TICEES

by Mills, Shae

  He waited a predetermined length of time for his words to take effect, and then he continued. “Most, if not all, of you are well aware of my refusal to follow the ways of the Imperial Breeders. That decision is personal, and it still stands. But my decision to defy the laws surrounding the Let is now hereby announced.”

  Korba’s eyes panned the crowd like a wary cat. But all were riveted to stillness, all faces directed to him, for no one dared flinch for fear of meeting the black-haired Warlord’s wrath personally.

  “Any man,” he shouted fiercely, “who gets to know my Lady, and desires to challenge the Let, will meet me in hand-to-hand combat on the battlefield. But let him be aware of his double-edged folly. Chelan is not Iceanean, and any man fortunate enough not to fall by my blade, will not encounter a willing partner. The laws of the Let pertaining to the victor having the right to impregnate her are forfeit if she does not choose to comply. And any victor foolish enough to try forcing the conditions of the Let upon her will be tried and punished for the crime of rape.”

  There was a hush of stunned disbelief that rippled through the hall, and Korba waited patiently, his muscles strung so tight they burned. Murmurs travelled throughout the crowd as they speculated about Korba pitting himself directly against the Lord God Emperor’s own decree. But they knew Korba’s strength and his all-consuming determination, no matter what his objective.

  “In turn,” his booming voice startling some and drawing all eyes back to him, “any woman foolish enough to challenge Chelan had better rethink her decision carefully. Any woman who even contemplates such an act will die by my hand before she even has the chance to choose a weapon. Chelan is not Iceanean, and I will gladly act as her emissary of death.”

  A hum ran rampant through the crowd as eyes widened. “Let it be known,” he interrupted, “that I choose no other, ever, and if by some momentous blunder, my Lady is dispatched, let no woman among you expect my service, for it will not be forthcoming. My word is final, and my most trusted friends and warriors will carry out my orders unquestioningly. There is no room for compromise.”

  Again there was deathly silence as Korba’s eyes travelled through the masses. He waited for a time and then reached for Chelan’s hand. He supported her as he helped her to her feet, raising her beside him. He lowered his voice to a maleficent rumble. “Who here challenges the Let? Speak now, or forever be silent.”

  Chelan could only look down at the floor helplessly. Her conflict with Marri was all but forgotten as she prayed with all her soul that Dar did not move or speak.

  Korba was also keenly aware of Dar’s presence and the tattered state of the man’s lacerated heart. Korba looked to him and watched as the Warlord’s jaw clenched, but he did not speak. Korba waited, holding his breath for a few moments more. His cool stare then sought out Marri, but the woman remained wisely mute. He returned his attention to the assembly before him. “Then let the celebrations begin!” he shouted.

  Security immediately moved to surround them just as Dar slumped forward in unconcealed agony. The massive hall erupted into chaos, the noise threatening to deafen the participants.

  Chelan turned to Korba frantically. “We need to talk,” she uttered in distress.

  “I know,” replied Korba. An aide helped him hurriedly with his shroud. Korba grabbed Chelan and shoved her forcefully into the arms of security. Chelan felt disoriented, and she struggled against Lazen’s embrace as she tried to get to Dar.

  “He will follow,” Korba assured curtly, and he ordered Lazen to take her.

  Chelan wrenched against her captor, terrified to leave Dar behind, but Lazen and Yanis both grabbed her, leaving her no alternative but to go.

  Korba’s eyes scanned the undulating crowd as music suddenly saturated the air. Then he looked down at the unmoving Warlord. He touched Dar’s shoulder and felt him stiffen. “Come to the Command Center, my friend. Please.”

  Fremma moved to Dar, urging him to his feet, knowing all too well what the blonde Warlord was feeling. But it was imperative that they leave. In the resulting pandemonium, too many untimely disasters could result, and with two of the Empire’s greatest Warlords together, an unprecedented catastrophe was not beyond the realm of possibility.

