by May Sage
“I’m surprised that you have an advanced exosuit fitted in your skin, if you dislike technology,” she said, remembering the day when she’d seen him topless.
A fond memory. The man was seriously ripped under the suits.
“Ah, that. A concession I had to make. My parents weren’t very enthusiastic at the thought of Star and me joining an open conflict. We did let them know that we’d be quite safe, but the shields made them feel better.”
There was fondness in his tone; he had a good relationship with his family, obviously. Better than hers, in any case.
“Are your parents mages?” she asked, curious.
Hart shook his head. “If it took mages to breed mages, it would have been easier to exterminate our kind. Any Evris couple may give birth to one of us. It’s in our genes, dormant in some cases, active in others. One of the many reasons why this conflict, between my kind and yours, is ridiculous. We’re one. Genetically, there’s no difference between you and me.”
She let that sink in. After an instant, Hart smiled indulgently.
“We did give our parents a bit of a fright, and a lot to think of, when we told them that we’re mages. My sister and I kept it hidden from everyone for a long time. Too long, perhaps. We contacted them after finding Kai, by holographic call.”
“How did they take it?”
“Better than we expected, in many ways. It was supposed to be a goodbye call. My sister and I owed them a lot, for everything. We couldn’t disappear without a word and we were against dishonesty. We decided to tell them what we are, let them know that we were joining the insurgents, apologize, and assure them that we wouldn’t get them involved. Mother cried and yelled at us for keeping it a secret. Father made us swear that we’d come to the next fest of lights and that we’d talk to them. Our mother worked as an imperial ambassador, and my father, as one of the many emissaries to the warlord in this sector. They both resigned from their positions, to show their support. It was past time they retired, in any case.”
Dara sighed.
“They sound like great parents.”
“The very best. But don’t let me take over the conversion. It seems we have you for perhaps eleven, twelve hours, depending on whether Alara sees fit to torture us. She can pilot very fast when she feels like it. As there’s nowhere to run, unless you wish to drift away in an escape pod, we’ll have to pass the time somehow.”
Her cheeks flushed, because of his words, the tone of his voice, or perhaps the fact that she was noticing each of his irresistible features today. Her mind couldn't help but envision one particular way to pass time.
Shit, what was wrong with her? She didn't typically have her mind in the gutter like that.
Dara swallowed her saliva.
"What shall we do, then? We could play cards," she suggested.
Hart's laugh was low and rumbling. "I think not. I'm in no mood to be swindled. Let us talk. I’ll have you know that I did my best to abide to the promise you exhorted from me four years ago. I did attempt to find your brother, to ensure no harm came to him. But he, and you, vanished into thin air. Not a small feat. How did you manage to stay off radar for so long?”
“Ah, well, it does help when you have an excellent, top-of-the-line ship with a stealth mode so effective that even now, four years after it was built, it’s still one of the best on the market. I stole my uncle’s ship.”
Hart’s smile was almost childish now. "I should have guessed."
“He didn’t mind, thankfully. In fact, he let me keep it, so I’ve been using it since. I guess I’m not that hard to find—in the right circles.”
Hart laughed. “I admit I don’t often hang out with mercenaries. How ever did a princess get into that line of work?”
Dara told him about Earl’s suggestion to take a few transporting jobs to make money and the natural progression from there.
Hart was a good listener, asking the right questions, laughing at her stories just when he was supposed to, and there was very little judgment in his tone or manner, despite the fact that what she did was rarely on the right side of the law. They couldn’t have been more different, and he didn’t seem to mind.
Nik appeared with heated in-flight meals that weren’t nearly as bad as the usual space food, and some wine. Before she knew it, they were halfway through a bottle. Not that she would have been able to tell, looking at Hart; he didn’t seem affected by the spirit at all. Lucky bugger. Dara was a lightweight.
Eventually, she was drunk enough to extend her arm toward the she-wolf who still observed her too closely. The beast walked to her, and sniffed it, before giving it one lick.
Looked like she didn't hate her guts.
"What's her name?"
"Nura," Hart replied. "And she doesn't let anyone but me touch her." Proving him wrong, the wolf bent her head, letting Dara scratch behind her long, soft ear. "What is it about you, Dara Rexis?"
She giggled. "What can I say? I'm just lovable."
One moment, he was telling her about the winter sunsets of Ithel, the fiery world where he’d been raised, and the next, she was dreaming of riding a fire-breathing dragon in the sunset.
She didn’t notice when he pulled a cover over her shoulders and tucked her in, but when he shifted to move away, her hand reached out and instinctively grabbed at the fabric of his dark green coat, keeping him near. Which was just fine because she was technically asleep.
The female was dangerous to him, that much was clear. A part of him had known it from the beginning.
There had been something about her that affected him deeply, retaining his attention, and forcing him to think of her for days, weeks, years. He met new people on a daily basis, and it was rare that he ever thought about anyone at all, after their businesses were over. They never made a lasting impression. He remembered those he needed to bear in mind for future dealings and that was about it.
