The Heir

by Jessie Donovan

  His words sent a rush of warmth through her body. “And I’m glad you did, sore foot and all.”

  With a growl, Keltor closed the distance between their lips and she immediately accepted his tongue. As he licked, nipped, and suckled, the years faded away. It was almost as if they were kissing for the first time all over again, albeit they were both more skilled.

  At that thought, she laughed. Keltor ended the kiss and grunted. “I hope you’re not laughing at me.”

  “No, no. I was just thinking that this kiss is infinitely better than the first one.” She looped her arms around his neck. “I like starting from right here, right now. We won’t erase the past, of course, but no more regrets going forward. We have each other now, Keltor. And good fortune willing, for the rest of our very long lives.”

  He nipped her bottom lip. “So that makes this is our new first date?”

  Raising her brows, she tilted her head. “Why say it in such a grumpy tone?”

  “Because if it’s our first date, it would be dishonorable to claim you on that bench behind you.”

  She brushed the warm skin at the back of Keltor’s neck. “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

  In the blink of an eye, Keltor lifted her by the waist and sat her on the bench. As his hand ran down her legs, she opened them without hesitation.

  His fingers found the skin of her ankles. As he lightly strummed his fingers, Keltor’s heated gaze met her own. She sucked in a breath.

  Never looking away, he ran his hands up her calf, the inside of her thigh, and eventually stopped to caress the crease where her leg met her hip. His voice was husky as he said, “I never had the chance to taste you, zyla. I think it’s time to change that.”

  He continued to caress her soft flesh, but otherwise didn’t move. Azalyn finally growled. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Tell me what you want, Aza.”

  Under any other circumstance, she would tease him about obeying a mere common female’s orders.

  However, each stroke of his fingers only sent more heat and wetness between her thighs. The idea of Keltor there, licking her secret place, made her squirm. “I want you to taste me.”

  “Where?”

  Heat flushed her cheeks, but Azalyn slowly lifted her skirts until they bunched around her waist. She wasn’t quite bold enough to touch herself in front of Keltor yet, so she gestured. “There.”

  Moving his hands to splay her thighs farther apart, he leaned down and teased her opening with his lips and tongue. Azalyn groaned at the strange, wet heat against her.

  At the sound, Keltor thrust his tongue inside her and continued to lick, twirl, and explore. Not wanting him to stop, she threaded her fingers through his hair to keep him in place.

  The action only made Keltor tease her harder. Any embarrassment she had, faded. Keltor would only treasure her body, never laugh at it.

  He changed the wicked movements of his tongue and she groaned. She wondered what other things she’d always been embarrassed to try would be as glorious and as full of pleasure.

  She had a feeling Keltor would try any and all of them. All she had to do was ask.

  Soon lights danced in front of her eyes. She cried out his name as pleasure coursed through her body.

  She was barely aware of Keltor kissing the inside of each of her thighs before he kissed her dress-covered abdomen, between her breasts, the side of her neck, and eventually took her lips in a gentle kiss.

  Keltor pulled away and smiled at her with satisfaction in his eyes. She should make a witty remark, or simply ask Keltor to claim her.

  But between reliving the memory, the way he stared at her with adoration, and the haze of her orgasm, she murmured, “I love you.”

  With a growl, he took her lips again, and after a bit of fumbling, Keltor thrust his cock inside her. It was only later, after he made her scream in pleasure again, that she realized he’d never commented on her declaration.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It had taken almost a month, but as a tall, thin male led Toralyn into one of the private rooms at the back of the Twin Moons Tavern, excitement thrummed through her body. She was finally attending her first official antimonarchist meeting.

  The initiation test—to donate funds, pass a skills test, and to deface one of the public billboards currently running campaigns about Jasvar without being caught—had been easy enough. However, the next step would be infinitely harder since she needed to keep her cool and act the part of a disgruntled Kelderan citizen. She’d had some practice at keeping secrets, but never as something so contrary to her own beliefs. Even before finding out her birth father was a prince-but-now-king, she’d never had an ill opinion about the monarchy. Most merchants preferred the stability of the status quo over the unknown.

  There were many times she could’ve backed out and merely passed on what information she had gathered so far to her brother. But as she’d learned one fact after another, she’d decided that only once she was truly undercover and considered one of them could she give her brother the best information. And so, she’d stayed the course, even though it meant delaying her chances at going to Jasvar.

  What surprised her most, though, was the fact that her birth father’s guards hadn’t found her yet.

  However, before she could think on that yet again, the thin male stopped in front of a door and pressed his hand to a palm scanner. Once the light turned green on the device, the door opened and he motioned her inside.

  Steeling herself for what was to come, she strode in and surveyed the area.

  About twenty people sat in the rows of chairs facing the front, where a podium and large view screen were situated. The light cream walls were of a low-cost composite material and strangely bare. The minimalist style was probably to avoid giving away what went on in this room; the Twin Moons Tavern had a reputation of being able to keep secrets as well as bribe off law enforcers. As a result, everyone from antimonarchists to space pirates met in the infamous back rooms.

