Michaela

by Tracy St. John

  “He’s not here,” Jessica murmured. A mixture of disappointment and relief played over her face.

  Zarl spoke over the low hum of conversation. “Not only that, but an heir is now expected. We offer our congratulations to them as well—”

  “Congratulations indeed,” rumbled an angry voice.

  The low muttering started again as everyone strained to see the man who had spoken. Michaela looked at the vids and focused on the one pointed at the door where the councilmen had entered the chamber. A large Kalquorian man marched in, his blue robes rustling about his strong frame.

  Michaela’s brows rose as she looked the impressive man over. Big didn’t begin to describe him. He was nowhere near as muscled as Raxstad, but he looked as solid as the cliff they were inside of. His hair was jet black and the only thing about him that spoke of softness. He looked as young as Clajak at first glance, but closer examination revealed the frown lines that spoke of his true age. Pwaldur wasn’t unattractive, but with the set jaw and set look upon his face, he made Michaela think of a bulldog getting ready to bite.

  Jessica snorted. “It looks like Dramok Pwaldur likes to make dramatic entrances. The weasel-y looking guy must be Wagnox.”

  Pwaldur’s appearance had been so overwhelming that Michaela had missed the other blue-robed man coming into the chamber. He followed in Pwaldur’s wake, his squinty little eyes gleaming with unseemly excitement. A secretive grin lit on his thin lips when he wasn’t looking affronted. It was as if he kept having to remind himself he was supposed to be angry, Michaela thought. Wagnox looked a good deal older than Pwaldur, his short hair silver-streaked and his face heavily lined.

  Pwaldur had an amazing voice, one meant to fill halls and chambers such as this one. Michaela was impressed with the ringing baritone despite herself. He used it to start an argument with Emperor Yuder right away. Michaela’s grasp of Kalquorian was still chancy enough that she couldn’t understand all that was said, but she got the drift of it. Yuder insinuated Pwaldur’s daughter Narpok was spoiled and Pwaldur took offense. Then the head councilman put forth allegations that Clan Clajak had abandoned Kalquor.

  “It sounds like the festivities have begun,” she said in a dry voice to Jessica.

  Her friend didn’t answer. Jessica was intent on the exchange now going on between Clajak and Pwaldur. As far as Michaela could tell, Clajak acknowledged he had been remiss in attending to his duties as heir to the throne but assured the council he was now ready to take them up. Pwaldur sneered with disbelief. The arguments became heated, though Clajak stoically maintained a hold on his infamous temper.

  Jessica started edging closer to the front of the gallery, where most of the other Earther women were clustered. The men in front of her moved aside to let her through. Michaela had a mind to curse at them for being gentlemen.

  She crowded close to Jessica and hissed in her ear. “Jessica, stay back. They’ll see you.”

  Her friend’s face was scarlet with anger. Prudence had fled as the words kept flying back and forth below.

  Between clenched teeth, Jessica said, “Did you hear what that overbearing jerk said to Egilka? The hateful bastard needs a good slap.”

  She kept creeping forward, towards the great glass wall. Michaela stuck with her, praying that Jessica would calm down and keep her mouth shut.

  In her worry over Jessica, Michaela lost the thread of the debate. She heard her friend’s name spoken by Pwaldur but couldn’t attend what was said. Jessica edged to the front of the gallery and peered down through the glass. Michaela grabbed hold of her arm and tried to tug her back. Jessica shook her off, her eyes never leaving the chamber floor below.

  Michaela looked down too in time to see Councilman Rajhir stand. His carefully controlled voice entered the conversation. Whatever he said seemed to piss Pwaldur off. The head councilman’s room-filling voice got louder and Michaela paused in her attempts to pull Jessica away from the glass. Her curiosity held her frozen. She listened to the councilman boom that Jessica’s pregnancy by the crown princes was no reason to make her one of the Empire’s rulers.

  Michaela was impressed to see how Clajak managed to speak with restraint. Now that her attention locked on the proceedings below, she was better able to understand what was said.

