Stardancer

by Ariel MacArran

  “You can’t bury yourself in here forever!”

  Kinara leaned her forehead against the windowpane, not bothering to answer Kyndan. Her bedroom window in the High Commander’s mansion overlooked the central square. It had always been her favorite spot to sit and dream as she watched the activity in the commons below.

  The stately white buildings, bright in the afternoon sun, looked stale and lifeless to her now. The lines of Rusco’s base were neat, sharp and colorless, crying out for a touch of the Az-kye passion for life.

  She missed everything. Little Bebti, pastries and tea in the mornings with her maids, the way the spray of the falls made rainbows in the distance, the smell of the flowers from her balcony, the sound of the guards in the courtyard, the feel of her jaha fan, his smile . . .

  Private smiles, just for her, because warriors don’t grin like boys.

  “Kinna,” Kyndan said, seating himself on her bed. “This has to stop.”

  “Not now, okay?” she said dully.

  “It’s not your fault. You did everything you could for him, for all of us. Stars, even the idiots on Tellar granted you a pardon!”

  The government quietly pardoned her for leading the Az-kye ships, largely due, no doubt, to her father’s influence. Many still considered her a traitor, she had even received death threats and, at her father’s insistence, she now went everywhere armed.

  Ryndar’s joy at having his children safe and with him again had done much to restore him. Still, he stubbornly refused to acknowledge a marriage between his daughter and an Az-kye.

  Bewildered by her determination he do so, and her despair, he had finally withdrawn, hoping the familiarity of her surroundings would return her to the girl he raised.

  But the role of the High Commander’s carefree daughter no longer suited her. It was not only her feelings for one Az-kye that had irrevocably changed her but also her understanding of the Az-kye people. Her attempts to make herself useful to the Realm in finding a peaceful resolution to the present conflict with the Az-kye were at first gently, then forcefully, rebuffed.

  The government on Tellar had no interest in opinions and ideas from someone they considered an interfering girl. Her frustration and powerlessness to end the hostilities made the haunting of those dark eyes all the more unbearable.

  “Kinna, come on. I want to help.”

  “Then tell me he’s alive,” she said softly. “Tell me he made it home.”

  He sighed. They’d had this talk so many times. “I don’t know what happened after we left. No one does. The other Az-kye ships came in too fast. We were lucky to get away at all.”

  Kinara closed her eyes. He’d been so badly wounded. In the last four months she’d scoured every piece of data she could get her hands on, reviewed every recording, trying to see if one last shuttle had gotten away from the Ty’pran before the crossfire destroyed it. She’d questioned everyone who could have possibly seen it. She pestered her father until, deeply worried for her sanity, he released high clearance-needed documents for her to study.

  She couldn’t find anything.

  She thought now of the Az-kye opera she’d stumbled upon - Shade of Quen’dalla. That warrior had followed his mate’s spirit forever after losing her for his pride.

  What would she have to do to follow Aidar’s if she had lost him for love?

  In leaving him on the Ty’pran, she’d left him to die. She’d cut his heart to pieces for nothing and she wished desperately she’d stayed and died with him, except . . .

  She touched the swelling at her belly that had just begun to show, imagining she could feel the tiny life inside her under her fingers.

  Would the baby have eyes dark like his?

  The baby girl she carried would have his name and inherit his clan. She would give their child all the love the gods hadn’t let her give its father.

  Ryndar had been stunned and even Kyndan, who had finally made peace with Aidar, had been thrown. She’d kept the news to herself for a long while and her announcement weeks ago had torn the Maere house apart. Tedah wisely excused himself when the shouting started and she hadn’t seen him since.

  With hostilities as they were and so many skirmishes along the border she couldn’t risk trying to get to Az-kye now.

  But she would get them both back to Az-kye someday.

  I won’t fail you again, Aidar.

  As if reading her mind, Kyndan said, “You know it isn’t good for your health to stay inside all the time. It isn’t good for the baby.”

