“What is your news from Optorio?” I asked.
Tarkonil sighed heavily. “Your brother has seized control,” he said. “He has assumed the throne and banished the regent council.”
I nodded, not surprised by the news. “I had assumed as much,” I said. “How did this happen? Why did the Royal Guard not intervene?”
“Your brother executed two members of the council, I'm afraid,” he replied. “After that, the rest of the council lost their taste for rule and bent their knee to him.”
I closed my eyes and turned my face up into the sun. It was so warm, so calm, and so soothing. It was hard to quantify, but the sun just felt different here on Earth than it did on Optorio. It only added to the appeal of this world.
“I suppose all things considered, it could have been worse,” I said. “I feared that my departure would end in civil war.”
Tarkonil looked at me, his expression grim. “It still might, my lord,” he said. “You are not without your supporters still. And your brother is not without those opposed to him.”
“That is no longer my fight, Tarkonil,” I said. “I abdicated my throne. I have no claim to it. I've never been fit for the throne. It's not where my heart, is and that lack of passion for it will ensure that I am a terrible ruler.”
Tarkonil turned and looked at the horizon. “Many do not share your opinion of you,” he said, “including most of the council.”
“The council that has bent the knee to Kapoc,” I observed.
A rueful smile touched his lips. “Return to Optorio with me, and you will see how quickly they un-bend that knee.”
“And bring violence and bloodshed to our people,” I said. “Civil war is not what I want for Optorio or for our people.”
“Perhaps not, but under your brother, many will die terrible deaths regardless of your wishes.”
I wished I could refute his words, but I knew I couldn't. Kapoc was a tyrant and a brutal despot. He would bring war and death upon the people of Optorio. I had hoped that, between the council and the Guard, they could put him down and quell any uprisings. I had hoped that they could do what I could not – kill my brother.
I had been wrong and foolish to believe they could. I had been selfish and cowardly, but it was not my fight. I had cast my lot and could not go back now. Mostly because I did not want to.
“What can I do, Tarkonil?” I asked, knowing what his answer was going to be.
“Return to Optorio,” he said, as expected. “Lead the Guard and depose your brother. Have him executed, and then you'll be free to explore whatever galaxy your heart desires.”
“Why can a new leader not emerge without me?” I asked. “Why not you? You would make a very fine leader of the people.”
Tarkonil shook his head and laughed, a dry and brittle sound. “I am no leader.”
“Merely because you doubt yourself,” I replied. “You could lead Optorio far better than Kapoc and far better than me. You could do amazing things if you sat upon the throne.”
Tarkonil gave a smile but was not swayed. “I'm no leader, Baz,” he said. “I do not aspire to be. But you – you were born and raised for the role.”
“A role I've never wanted.”
It was obvious that Tarkonil's real mission in coming to my aid was to convince me to return to Optorio. Perhaps the remnants of the council had ordered him to do so. And if that were the case, I was afraid that he would have to return to our home world empty handed. I had no more intention of going back to Optorio than I did of staying on Earth.
I looked at my longtime friend and offered him a smile. “I have one final command for you, Tarkonil,” I said. “When you return to Optorio, I wish for you to inform what remains of the council that I am endorsing your claim to the throne. My desire is for you to lead our people.”
“But there is no way–”
I held up my hand to cut off his objections. “That is my desire,” I said. “And the final word I will say on the subject. I believe in you and your ability to lead. And believe you will lead Optorio to a prosperity it has not had in many years.”
Tarkonil looked down at the ground, but I could see the expression on his face. It told me that he was feeling pleased, terrified, and overwhelmed all at the same time. But what I'd said was true. Tarkonil could be a great leader of our people. He just needed to learn to believe in himself.
Tarkonil looked up at me, his expression serious once more. “There is more I must tell you.”
I nodded. “Speak.”
“Your brother has learned of your affection for the human woman,” he said. “His spies and assassins got word to him before you dispatched them.”
I sighed. That was bad. Really bad. And the last thing I wanted. Paige already had enough to deal with without having to worry about my brother's assassins bearing down on her.
“And what does he plan to do with this information?” I asked.
“From what I've learned, he intends to kill her,” Tarkonil said. “My understanding is that it is his belief that by killing her, he will take the fight out of you, which would leave you more vulnerable to his assassins and make you easier to kill.”
I felt my heart racing as worry flooded my body. It was one thing to have Kapoc gunning for me. It was something else entirely to have him coming after Paige.
“Has he already dispatched his assassins?” I asked.
Tarkonil shrugged. “That, I do not know.”
I nodded. I had no idea where Paige was. Anjol confirmed she was no longer in Sapphire Bay, but he could not confirm where she'd gone. I could neither warn nor protect her, even if she would have allowed it. On the other hand, the fact that I did not know where she was meant that neither would Kapoc or his assassins.
I needed to find her and warn her. It was likely only a matter of time before they figured out who and where she was. I needed to get to her first.
I had been intending to get off this planet and throw myself out amongst the stars again as soon as I possibly could, but this had thrown a wrench into the plan. I could not leave – not right now. I had to find Paige and protect her from my brother's hired killers.
