Of course, it was something my father had forbidden. He'd said my place was on the throne, not off exploring the galaxy. He'd called it a childish dream, and one that needed to die now that I was a man. Of course, what he didn't say was that if I didn't ascend to the throne, the rule would pass to my brother, Kapoc, and he wasn't about to let that happen.
My brother was a complicated man. When we were children, he was full of kindness, compassion, and empathy. But as we grew and he began to realize that he was not destined for the throne, he'd grown harder. Jaded. Sometimes, even cruel. It was clear that he wanted the throne for himself – something our father would not abide. It was why he was so insistent that I take his place as my brother could not be trusted to rule well or do right by the people of Optorio.
I had my doubts as well, but in all honesty, I didn't think I'd be any better as a leader than Kapoc – my heart just wasn't in it. I know I would have been more compassionate and would strive to do right by the people than Kapoc, but a real leader had to be more than that. And I knew myself well enough to know that I wasn't any of those things.
Casting one last look at the ocean, as always, marveling at the way our twin moons sparkled off of the surface of the water, I turned to follow the shoreline back to the palace. The silhouette of a man standing less than ten feet from me stopped me in my tracks. The light of the moons glinted off of the blade in his hands much in the way it sparkled off the ocean.
“Your brother sends his regards,” said the man.
I sighed again. It was the second assassin he'd sent for me in the last three months. He was obviously growing impatient – as he usually was. It was one of his biggest weaknesses.
“Tell him that he should send them himself,” I said.
The man's face was cloaked in the shadows cast by the hood of his robe, but I could see well enough to notice that he was grinning.
“It won't matter much in a moment,” the man said.
I looked at him evenly. “Are you certain you want to do this?” I asked. “You don't really believe you're the first assassin he's sent for me, do you?” I asked.
“Perhaps not,” he replied, though I heard a slight tremor of uncertainty in his voice. It was faint, but it was there. “But I will be the first to succeed.”
I shook my head, not looking forward to the prospect of killing another one of my people. I'd been well trained by my father's best warriors. It was part of the education I'd been receiving since I was a young boy. All of the elements of being a king had been drilled into my head – statecraft, diplomacy, war tactics. Physically, I was as deadly as any assassin Kapoc sent my way. Deadlier, perhaps.
“As you wish,” I said glumly.
The man moved impossibly fast, rushing forward while bringing the blade in a downward arc meant to slit my throat. Had I not been as well trained as I had been, I would probably be lying in a pool of my own blood on the shoreline. Unfortunately, for my would-be assassin, I was very well trained.
I sidestepped the slash easily and, as the man's momentum carried him forward, I drove my elbow down hard in the opposite direction. I felt his nose buckle beneath my elbow and heard the muffled grunt of pain from the man as his blue-tinted blood exploded from his ruined nose.
Before I could step in to finish him off, the man rolled to the side, out of my reach. He was back on his feet in a moment and lunged forward, a blade suddenly appearing in both hands as he moved in to strike. I dipped my shoulder and rolled to the side, out of the range of his blades. Kapoc had found himself a tough, capable killer this time.
Unfortunately for the man, he wasn't quite capable enough.
“I'll give you one chance to end this,” I said. “Drop your blades and go on your way.”
The man's smirk was arrogant and sent a ripple of irritation through me. “Don't negotiate,” he said. “I do what I'm paid to do.”
“Then you're being paid to die,” I said flatly.
The man shrugged. “I’m willing to take my chances.”
I shook my head. “I didn't want to have to do this.”
The man chuckled as the blue blood splashed across his face, making his smiling appearance a grisly sight to behold.
“Cocky one, aren’t you?” he sneered.
In the blink of an eye, the curved blade of my dagger was in my hands, and I was moving toward the man. A wave of uncertainty, perhaps even fear, flashed across his face as he moved to defend himself. It was too late for him; he just didn't realize it.
As he raised his blades to deflect mine, I followed underneath with the matching blade that had been hidden beneath my coat. His body went into a spasm, and his eyes grew wide as my blade slid into the flesh of his belly. A small gasping noise escaped his throat, and he looked into my eyes with an expression of disbelief upon his face.
“I gave you a chance,” I said.
The man opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again, nothing more than a whispered, gurgling noise escaping his throat. I gave the blade I'd stuck into his belly a vicious twist, drawing a pained grunt from him. A stream of blue blood spilled out of the corner of his mouth as the man's eyes glazed over, fixed on a faraway point as death rushed in over him like a wave upon the shore.
Kneeling down, I silently said a few words of comfort for the man. Death was something I didn't take lightly. Taking a life was something I took even less lightly. Wiping my blade clean in the soft sand of the shoreline, I stood and slipped my weapons back into their sheaths. My anger at Kapoc was palpable. He'd forced my hand – forced me to take this man's life.
And I hated him for it.
Chapter Two: Paige
I leaned against the bar with my phone pressed to my ear, listening to the line ring. It was just after five – we were going to open in about an hour. I'd always loved that small window of time before we opened the doors to the public. As the musicians tuned their instruments and went through their pre-show checks, the atmosphere was infused with electricity and anticipation.