  Korba moved swiftly to Chelan’s side, his eyes seeking out Marri’s position in the crowd. As an added precaution, he withdrew his lazgun and grabbed Chelan’s arm, whisking her quickly toward the exit doors. Throngs of security bristled around them as the crowds parted for them in an ebony wave. Chelan stepped quickly, Korba’s grip on her arm nearly lifting her from the floor. She watched as a stream of battle language went through the guards as they communicated with one another. Soon she was ushered out into the corridor, and within moments, to the Command Center. Once outside the main doors, Korba stopped to issue fresh orders to the guards. But Fremma grabbed her and flew with her into the protection of the Center.

  Chelan was near collapse, and she clung to Fremma’s shroud for support, allowing her body the freedom at last to shake with pent-up tension. Fremma held her firmly. “Shhh,” he soothed as he stroked her slender back. “It’s all over with, my Lady. It’s all over.”

  Suddenly, the doors parted, and Korba strode through, the Warlord’s eyes belying his heightened state of agitation. He swung his gun in under his shroud and paused, taking in a deep and calming breath. Then he looked down at Chelan, and his heart became heavy.

  Fremma stepped back from her as Korba approached. “I will take my leave now, my Lady. I will be in my quarters if there are any problems.”

  Chelan nodded imperceptibly, too exhausted to protest the fact that he was not going to be celebrating. Fremma turned to leave, but Korba caught his arm, halting his retreat. “Stay,” he ordered lightly. “I want to speak with you also.”

  Just then, the doors parted again, and Dar stepped in. Chelan was relieved that he had arrived unscathed, but at the same time she knew that the intensity of the coming confrontation had just escalated. She turned her back on all three men, the day’s toll apparent in her every move. Her only desire now was to be claimed by the deep waters of sleep … alone.

  Korba began pacing, his aggravation resurfacing. Finally, he stopped, exhaling sharply, and looked at Dar and Fremma. “Okay,” he said firmly. “Let’s have it, since I am obviously at a loss as to where to begin. We iron out our grievances and our relationships right here, right now.”

  Chelan slumped into the nearest chair, unable to brace herself for the inevitable fallout. All three men looked at one another, all grappling with unprecedented emotion, all feeling a hollow pit in their stomachs as the final confrontation loomed.

  Fremma was the first to dare to speak. “I must admit, my Lord, you stunned us all with your announcement of a Let.”

  Korba whirled around, flinging his hands up into the air in exasperation. “There is no formal Let!” he shouted, the intensity of his voice staggering Dar and Fremma. “I would never subject Chelan to a Letting ceremony. But the Let is implied. I have asked, and she has offered, to have my child. The Let was announced to instill into everyone where we stand with one another. We are mates with the intent of children.” Korba sighed, visibly drained, his voice lowering. “But there will be no Let. Chelan is free and able to bear the children of whomever she pleases.”

  Korba saw the relief that touched Dar and Fremma, but it registered on their faces only fleetingly. Despite the fact that there was no Let, it was obvious that both men were still reeling from the news. The level of commitment now professed, was simply devastating.

  Chelan still remained motionless, barely able to comprehend what the men were saying as a flood of overwhelming emotions assailed her.

  Fremma spoke again, cautiously. “My Lord, I am subordinate. You have but to command your decision pertaining to me, and you know I will obey.”

  Chelan immediately felt a lump form in her throat, and she looked down at her hands, her flesh turning cold.

  Korba shook his head wearily. �
��You know I would not do that, Fremma. You are too close a friend. And there are Chelan’s feelings to consider also.” Korba glanced at her, but she remained aloof, her eyes now on the floor.

  Fremma shifted his weight uneasily. “Then I will state my feelings under no false pretenses, Sire. I honorably concede to your dominance, no matter what. Chelan and I have discussed our relationship, and I am content with our arrangement. It will in no way ever interfere with you and your bond with her, and I will never issue a challenge.”

  Korba took a deep breath in an effort to think rationally, but the intensity of the situation was weakening his resoluteness. “Have you been intimate?” he asked firmly, not entirely sure why he needed to know.

  Fremma started to answer, but he was distracted by Chelan, who suddenly slumped further into her chair and hugged herself protectively.