  She shot him a narrowed look. “That’s a dirty trick.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He stood and offered her his hand. “Come on, let’s get you some fresh air.”

  Resigned, she let him help her up. “Since when do you care about an Az-kye baby?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That’s my niece you’re talking about, you know. Even Papa is worried that you aren’t eating enough.”

  Kinara blinked.

  He gave her a faint smile. “Why do you think the kitchen’s suddenly overflowing with food?”

  Later that night over dinner she and her father talked hesitantly at first, politely as strangers. Ryndar’s voice was quiet when he told her a truce had been enacted at the border. There was even talk of opening diplomatic relations, perhaps even a treaty.

  When she excused herself from dinner she was already filled with plans and tried to reach Tedah to give him the news. With a ceasefire now at the border there had to be some way of getting through.

  She and Tedah made it into Az-kye space once. They could do it again.

  She left several messages. Hours later with no word back from Tedah, she found herself too restless even to sit and decided to go out for a long walk around the base.

  Her mind lingered on Aidar as it always did, her imagination giving her some respite from grief. She’d imagined somehow finding him safe on Az-kye and explaining everything to him. She’d dreamed of telling him about the baby, seeing the joy light his face, how knowing about the child began the bridge to forgiveness.

  The path lights were coming on by the time she headed for home, their golden glow throwing pools of light along the walkways.

  Those daydreams came with a high price. Sooner or later she came back to reality and the grief overtook her again, fresh and raw as if she lost him all over again.

  At the gate she hesitated then turned away from the house, instead taking the path to their private grounds. It was a warm evening and she sat on one of the benches, leaning against the garden wall. The night was very still and she looked through the trees to the distant lights of the house, thinking of how best to tell them.

  When she went in there and announced her plan to immediately return to Az-kye, she was going to be in for a hell of a fight. Her father might not be happy about the baby being half Az-kye but that didn’t mean he would want his pregnant daughter going off with Tedah – if she could ever get ahold of him! – into what he still considered enemy space.

  But just disappearing without a word wasn’t something she was willing to do this time. It might be a long while before she saw her father or brother again and she wanted a chance to say goodbye, even if it was just going to turn into another shouting match.

  Going inside to tell them was her first step back to Az-kye. Her forces had completely routed the Tellaran Fleet and Kinara knew she would be far more welcome on the Imperial World than she was here. Still her heart squeezed, knowing the memories the Az’anti estate would bring back.

  She swallowed back tears and rested her head back against the wall. She was going to have, and raise, this baby on Az-kye.

  It’s what he would have wanted.

  She closed her eyes and let the bittersweet image of Aidar’s daughter playing under the sky her father had played under fill her mind. This daughter would be loved and when she took her place as Ti’antah she would have all the knowledge she needed to lead his clan wisely . . .

  The soft rustling of leaves made Kinara’s eyes
snap open.

  There was no breeze tonight. She frowned, peering into the darkness.

  A sercat? Or a bird maybe?

  She heard movement again, closer now.

  Her heart sped up, recalling all those ugly threats, what so many people had called her, called her still – recreant, traitor, Az-kye whore.

  Her glance darted about at the dark shapes of the trees and bushes and—

  There, the curve of someone hiding in the shadows.

  Her mouth went dry and her mind flashed to the tiny, precious life she carried. With a rush of panic she saw the intruder was positioned squarely between her and the house. She’d never get past and make it inside. The high garden wall extended behind and on either side of the grounds nearly to the house itself. Even if she wanted to risk escaping by climbing over the wall behind her she’d have to turn her back and she wasn’t about to do that.

  She was trapped here and shouting, even if they heard her this far from the house, wouldn’t bring help in time.

  She wet her lips and stood, easing the blaster at her hip from its holster.

  “Who’s there?”

  Whoever it was froze. The lights from the house made it impossible to see anything but a shadowy outline.

