by Delia Roan
Kovos rose. “We shall adjourn for a brief moment.”
What?
“What?” echoed Mel. “You can’t be serious!”
“Patience, Mel,” Jenna said, grabbing her arm. She shot a warm smile at Jahle, including him in her words. “Trust me. It’ll be okay. Jahle, you’re my sister’s Avowed. You’re family now. Which means you’re Kovos’s family, too.”
Family. Jahle stared at Jenna, and saw she meant every word. In loving Mel, he found the unexpected: family.
Jenna patted his arm. “Trust me. It’ll all be okay.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
MELISSA
The wait was driving her absolutely insane. She was ready to throw a bench right through the pretty stained glass windows. To poke her finger in Kovos’s chest and demand he release Jahle, or he would never see Jenna again. Jenna told me to trust her. Up on the dais, Jenna sat on the arm of the throne. Kovos wrapped his arm around her waist as they talked about…
What? How cute their babies will be?
Over the years, Mel had watched countless stage performances where Jenna slipped on a new persona. She’d been a natural, slipping into complex roles and then slipping back out when she wiped off her greasepaint. The woman on the dais wasn’t acting. There was a lightness to Jenna that made her radiant. She was truly happy, and Mel couldn’t fault her for that. Any guy who could make her sister smile like that couldn’t be all bad.
Am I going to get a chance at happiness?
A commotion outside caught her attention. Mel turned, facing the ornate doors at the far side of the court chamber. They were flung open and Mel’s jaw dropped at the figures who entered.
Dogan stood framed in the doorway. With him were of his three guards she recognized from the spaceport on Geran. Their expressions said they didn’t want to be here, any more than they had at the spaceport. They were surrounded by Ennoi guards, who held their weapons aloft.
For a moment, the thud of the door echoed through the courtroom. Then Jahle let out a shuddering breath. “Dogan.”
Mel flicked her eyes to Jahle’s pale face. His hands clenched into fists at his side as Dogan, followed by his armed escort, strode down the aisle.
“Well, well,” Dogan said, sauntering toward them, “It looks like you were not expecting me.” He reached Jahle and stared at him. “Why would you? Not after what you did to me.”
He lifted his arm, and threw off the cloth covering it. Jahle flinched back as Dogan revealed his arm covered in scalded skin. The scales had burned off and showed blistered flesh underneath. At this range, a rancid smell filled Mel’s nose, making her nostrils flare.
That looks like it hurts, Mel thought. Good.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” Jahle asked. “How…”
“Why can’t a man visit his baby brother without everyone getting upset?” Dogan leaned in close to his brother’s face. He swayed slightly, and Mel saw beads of sweat dotting his brow. This is costing him. For a moment, she saw Jahle’s stoicism in Dogan.
“You should be resting,” Jahle said. “You will worsen your condition if-”
“I will worsen your condition,” Dogan hissed back. “All the way to death! And I vow it will be a slow path there.”
And that’s where the similarity ends, Mel thought.
Dogan brought his face close to Jahle’s. “I would cross any distance to bestow your punishment, dear brother. You should have destroyed all the ships.”
“Your brother rejected our help,” Kovos said from his throne. While his voice was soft, it carried through the room.
His attention diverted, Dogan stepped around Jahle and moved to toward the dais. “I want nothing from you, Cadam vermin, except my due.”
“Yet, here you are,” Kovos replied. He kept his arm wrapped around Jenna’s waist. “What is the due you seek, Gundogan Ar’Geran?”
“I want this sham of a trial to end. It is my right as king of the Ennoi Geran to punish my own man.”
He waved his good arm to the audience. The Geran children shrank back when his gaze drifted over them. Resh shifted to the side, putting himself between him and the children.
“As you can see,” Dogan said, “I am not dead. I am well. Not healthy, of course, but well enough to enforce my own laws. I do not require your help for that, Kovos.” His eyes flicked over Jenna. “Though if you require my help in any matters, Kovos…”
Jenna shuddered. Kovos rubbed her back in a soothing gesture.
Yaldir shifted his hand to his ceremonial knife. “Lord Kovos,” he corrected. “Address my lord by his proper title, Lord Gundogan.”