  Fremma dared not move. He lowered his head, feeling Korba’s eyes upon him. “Yes,” he whispered.

  Korba felt the inevitable stab, but he stifled his gut reactions. He remained very still, attempting to collect himself. He turned to Chelan. “Is your relationship with Fremma satisfactory to you, my Lady?”

  Chelan did not move. Korba could sense that she felt desperately ill and alone, a pawn in some demented power struggle. She stared aimlessly at her clenched hands as she struggled to unfurl her aching fingers. “Yes,” she finally whispered almost inaudibly.

  Korba’s heart was in agony over her pain, but he continued. “Then so be it. I entrust her care to you, Fremma, when she desires it. But you will bestow upon her your most intimate care only when I am absent, and only when there is no chance of my inadvertent return, such as yesterday!”

  Fremma flinched but nodded his acknowledgement. Chelan bit her lip, swallowing hard in an attempt not to lose the meager meal she had eaten.

  “Your friendship bond is encouraged, but in my presence and in my domain, it is benign.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” replied Fremma.

  “In the meantime,” Korba sighed, “if you decide you desire children other than for the Guild, then I suggest that you begin looking elsewhere.”

  Fremma straightened, his jaw set. “With all due respect, Sire, there will be no others, ever.” His eyes went to Chelan. “I am comfortable with that decision.”

  Korba glanced at her. He was concerned about her excessive paleness, but he had to finish this here and now, and he pushed on. He tensed, not knowing what to expect from Dar and the man’s volatile emotions when it came to Chelan. “Dar,” he began. “You’re next.”

  Dar’s eyes had been on Chelan the whole time, but he raised them slowly to Korba’s. “I relinquish all claim, my friend. I will not challenge you; you have my word on that as a friend and as a warrior.”

  Dar hesitated. His decision was made in an act of self-preservation, but he found himself dying bit by bit regardless. His eyes returned to Chelan’s hunched form, and his chest tightened. His voice was low and strained. “I will offer no claim … ever—” He wavered as his words caught in his throat. “And I will not offer myself or my bed.”

  Korba was stunned, as was Fremma, but Chelan remained unmoving. Her head ached, and guilt and sorrow were lodged so deep within her heart she felt as though she could barely draw her next breath. The last vestiges of her strength were sapped. Dar’s words tore her heart out and extinguished her flame. She was mortified and overwrought with despair, helpless and at the mercy of her sinking feelings.

  All three men watched her carefully as she raised herself up and stood. Her face was ashen and expressionless, her eyes dull. She glanced at Dar and then turned away and moved heavily up the stairs to the entrance of the workout area. There she stopped, staring into the vastness of the room, her back to them.

  Korba turned to Dar in a rage, but Dar spoke before the Overlord could. “I cannot take only part of her, my friend. I will always be her confidant and ally. I will protect her as fiercely in your absences as if she were mine. But I cannot share my bed and my intense feelings without doing damage to your relationship. Someday, my love for her would force me to challenge you, and I will avoid that the only way I know how.”

  Dar glanced at Chelan and straightened himself. He knew that the only way he could sever her bond to him was to push her to hate him. His eyes returned to Korba, and he took a deep breath. “I therefore return to my previous life, my Lord, with the Guild and with my ladies, with no reserve and no regrets … and I begin tonight.”

  Chelan exhaled sharply as she hugged herself, and her quiet admission to her grief hit Fremma with such force that he lunged to strike Dar. But Korba tackled Fremma, subduing him quickly. Korba’s eyes flew to Dar’s, pleadingly. But Dar turned from them and left immediately for the solitude and sanctuary of RIBUS 8.

  Both Korba and Fremma were left standing in the void that was created in the wake of Dar’s departure. It was as though all the air in the Command Center had just been evacuated, both men left dismayed by the unforeseen turn of events. Fremma was the first to stir. He simply signed to Korba. “I will leave now, my Lord. Call me if you require me.”

  Korba nodded and watched the warrior leave. Then he looked through weary eyes to Chelan. He moved to her, his hand brushing over her slender back, but she did not respond.

