by Diana Palmer
Her hand went to the soft mound of her stomach. The child was on display in the cut of the gown. Her pregnancy, Caneese had informed her, was of great pride to her mate’s Clan (although she never named the Clan). It was proper that it should be displayed.
She peeked in through the huge entrance doors. So many people! So many races! There—was she seeing things? No! There were Nagaashe in the crowd. Two of them, obviously a mated pair. She felt a thrill of pride. She was certain that the reclusive serpents rarely attended public events with other races. It was truly a mark of their respect for her, and Dtimun, that they came. She grinned as she noticed that some of the humans of the Holconcom, notably Weapons Specialist First Class Jones, were twitchy in proximity to them.
“You must come down the aisle when the music begins,” Dtimun said in her mind. “We have adopted this part of an ancient human bonding ceremony, in your honor. Are you nervous?” he teased. “Surely not! We have been in many great battles together. This is a peaceful event.”
“I would prefer Rojoks and a Gresham,” she teased back.
“If you look carefully, you will note that one of the Altairian delegation is wearing a sensor net and looks suspiciously like a Rojok of our acquaintance.”
Her heart stopped. “He wouldn’t dare...!”
He laughed. “He would. He told me that nothing would prevent his attendance, not even possible capture. He is fond of you.”
She smiled. “I’m fond of him, too. And don’t growl. It isn’t that sort of fond.”
He chuckled.
She touched her belly softly. “The baby is very restless.”
“He does not like crowds,” he mused. “Nor do I. This is very uncomfortable. Like you, I would prefer a battle. But we have no choice.”
“I’ll adapt,” she promised.
“Yes, of course you will.”
She started to say something else, but trumpets sounded. At the far end of the structure, there was a procession. There was a squad of blue-uniformed Cehn-Tahr with Rhemun at its head. They surrounded a party of three, a tall white-headed Cehn-Tahr in jeweled robes, a female with silver hair in a gown similar to Madeline’s and a young woman whom Madeline recognized as Princess Lyceria. That would be the emperor and empress. She watched, spellbound, as they moved to a position on a platform reached by a majestic set of wide stone steps. They took their seats in elegant thrones overlooking the ceremony. The rumors that the emperor and his mate were estranged must be false, she concluded. They seemed quite happy together.
“The emperor and his family must value you very highly, to attend our bonding,” she told Dtimun. “I’m so flattered!”
He was laughing. “Yes, they do value me. And also you.”
She shrugged. “If they did, it would only be because I’m your mate,” she said with a smile in her tone. “I’m just a common grunt.”
“An undignified and inappropriate term for a female so beautiful and intelligent,” he murmured softly. “Did I not tell you, a long time ago, that you would grace a palace? And so you do.”
“Is this a palace?” she asked, surprised.
“Yes,” he replied. “It serves as a meeting place for the Dectat, as a holy place of worship, and as a home for the imperial family, all together. We do not separate religion from royalty and politics. The three are carefully interwoven in our culture.”
She smiled. “I like your culture very much, especially its emphasis on family.”
There was another burst of trumpets.
“You must come down the aisle. I will be waiting with two members of our theocracy at the end of it, along with an Allfaith representative from Trimerius.”
“An Allfaith—how in the world did he get here? Is Ambassador Taylor in the shadows with a squad of covert operatives waiting to take me into custody?” she worried mentally.
He laughed at the word pictures in her mind. “Ambassador Taylor is being dealt with. You have nothing to fear from him. Nor does our crew aboard the Morcai. His days of power are at an end. Quickly, now, move down the aisle.”
She bit her lip from nerves and started out into the long carpeted aisle. She was aware of eyes watching her from every corner, and the smiles of her crewmen. She even recognized little Admiral Mashita in the audience, along with Admiral Lawson and other military leaders. Her father had been invited, but he was leading an assault in a far-flung galaxy and was unable to attend. He did send a hologreeting, however, to congratulate them.
The number of dignitaries in the audience was disconcerting to Madeline, especially when she noticed how the imperial family was also watching her. Not only that, she seemed to have an honor escort of Cehn-Tahr soldiers dressed in the same uniform as the kehmatemer. Strange to have a military escort at such a time. Perhaps, she reasoned, it was because of her changed relationship to their culture’s highest military leader. Please, she murmured silently, don’t let me trip over my feet and fall down on the way! Dtimun heard the thought and chuckled, assuring her that she would not. She was a bit dubious.
But she walked with elegance and pride, and she didn’t trip. At the end of the carpet was Dtimun, wearing robes as rich and elegant as her own, and with a crown on his head, like the tiara on hers. He was also wearing the blue and gold colors. The emperor must really like him, she thought as she stopped beside him.
He was laughing outrageously, but silently. The child kicked, as if he, too, were amused. Madeline peeked up at Dtimun and grinned.
The Cehn-Tahr officiating at the ceremony was elderly and had the kindest eyes Madeline had ever seen. He spoke in the old language, the holy tongue, High Cehn-Tahr, in which Madeline had been carefully tutored by Caneese. She understood the phrases that would require her to speak in the affirmative, but much of it was too difficult to decipher.