“Ah, what are titles between old friends?” Dogan laughed. “Ah, I am mistaken. I don’t actually know you, Lord Kovos. But we did have friends in common, and they told me so much about you.”
Kovos’s eyes grew flinty. “Which friends are those?”
“My Sykorian friends,” Dogan replied. “I know you parted with them on unfortunate terms, but they were quite willing to take me into their confidence. Oh, but you know that Sykorians can’t be trusted.”
He’s gloating. Mel clenched her jaw. The bastard is gloating about setting Kovos up.
Dogan peered at Jenna. “Hmm, it appears your taste has not changed over the years. You got the prettier sister,” Dogan drawled, glancing at Mel and then back at Jenna.
“Dogan,” Jahle’s voice a note of warning, though Mel couldn’t tell if he warned his brother not to make remarks about Jenna or if he warned him not to belittle Mel.
Dogan ignored him, and addressed Kovos. “If I am not dead, there is no need for a trial. I want my brother released into my custody. He is my man. My honor guard. I should punish him as I see fit. No need for a trial.”
Kovos seemed to consider Dogan’s words. He rested his chin on his fist. “You are correct. He is your man.”
No, no…
Mel opened her mouth to protest, but when she saw Jenna’s face, her words froze. Did Jen… wink? What is going on? She stood and walked to stand by Jahle. He trembled beside her. She reached out and took his warm hand in her clammy one. He glanced down at her, but kept his attention on his brother.
A wide grin split Dogan’s face. “I am glad you see reason, Kovos.”
“You must understand why I wanted this trial,” Kovos said. “The murder of one’s leader is a grave crime.”
“Oh, yes,” Dogan said, glee plastered on his face. “It is a crime which should never go unpunished.”
Kovos’s eyes lit up. “I am glad we are of similar mind in this matter. May I finish what I began?”
Dogan bowed deeply. “Of course, Kovos. Go ahead. This is your courtroom, after all.”
Kovos stood, a gleam of triumph in his eye. Jenna pressed her hand to her side and gave Mel a thumbs up.
“Jahlekron Ar'Geran, you are cleared of the charge of murdering your king,” Kovos said.
Mel’s breath huffed out in relief, but Jahle’s hand tightened on hers. Dogan’s toothy leer promised suffering. Mel swallowed.
Whatever a creep like Dogan comes up with will be far worse than anything Kovos could plan.
When she looked up at the dais, Kovos gave her a soft smile. His eyes flicked to Dogan and his expression cooled. “You, Gundogan Ar’Geran are charged with murdering your own king.”
Dogan’s grin crumbled. “What?”
Jahle straightened, and shifted his weight. Mel extracted her hand. If Dogan went after Kovos, she knew Jahle would step up to protect him. His nature wouldn’t let him do anything else.
“You said it yourself,” Kovos continued, “It is a crime which cannot go unpunished. Unlike this trial, where we went on rumor and hearsay, your trial will be cut and dried. We have a recording, provided by your own sister, Roana, implicating you in her death, as well as the death of your other siblings, your mother and your father, the king.”
Dogan roared, an animalistic sound devoid of reason. He crouched
down, his fangs bared at Kovos. Jahle jumped over the footstool in front of him. His restrictive robes ripped from ankle to hip, but he ignored them. He placed himself between his brother and the dais upon which Kovos now stood, Jenna tucked behind him.
But Dogan didn’t go after Kovos.
He dove for Mel.
Mel shrieked as Dogan’s healthy arm wrapped around her waist. Jahle roared, and lunged for him, but Dogan dug the claws of his injured hand into Mel’s skin. She screamed. Warmth flowed down Mel’s neck, and the air filled with the metallic smell of her blood.
“Stay back,” Dogan hissed. “I’ll kill her!”
Jahle raised his hands, palms out, and stepped away. On the dais, Kovos stood, his hands extended to the guards, holding them back.
“Do not hurt her,” Jahle said. The words were pleading, but the tone was a warning.