  Finally he stepped in front of her and looked down into her quiet eyes. She glanced up at him and shook her head at him in silent resignation. “I want to rest,” she stated flatly. “Alone.”

  Korba reached for her hands and held them within his. “I’m so sorry, Chelan,” he whispered.

  She looked down momentarily, and then turned from him and began for their chambers. Korba followed and stood quietly as she kicked off her shoes. She didn’t even bother with her gown, sinking into the massive bed and lying inert.

  Korba sat on the edge of the bed and watched her for a time. Then he tipped his head back in an attempt to relieve the tension in his neck and spine, his muscles so taut with stress that they felt as though the fibers were tearing. He had been strung so tight with the possibility of battle with Dar that the chasm now before him left him free-falling headlong into another tangle of uncertainty with no relief in sight, physical or mental. He had cast both himself and his Lady into purgatory, both helpless to find the direction that led to a healing of minds and souls. They were adrift.

  He looked back at her and stroked an ebony hand down her soft cheek, watching as her eyes closed against him. Then he stood. Both of them needed time to process all of the day’s calamitous events, and he did not want to pressure her in any way with his presence. He would abide by her wish for solitude.

  Leaning over her, he kissed her delicately on her forehead and then left his chambers, heading for his private blue room. Once inside, he shrugged off his shroud and weapons and then attempted once again to mitigate the tenacious burn throughout his constricted body. He needed a physical release, but he knew not from whence that would come. As for now, he was too exhausted to tame the adrenalin that surged through him. The cure he required lay in his chambers, forsaking him, and until they could both reconcile all that had just happened, the rift between them could not be bridged. He deserved her scorn; of that he had no doubt. But the solution to the hopeless entanglement of Earth and Iceanean values was elusive at best, the mixing of the two cultures producing a toxic brew almost impossible to consume.

  Korba threw himself down on his bed and closed his eyes. He desperately needed sleep and any healing insight that a new dawn could bring.

  Chapter 5

  Korba awoke the next morning feeling an all-encompassing emptiness within him. The night before was to have been the happiest in his life, but instead it had been a dismal failure. His Lady—his mate, his beautiful Chelan—should have been by his side, but instead they were both deeply alone.

  He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He would manage the ship today from the Command Center just in case Chelan needed him. But he knew that her healing would be a lengthy process,
with wounds to be mended far deeper than his own.

  Korba rubbed his weary eyes. He was well aware that Dar had done what he had out of love for Chelan and to quell the ache deep in his own heart. But Korba knew that Chelan would not see it that way. Because of what she knew about their culture and their ease with sexual freedom, she would see Dar’s move as pure and simple rejection, an act born out of coldness, an act of disaffection and alienation. Chelan would not know the toll his estrangement from her would take on the man, and Korba felt for Dar deeply. Korba also realized that as far as the relationship between Dar and Chelan went, the torment and agony that each would experience would be borne mostly by Dar. Chelan would eventually bury her grief within his love, but Dar would not have that option, and he would bear his pain alone.

  But with the clarity of morning came another dire realization. In a misdirected effort to quell his own rebelling emotions, he had done what he’d prayed he would not. He had restricted her access to Fremma.

  Korba flopped back down on his bed. Never in his decades of decision-making had anything been so hard. In fact, all his decisions regarding Chelan and his life with her were difficult at best, callous and cruel at worst. And now, once again, the delicate alien was succumbing to the chaotic and barbarous world that she had been dragged into. Korba recognized that he had to spend more time with her, shielding her if necessary and preserving the demure beauty from his world’s harsh realities. She had the potential to be a vivacious and self-confident woman, but at each turn of events, his culture tore her down, leaving her wounded, exposed, and bleeding.

  Korba shook his head in an effort to rid his mind of the fog that threatened to roll in and obscure his clear thinking. Sitting up again, he took a deep breath. He would abolish the unreasonable restriction he had placed on Chelan regarding Fremma. That decision had been a gut reaction born out of the emotional intensity of the whole ordeal, and it needed to be fixed. He could at least allow her free access to the one who kept her spirits so high and her beauty alive with smiles and laughter.