She’d been an exception from the start. He couldn't tell why then, and now he was just as confused, and considerably more worried.
When her strangely delicate hand wrapped around his coat, not letting go, he stared at it, wondering at his complete and utter inability to move. All he had to do was gently uncurl her fingers, then he’d be able to step away, head to his cabin, and start on his report.
Hart let a minute pass, and another one, all the while watching the female with confusion and bafflement.
When he finally moved, he found himself sitting down next to her on the chair, accepting his fate.
What was it about the female? She was a royalist, and a regular Evris, of all things.
Hart’s fingertip gently tapped on his communicator, manually activating it. The connection went through almost immediately.
“Is this an emergency?”
The alarm in Kai’s tone wasn’t surprising: Hart didn’t generally call.
“No,” he replied quietly. “There’s been an unforeseen complication. I’ll be late to the rendezvous point and it may take me a day to get started on my report.”
Hart believed in spelling out every part of his findings before giving his advice, so that the other executive members of Kai’s cabinet could make their minds up, taking into account they had all the facts. His reports were long and tedious to record, but he’d always submitted them promptly, unlike his sister.
He knew that Kai would have expected it within a few hours. Warning him seemed fair.
His leader marked a long pause before asking, “Do you require assistance?”
“Not on this. It’s a personal matter.”
Why did he say that, exactly? Dara Rexis was the opposite of a personal matter. He could have told Kai everything; that he’d found the daughter of the old Zeruvian king, that he was escorting her to her ship. But he didn’t.
“I'll only take one day off the grid. Is the delay acceptable? I know you wanted to talk to us about intel on Nimeria.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Alvar. You're entitled to time off and Nimeria can wait. And
don't worry about the report. Most envoys get back to me within weeks, not hours. Do I need to be concerned? You’ve never taken as much as one leave of absence since you’ve joined us.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” he stated confidently, his eyes still fixed on the sleeping girl who wouldn’t let go of his coat. “I wanted to update you on my progress.”
“Consider me updated.” Kai seemed to think for a second, before he added, “I’m not going to ask, but you know your sister is going to butt her head right into this personal business of yours the second she realizes you’re off schedule.”
Hart smiled. He did know this, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Goddess Light knew that if Star ever did anything out of the ordinary, he’d certainly be the first to check up on her.
“That’s unavoidable. I’ll deal with it when it comes to it.”
Kai surprised him yet again. “I’ll buy you some time, let her know you’re still working. And Hart? One piece of advice. Words have power. Watch yours.”
Fifteen
Semantics
Dara woke with a start, confused and concerned.
Everything smelled, and looked, strange around her. Finding soft fingers caressing her cheeks, her eyes widened. Then her tired eyes cleared up enough to see who those fingers belonged to.
Holy fuck.
“Have I alarmed you? My apologies. We’re approaching Vratis. I thought you might want to freshen up.”
She had trouble looking away from the gray eyes that didn’t seem to want to release her from their hold.
“Thank you. I…is there a bathroom somewhere?”
He gestured in one direction and Dara practically ran to lock herself in.
Holy fuck. His fingers.
There was no wondering why she’d been so very shaken by the simple touch. It was the first time she’d been awoken that way in a long, long time. Since she’d been too young to clearly remember it. The last person to have softly caressed her cheek like this had been her mother, so long ago. This felt very different. Dara was fairly certain that when her mother had done it, it hadn’t made her knees give out and her heart go into overdrive.
She remained immobile, back against the door, and worked on calming down for a whole minute before paying attention to her surroundings. This wasn’t just a bathroom; it was a bedroom. The master’s quarters of the ship, no doubt. Hart’s ship was small, definitely made for a crew of under two dozen people; there wasn’t room for many large cabins in transports like this one.
She knew instinctively that this was his place. Perhaps it was the smell lingering in the air, a distinctive scent of water and sunshine, similar to the scent of the Farisles.
The room was cold and barren; there were no decorations and not so much as a piece of clothing out of place. There was one plant—a sturdy, purple, spiky thing that didn’t look like it needed much water—on a bedside table, and an open book next to it. That was the only clue that the room was occupied at all.
Lifting the outdated paper volume—nowadays, everyone used interactive holographic platforms to read—she shook her head. The memoir of a benevolent ruler from three centuries ago. Of course.
Goddess Light, the male needed someone to mess with him a little.
She walked toward one of the two doors in the room and found a wardrobe. An extremely tidy wardrobe. Four robes of the exact same shade were hung, perfectly crisp, freshly pressed. On top of it, there were five folded white shirts, and three black pants. Did the guy ever wear anything other than his uniform?
Dara shook her head, pulling out a shirt, and purposefully leaving the one underneath a little messed up. It would probably get on Hart’s nerves. She smiled.
Heading to the second door, she found a shower with plenty of products; hair stuff and moisturizers. He even had a top-of-the-line cleaning robot to help with his back and give massages. Proof that he wasn’t a cyborg after all.