  Her heart hammered when the shadow didn’t respond. So much for it being Kyndan or Tedah or any other friend.

  With a sudden movement the huge shadow came at her. Startled she brought the weapon up and fired.

  She blew a chunk of tree away and was rewarded with a yelped curse in Az-kye.

  She’d barely missed—

  “Oh, gods,” she breathed.

  He was still ducking back, his arm held protectively up. The flame from the burning tree limb next to his head reflected in the gold of his hair.

  She lowered the blaster. “Aidar?”

  He straightened warily and stepped into the dim light to stare at her. “You shoot at me? It is not enough I had to be smuggled here? That I must creep about like a thief?” he demanded, the buzz of his words vibrating through her chest. “You seek my blood before I can even speak?”

  “Aidar?” she said again and dropped the blaster. She took shaky steps toward him, her hand outstretched.

  He felt real under her fingers. Real and warm and here.

  He was dressed in warrior black, the Az’anti beading at his shoulder, his scabbard’s strap across his chest. Over his clothes she hesitantly touched the place along his ribs where he’d been wounded all those months ago. He didn’t flinch away.

  With a cry she threw herself against him, to catch him in her arms before he could disappear.

  His breath sucked in sharply and he started a little as if she’d caught him completely off-guard. He hesitated then loosely returned her embrace, his hands resting lightly on her.

  Kinara found herself aware of a dozen things at once — the instant heat of desire through her body, the warmth of him, the strength of his body. She closed her eyes, feeling his chest rise and fall, breathing in the scent of him, feeling the solid bulk of muscle under her cheek, his broad back under her palms, his very presence a burst of color in a gray universe.

  “You’re okay,” she whispered, hugging him. “I can’t believe – When the Ty’pran was destroyed—” Her chest felt hollow at the memory and she tightened her hold. “But now you’re here!”

  He started when she touched his face, frowning down at her as she felt the line of his jaw.

  “I thought you were dead—”

  His dark eyes flashed with bitterness. “I would have had myself so at your leaving. My warriors carried me from the ship when I bid them let me die there.”

  “I didn’t want to leave you!” She touched his cheek, tracing the scar with her fingers. “And what I said — I didn’t mean any of it. I’m sorry.”

  He jerked his head away from her touch. “Do not lie to me.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. “I know I hurt you. What I said was awful but it wasn’t true, none of it. I’m so sorry.”

  “Why do you pretend to this?” His nostrils flared. “I know you could not have done such, did you care for me.”

  Her eyes widened. “If I cared? Aidar, there were four of them with blasters pointed right at you! I had to do it, it was the only way.”

  “The only—?” He scowled. “Think you I would not have fought for you?”

  “I know you would have.” She swallowed. “And they would have killed you. I had to convince you not to fight but I didn’t mean any of what I said.” Her hands stroked his chest as if she could smooth the hurt away. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  Distrust flashed in his eyes but he was puzzled too. “Think you I would not have been proud to die for you?”

  She shook her head. “Do you think I could let you? If there was any way for me to save you?”

  “An Az-kye mate would never have done such,” he gritted out. “She would respect my rights, value my honor above all.”

  “I know.” Her hand rested on his chest, she could feel his heart beating under her palm. “But I couldn’t lose you like that, not when I could stop it. I can’t believe it didn’t kill me to leave you. But you’re here, you’re alive and whatever it cost me then, it was worth it. You’re worth it.”

  He regarded her silently, his thoughts hidden now behind warrior impassivity. “Do you mean this that you say?”

  “That I’m sorry I hurt you? That I didn’t mean a word of it? That I would have done anything to save you? Of course I do!” She looked at her hand, resting over his heart, feeling it beating strong. “I love you.”

  His brow creased. “I thought—”

  “That I didn’t love you?” she asked shakily. “Oh, gods, I can’t believe how much I love you!”

  He looked away, shifting his weight. “After your leaving I did not think to ever look on you again. I would not have come now but Tedah told me of the child.”