  Toralyn moved toward the chairs. Just as she was about to slide into one at the back, a female in her thirties with black hair, golden skin, and dark eyes looked right at her.

  She’d never seen the female before, but something about her gaze and the way she perched on her seat as if she were ready to jump up and attack at any moment screamed dangerous. The scar on her chin and dark clothing only enhanced the image.

  Not willing to be intimidated since that might get her tossed out of the meeting, Toralyn nodded at the female and sat down.

  A male in his late forties walked to the podium, garnering Toralyn’s attention. Even with her eyes on the podium, she could still feel the other female staring at her.

  If the dangerous-looking female was common for the antimonarchists, then they may be a bigger threat than Toralyn had given them credit for.

  The male at the podium spoke. “You are all new recruits to the cause. While I admire your generous donations and acts of vandalism to show your contempt of the king and his wastrels, I’m sure you understand that there are still a series of tests and trials before you will be allowed into the most inner circles of our movement. If this sounds like too much work, feel free to leave now while you still can. Because after this meeting, you will be watched and at the first sign of defection, we will hunt you down and keep you in captivity until such time you embrace death or are willing to prove yourself to the cause. Make your choice now.”

  For a few seconds, no one moved. But then a couple toward the front stood and scurried out of the room.

  The male leader looked at every person in turn before continuing, “The loyal remain. Good. Now, let’s begin.” The view screen switched on, displaying around one hundred circles, grouped in various clusters across the rectangular space. “Every recruit is grouped according to their skills and talents.” He flashed a light on a circle near the top right corner, grouped with a few others, but the group itself was spaced far apart from the other clusters. “This is where you
are, in the cluster of those with highly desirable skill sets. Everyone here will play an important role in the liberation of Keldera.”

  A male in the crowd shouted, “When can we start making the bastards pay? They live off our earnings, doing nothing in return. They shouldn’t be allowed to continue in such luxury while my neighbor struggles to pay his monthly expenses.”

  Toralyn bit her tongue to keep from correcting the male. The monarchy lived off its own investments. Kelderans were only expected to pay in times of war, when the palace might have to hire mercenaries to defend the planet. Tax revenue went to the budget maintained by the house of the commoners’ representatives.

  The male leader replied, “I agree that it’s time to end their leeching, but small acts will accomplish nothing. Patience, my friend, and we will bring them down.”

  So, it seemed that the antimonarchists like to play off misinformation and anger. Keeping herself in character and not betraying her true thoughts was going to be tougher than Toralyn had imagined.

  The male at the front of the room paused and finally spoke again. “And that is where you all come in. The faster you train, the faster we can implement one of our most daring strategies. Don’t ask what as not even I know what it is.

  “Each circle has their own orders, with a select few sharing the grander plan with those who earn the leaders’ trust. As long as you continue to show your support and advance up the ranks, one day it will end in victory.” A few people nodded. “So let us begin and get closer to our ultimate goal. You will be paired off with someone who, after your earlier interviews and demonstrations, is deemed to be your best fit. When I call your name, stand up, connect with your partner, and wait for further instructions.”

  As he went through his list, Toralyn had to admit that whoever was leading the antimonarchists was being smart about it. Keeping orders and plans localized to certain ranks ensured that there were fewer leaks.

  The male at the front of the room continued calling names until the pool of potential partners dwindled to the point that four were left—Toralyn, the dangerous-looking female, and two short, but muscled males.

  “Toralyn Sulani.”

  She perked up at her name and stood. The male announced her partner, “Xerla Cyntah.”

  The female from before stood. Her surname denoted her as also being from a merchant family, although the Cyntahs were fourth in overall revenue on Keldera.

  Xerla stood and raised an eyebrow at Toralyn. She expected her to come.

  Even though it went against every cell in her being, Toralyn capitulated and walked to Xerla. She couldn’t afford a petty fight. After all, partnering with the female was her best chance at advancing and getting information to protect her brother.

  Once she stopped about a foot from the female, they merely eyed each other while the leader announced the final pairing.

  Since they hadn’t been told to introduce or talk with one another, Toralyn remained silent.

  The leader clapped his hands once, and all eyes went to him. “I applaud you for not speaking and merely waiting for further instruction. It shows me that you are in the right place. Now, the person paired with you will be your partner for as long as we continue fighting for victory. You weren’t paired to be friends. You were paired to keep each other alive. And for the next few weeks, you’re going to be completing a series of tests to prove that you can do so. Those who fail will probably end up as ash, to be scattered by your closest relative as they weep for your death.”

  The words were meant to scare, but Toralyn refused to cower.

  “Now,” he said, “it’s time to assign your first series of tests. The pair who gets closest to the final objective will advance to the next tier. There you will receive more secrets. It is our hope that all of you will eventually get there.”

  As Toralyn listened to the task, she willed her face to remain neutral.

  The truth was, she could easily complete it because of certain knowledge she possessed. But if she did, it may end up hurting someone she knew.

