“You reminded them what it means to be a commoner?” Guarin suggested.
Radovan smirked and sipped his tea patiently. His servant refilled it and then receded.
“What an absolutely . . . Swanlike approach,” Radovan said. “No. Noble or commoner, the Upraadis are my people. All frontiersmen of Lagoon are my people.” He sipped his tea but kept his eyes on Kastor. “I improved the factories and mines. I instituted safety regulations. I let them organize themselves.”
Guarin huffed. “You gave them what they wanted?”
Radovan’s wild eyes studied Kastor, seeing things the Royal Champion couldn’t fathom. “My instincts were as the Frontier Lumis, looking out for his people—I don’t regret that. But yes, I went too far.”
“Is it any great shock that chaos ensues when you spoil your commoners?” Guarin asked. He sounded as if the situation actually angered him.
Radovan finally broke away from Kastor to glare at his Swan guest. “They’re neither pack animals nor machines. If you treat them as less than human, that’s what they’ll become.”
“Apparently, they became that way through your means as well,” Guarin returned.
“Because I went too far,” Radovan snapped. “And like a child without discipline, they developed a false sense of invincibility. Now, discipline has to come. And the pain of it will set Upraad back into balance.”
“As I see it,” Kastor cut in, “Upraad has grown less disciplined since the rebellion began, not more.”
The Frontier Lumis leaned back and swirled his tea. “The rebellion is a cancer. Cut out the tumor, leave the roots, and another tumor will grow somewhere else. But rip out the roots with the tumor, and you risk destroying the very organism you sought to keep alive.”
Kastor felt his biceps pulse. He sensed an opening. “Point me to the roots. I have my own cure for cancer.”
Radovan smiled. “So, that’s why you’ve come? To relieve me of this insurgent burden out of the goodness of your heart?”
“You know why we’ve come,” Kastor said. “Not to dethrone you. To empower you.”
“Going from lumis to lord is dethronement in my view,” Radovan replied. “And if that was empowerment, you wouldn’t need to offer your services in exchange.”
“You wouldn’t be a mere lord,” Kastor corrected. “You would be Regent of Lagoon. You would rule your people just as you do now, but you would do so with the Regnum’s backing. All you need to offer in return is an oath of loyalty and a promise of your armies in times of war.”
Radovan laughed a full, hearty laugh. “Those are the two things I’m least willing to give. Zantorian is old. He’s ruled far longer than you’ve been alive, and he’s weary of all the intra-arm politics. He wants war, be it with me or the Orionites or the Carinians. Doesn’t matter who. He wants blood and glory.”
“And you want to be free of your commoner rebellion,” Guarin said.
“What makes you think you could accomplish what my soldiers cannot?” Radovan asked.
“We’re champions by birthright,” Kastor said. “We’ve trained in the art of war our entire lives. Killing the unkillable is our specialty.” He allowed the ghost of a grin to cross his lips.
“We nobles of Lagoon have trained in the art of war for generations,” Radovan said, “and we have thicker skin.” He flicked his dry, gray forearm with a crack.
“You’re looking at the two finest warriors in the galaxy,” Kastor said. “If we fail, we will leave Upraad and never return. The Regnum will allow you to live in peace and freedom.”
Guarin stirred, knowing Kastor had not been sanctioned to make such a statement. “Kastor!” he hissed.
Kastor blazed on. “But if we succeed, Radovan the Gracious will pledge his loyalty and his armies to the Grand Lumis, now and forever.”
“No lumis in his right mind would agree to that!” Radovan snapped. “I will not write Zantorian a blank check and surrender the keys to my palace!” He paused, let his shoulders relax, and swirled his raku cup, studying it as if the tea would reveal the way forward. “I’m prepared to offer the service of my navy and my armies for the defense of any border planet. That’s more than enough in recompense for temporary assistance from Triumph’s champion.”
Kastor tightened his jaw. After what he’d already done, nothing would obstruct his path to glory. “The Grand Lumis requires your unqualified allegiance as well as a full military alliance. He will accept nothing less. I’d rather return to him empty-handed than with half a prize.”