  “Tedah?” She shook her head, Aidar could only have seen him if – “Tedah’s on Az-kye! That’s why I haven’t seen him! He snuck off without telling me!”

  She felt a flash of disappointment and annoyance that she couldn’t give Aidar the baby news herself.

  But Tedah found you and sent you to me.

  And what did it matter how he knew? She smiled. He knew, they were together now and this was a moment of joy.

  Aidar’s dark eyes regarded her gravely.

  Her smile faded. He was just looking down at her, his expression serious, hardly holding her at all, almost as if he were returning her embrace out of politeness.

  “So, Tedah told you about the baby?” She cleared her throat. “Did he tell you it’s a girl?”

  He nodded.

  Something was very off. A knot formed in her stomach. “Is that why you’re here? Did — did you come to take me back to Az-kye?”

  He looked away again and stepped back, out of her embrace.

  “No,” he said softly. “I have not.”

  “Oh.” Her throat closed and she suddenly realized that he hadn’t thrown his arms around her in joy to see her again. He hadn’t pulled her against him like he used to, his mouth hot on hers, trembling with want and need.

  He’d jerked away from her touch. He hadn’t even tried to kiss her, his embrace light, uncomfortable.

  She played it back in her mind and the knot in her stomach grew tighter. He would not have come? He didn’t intend to see me again?

  Wait . . . an Az-kye mate would have respected his honor? Her heart picked up speed. He told me Lashima’s priestess can undo a binding. Aidar just said ‘she’ not ‘you’. Did he mean a particular she?

  Oh, gods, does he—

  The idea hit with a searing burst of pain.

  Does he not love me anymore?

  Aidar’s glance went past her, to the garden around them, to the white house tinted blue by the moons’ light. “To be home – to be here with your family – this is what you wanted always. You never made secret of it. I have had much ti
me to think on it, and to know regret. I should never have tried to make you Az-kye.”

  “No! I mean—” she stumbled over her words. “Of course, I’m glad I got to see my father again but I—”

  “Tellarans are not bound,” he interrupted. “I understand now that Tellaran is what you must be — Kinara — what you are.”

  Oh, man. Her heart was pounding now. He’d had months to recall all those horrible things she’d said, to let them burn into his mind and poison his heart against her. This was going wrong, all wrong.

  She tucked her hair back behind her ear. “Aidar, listen, please, I know I’ve made — gods, lots of mistakes—”

  He reached up and drew his sword from the scabbard at his back. Kinara blinked, her glance darted around the grounds seeking the threat he saw.

  But Aidar didn’t raise the blade or fall into a fighter stance. He turned the ancient weapon, gently, reverently, so it laid flat with the blade and hilt balanced on his upturned palms. He looked down at it for several heartbeats, the blade’s silver metal bright in the moonlight.

  “I longed for you without end, Kinara,” he said finally. “I could not bear the loss of you. I thought, I cannot be mistaken, there were times you felt joy with me but I could not deny your words, your leaving –” He shook his head.

  “Aidar.” She reached for him but stopped short, afraid he would shrug off her hand if she touched him.

  He met her gaze. “When Tedah told me of the child I knew I must come, even if you would not look on me,” he said quietly. His eyes were sorrowful. “But I cannot ask you to return to Az-kye with me.”

  Her legs felt weak. “You can’t?”

  He held his father’s sword out to her, his face ragged. “So I too will be Tellaran.”

  “What?” she breathed.

  “If to be Tellaran is your wish,” he swallowed, “then I too will be Tellaran.”

  “But—” Her gaze was drawn to the ancient sword he offered, the ornate etching that ran along the blade. “What about your clan, your name, all of it?”

  “Without you, and our child, what does any of it matter?” His dark eyes were pained now. “I love you, Kinara. To be with you is all to me.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, unable to do more than spread her hands helplessly as tears blurred her vision.