She and Dtimun joined hands and repeated a certain phrase. The officiant nodded and Dtimun gently uncovered the opening in her gown so that the mark of bonding was visible. Now that she knew what it meant, she was proud to have it displayed.
The officiant pronounced them bonded, welcomed them, and then the Allfaith representative from Trimerius greeted them and spoke a few words about fidelity and blessings and the miracle of childbearing. He pronounced them bonded, as well.
There was a long, sweet fanfare from the trumpets. The audience stood up and members of the various delegations bowed. There was another fanfare and the imperial family stood up and moved down from its position onto the carpeted floor.
“They’re coming toward us!” Madeline exclaimed silently. “What do I do? I’ve never met an emperor or empress before!”
Dtimun was laughing. “You lower your eyes and nod, you do not bow.”
“But, look, everybody else is doing it!” she protested.
“You do not bow,” he repeated sternly.
She sighed. “Yes, sir.”
He groaned.
“Sorry. I’m working on it,” she thought with irrepressible humor.
“If you salute me, there will be a scandal,” he promised, but amusedly.
She laughed silently. But there was no time to respond. The royal family had moved to face them and stopped. She looked at elegant jeweled gowns and slippered feet, and one pair of big black boots. Her heart was racing. She was so nervous...!
There was deep, familiar laughter. She looked up, right into the eyes of the old fellow. But he wasn’t wearing his familiar blue uniform. He was wearing imperial robes of blue and gold, and a crown. A very expensive crown. Caneese was similiarly attired, also wearing a crown, as was the princess.
Madeline hoped she wasn’t going to faint. She realized at once what she’d missed all along. The “old fellow” was the emperor. Caneese was his mate, Lyceria his daughter. Around him was the kehmatemer, led by Rhemun. And now she knew what that word meant. This was the emperor’
s Praetorian Guard.
“A surprise, I gather,” the emperor told her, with twinkling eyes. “And now you know whose life you saved at Ondar, do you not?” he concluded.
“Sir, I never realized...!” she began.
He touched her cheek and laid his forehead against hers. “It is a great joy to welcome you to my family,” he said gently, a comment that Madeline was too surprised to question. “May your years be long and happy and fruitful.”
“Thank you,” she replied, still stunned.
Caneese repeated the ritual behavior and then hugged her. “What a joyful addition to our family. You have been the means of reuniting it. All of it,” she added with a warm glance at her son, standing beside Madeline.
“We are greatly in your debt,” Lyceria added, laughing, and she hugged Madeline, too.
That was when it hit her. She looked up at Dtimun, with all the years of comradeship and arguments in her mind as she saw the puzzle pieces join together. He led the Holconcom. But he was also the heir to the throne of the Cehn-Tahr Empire. And she was carrying his heir in her womb.
“So sorry,” she whispered as her head began to spin. “But I think I may...” She couldn’t get out the word, faint, before she demonstrated it.
When she came to, seconds later, Dtimun had her up in his arms, gown and all, and they were standing on the balcony, along with the rest of the family and Holt Stern and Strick Hahnson.
“It’s just another burp,” Hahnson said as he read his wrist scanner. “She’s fine. The excitement, I dare say, has been a little much for her. Especially,” he added with a grin toward the emperor, “the revelation of her new status.” He shook his head. “I would never have guessed,” he told Dtimun. “And I’ve known you a lot longer than the rest of the crew. Some secret.”
Dtimun nodded gravely. “A source of great worry to my parents and siblings,” he mused with a smile. “But I went my own way, as I always have.”
“And made us greatly proud,” the emperor said warmly. He glanced at Rhemun and growled something.
Rhemun grimaced. “Forgive me, sir, I am so used to wearing it that I forget it is on my head.”
He pulled off the helmet. A thick, curly wave of black hair cascaded from his head around his broad shoulders and down his back, almost to his waist.
Lieutenant Commander Mallory, just joining the others, stopped in her tracks and just gaped at him with eyes full of wonder.
“Magnificent, is it not?” Caneese was amused at the little blonde human’s expression. “The Rojoks have placed a bounty on his head. His men insist that he wears the helmet in battle so that his hair does not show.”
“He could cut it,” the emperor suggested amusedly.
“There would be bonfires and protests all over the empire,” Lyceria teased. “His hair is the glory of his Clan.”
“Something his mother would certainly affirm,” Madeline chuckled.
Dtimun glanced at her with narrowed eyes. He growled at Rhemun.
Rhemun saluted him, but his eyes were green. “Permission to be dismissed, sir? The refreshment table has entots fruit,” he added.
“Dismissed,” the emperor pronounced.
“If you eat all the fruit again, as you did once before, I will have your head shaved,” Dtimun warned.
Rhemun saluted him smartly, grinned and walked back into the great room where refreshments were being served on a long table with elegant settings. Edris Mallory was still watching him, spellbound, from a distance.
* * *
A LITTLE LATER, Madeline was still trying to get over the shock of her new royal relations by marriage when the old fellow, as she still thought of him, joined her with Dtimun and Caneese and Princess Lyceria.
“And now you know why he speaks to me in such a manner when he is angry, yes?” Lyceria laughed, glancing at Dtimun. “He is my brother.”