It was certainly a much better buzz than anything I'd had in a courtroom. Being a lawyer had its moments, I won't deny that. But it never filled and completed me the way music had. While I respected the law, my passion was music. It was in my blood, in my soul, and in ways that practicing law never would be.
The connection was finally made, and I heard the sound of my father's voice. “Hi, Paige,” he said.
“Hi dad,” I replied. “How are you doing?”
There was a slight pause. “Can't complain,” he said. “You call to talk to your mom?”
Two seconds in and he was already trying to pawn me off. I suppressed a sigh. Things between my father and I hadn't been the same for the last year, ever since I'd walked away from my career in law to focus on what made me happy. And what made me happy was opening my jazz club, the Mahogany Tavern.
My father was a lawyer who was respected by his peers around the country. He'd tried some incredibly high-profile cases and had become something of a legend in the field. It was natural for him, of course, to want me to follow in his footsteps and carry on the family name and legacy.
I had tried; I really had. I'd gotten into a good school, had gotten hired at a prestigious firm down in San Francisco, and had seemed well on my way to becoming the next big-time lawyer in our family. And that had made my father incredibly happy.
But after a few years of the grind, I was unhappy. I was making a lot of money, sure. But I was unhappy. I hadn't gotten into law for the right reasons. I'd done it for my dad and not for myself, and it had left me feeling empty. Not to sound overly dramatic, but it left me feeling a little dead inside.
I'd decided that I didn't want to live that way anymore. I wanted to actually be happy in my life, which was why I'd walked away from a career in law and had focused on my club. And when I did, my relationship with my father had suffered because of it. He didn't understand because he loved the law in a way I never would.
“No, I actually called to ta
lk to you, dad,” I said.
“Oh?” he sounded surprised. “What about? Going back to law? I can give you a recommendation.”
Of course, he was going to throw that in. Nothing like driving the knife in a little deeper and twisting. It was one of those things that made him a good lawyer, but a terrible father.
“No, actually,” I said. “I'm not going back to practice.”
“Oh,” the disappointment in his voice was plain. “What can I do for you then, Paige?”
The ease with which he switched back into all business mode, that tone of voice that didn't have a trace of warmth to it, was hurtful. It never failed to cut me. But I was never going to let him see that. It was a point of pride with me, I guess.
“Actually, I wanted to invite you and mom to the Tavern,” I said. “My one-year anniversary is coming up, and I've booked some really great artists to play that night. I'm even going to do a special set of my own stuff. I'd really like it if you and mom were there. It would mean a lot to me.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and I knew what he was going to say before he spoke. I wanted to forestall it though, and to maybe give him a little more time to reconsider.
“Your favorite scotch will be on the house,” I said cheerily – hopefully.
“That's really nice, Paige,” he said. “And we'd love to be there. It’s just…I'm consulting on a case, and I don't know if I'll have the time to break away with the trial coming up.”
“Oh,” I said, not bothering to hide my disappointment.
“But I'll see what I can do, okay?” he said. “If we can get away, we will.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling the crushing weight of hurt press down upon me. “Sure thing. I'll talk to you later then, dad.”
“Talk to you soon.”
I ended the call and dropped my phone onto the bar. I held back the tears that threatened to spill out and tried to maintain my composure. The last thing I needed was for my employees to see me in the middle of an ugly cry.
“It's his loss, you know,” she said.
I felt Josie's hand on my shoulder, giving me a gentle, reassuring squeeze. I turned to face her and let her wrap me up in a tight embrace. Josie was the club manager, but she was also my best friend. There were times I didn't think I'd make it through the day without her. She was my rock, my safe place, and the sister I'd never had.
“I should have known,” I said. “I should have known better, and now I'm kicking myself for even putting myself out there like that. Every time I do, I end up in tears.”
Josie gave me a soft smile. “You do it because you're a good daughter,” she said. “And you've got a good heart. It's not your fault your old man is a cold, heartless, son of a bitch.”
“It's what makes him a good lawyer,” I said.
“And a horrible father,” she finished the line she'd heard me say a million times. “But hey, you know that I love you. And I'll be there. Mostly because my paycheck depends on it. But you can count on me.”
Josie grinned and gave me another squeeze. I stood up and wiped the tears from my face. Josie's presence was reassuring and never failed to calm me down. She always knew what to say to help put my mind at ease. Or at least, to take the sting out of certain situations.
I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I love you, Jo.”
“And you know I love you,” she replied. “In ways that are completely unhealthy.”
I couldn't help but laugh. Slowly, I was starting to feel better and more like myself. The energy in the room as we neared the time of the first set was ramping up, and it was infectious. I couldn't help but let the music fill me and open my heart again.
I was the music. The music was me. It filled me and completed me in ways that I still didn't understand. It made me happy, and I deserved to be happy.
