by Sara Page
“How long are we going to remain here?”
How long until we must return and clean up the mess we left?
“Just for a little longer.”
“I don’t like it here,” I admit and shiver. It’s cold and it’s black and even though I can’t see, somehow I can sense that it’s endless.
“I know, Ameia. But right now it’s the safest place for us. You can relax.”
I try to relax but Striker just grumbles as I squirm. Every time I close my eyes I feel like I’m falling.
“Rest, Ameia, rest,” he insists. “I’ve got you.” His hand strokes back my hair and my scalp tingles with pleasurable little jolts. “And I’m never letting go.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Ameia,” Beast rumbles.
Am I dreaming? It’s still dark. I can feel Striker’s arms wrapped tightly around my body. His chest rises and falls against my back, steady and even.
A purple hand appears first, slicing through the darkness. Then I can see the purple hand is connected to an equally purple arm. The hand reaches for me and I instinctually reach out to take it. The hand pulls me forward. Striker’s arms slip away from me as if they’re made of fog and mist.
Light hits my eyes, harsh and painful. I flinch and I’m pulled into a hard chest.
“Beast?” I ask. “Is that you?”
Am I dreaming?
“Yes,” he answers and I open up my eyes, blinking past the pain to see for myself.
“Thank the stars,” I cry out in relief and throw myself at him. Beast rumbles happily, hugging me in his arms. I don’t know how long we stand there, hugging each other, me close to tears and feeling like I don’t want to ruin this moment but there’s so much to tell him. So much to confess.
“Prince Drek,” Striker says behind me and I can feel Beast stiffen.
“Commander Striker,” Beast says coldly in return.
I lean back, looking up at Beast, at his angry expression then I turn slightly to the side to look at Striker. He looks just as angry, but it’s not nearly as intimidating because he’s naked.
Fuck, he’s naked. I look down at myself.
I’m naked too.
Where are my clothes?! I look up. We’re in my room. How did we get here?
“Beast,” I exhale, trying to think of something to say. How do I explain what happened? Stars, give me the words.
“Ameia,” Beast purrs as he looks down at me. His features soften. Am I just seeing what I want to see? When I meet his glowing eyes, all I see is affection and love. “I’ve returned with a team and the medical equipment. As I speak, they’re setting up in your father’s room, preparing him for the procedure.”
Joy. Pure joy soars through me. Finally something good has happened. Fear melts away and my heart swells with hope. He did it. He really did it. He’s going to save my father. I’m so happy and relieved, I croak out a, “Thank you,” nearly choking on the words as emotions render me almost unable to speak.
Beast nods, accepting my gratitude with a smile and his arms squeeze me one last time before he tenderly pushes me away. “Clothe yourself and I’ll escort you to the medical ward.”
I search Beast’s face, searching for any sign of anger or hurt, but all I see is warmth in the way he looks at me. Still, I cast a reluctant glance over my shoulder at Striker, afraid to leave the two of them alone.
“Go on, Ameia,” Striker adds his voice. “I’ll clothe myself as well and join you.”
Beast’s eyes flash at that and I bite my lip. I know Striker tried to convince me that Beast would be accepting of me accepting him, but it’s obvious right now I was right to be afraid. The two of them stare off at each other… If looks could kill.
“Go on, Ameia,” Beast prods me, gently pushing me by the shoulders towards my closet doors.
“Don’t,” I say, looking between them as I reluctantly step towards my closet.
Don’t fight.
Don’t hurt each other.
Don’t just don’t bring up any more drama.
Please. I need a break. I need to focus on my father. Everything else can wait for now.
They’re eerily quiet as I step in and quickly dress. In my haste, I grab the closest thing to me, a frilly pink shift that makes me feel like a little girl whenever I wear it. Right now though, I can’t spare a care. Throwing the shift over my head, I’m still pushing my arms through the sleeves when I walk back out.
Striker is sitting on the edge of my bed, pulling on his boots. He’s dressed himself in the same black uniform that Beast wears. Beast has moved himself just outside my closet door. When I walk out he grabs me by the arm, then he starts tugging me to the bedroom door. Normally I’d be grateful to quickly get out of here, but it feels wrong leaving Striker behind so I dig in my heels.
“Wait,” I say. “Striker’s not ready yet.”
Beast bristles but stops regardless. “We can go now, he’ll catch up.”
I shake my head but Striker rises from the bed. “No need to wait. I’m ready, Ameia.”
Beast snorts and I worry that I’ve displeased him. But the worry flies right out of me as we stride quickly down the hall.
“How long will the procedure take?” I ask, my thoughts running back to my father.
“I’m not sure,” Beast answers.
That’s far from comforting, and not what I was expecting to hear.
“Will he make a complete recovery?”
Beast gives me the same answer and a frown. “I’m sorry, my princess, I’m not sure.”
“I thought you said that your technology could repair him?”
“Yes,” he nods. “But I’m not a doctor. We’ll know when we get there.”
“All will be well,” Striker reassures me, stomping a step behind. I grimace as Beast shoots him a nasty glare.
“Thank you,” I say quietly and squeeze Beast’s hand.