“I speak to everyone in such a manner when I am angry,” he said, unperturbed.
The old fellow laughed. “Neither of us is famous for diplomacy. We only practice it in emergencies.”
Caneese moved forward, taking her mate’s arm. “I agree.” She smiled at Madeline. “And now you are truly my daughter. I greet you with welcome and affection.”
So saying, she laid her forehead against Madeline’s and touched her cheek. Madeline echoed the ritual. It was then performed both with the old fellow and Lyceria.
As Madeline looked at her mate, she realized the enormity of what Dtimun had been willing to sacrifice for her. He had told his father that he would relinquish the throne of an empire rather than give her up. It was humbling. For the first time, she realized that his feelings for her at least equaled hers for him.
“Stern, you and Hahnson can have access to the guest suite,” Tnurat told the two humans with a smile. “The weavemaster will provide you with comfortable clothing. Come back and feast with us, and we will trade great lies about our prowess in battle.”
“Love to, sir, but you won’t have to lie about yours,” Holt Stern chuckled.
“I’ll second that,” Hahnson added. “We’ll try to agree on a few lies about our exploits before we return. Won’t be long. And congratulations to you both,” he added to Madeline and Dtimun.
“Thanks,” she said with a warm smile. She would have hugged them, but her mate’s eyes were already a soft brown. She decided to cut her losses. They could discuss these little problems later, when they were alone.
“And it is also time that I gave you this,” Tnurat added, pressing a small disc into Dtimun’s hand, “as I promised.”
“What is it?” Madeline asked, curious.
“It is a message which Komak left for you both. I was instructed very strictly about when to present it, and under what circumstances.” He hesitated when he saw their worried expressions. “It is a joyful thing,” he added gently. “But you should view it together, and apart from the rest of us. It will be, I think, quite emotional.”
They gave him a curious look, but agreed to the suggestion.
* * *
LATER, IN DTIMUN’S SUITE, he fed the tiny disc into a vidplayer and sat down beside Madeline on a wide chaise while the hologram of Komak suddenly appeared, life-size, in front of them.
He smiled at their surprise. “This is interactive,” he told them. “In the future, our tech has quite surpassed anything that exists now. The program which contains my image allows us to communicate as if I were actually here, even though I am parsecs away in distance and almost a human century away in terms of time.”
Madeline was fascinated. “You can hear what we say?”
“Oh, yes. I had keyed the codes before I left the Holconcom, in preparation for this conversation.” He sobered. “I was sincerely hopeful that you would be able to hear it. The future was in flux while Chacon was in danger. It delights me that you assured the timeline.”
“It was not easy,” Dtimun sighed. He looked at Madeline with open affection and smiled. “I had great hopes. It is pleasing to see them finally realized.”
“And now you know not only how your commander truly appears,” Komak continued, “but who he really is. This must have come as a surprise.”
“It came as a shock,” Madeline corrected flatly. She glanced at Dtimun and shook her head. “I would never have made the connection.”
“No one has in centuries,” Dtimun replied quietly. “The only protection the children of a ruler have are scores of bodyguards or anonymity. I have a bodyguard...”
“...which you only use when you’re forced,” Madeline murmured drily.
“...but I prefer anonymity,” he continued, unabashed. “No vids of us are allowed. My face is not known outside the Holconcom. My father insisted on this when we were very young.”
“He was wise to do so,” Komak replied. “But
your identity is now known, which means an end to your career with the Holconcom. I am sorry for this. I know you in the future,” he added enigmatically, “but you rarely speak of the adventures you and Madelineruszel had as members of the unit. You are both overly modest in your referrals to service with the Holconcom.”
Dtimun frowned. “Do you have human DNA?” he asked bluntly, voicing a question he and Madeline had often discussed.
“Yes,” Komak replied, smiling. “Perhaps if you see my true appearance, without the sensor net, many things will become clearer.”
He made an adjustment and morphed into the traditional Cehn-Tahr form. His skin was more like Madeline’s than Dtimun’s. His eyes were human-shaped, although they retained the color-changing ability. The biggest surprise was his hair. It had red highlights, something Madeline had never seen any Cehn-Tahr display.
“You are curious about my hair,” he commented when he saw Madeline’s puzzlement. “I get it from my mother,” he added softly.
“Do we know her?” Dtimun asked.
Komak laughed until his eyes teared. “Yes, you know her quite well.”
Dtimun and Madeline exchanged questioning glances. “Mallory’s hair is blond, but she might have redheads in her ancestry. I just feel in my bones that she and Rhemun will have a child one day...” Madeline stopped.
Komak was shaking his head.
“They won’t?” she asked.
“You have speculated widely about my parentage. I told you before I left,” he added to Dtimun, “that we would see each other again, but that you might not recognize me.”
“I recall,” Dtimun replied. “It was a nebulous response to my question.”
Komak’s eyes turned that soft shade of gold that Madeline recalled was only used among family. “Even now,” he said gently, “my mother carries me in her womb.”
He was staring at Madeline. She got the point almost at once. Her hand went to her swollen stomach. Her face paled. She stared at Komak, transfixed.