“If I slit her throat, will you drop dead, I wonder?” Dogan caressed her neck with his hand, and Mel cringed as the burnt flesh touched her skin. Her stomach lurched as his hand rested against her cheek, and the reek of infection crawled into her nose.
“With my dying breath,” growled Jahle, “I’ll take you with me.” The fabric across his shoulders moved as his scales rippled. Every muscle in his body tensed as Dogan laughed.
Jahle met her eyes, and Mel’s heart broke at the helplessness in them.
“Reconsider, Dogan,” Kovos said. “You will not escape here alive. We can resolve this without bloodshed.”
“Sometimes bloodshed is necessary,” Dogan sneered. “Especially when it’s the blood of an enemy.”
He jerked Mel down the aisle. She dragged her feet, trying to stall for time.
Think, Mel, think!
Her eyes flicked over the room, taking in the frightened children cowering behind Resh, Jenna’s pale face on the dais, the sparkling throne… Her eyes landed on the footstool in front of Jahle.
The footstool!
She locked eyes with Jahle and flicked her eyes to the stool. A puzzled look crossed Jahle’s face. She tried again, until he followed her eyes to the stool. When he looked up, he frowned.
Mel rolled her eyes.
Shifting her weight to her left leg, she subtly kicked out her right foot.
Jahle’s eyes narrowed, and he dropped his chin, letting her know he understood.
Resh, watching the exchange, stepped forward, and threw his arms to the side. “Take me instead!”
His distraction worked. Dogan whirled to face him. Jahle stepped forward, hooked his right foot under the footstool and kicked it upward. It flew across and struck Dogan, sending him reeling.
Oh, this is going to suck, thought Mel as she sank her teeth into Dogan’s injured arm.
Dogan screamed, and Jahle dove for Mel. Dogan yanked away his injured arm, but his good arm stayed wrapped around Mel’s waist. She leaned forward, swung her fist forward, then back, and caught Dogan across the jaw with her elbow.
Dogan dropped her, just as Jahle reached them. He grabbed her wrist and helped Mel away, letting the guards swarm his brother. He led Mel up the stairs of the dais, where he, Kovos and Yaldir created a barrier between Dogan and the sisters.
Dogan tried to shift to his Virtuous form, but a blow from a guard’s shock weapon sent him sprawling to the ground, knocked unconscious.
“Take him to a cell,” Kovos ordered. “Call a doctor. He will need that arm tended. Yaldir, see to it.”
“Yes, my lord.” Yaldir leapt off the dais and followed the guards.
Mel trembled, watching Dogan being dragged away. She spat to rid her mouth of the taste of Dogan’s blood.
“Are you all right?” Jahle whispered in her ear.
She nodded, but the trembling wouldn’t stop. “Thanks for the fancy footwork.” Her voice sounded too high and too thin.
He tore a strip off the hem of his robe and pressed the fabric to the cut on her neck.
Jenna threw her arms around Mel. “Oh, Mel!”
“We received a secret message from one of the Geran guards, informing us that Dogan would be arriving to claim his brother,” Kovos said. “If he chose to remain in the spaceport, we would have had no choice but to turn Jahle over to him. We had to lure him out with the bait of meeting me. If word got out that we were expecting him, he might have suspected a trap.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, Mel. Are you okay?”
Mel patted Jenna’s back. “I’m okay. It’s okay.” She felt a bit dazed by the past few day’s events. Slowly, the realization sank in that she was safe. Jahle was free. “Thanks, Jen.”
“For what?”
“For coming through. You had a plan. You and Kovos.” She looked up at the large Ennoi man. “Thank you both.”
Kovos bowed. “It was my honor to see justice prevail here today.” Kovos turned to Jenna, and walked her to check on the Geran children, giving Jahle and Mel some privacy.
Jahle drew her close. The warmth of his body radiated through his clothes and warmed her skin. She tucked her face into his chest, breathing in the scent of him.
“I am sorry,” Jahle whispered. “I did not know he hates me more than he hates Kovos. If I had lost you…”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “But you didn’t lose me. Wanna know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you have taste and you picked a bad-ass woman for a mate.”
