand and pointed after Tee’ah and Ian. She said in Basic, “You want to give Earth a reason to stay in the Federation? Film them.”
Ilana’s face lit up. “Lara, you’re brilliant.” She tapped her finger against her cheek. Then she turned to the reporter nearby. “You network signatories have an agreement, right? That any breaking news of world significance can be spontaneously pooled at the authority of the net on the scene?”
“That’s right.” The reporter studied her. “Why?”
“The crown prince of the galaxy is about to choose his future queen. Right here. Right now!”
The reporter’s eyes veered toward Tee’ah and Ian, arguing passionately in hushed voices.
“He could very well be the next king of the galaxy,” Ilana said, “if he’s approved, and if we Earth-types support him. Just think, a hometown boy in charge. As Rom B’kah’s stepdaughter, I can provide the insider narration, if you want: Ladies and gentlemen, watch as we establish—today, right before your eyes—a thrilling new star-spanning dynasty in which we—Earth—play a crucial role!”
“I’ll call my producer.” The reporter pressed her cell phone to her ear.
Ilana paced in short, tense bursts. Lara bit the inside of her lip, opening and closing her fists. The transaction seemed to take forever.
Finally, the reporter lowered her cell phone. “We got it!”
“Yes!” Ilana gave Lara a high-five.
The reporter shouted to her cameraman, “Pool it, global!” and she gestured frantically for him to start filming.
Around the globe, televisions and computers flicked on to catch the breaking story. Satellite coverage shared by the different nets around the world began a simultaneous feed. Then, with just a two-second lag, the image of Tee’ah and Ian began popping on screens from Kalamazoo to Karachi to Kazakhstan.
Ian caught up with Tee on a windswept helipad commanding a spectacular view of the city and a hazy glimpse of the ocean beyond. “Maybe I’m not being clear. I want to marry you, Tee.”
She spun around, her eyes anguished, her hair wild. “No. I’ll not ruin your chance for the throne!”
He advanced on her. “That’s why you left, isn’t it? You feel you need to protect me—from you.”
Her expressive face gave him his answer. He reached for her. She backed away. “You need a traditional wife. I can’t be that woman. Royal life suffocates me. I want to fly, to make my own choices.”
“Why would I stop you? I don’t support the old traditions, you know that.”
“That’s what you say now, but you’ll change,” she said with conviction.
“I won’t!”
“You already have. On the Quillie you told me that I could no longer work for you, that the job was too dangerous. Those were your exact words.” Her hand crept to her chest and balled into a fist. “I know,” she whispered. “I felt every one.”
“It was a knee-jerk reaction. I didn’t mean you couldn’t…that I’d…” He exhaled. “I was caught off guard, Tee. I reacted badly, and I apologize. I won’t change into a traditionalist; I promise you. You know Vash custom, we have to be promised for a year before we can get married, time to get to know each other, to see what we’re really like. And at the end of that year…you’ll be free to walk away.”
She gave him a grudging nod that told him she didn’t believe he wouldn’t ultimately go back to the Vash way of thinking. Or maybe she was still worried their engagement would keep him from becoming Rom’s heir.
“A lot happened over the past few days, Tee, life-changing things.”
Now she looked worried. “What, Ian?”
“Rom didn’t care for the way I was handling the frontier situation. He ordered me back to Sienna.” He lowered his voice. “I didn’t go.”
“He did?” Her voice rose. “You disobeyed the king?” She grew as pale as a Vash could get. “Is that what you meant when you said you broke the rules?”
“You can’t follow them all the time, pixie. You taught me that. The right path isn’t always the one everyone uses. Sometimes you’ve got to go your own way.” He took her hands in his. “You have to believe me, Tee, when I say I won’t make you live in the traditional way. Isolation should be a choice, not a law. I’m American; I’ve always felt that way. Being the crown prince won’t change that, or how I feel about Earth and my family. Or you, sweet pixie.”
Fascinated, Earth’s population watched the exchange—in pubs, in cars and shopping malls. In the Oval Office where a weary president argued with an incensed senior Vash trade minister, Senator Charlie Randall rose to his feet.
“I don’t believe it,” he said, pointing to a television mounted on the wall. “There’s our boy.”