Dara set up the machine to clean her hair, back, and teeth, and started the water. She took her time, enjoying the set-up. While her uncle’s ship was fast, fancy, and well shielded, none of the amenities were as nice there.
She could get used to this level of comfort.
Dara regretfully stepped out of the wet room and got dressed, forgoing underwear, putting her pants back on, and finishing it with Hart's shirt. It drowned her completely, reminding her of how large his shoulders were.
Shaking her head in a fruitless attempt to clear her mind, Dara came out of the room.
Hart took in her appearance in one glance and seemed to find it amusing.
“What? I don't have a change of clothes and my stuff stinks.”
“I'm not protesting. You're just in time, by the way. We're about to land. Strap in.”
Dara sat down on the closest chair and pulled at the seatbelt, firmly tying herself down. Some captains sucked at landing. Her precautions were in vain: Alara's landing was so smooth Dara barely felt a thing as their ship entered Vratis' atmosphere, travelled to the capital, and attached to a landing platform.
“Have you ever been here?”
Dara shook her head. “I've visited the Farisle, on the other side of the planet, but I've never seen the heart of the city.”
It had seemed too dangerous to her the last few years with the war raging all around, and no street merchants were allowed in the city, so she couldn't have conducted any business here.
“In that case, welcome to the central district, princess. There's nothing much to see, but I hope you'll like it.”
What a strange thing to say, she noted, but before she could comment upon it, the ship's entry doors slid open and a landing platform extended from under their transport.
Dara forgot everything she was supposed to say as she looked at the welcoming committee waiting for them.
Star, still ridiculously beautiful, although her hair was azure now, to match her eyes.
Fuck. And Dara was wearing Hart's damn shirt! Shit, the woman was definitely going to get the wrong idea.
The female rushed to greet her brother, getting inside the ship before he'd removed his seatbelt. Then, she turned to Dara and stared at her with one eyebrow crooked.
The shirt seemed to be the first thing Star noticed when she watched her; then a slow, knowing smile spread on her face.
Hart was quick to catch on.
“Cut it out. You're making Dara uncomfortable.”
“Dara. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a name! And you sly snowfox, no wonder you shielded your mind against me today.”
“I always shield my mind against you, sister,” Hart retorted, before addressing Dara. “Formally meet my sister, Star. She's a pain. As we've been together since before we were born, I'm used to it, but I apologize in advance for anything she may say or do during the entirety of your future acquaintance.”
“You’re twins?” she deduced, surprised because they certainly did look different.
It wasn't just their sex, or the difference of height; Star also seemed younger than her brother. More carefree, perhaps.
“You can say it, she aged better than me.”
Star laughed. “I’m a healer, sweet. I can’t use my powers on me, but our kind generally age slowly.”
“Oh. Lucky for you.”
The female suddenly closed the distance between them and held her hands. “Here, let me help.”
Dara had no way to prepare herself, no time to process what was happening; within an instant, a strange, warm caress spread from the mage’s palms to her wrists, which had been a little sore and red since she’d been handcuffed on Aremeta.
Then, it was all over. Star stepped away, returning to her brother’s side, and tried to pet the wolf at his feet.
Nura wasn’t having it, growling, her fangs bared in warning.
Meanwhile, Dara was staring at her wrists, speechless. It wasn’t just her hands. She’d never felt better in her entire life. It was as if she’d taken a tonic, had slept for a whole week, and gotten herself massage
d and pampered, all at once.
“Holy fuck, what is that and can we bottle it? We’d make billions selling the formula.”
Star laughed, before winking.
“Magic,” she said.
Healing magic.
Like the magic that was supposed to save her mother.
Fuck, she’d really believed she’d gone past it, but after witnessing how a mage could use it with ease, she was back to being a ten-year-old, trying to compute all the facts and understand how her mother could be dead. Whatever way she thought of it, she came to one conclusion: the mage had purposefully let her die.
“What’s the matter?”
The mages were watching her when she lifted her gaze toward Hart. She shook her head.
“Nothing. Just a bad memory. Okay, let me check my ship’s coordinates.”
Hart watched Dara’s back, frowning, as she walked away.
What the fuck had happened? One moment, she was just fine, and the next, she was speeding away from them as fast as her feet could carry her.
“Man, that’s rough,” said Ora, her voice low.
“Good luck with that,” Nik whispered, heading to the control panel to start the ship’s checks.
“You’re not going to get past that shit easily,” was Star’s contribution to the utterly perplexing conversation.
On that note, his crew scattered, leaving Hart alone with his sister.
“Want to explain to me what that was all about?” he asked.
“Didn’t you listen? I mean, I wasn’t trying to read her, but she was practically screaming. She thinks her mother was killed by one of us.”
Hart’s eyes widened. Well, that certainly explained a lot.
“Don’t invade her mind again,” he told his sister firmly.
Star lifted a brow.
“It’s fair when you do it to one of us. If we don’t want you in our head, we shut ourselves off. With a regular, that’s mind rape. How would you have liked someone forcing his way into your thoughts if you couldn’t stop it?”