“I did not pick you,” he reminded her with a smile. “I seem to recall I did not have a choice in the matter. You did the picking.”
“Mmm, I think I did okay.” She rose onto her toes, but stopped before her lips met his.
“What’s wrong?” Jahle asked, scanning her face in concern.
“How about we do the kissing after I’ve had a chance to brush Dogan off my teeth?”
“I have waited long enough,” Jahle bent down and kissed her until her head spun.
When he stopped, she cupped his cheek with her hand. “Thank you, Jahle.”
“For what?”
“For being you.”
“For being me? What of me?”
She grinned, remembering their first meeting. “You? You’re the guy who’s gonna get me off.”
EPILOGUE
NEARLY ONE YEAR LATER
Greed. Anger. Hate.
The perfect trio who had created the world below.
Jahle gazed down on Geran from the cockpit of the craft. The ground flashed by in a blur of brown and gray. The wind buffeted the ship, pushing them forward. He reached out and steadied himself on the back of Eien’s seat as the ship trembled.
“Level her out,” Niest, the pilot said, her voice low. “You’re banking too far to the left. And relax.”
Eien nodded, his teeth gritted, and he loosened his grip on the yoke, dropping his shoulders. With an experienced pilot guiding him, Eien logged the necessary hours to earn his license.
“Keep breathing, Eien. If you don’t, you will pass out and we will crash. Try to keep us alive.” Niest checked the control panel. In the distance, nestled between barren hills, sat a bright spot of color. “We’re almost there. Prepare for approach.”
“I will inform the passengers,” Jahle said. While Eien had improved over the past few months, it always made Jahle slightly nervous watching the ground rush up to meet them.
In the back of the craft, the Garden People prepared. They checked their luggage while they chatted and laughed. He spotted a few Mechanists in the crowd, coming to fix the farming equipment. With settlers returning every month, the last year had been a blur of activity.
At Jahle’s approach, they stopped their chatting and looked up with wary eyes.
“We are almost at the South Bio-dome,” Jahle said to the head farmer.
His wrinkled face broke into a smile. “It will be good to see the old lands again, my lord.”
It had taken some doing, but using Kovos’s resources, Jahle had managed to track down nearly
seven thousand of Geran’s refugees. They had been scattered across Ennoi territory, and even further out.
When word had spread that Geran’s new prince sought their assistance, citizens had returned. Not all, but enough to give Jahle hope. It would take a lot of work to regain their trust.
The money helped. Kovos had honored his promise to make reparations to Geran. Jahle was trying to use that money wisely in the only endeavor worth following: the rebirth of Geran.
The ship landed with a thump, and the Garden People hoisted their packs onto their backs, before streaming out of the open hatch. Heads down against the wind, they plodded to the airlock.
The head farmer bowed. “Thank you, Lord Jahle. It is a pleasure to return.”
“No,” said Jahle. “It is I who should thank you. It is a pleasure to have our people home.”
He clasped the man’s hand briefly, before waiting for Eien to join him. They stepped out into the shelter of the airlock, and headed into the bio-dome.
The howl of the wind dropped off and Eien scanned the sky. The clear material of the dome allowed an unrestricted view of the landscape beyond. “Another calm spell. They grow more common.”
“That means the Air People are getting the towers running,” Jahle replied.
The South Bio-dome bustled with activity. He nodded to a line of recent arrivals, who bowed to Jahle. Some of the children waved, but the adults kept their faces politely neutral. A few averted their eyes.
It takes time, he reminded himself. Do not take it to heart.
A lanky Ennoi man loped to Jahle’s side. “My Lord!”
“Parram,” Jahle said. “Walk with me. What news?”
The head steward of Kreebo bowed, then adjusted his tunic, flicking away imaginary dust motes. “The latest group of citizens have arrived on schedule. They are being processed and will be housed here until next week.”
“Excellent. Any issues?”
“Not with the farmers, though we did have a shipment arrive of Tourkian shamaths.”
Eien wrinkled his nose. “What are shamaths?”
“Herbivorous animals,” Jahle replied. “Supposed to keep down the weeds on the farm naturally. What is the issue?”