Ian pulled her snug against him. Cheek to cheek, breathing in unison, he rocked her back and forth. “So, what do you say?”
“Don’t do this,” Tee said in a tight whisper.
“Give me one reason why not.”
“ ‘The welfare of all comes before the desires of the few.’ ”
“Who’s to say this isn’t for the good of the many? I’m from the frontier. You’re from one of the eight original families. Yeah, things are going to be a little touchy until the Great Council finds a wife for Ché, but it’ll settle down. Come on; I love you, Tee. And you love me. Let’s get married. To hell with what anyone thinks!”
From nearby came the sound of a crowd whooping and whistling.
Ian lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder. Holy Toledo. His sister, the news crew, everyone, had formed a half-ring around the helipad.
Ilana’s finger came up against her lips. She shook her head, her eyes urging him not to say anything. Keep going, she mouthed. You’re doing great.
Ian was at a loss. Should he capitalize on this fortuitous impromptu forum, allowing the world to eavesdrop on a conversation that should have been private, so he could show Earth that he was human, fallible, and on their side? The day he said he’d be Rom’s heir, he’d agreed tacitly to a public life. But this was crazy.
“Say yes! Say yes!” The chant started with a whisper from Ilana’s lips. Then Lara took up the chorus, followed by the others on the rooftop.
Ian realized that they were urging Tee to accept his proposal. But she’d shut her eyes. What looked like a prayer formed on her lips. She was going to turn him down, he thought with gloomy certainty.
“Say yes! Say yes!” The cheer spread quickly. Images of the events taking place on a rooftop in Los Angeles streamed into deep space, destined for planets all over the civilized galaxy.
Her eyes opened and she swore.
Ian’s mouth quirked. “That’s not exactly the answer I was after.”
“No.” She pointed into the crowd. “I thought I was imagining it. But look.”
Ian squinted past the lights aimed at him. A pair of newcomers walked toward them. They had smooth amber skin and coppery-blond hair. Both were tall and broad shouldered, with eyes as pale and aristocratic as Tee’s.
“It’s Klark,” Tee whispered. “On the right.”
Ian’s voice was low and lethal. “I can’t believe he had the balls to hunt me down on my home planet.” Was Klark so completely evil, or was he just stupid? The man on the left raised his hand in greeting. Every muscle in Ian’s body tensed. K
lark had brought his older brother, Ché—the man who had every right to claim Tee as his own.
Chapter Twenty-one
Ian set his jaw and met the gold, coolly rational eyes of his unexpected adversary. Ché carried himself with the inbred insolence so characteristic of royal Vash Nadah men. And why not? Ché held all the cards—on his own homeworld and here on Ian’s. All the prince had to do was imply Tee was by rights his, and it would hurl everything into chaos.
Ian glanced at Tee. She looked stricken. He wanted to reach for her, to hold her tight. One last time. He doubted she’d marry Ché. More likely, she’d run deeper into the frontier to “save him from ruin” and pick up the reins of her original plan. He’d lose her either way.
Ché and Klark stopped in front of him, both a full head taller than he. Ché’s regal, deep-green cloak swirled around his boots as he dropped to his knees. “Greetings, my prince,” he said, bowing his head.
The show of respect threw Ian. “Rise,” he said, and extended his hand.
Klark made a hissing noise. “Ché, what are you doing?”
Ché took Ian’s wrist in the traditional Vash handshake, gripping his arm with passion not evident in his composed expression. Then Ché nodded in Tee’s direction. “My lady.”
“My lord,” she replied softly.
They held each other’s gazes for a few moments longer than what made Ian comfortable. Both had been children when they’d first met. Neither could have imagined the consequences of their doomed arranged union. When Ché finally spoke, Ian realized he’d been holding his breath. “I am experiencing a family crisis that disturbs me greatly,” he said with a glance at Klark. “I ask for your guidance in choosing the best way to proceed.”
“Go on,” Ian said carefully.
Klark grabbed Ché’s arm. “This is not what we planned! You were to challenge him.”
“No,” said Ché. “That’s the old way. Rom is correct. We’re the generation who can ensure a future of peace—but only if we adapt as times change.” He waved his hand at Ian and the crowd surrounding them. “Times have changed.”