  When the male finished explaining, Xerla spoke for the first time. “You had better be in this to win because I don’t accept failure.”

  Bobbing her head, she answered, “Of course.”

  “Good. Then let’s move to one of the private areas and begin devising our plan.”

  She walked, and Toralyn didn’t have a choice but to follow the older female. As Xerla stepped into a small room off the bigger one, Toralyn stood tall and resisted swallowing. Being alone with someone who probably didn’t think twice about killing a person wasn’t the best of situations.

  Xerla took something out of her pocket, a small tube of some sort, and clicked the top. After five seconds, she spoke again. “No one will be able to eavesdrop on our conversation. So listen closely, Toralyn Sulani, because I have a plan and you’re going to do what I say.”

  It was now or never for holding her ground. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll decide that for myself, actually. I’m not your lackey to order around. We’re partners.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Xerla studied her for a second. “You’re young and out to prove yourself, I get that. But if we’re to both succeed on our individual missions, then you need to follow my lead.”

  She frowned. “What are you talking about? We have the same mission.”

  “I’m not talking about our most recently assigned mission.”

  It hit her then—Xerla knew she wasn’t a diehard out to bring down the monarchy. “So you plan to blackmail me to cooperate?”

  The corner of the female’s mouth ticked up. “Be grateful that’s all I’m doing.”

  “But why? If that device truly shields this room from eavesdroppers, you can at least tell me the reason.”

  “Why? Your choices are to work with me or be discovered by the vile male out there. I know how to escape from just about any prison, but can you?”

  Her curiosity won out over her pride. “Who are you?”

  “Xerla Cyntah. You need to work on your memory retention.”

  She resisted huffing. “I know your name, but who do you work for?”

  “Myself. But there’s only one male I take orders from—your father.”

  Before she could stop herself, Toralyn spat out, “My father is dead.”

  Xerla shrugged. “You can play dumb if you like. But the male who sent me here is very much alive.”

  Keltor. “Damn him and not trusting me.”

  “It’s not personal. I’m more skilled than you in every way. That’s a fact. Him sending me here tells me you’re valuable and he prefers you alive. And before you go on about trust, I don’t care about your feelings. Keeping you alive and getting information is all that matters. Unfortunately, it now means relying on you. So spare us a lot of back and forth and tell me—are you ready to take orders and rise through the ranks?”

  This was a tipping point. If Toralyn capitulated easily, Xerla would never consider her suggestions and advice. And while the female claimed to be better at everything, everyone had weaknesses. Even an intimidating-looking female who could probably snap her in half.

  And considering Keltor had sent the female to watch over her, Xerla wouldn’t kill her for voicing her opinion.

  Uncrossing her arms, Toralyn answered, “I will take orders that make sense and don’t cross a line.”

  Surprise flashed in Xerla’s eyes, but vanished before she could blink. “Which is?”

  “I won’t kill anyone.”

  “Good thing I’m trained to do just that. So if there’s nothing else, let’s finalize our strategy.”

  Xerla’s response intrigued her. Apparently her birth father had a female assassin.

  Before meeting her, Toralyn would’ve dismissed the idea of any female trained to kill as ridiculous. After all, Kelderan tradition dictated females lived to marry and reproduce.

  However, she was beginning to realize that the palace had many secrets. Part of her wanted to find out as many as
she could, while the other part of her just wanted to complete her task to safeguard her brother and leave Keldera forever.

  For the time being, she nodded. “Let’s get started.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Azalyn finished her last stroke and placed her paintbrush in a cup of cleaning solution.

  She’d always preferred animals over people as subjects, but she’d tackled the challenge in order to capture her son’s image.

  Painting a straightforward portrait wasn’t her style, so there were strokes of color used strategically throughout Kelzal’s face, neck, and shoulders to make the image stand out. Even with the unusual hints of colors, no one would mistake it for anyone but her son.

  Stepping back and turning toward the sink to wash her hands, Azalyn tried not to think of what she wanted to paint next. Since nearly a month has passed since last seeing Toralyn, she’d hoped to see her daughter again by now and convince her to at least allow Azalyn to sketch out a preliminary image. Only once she had a portrait of both their children would she present them to Keltor as a gift.

  Even with her daughter still participating in some undercover work—or, so Xerla and Ervan’s reports said—Azalyn had nothing to complain about. Keltor had formally announced Kelzal’s line in the succession as well as broadcast his new role as king, both with only minimal resistance. Well, at least for the time being. She had no idea what the future held.

  Things had also settled down inside the palace and she now spent most of her time in Keltor’s quarters, allowing her to spend time with her male and to give Kelzal his space. And when not there, her duties with the Jasvarian campaign and council meetings occupied most of her time.

  But every once in a while, Kelzal would immerse himself in research and Keltor would have kingly duties he needed to perform, which left Azalyn with an occasional chance to paint.

  Turning back to Kelzal’s portrait, she didn’t realize how much she’d needed to reclaim the part of herself that had emerged during her years apart from Keltor. In a way, painting her children and giving it to him would bridge the two lives together.