  In a tone that said he was being the most reasonable man in the universe, Clajak told Pwaldur, “Princess Jessica has proven herself capable of learning all she needs to know to assume the role of empress. My clan has no doubt she is up to the task.”

  Pwaldur’s answering grin was a scary thing. Once more, Michaela thought he looked like a bulldog ready to bite. His words proved that out. “Then, my prince, you’ll have no problem letting her prove her worthiness to this council. Let her speak on her own behalf if you are indeed so convinced of her abilities.”

  Pwaldur’s face turned up to the gallery.

  No, no, no, no! Michaela thought. It wasn’t possible he knew Jessica was there. Yet his purple eyes homed in on her immediately.

  How did he know? How could he have found out?

  It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that the bellicose councilman had discovered Jessica had come to the meeting. Pwaldur was ready to use her presence for his own gain. His grin widened into a hateful leer.

  In heavily accented English, Pwaldur called, “Come down to the council floor, my would-be princess, and impress us if you please.”

  All eyes turned to Jessica. Panic filled the young woman’s eyes and she grabbed Michaela’s hand in a death grip. Michaela barely noticed the pain caused by her friend’s hard clutch. All she saw was Pwaldur, his gaze turning to mark her as well.

  It was like being prey in the sights of a predator. Heat filled Pwaldur’s stare, and Michaela saw his gaze crawl over her body, as if to mentally undress her. The bald lust that darted across his face was over in an instant, but it seared Michaela to her very soul.

  She couldn’t hold his stare. Michaela jerked her gaze away, unable to meet the demanding look for another second. Her eyes settled on a kinder face. She found Korkla.

  Her Dramok’s regard might have been better than Pwaldur’s, but it was terrifying in its own right. Korkla’s expression was horrified. His eyes were wide and his jaw clenched. Michaela shrank back a step from his stare.

  She barely noticed when Jessica let go of her hand and walked away. Michaela couldn’t move, pinned by Korkla’s gaze. She couldn’t even breathe. She’d never been so terrified in all her life.

  Never taking those piercing eyes off of her, Korkla muttered to the young Kalquorian standing at his side. The man he spoke to nodded and headed towards a set of steps that led from the council floor to the gallery. He waited for Jessica and another young man to finish descending those stairs.

  Oh shit. They’re making Jessica confront Pwaldur. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. I knew we shouldn’t have come!

  And still Michaela’s fear for what might happen to her friend was a distant thing. The situation was bad, but she couldn’t think about anything but the fact Korkla knew she’d defied him.

  A soft voice spoke in her ear. “Matara, your Dramok bids you to come with me to await him. Follow me, please.”

  It was only now that Michaela noted the silence around her. She didn’t know if those in the gallery were watching her or Jessica. She could hear voices on the council floor and knew that matters were moving on, but still her vision filled with Korkla’s face, with his eyes spearing her like daggers.

  At last he turned away, attending his job and what was happening. Somehow, that was worse than being stared at. Korkla had turned away from her. Had he done so just because duty demanded it? Or because he couldn’t stand to look at her any longer? The idea made her feel sick and weepy.

  Michaela followed the young man Korkla had sent after her without speaking a word. What could she say? What could she do?

  She was so fucked.

  Instead of bringing her to Korkla, the council page ushered Michaela into a small roo
m off the chamber floor. There he left her with the instructions, “Please remain here until Dramok Korkla sends for you.” Then he left her alone.

  Had Michaela not been in such a state of dread, she would have found her surroundings pleasant enough. The room apparently served as a waiting area, or perhaps a lounge. There were plenty of comfortable seating cushions on the floor to relax upon, a small bar in the corner with drinks and sealed snacks, and a vid playing the events happening on the council floor.

  With her stomach gurgling in fear of what would happen when Korkla came to get her, Michaela didn’t bother with the containers of fruits, nuts, and other nibbles. She stared at the alcoholic beverages but decided getting drunk would only make her situation worse. She snagged a bottle of water and sat down to watch Jessica face off with Pwaldur.