When we approach the medical ward, I’m just a bit confused to see it still guarded by the King’s Guard.
“How? How did you get everything past them?” I ask. And why didn’t we stop at the corner so they could fade into shadows?
“There’s much to explain,” Beast explains which doesn’t tell me anything, it doesn’t explain anything at all and he leads me right up to the King’s Guard. He glares at them expectantly. I frown at him, just what is he expecting? The King’s Guard break the line, parting in permission for us to pass through.
Woah. What the fuck is going on? It’s Beast, I trust him, don’t get me wrong, and I have great faith in him, but the King’s Guard should have totally not let him pass.
“What is the human saying?” Beast asks as I gape at him and he grins. “You’re going to catch flies with your mouth open like that?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I answer, shaking my head and getting ahold of myself. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before.”
“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully and pulls me forward.
I’m even more shocked and awed to see the entire medical ward overrun with Ravagers.
“What is going on?!” I gasp at Beast.
He answers, “I thought it prudent to return with additional protection.”
“But… but,” I sputter as we continue forward. Looking to the center of the room, past the dozen or so Ravagers, I can see the medical bed my father was attached to has been removed and replaced by a dull black cylinder contraption. “How did you get them all here? Why did the guard let them pass?”
“There’s a treaty in place, Ameia.”
“There is?” I ask, my head spinning.
“Yes,” Beast nods, pausing only long enough to explain. “Blackspire and Terrea have had a long-standing agreement. I can explain more later, after we check on your father. But for now, know that in the treaty, Blackspire has promised to protect Terrea from any and all threats directed at the kingdom. And because of Vrillum’s actions, I was able to evoke that portion of the treaty.”
“Why wasn’t I eve
r made aware of any of this?” I ask, completely dumbfounded. Why am I the last person to find this shit out?
“I’ll explain later,” Beast sighs and I feel a flare of anger at him. If there’s one thing, one phrase I’m sick of hearing, it’s that. I’m so sick of needing explanations.
“Come along,” he says, pulling me forward and I don’t fight him. Between wanting an explanation and wanting to see my father, I’ll choose my father. But there will be talking when this is all over with. By Gods, I will have explanations, all of them. I’m sick to death of surprises.
As we approach the black contraption, we’re intercepted by Doctor Whitman and a Ravager dressed in the uniform I recall the medical staff of the Harpy’s Talon wearing.
Doctor Whitman’s face is beet red and he seems flustered, shooting harried glances at the Ravager keeping step with him.
“Princess,” Doctor Whitman calls out to me, relieved to see me. “Thank the stars you are here. These… these aliens have taken control of the medical ward. They’re going to kill the King. You must send for help at once. Inform Prince Vrillum.”
I blanch hearing Vrillum’s name and pull up short. Both Beast and Striker growl beside me.
“Remove him,” Beast orders.
A pair of Ravagers dressed in obsidian armor step up, each grabbing the doctor by one of his arms. The doctor whimpers and looks like he’s about to spill the contents of his bladder all over the floor.
“No, don’t,” I counter, glad that I’m still holding on to Beast’s arm. “Release him. He’s done nothing wrong.”
It was rude of Doctor Whitman to call the Ravagers aliens, but he’s probably just as clueless about everything that’s transpired as I am. I can’t have him removed from the medical ward, it’s rightfully his after all. It would be needlessly cruel to just toss him out, especially without an explanation. The man, so far, has been loyal to my father, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.
The Ravagers look to Beast, not releasing the doctor but looking unsure. I shoot Beast a pointed glance and he gives a stiff nod of his head.
“Thank you,” Doctor Whitman croaks at me and makes a show of righting himself, straightening his coat after the Ravager guards release him.
I nod at him and turn my attention back to the dull black cylinder that may very well at this moment contain my father. “Is he in there right now?”
The Ravager dressed in the red medical uniform of the Harpy’s Talon looks to Beast, seeking permission before answering me. “Yes, princess, King Trivent is in the Medibay, undergoing a scan. Once the scan is complete the system will assess his injuries and begin to repair them.”
“That is the Medibay?” I confirm, pointing towards the cylinder.
I receive a nod of confirmation.
“And you are a doctor?” I ask, all the while sensing Doctor Whitman lingering close, eavesdropping on the conversation.
The Ravager nods once more. “Yes, I am Grogan, Chief Medical Officer of the Harpy’s Talon.”
Beast didn’t bring back just any medical officer, he brought back the chief medical officer. Realizing I’m still clinging to Beast, I straighten myself and give his arm an affectionate squeeze. This man, this Ravager beside me has done so much for me, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to show him just how truly grateful I am.
And just as I think that a dark thought rises up, unwanted. I repay him by betraying him with another…
I shake that thought from my head and ask, “In your medical opinion, what is the current state of the King’s health? Is a complete recovery possible?”
The Ravager looks to Beast again before answering me. “In my medical opinion, the King has received medical care with the best of intentions, but his health has suffered in the process. It is more than likely he will make a full and complete recovery, but already the scans have discovered numerous injuries, and the repairs will take a great deal of time.”
“Medical care with the best of intentions?” I hear Whitman muttering under his breath.
Beast glares at Whitman with a throaty growl and he scurries off.