Chapter Three: Baz
Having finally managed to calm myself down enough to be rational, I walked into my father's chambers. He was propped up on his bed, looking pale and weak. His skin was dry and leathery, and wet sounding coughs rattled his body. I knew just by looking at him that his time was short.
Kapoc was sitting next to our father's bedside, looking every bit like the concerned son. He played his part very well, I had to give him credit. His eyes widened as I stepped through the doorway, but he regained his composure in an instant. Kapoc was many things – easily rattled was not one of them.
“Your friend sends his regards,” I said to my brother.
A rueful grin touched his lips, but he said nothing. Instead, it was my father who filled the silence between us.
“Kapoc, please leave,” he said, his voice raspy and weak. “I have matters to discuss with your brother.”
Anger washed over Kapoc's face, but he managed to get it under control quickly once more. He cleared his throat and glared at me before turning a solicitous face to our father.
“Of course, father,” he said.
When he'd gone, I took his seat next to my father's bed. He looked at me, a grim smile touching his features. When he spoke, it was with a voice that was surprisingly clear and powerful. And when I looked into his eyes, I still saw the mind of a sharp man, one who was in control of all of the faculties behind them.
“I can tell that something is bothering you, son,” he said. “And I can tell by the tension between you and your brother that he did something to you.”
I shrugged and did my best to play it off. “It's nothing,” I said brightly. “Nothing I couldn't handle.”
My father scrutinized my face, looking deeply into my eyes, and assessed me. He had always been able to see through me and read me. He seemed to know what I was thinking just by looking at me. It was an ability that was as frustrating as it was impressive. I had no doubts that he knew my brother had tried to have me assassinated.
“How many did he send for you?” my father asked.
I gave him a lopsided grin. “Just one,” I said. “But he was very good.”
“Obviously not good enough.” His laughter broke off into a coughing fit.
I grabbed the towel sitting on the table next to his bed and wiped the bloody spittle from his lips. Setting the towel down and picking up a glass of amber liquid, I helped him take a drink.
“You know the doctors believe you should be drinking water,” I said. “And water alone.”
He shrugged. “I'm dying. Water isn't going to save me,” he replied. “Why should I not enjoy a last few glasses of the very best liquor Optorio has to offer?”
I grinned. That was my father – pragmatic and stubborn to the core. “Fair enough,” I said.
We sat in silence for several long moments, each of us looking at the other, lost in our own thoughts. Eventually, he broke the silence.
“You do know that your brother will not stop sending assassins for you. Not until you are dead, and he sits upon the throne.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“So, what will you do about it then, my son?”
I shrugged. “I do not know yet, father.”
He nodded and gave me a small smile. “But now you see why he cannot sit on the throne of our people? A man so desperate for power that he is willing to kill his own flesh and blood to attain it cannot be trusted. Ever.”
I nodded. “Yes, father,” I said. “I know. I know you wish for me to sit upon the throne.”
He gave me a small smile and nodded. “Precisely because you do not want the power,” he said, his voice beginning to fade.
He was right, I didn't want the power. I wanted to be in a ship, rocketing through space, exploring strange new worlds and new places. Immersing myself in foreign cultures that were extraterritorial in origin. My heart was in exploration. That's what would bring me the most joy to my life.
But my father would not hear any of it. First born sons were required to follow in the footsteps of their fathers. It was the way of our people and had been for since the beginning of our civilization. It was my duty to b
oth my family and my people to ascend to the throne when he passed. The trouble was, I didn't want to do my duty. I had no interest in ruling. I just wished I could make him understand that. I'd tried a thousand times before – and it looked like I'd have to try a thousand more.
“Father,” I said. “I think it would serve Optorio and its people better if you appointed a regent council to rule until somebody fit for the throne emerged. I am not fit to rule. You know my heart is not in it.”
A shadow of anger crossed his face. It was a discussion we'd had many times and one he had grown weary of.
“It is your duty, my son,” he said. “Your brother cannot sit on the throne.”
“Let me ask you this, father,” I said, trying a new angle to my argument. “How can I be anything but an ineffectual leader if my heart is not in it? How can I ever truly do right by the people? How will I help this world and our people thrive – as they deserve – if I don't want to sit the throne? At least Kapoc's heart is with this world.”
“Kapoc's heart is with Kapoc,” my father said. “He lusts for the throne for his own power and glory. He will bring death and destruction to this world and our people if he is allowed to lead. You know this.”
“Which is why a regent council would be the best for the people, father,” I said. “Kapoc will bring death and destruction, but I fear I may bring that about as well through neglect and disinterest.”
His chuckle was small, but sounded dry and brittle. “That is not your heart, my son,” he said. “You know this, and I do as well. When you sit the throne, you will give yourself over to it entirely.”
I feared that he was right. If I ascended to the throne, I feared that I would, indeed, become so fully invested in the role that I would find myself subjugating my own needs, wants, and desires for everybody else. I would wind up neglecting myself instead of the people, and I would very likely live a very lonely, unhappy life.
Mated to a Bear (Legends of Black Salmon Falls Book 3) Page 15