  At first, Jessica acquitted herself well. For every question the councilman put to her, she had a good answer. Michaela noticed how other councilmen nodded in agreement. Sometimes they laughed outright when Jessica managed to turn Pwaldur’s aggressive statements against him. Michaela began to entertain hope that their ill-advised attendance might turn things to Jessica’s advantage.

  But Pwaldur was no fool. He used the attack Jessica and Michaela suffered back on Plasius to point out the princess was not prepared to defend herself or her unborn child, that Jessica had nearly been killed in the altercation.

  He asked the muttering council, “Do we leave our future in the weak hands of this so vulnerable creature, someone Earth will no doubt label a traitor and pinpoint as a target?”

  In a few short statements that pointed out his own daughter’s better bid to eventually reign as one of Kalquor’s rulers, he rocked Jessica’s claim on her clan. Michaela could see that Pwaldur’s challenge had too many supporters in the council. The worried looks on the faces of the Imperial and Crown Prince Clans only underscored the trouble Jessica was in.

  It was the new father Councilman Rajhir who came to the rescue. He incited a debate on whether or not Pwaldur’s daughter had the better claim to Clajak’s clan.

  “Let Narpok present herself for questioning,” he invited Pwaldur.

  The other councilman snarled, “She is not here.”

  “Then let her come for next week’s session. We should allow both candidates to present their cases for the clan of the crown princes, after which the people of Kalquor will vote on their preference. The majority vote will guide us in deciding who shall be our future empress.”

  More yelling. More threats. Then the council took a vote, deciding to take Rajhir’s suggestion.

  Michaela sucked on her lower lip, her eyes brimming with tears. Of course Kalquorians would side with Narpok. Why wouldn’t they want an empress who had been trained for the job all her life and proven fertile? Narpok could give Clajak’s clan an heir just as easily as Jessica. That the council sympathized with the position of the head councilman’s daughter was abundantly clear to Michaela.

  The princes consulted privately after the issue had been tabled for the present. Clajak motioned Korkla over and spoke briefly with him. The aide left the chamber with a shattered-looking Jessica in tow.

  Moments later, the door of Michaela’s room slid open. Korkla and Jessica stood there.

  Michaela’s Dramok looked at her with an unreadable expression. “I’m taking you home. Come.”

  Ducking her head, Michaela followed him down a corridor. Jessica fell back to walk at her side and took her hand.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jessica said, the first tears escaping. “You were right, Michaela. This was stupid.”

  Michaela didn’t speak, afraid doing so would prompt Korkla to vent some of the wrath she knew he must feel. She contented herself with meeting Jessica’s mournful gaze and nodding.

  Jessica turned her attention to their escort. She said, “Korkla?”

  Michaela hunched as her Dramok turned his head to look at them. She didn’t dare meet his eyes.

  He sounded perfectly respectful as he answered, “Yes, my princess?”

  “This was all my idea. Michaela didn’t want to come. In fact, she tried to talk me out of it. Please don’t hold this against her.”

  Korkla’s tone turned tight, but he remained polite. “Thank you for bringing that to my attention. I will keep it in mind.”

  He wheeled about and continued to lead them through the back corridors of the Government House. Jessica opened her mouth to speak again, but Michaela squeezed her hand. When her friend looked at her, Michaela shook her head, desperate to dissuade her from saying anything else. She didn’t want to be told off by her Dramok in front of anyone.

  Jessica fell silent and settled back into looking miserable.

  Korkla brought them before a door. He spoke. “Access Royal House, authorization Dramok Korkla.”

  An electronic voice responded. “Dramok Korkla, voice pattern recognized. Scan indicates Princess Jessica and Matara Michaela are also with you. Do you confirm?”

  “Confirmed.”

  The door slid open.

  Direct access from the Royal House to the Government House, Michaela thought. She wondered if Jessica had known about the passage between the two but had avoided using it to escape detection by her clan. Michaela would have asked, but she still wouldn’t risk speaking around Korkla until she absolutely had to.

  The passage took them to an in-house transport. The three got inside. “Crown Prince Suite,” Korkla announced. The door shut and the transport moved, reaching Clan Clajak’s level within seconds.