“It would appear that I am not going anywhere for a little while,” I said. “At least, not until I find Paige.”
“If you go to her, you run the risk of leading them to her,” Tarkonil said.
“If I don't go to her, I run the risk of them killing her.”
Tarkonil looked at me, his expression one of open curiosity. “You really do care for this human, don't you?”
I nodded. “It was never my intention,” I replied. “But yes. Yes, I do.”
Tarkonil looked conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to get me back to Optorio as quickly as possible to head off a civil war. On the other hand, I could tell that part of him wanted to let me go save Paige. Plus, he was finally beginning to understand that I would not be going back to Optorio under any circumstances.
“Go to her,” he said. “Save her.”
I gave him a smile and clapped him on the shoulder. I handed him the key to my room in the lodging facility and explained how it all worked. He took the key and gave me a brief nod.
“Do what you have to do,” he said.
“I intend to.”
As I turned and walked back down the forest path, the sound of the ocean faded into the background. This was not what I wanted, nor what I'd intended. I'd hoped that my ship would be repaired so that I could continue on my journey.
But fate, it seemed, had a different and contrary plan for me. I had to save Paige from my brother's assassins.
With a sigh and as fear-fueled adrenaline rushed through my body, I walked back down the forest path. I needed to find Paige, and I needed to find her quickly.
Both of our lives very likely depended upon it.
Book Three – Danger
Chapter One: Paige
My parents lived on a large plot of land surrounded by soaring pine trees and not much else. At times, it fel
t like you were in the middle of nowhere and you were the only person on some isolated island. And I liked that. Right now, I needed that. Their nearest neighbor actually wasn't all that far away, but it wasn't like they were right up in your face. From the backyard, you couldn't see anyone else, just my parents' house, the pine trees, and endless vistas of sky and clouds. It was perfect.
Mom woke up bright and early as usual to run some errands, dragging dad along with her. She left a note letting me know they had gone into town to look at some new light fixtures, even though I saw nothing wrong with the current ones.
Sometimes, it felt like my mom kept my dad working on things around the house just keep him from growing bored or getting depressed. My dad was the type who always needed to be working on something. The type that needed to feel useful and productive. At one time, it had been his career that kept him going. But now that he was retired, it was the house.
A lot had changed since the last time I'd been home – including the garden in the back. My mom used to garden here and there. Nothing big. A few tomato vines, and some herbs. Now, she was practically her own farmer's market. Dad, with likely nothing else to do, had apparently taken an interest in her gardening, and instead of sectioning off a part of the backyard for a small vegetable garden, he'd built a massive greenhouse for her back there. She'd gone crazy with it. The greenhouse was filled with fruits, vegetables, and even some flowers.
Better Homes and Gardens had nothing on my parents.
I walked into the greenhouse and was surprised to find a several bright, pink roses. My dad never had hobbies before. He'd never had time for them since he was always too busy with this or that case. He was always working. When he was home, he was either in his study preparing a case or sleeping for a few hours before getting up and doing it all over again.
Now, for the first time in his life, he had time to garden and renovate the house. So that’s what he did, and he did it to the extreme. Though, I was sure mom had put him up to a lot of that. Either because she wanted the changes or just to keep him busy and occupied – I couldn't say which.
Thinking about my parents reminded me of the conversation I'd had with my mom the night before. My dad was retired now, but had I stayed in law, would we be partners? Would my dad still be working hard – with me at his side working equally as hard? Would we both be so busy working that we weren't actually living?
The thought of having no time for the activities I loved – music, singing, socializing – killed me. To imagine my whole life like that, to only have time for hobbies once I'd grown old and had given up my career, was a depressing thought.
And yet, my dad had done just that. For so many years, he'd worked and had avoided anything that he might have loved or enjoyed. He was too busy for anything else. Hobbies were frivolous and were nothing more than things the lazy indulged in. That was his attitude. And he'd wanted nothing more than for his daughter than to follow along in his footsteps. Because, to him, that was the logical step.
I tried to be just like him because I'd looked up to him. I'd tried to be just like him for so long while my heart cried out for something more fulfilling that would nourish my soul. For so long, I'd ignored those cries and focused on becoming every bit the powerhouse attorney my father was. After all, I was trying to live up to his legend.
But as a child, all I saw were the good things. Time with my father wasn't as plentiful as I would have liked, so any time we did spend together, I spent watching him. I was curious about what he was working on and was fascinated by his passion. I so badly wanted to feel as passionate about my life as he did his.
Finally, I realized that law wasn't it for me. It felt logical at the time. When I was little, I wanted to be like my dad. And I was like my dad in a lot of ways. And I was really good at it. I supposed that all those years immersed in law because of my father had rubbed off on me. I'd learned a lot of things by watching him. Practicing law was just the next logical, natural progression in my life.
It felt safe.
I stared down at the perfect, pink rose before me and smiled. Leaning forward, I closed my eyes as I took in the brilliant scent of the flower. My mother might have helped out, but these flowers – these were all him. He'd grown them with the same meticulous care he'd put into his career. And they were something of beauty. What threw me was that they served no purpose other than to be beautiful. It was illogical for my father to spend his time on something that he merely enjoyed doing. Something he took pride in simply because it made him happy. Something that had no pragmatic purpose.