Radovan started to protest but then halted himself. A heavy, dusty sigh escaped him. Hot breath brushed Kastor’s face. The Frontier Lumis took on a fierce expression, eyes slicing through Kastor like blades. He needed the champion’s help, and Kastor knew it.
His cracked, soft gray lips curled upward. “You’re not unworthy of your position, son of Tyrannus.”
Kastor didn’t let himself relax. “The royal tournament is rather difficult to win.”
Radovan abruptly stood, causing Guarin and Guerlain to flinch for weapons that weren’t there. Kastor stayed still and watched.
“Come with me,” the lumis said.
Guarin pushed back his chair to rise. Radovan extended his hand to stop him.
“Alone.”
Guarin stared defiantly. Kastor nodded at him, and he grudgingly relaxed into his seat.
Radovan led Kastor across the courtyard to the edge of the moat, where the strangely colored water shifted in endless movement. The waterfalls would mask their conversation. Radovan knelt by the water’s edge and dipped his hand in the stream, let it trickle through his fingers.
“Kastor, you must know what you ask of me is absurd,” Radovan said, resting a forearm on his knee. “Lagoon nobles will see no reason to follow a lord who sells out to Zantorian. They’d rather fight him and die than live in subservience.”
“Then you must talk sense into them,” Kastor replied.
“How can I if I’m the foremost hater of Zantorian?”
“Because you’re also the foremost patriot of Upraad,” Kastor said, losing his patience. “And you know what will befall your people should you refuse me.”
Radovan immersed his hand into the teal water and swirled it around before taking it out and licking his fingers. “Water is sweeter on Upraad. Taste it.”
Kastor rolled his eyes and huffed, drained of all tolerance for this game. “I’ve tasted your tea. Now you want me to taste your water. And we’re no closer to an agreement.”
Radovan flicked the water off his hand and straightened. “Negotiation is made difficult when one party is unwilling to budge.”
Kastor threw his hands into the air. “You knew why the Champion of Triumph had come to your doorstep! If it’s war you want, why didn’t you blast my ship to pieces the moment I came through the space gate?”
The Frontier Lumis smiled lightly, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. “Because I wanted you to taste Upraad’s water.” He extended a hand toward the translucent moat.
Air escaped Kastor’s lungs. All of this felt like a waste of time. Perhaps a fatal one. Could the Frontier Lumis have been scheming to poison him? The water? The tea? Radovan waited and watched with a soft face. He didn’t seem the type to poison. Not like this. Kastor stepped to the moat, keeping an eye on Radovan, and knelt. He cupped water from the pool, brought it to his lips, and sipped. A cold, sweet rush overwhelmed his senses, a taste like nothing he had ever experienced. Natural sweetness tingled on his tongue and down his throat.
Radovan treaded closer. “I have something to offer you, Kastor of Tyrannus. Not to Zantorian. To you.” The lumis placed his stony hand on Kastor’s shoulder and spoke in a soft voice. “I saw what the Grand Lumis forced upon you. What he stole from you. It’s horrific. He stripped himself of all that defines nobility.”
“What do you care?” Kastor muttered. His voice sounded pathetic in his ears.
“Abandon Zantorian,” Radovan said. “Become my cham
pion. Serve someone with a soul.”
Kastor felt weak, unable to stand up and say what needed to be said. He felt a burden like one of Upraad’s desert boulders weighing him down. “My path to glory lies with Zantorian.”
Radovan knelt beside him. “But your path to vengeance lies with me.” He cupped his hand in the water and brought it to his lips. “And vengeance is sweet. We will go to war with the Regnum, shatter his ships, flay his soldiers . . . and you will have the opportunity to exact a pound of flesh from the Grand Lumis. I swear it.”
Piercing eyes gleamed at Kastor, but he wouldn’t meet them. Shame overwhelmed him, lashed at his mind, threatened to cripple him. The reality of his loss hadn’t felt so real since the moment after he plunged his sword into Pollaena’s chest. When he saw her bright red blood on his hands. Some force in him longed to join the Frontier Lumis, to take up arms in his desperate cause and butcher every last Fox in the galaxy until only Zantorian remained. That force craved vengeance. For Pollaena, if not for himself. But his destiny persisted, his future set. Glory was his birthright.