I’m just too relieved to hear that it’s more than likely my father will make a full and complete recovery, it’s quite a step up from his earlier prognosis of most likely to die a painful death.
“Thank you,” I breathe out. “Thank you so much,” I emphasize verbally, afraid if I reach out to shake hands or hug the guy, which I really want to do right now, the two overprotective beasts beside me will take it the wrong way.
Grogan shifts uneasily, as if my gratitude makes him uncomfortable. “You’re welcome, princess.
I smile at him and he glances away as I ask, refusing now to look me in the face. “How long will the process take?”
“It will take at least three rotations, but we’ve already set up an area for you to rest and wait if you wish to remain.”
I nod my head, thanking him again, and Beast must take it as a signal that we’re done here. He begins to lead me forward, to the small area in the corner where comfortable armchairs have been carried in and angled around a table. I recognize the furniture, someone must have taken it from the upper solar.
“Prince Drek?” Grogan calls out, stopping us. “If I may?”
Beast turns back, pulling me with him. His dark lips pull into a frown and his eyes narrow as he asks, “Yes?”
“When the princess is feeling up for it, I’d advise she receive a scan as soon as possible.”
Beast nods his head at that and I watch the exchange with mild fascination and irritation. This is, after all, my homeworld and my domain. If I wasn’t so damn grateful for everything these Ravagers are doing for me, I’d be more than offended. But I’m too tired to be offended right now so I let Beast lead me over to the waiting area that I know has been set up specifically for me, with great consideration for my comfort. And together, the three of us, Beast, I, and Striker included, settle in for the long wait.
Chapter Eighteen
It begins with me holding Beast’s hand as we sit and suffer the long wait. Then somewhere along the way, Striker reaches for me. A hard look is passed between the two Ravagers, and I keep expecting Beast to say something, to demand Striker unhand me or something. But Beast’s lips thin into a dusky line and he seems to just accept it. Still, at first, it makes me entirely too nervous touching them both at the same time. This doesn’t come natural to me. Not at all.
Is now the time to talk about it? As I squeeze their hands, each sending an equally thrilling jolt up my arm, I just can’t find the words to do it.
My thoughts seem to bounce around like a ball, unwilling to settle on any one thing. I think of my father, think of him in that dull black contraption and wonder what he must be going through. Then I wonder if I’ve been in the Medibay before or a machine like it. I think I have. I think after Striker brought me aboard the Harpy’s Talon I was put into that thing. I can’t remember though. I poke and prod at the memory, as if it were a wound I could open, but all I remember is awakening naked on the exam table.
What happened with Striker? Since being pulled out of the shadows by Beast, what Striker and I did is fading away. Was it real? It had to be. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t get my bearings. I know it happened, Striker is holding my hand right now, but it feels so unreal. Not quite like a dream but perhaps more like a daydream.
And what’s up with this super-secret treaty? How could I have not been informed of it before? The more and more I discover that things are being kept from me, the more I believe everyone around me believes me to be too inept or too incompetent to handle the truth. It’s insulting. By robbing me of the truth, they’ve made it nearly impossible for me to make decisions effectively.
But the root of it all, the reason for all of this is because I made a spontaneous decision. It all begins with me. If I hadn’t gone up with Vrillum for that joyride, if I would have followed the rules, I would be married and I would be Queen. Me… Queen… My birthright. My destiny.
It still awaits me, it’s still expected of me. Yet, do I even want it? Am I even worthy?
Does it even matter?
If I hadn’t gone up with Vrillum, none of this would have happened. My father wouldn’t be fighting for his life. Ravagers would still be a story that was once told to me to scare me into behaving.
This is, all of this, every bloody thing that’s occurred in the past few days with my father, with Vrillum, the death of the guards, and bringing Ravagers home with me… it’s all because of me. Me. I did this. And now I have to live with it. And so do they.
“Ameia,” Beast rumbles, looking at me with concern.
I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath.
As I exhale the breath slowly, Striker squeezes my hand tightly. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. So much is wrong. So much has gone to shit yet I’m still breathing. Beast and Striker are still breathing. My father is still breathing.
We are blessed.
“Tell me about the treaty between Terrea and Blackspire,” I request, needing a distraction. I swallow back the rest of the bitter question: and why am I just now hearing of it?
Beast and Striker share a look, and I almost snort seeing it. Oh, so now they’re conspiring buddies again?
“The treaty was created when one of your Terreans, a woman by the name of Lorune, called and accepted Blackspire’s Diplomatic Ambassador, Keede Tron Brosik,” Beast explains calmly, watching my face closely for my reaction. “At the time, my grandfather and my father were attempting to ally Blackspire with the Transgalactic Alliance and Lorune, daughter of Broten, the sovereign King of Terrea at the time, feared for Terrea.”
Lorune, daughter of Broten, would be my great great Aunt who was supposedly intercepted by Ravagers on her way to meet her betrothed and was never heard of or seen again. That, of course, must have been a lie. If she was never heard of or seen she wouldn’t have been able to facilitate the treaty.
I keep my features calm and ask, “Why did she fear?” though I have a feeling I already know the answer to the question.