As I stared at the rose, I wondered why on earth had it taken him so long to indulge in those things he enjoyed and that made him feel somehow fulfilled. Imagine the life he could have led had he realized that sooner – all the beautiful things he could have made, the fun times he could have had. But instead, he'd spent most of his years focused on playing it safe, on being logical and useful.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something fly overhead. Probably a plane, I thought to myself. Or maybe it was a helicopter. It moved fast, however, and seemed larger than a helicopter and too low to the ground to be a plane. More curious was the fact that it was quiet. Maybe I'd been caught up in my head, but I hadn't heard a plane or a helicopter go by.
I shrugged and tried to push those thoughts away because they reminded me of what happened the other day with Baz.
A voice inside my head told me, Face it, Paige. There are things in this world that defy logic. And that doesn't make them bad. Just like the rose, not everything has to be logical.
I sighed. My heart was wanting to look past all the craziness, because there was something about Baz that made him impossible to forget. I'd think about his face or hear his voice in my thoughts, and my insides would get all warm and fuzzy. I couldn't help but smile when his name came up in my thoughts, but then I'd remember what I'd seen and totally lose those feelings, at least for a little while.
My feelings for Baz were complex. He was unlike anybody I'd ever met before, and I knew it would be so easy to let myself go and fall for him. He had so many amazing qualities and things I liked about him. I enjoyed his company and thought that he was a good man – for someone who wasn't technically a man. But I knew that I couldn't let myself go. I could not give my emotions free rein. It was too dangerous in so many ways.
How could I come to terms with all of that? How could I reconcile my feelings with facts? He's an alien. I wanted to deny it and write him off as a delusional whack job. But I knew what I'd seen. And I had no earthly explanation for it. I'd never believed in aliens, much less thought they might be walking among us, but I'd seen what I saw with my own two eyes.
Whatever happened – the blue blood coming out of those men, the fight – none of that made a bit of sense. It defied logic. If I were to apply the theory of Occam's razor to the situation, I'd have to conclude that Baz wasn't lying, that he really was an alien and those two men he killed were, in fact, alien assassins sent to kill him.
Damn it. I groaned and rubbed my temples, trying to stave off the headache that was coming on. Why did dating have to be so complicated? Though I think finding out that your suitor is an alien goes above and beyond just being complicated.
It was downright crazy. And yet, there we were.
Chapter Two: Baz
The Mahogany Tavern was as lively, but there was something missing. I felt it, but judging by the laughing, smiling faces around me, I was the only one. It just didn't feel the same to me. There wasn't as much energy tonight as there had been previously. The music, as always, was good, and I immersed myself in it. But as I sat alone in a booth and watched the performer on stage, I knew that without Paige there, this bar would never feel the same for me again.
I sipped a concoction of sorts that burned my throat and grimaced. I still did not understand why these humans were so fascinated with these painful and disgusting beverages. I'd merely ordered what the guy next to me had ordered – a bourbon on the rocks. B
ut as I inspected the glass, I realized that there were no rocks to be found.
These humans, I thought to myself, shaking my head.
Anjol, of course, took the opportunity to give me a history lesson, “Bourbon is a distilled spirit–”
I finished the sentence for him, “That tastes like fire burning your throat as it goes down?”
“It's quite potent, yes. The rocks refer to the ice–”
“Listen, Anjol, does it look like I care about that right now? I have more important things to worry about at the moment. Like Finding Paige. Do you know where I might be able to find her?”
“Are you still sure you should find her, Baz? Because honestly, I worry you're overreacting and your impulses aren't based in sound logic. The human woman specifically asked you to stay away. So to go looking for her now would go against her very wishes.”
“True, but I doubt she wants to end up dead.”
Anjol was quiet and didn't seem to have an answer to that. That's the problem with machines – even bionetic-based computer systems like Anjol. He could help keep me logical and present me with an array of facts all designed to help me keep my emotions out of the way, but he had no concept of life or death, or of love. He had been created, not born. And he died when I died – in a way. His program lived on long after I died.
Even if it didn't, he didn't hold the same emotional attachments to his life the way I did. I had reason to believe humans felt the same way about their lives. Though incredibly advanced, bionetic-based systems like Anjol did not have the capacity to understand emotion. That was not their purpose. Even though Optorions were famous for their logic and pragmatism, we still had emotions.
Without a tracking device, there was no way to know where she went, though. So even if I'd wanted to find her and save her, I realized that I might not be able to.
I took another drink of the awful liquid, cringing as it went down. I pushed the glass out of reach to avoid taking another sip. It wasn't a pleasant experience, and I didn't want to force myself to continue it. My head felt a little funny – a sensation that I hadn't felt before coming to Earth. Anjol had warned me that these drinks could do that to me. He also warned me to avoid them as they were toxic to the liver and then gave me an array of statistics about disease and death associated with these spirits. But considering the fact that I didn't have a human liver – and wasn't consuming it in very large quantities – I figured I'd be just fine.
Rocor (Dragons of Kratak Book 5) Page 22