Kastor forced himself to stand straight. Radovan followed suit.
“Consider my offer final,” Kastor said.
Radovan gave a spiritless smile. “Same for mine.”
Kastor turned and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sylvan, still wearing a spiteful scowl, led the offworlders down an elevator to a grid of hallways. Pastel earth tones dominated the walls and decor and light fixtures—hues of brown, tan, yellow, and orange. Sylvan paused before a wide door and faced them.
“You will stay here for the night,” he said, his icy glare indicating there would be consequences otherwise. Sylvan opened the door to the main room of a large suite.
State of the art technology blended with cave-like features, even leaving the rough rocks exposed in places. Four doorways in the corners of the living space opened into sparsely lit bedrooms.
Once the four Sagittarians were inside, Sylvan said, “Someone will tend to you in the morning,” and shut the door. A mechanical thump from inside it signaled they wouldn’t see the outside of this suite until then.
Guarin glared at Kastor when their solitude sank in. Guerlain glanced between the two men and traipsed past them with a light laugh. She didn’t care to get involved this time. Trajan hung back, stealing looks at the swirly paintings on the walls.
“You would gamble with the Grand Lumis’s mission?” Guarin asked, voice thick with disgust. “You’re either the proudest bastard I’ve ever met or the stupidest. No! You’re both!”
Kastor stepped into the living room as Guerlain sniffed at the exotic fruit on the counter. Her every motion and gesture reminded him of a cat. Prim, nimble, dismissive.
“I don’t see any other way,” Kastor said, in no mood to bicker. His mind hung on Radovan’s offer.
“How about we come back with warships?” Guarin suggested, as if it was the most obvious idea ever conjured. “Show the Frontier Lumis we’re serious.”
“And destroy half of Lagoon’s resources before we take it?” Kastor shot back. “Dump countless treasure into a war that will leave us nothing but a few pitiful rocks?”
“You’re negotiating from weakness, Kastor!” Guarin exclaimed. “You might as well be begging on your hands and knees! Radovan has the upper hand, and he knows it.”
“And what would you do?”
“I would sneak out tonight, kill everyone who means something to Radovan, starting with that Sylvan fellow, then go back to the Regnum, ask Zantorian for a thousand gunships, and crush Radovan like an insect!”
“And do what with Lagoon’s planets?” Kastor asked.
Guarin shrugged and shook his head. “Leave them to rot. Crack them in half with antimatter. What does it matter what you do with them? You’ve still taken Lagoon for the Regnum.”
Kastor heaved a laugh. “So that’s your answer? Turn the planets to powder and leave?”
“It’s better than letting Radovan stay in power,” Guarin said. “Remain in defiance to the Grand Lumis. At least you’ve set a precedent for dissenters.”
“What a noble precedent,” Kastor said. “Swear absolute fealty or you and all your people will be ground into dust.”
Guarin recoiled in shock, then laughed. “What’s wrong with you? You’re supposed to be the most fearsome man in the galaxy. Did losing your woman turn you into one?”
The room froze. Kastor’s hands curled instinctively into fists. A burst of hot fury erupted in his chest. Guarin stared at him with his jaw set and his eyes unyielding. Guerlain looked up from the kitchen area with bored eyes but said nothing. Kastor could free himself of his Swan burden. He could kill them both with his bare hands.
Trajan stepped toward Kastor and shook his head lightly, pupils wide and ominous. But Trajan didn’t understand. He didn’t feel the fire in his gut that screamed for vengeance. He couldn’t possibly know what it was to lose half his soul to a beast without one. He couldn’t possibly know such hatred. Kastor trembled in rage the longer he let his thoughts roam free. But some other feeling grew behind his rage. An agonizing amalgam of sting and ache. The pain of a fathomless wound yearned for escape.
Kastor loosened his fists and swallowed his emotion—all of it. He couldn’t get rid of it piecemeal. It had to go all at once. His heart hardened until no feeling remained. He didn’t have only his own honor to consider. He represented the honor of the Regnum.