  Jessica gave Michaela one last worried glance before moving to enter her home.

  “My princess,” Korkla said in a soft voice. “Please remember your clan insists that you remain at home until they join you.”

  Jessica nodded. The door closed.

  “Clan Korkla’s quarters.”

  They said nothing in the five seconds it took to reach their home. Michaela stepped out of the transport ahead of Korkla and stopped in the greeting room. She waited with head bowed for him to lower the boom.

  He wasted no time. “Do you have any idea of what you’ve done? The slightest inkling of what may have been lost?”

  At least he wasn’t yelling at her. His tone was quiet, but that was no surprise. Korkla had rarely raised his voice to anyone and never to Michaela. Instead, her Dramok sounded horribly disappointed. Somehow that was worse than being ranted at.

  Feeling small and stupid, Michaela whispered, “I’m sorry, Korkla. I really am.”

  “I’m sure you are. You do realize Jessica’s presence at the council meeting has placed her entire future with the men she loves in jeopardy?”

  Tears welled in Michaela’s eyes and spilled over. She finally looked up at her beloved’s face. The disappointment was still there ... but his expression was gentle as it ever was with her. Somehow, that made her cry harder.

  She couldn’t make it right, but it was impossible not to try. “Korkla, please understand why I went with Jessica. She would have gone whether I went with her or not. I just wanted to make sure she would be all right. I was being her friend.”

  Korkla’s jaw tensed. “Did it never occur to you to let her go by herself and contact me to let me know what was going on?”

  Michaela opened her mouth and then closed it again. Her guilty conscience doubled, tripled. He was right. She’d known Jessica was being impetuous, not thinking things through. If Michaela had possessed any sense, she would have done just as Korkla said.

  He blew out an impatient breath. “Damn it, Michaela. I am your Dramok. That means what’s important to you is important to me. Don’t you think I would have done what I could to keep Jessica out of that meeting and out of trouble with her clan? You’re supposed to trust me.”

  Now Korkla looked hurt as well as disappointed. Michaela rushed to reassure him.

  “I do trust you, with all of my heart! I just – I wasn’t thinking. I was stupid, and I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t discuss thi
s with you right now. I have got to get back to Clajak to see if we can fix this mess.” He straightened and gave her his most commanding look. “You will remain here at home. You will not leave, not for Jessica, not for any reason at all. Is that clear?”

  Michaela nodded miserably. “Yes, my Dramok. I promise.”

  He stared at her for a moment. Then he grabbed her in a brief hug. “My Matara, when will you learn I am here for you no matter what? That you can tell me anything and it will be all right?”

  Korkla didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and left the home, leaving Michaela standing there.

  She remained in that spot for a long time, crying in shame and misery. She’d fucked up in a huge way, one which could demolish her best friend’s happiness. The scary part was that Michaela knew things could be worse ... and they might indeed reach that point.

  She had thought the clan ties couldn’t be severed, but if Jessica’s status as Clan Clajak’s Matara was endangered, then apparently they could. What if Korkla decided to send Michaela away?

  Chapter 14

  Raxstad entered the home, dread filling his being. Korkla had commed him earlier in the day to fill him in on what had happened at the council meeting. The Nobek stood just inside the doorway, gathering his courage for what might lay ahead.

  He had no idea what to expect from Michaela. Was she going to hide from him as she did so often when things went awry? Would he have to fight for her trust yet again? When would things change for his Matara?

  Movement at the door across the greeting room stole his breath away. Michaela was not hiding from him at all. She was coming to him.

  Raxstad wished he could have wept for the warmth that flooded his being as his beautiful Matara entered the greeting room. She trusted him after all. It soothed the nausea that had been building in his gut.

  My brave girl. My sweet, wonderful Matara. Mother of All, how I love you Michaela.

  Raxstad watched her approach. Her shoulders were hunched as she approached him. Her lower lip trembled, and fresh tears tumbled down her already streaked cheeks. The sight tried to break his heart.