“We’ll speak in the morning,” he said in a defeated voice, then trudged to one of the bedrooms.
* * *
On the far wall, a wide window split the rock and gave an expansive view of the valley below and the opposite cliff face. Lights beamed from structures built into the cliff or peeking through it. The glass panels of the greenhouses glinted in the waning light of evening, but evening wouldn’t last. Upraad’s other, smaller sun would rise soon, casting the planet in a weak, reddish glow—the closest thing they had to night. Thick curtains hung on either side of the window, waiting to block out the hellish radiance to come in the morning.
Kastor sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the river below. Emotion and thought had long since drained from him. He thought of nothing, felt nothing, only watched as the waters flowed on and on, following their course like they had done for a million years, burrowing deeper and deeper into the valley. A careless obedience to destiny. Never once fighting the timeless rules of nature. Such grace and peace, drifting from horizon to horizon without concern for the happenings all around.
The bedroom door clicked shut on the far side of the room. Kastor flinched and turned to look into the darkness. Shadow veiled the other side of the bed.
“Who’s there?” He waited for a reply but none came. He wondered if his imagination had conjured the sound. Then he heard a soft footstep sink into the carpet.
“A visitor,” a sultry voice trickled through the blackness.
“Identify yourself,” Kastor commanded. As his eyes adjusted, he made out the vague silhouette of a young woman.
The silhouette stepped forward, coming into the wan light from the window. Kastor stood and retreated a step as she emerged. Slender, sleek, tall—almost as tall as Kastor—and utterly naked. The woman bore the face of a goddess—radiant magenta irises, skin like smooth satin, and wispy hair as black as endless space. She was flawless, the work of a master genesmith.
Her naked form made something in him quiver, but not in attraction. Quite the opposite. She revulsed him. Her lurid beauty only turned him away more. Nothing tattered a maiden’s honor worse than indecency—especially to a man with whom she had not been paired. Her bare form befouled his mind.
“Seraphina of Upraad,” she said, unfazed by her exposure. “Princess of Lagoon.”
Kastor thought for a moment. “Have you been sent to persuade me?”
Her eyebrows furrowed, creating only the slightest of lines between them. “Persuade you of what?” Her lips curled in a coy s
mile.
“Radovan must be desperate,” Kastor said, averting his eyes.
Seraphina draped herself across the bed, resting her head on her palm. “Radovan didn’t send me. My mother did.”
“Your mother?”
She laughed under her breath. “You wouldn’t know what it means to have a mother, I suppose.”
“Surely you weren’t—”
“No,” Seraphina answered. “She didn’t birth me. But she raised me.”
Kastor crossed his arms and faced the window. “I don’t know why you’d claim such a relationship with your matriarch. As if she produced you from her own body, the commoner way. It summons vile images to the mind.”
“You haven’t been around commoners much, have you?” Seraphina asked.
“Have you?”
Seraphina’s reflection in the window smiled. Kastor focused his gaze past it to the river.
“One can’t escape the commoners on Upraad. They live and work alongside us. They’re part of our world as much as we are of theirs.”
Kastor couldn’t decipher the meaning behind her words, whether the softness in her voice indicated compassion or something else, but he let it go.
“So your . . . mother . . . sent you to do some horizontal diplomacy, did she?”
“You can’t blame her,” Seraphina said. “After all, it’s how she became queen matriarch.”
“She isn’t Radovan’s pair?”
“Of course she is. Pairs are formed as adults in Lagoon, when we’re actually able to think and speak and choose for ourselves.”
“Does anything separate you from the common people here?”
Seraphina giggled, an elegant rather than girlish sound. The bed shifted. Kastor watched in the window’s reflection as she got up and stepped to him. She touched his arm, and he shrugged her away. A tense span of seconds passed between them.
“Let me explain what things are like in the Regnum,” he said, voice frail but holding firm. “Genesmiths craft the DNA of two beings simultaneously, one male and one female, physically and mentally compatible in every way. They develop from zygote to infant in the same incubator. They are birthed together. They are raised together. They train together. Their bond other has no beginning . . . and no end.”
Sacred Planet: Book One of the Dominion Series Page 12
