The Tigrens' Glory (Soul-Linked Saga) (Volume 9)

by Laura Jo Phillips

  “How did you get onto the ranch?” the red haired woman demanded. Her husky voice held a ring of authority that gave Rollo a moment’s pause. He looked at the woman again, but saw no more on second glance than he’d seen in the first. From the way she was moving slowly backward, putting distance between herself and Gloriani, she at least had enough sense to be afraid of him. Then she stopped. Not afraid enough, apparently.

  “Females who speak to me without permission are soon taught their true place,” he said coldly. “I’ve no qualms about taking you in hand should you dare to address me again.”

  The woman’s eyes all but glowed with fury, but he ignored that, as well. The smirk on Gloriani’s face he did not ignore. The other thing he knew about her was that she rarely, if ever, allowed emotion to break through her stoic mask. It was, in truth, the only good thing about marrying the woman, aside from gaining her royal status for himself. He’d had many exciting fantasies about breaking her, and now was as good a time to begin as any.

  “I shall enjoy watching you pay for that,” he said with his cruelest smile.

  The moment the words were out of his mouth, the other woman...changed. One moment a woman stood a few yards behind Gloriani, the next there was an enormous winged creature standing in her place, spitting flames into the sky as it roared so loudly, and with such rage, that Rollo stumbled backward in fear before he could stop himself.

  “Now you’ve done it,” Gloriani said, her smirk widening into a full-fledged grin. Rollo was staring openmouthed in shock, his mind unable to process what he was seeing. Seconds later, three more of the spotted creatures, all larger than the female, suddenly appeared from out of nowhere. He heard a soft grunt from Egis, who stood at his left side, and looked over in time to see him fall to the ground, one hand reaching for the knife blossoming from his chest. Rollo looked back up and saw another knife, presumably belonging to Egis, sticking out from one of the female creature’s wings. Then he looked at Gloriani, whose sword was back in its scabbard. Instead, she now held two throwing knives, one in each hand, aimed at himself and Boke.

  Rollo held his hands out, barely noticing when Boke did the same. He watched in mingled fear, horror and disbelief as the creatures shifted into four humans, the knife falling harmlessly to the ground in front of the female as the males gathered closely around her. After assuring themselves that the female was unharmed, the men, who were obviously warriors from their size and demeanor, turned angry eyes on him. One of them said something to Gloriani, who nodded and returned one knife to its sheath, though she held onto the other one.

  “Rollo Shorif, merchant of Ramouri,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain, “meet High Prince Garen Dracon, Prince Treyen, Prince Valen, and Princess Nahoa-Arima Lariah of Jasan.”

  “How did you gain access to our lands?” High Prince Dracon demanded without acknowledging the introduction.

  Rollo’s stomach rolled as he belatedly began to put things together. The Dracons’ Ranch. The security. The weapons check. The petite woman’s authoritative tone. His mind raced for an answer to the Prince’s question. He couldn’t very well tell the truth. Or could he?

  “I’ve come to claim my betrothed,” he declared boldly. It wasn’t exactly true, but these were strong and powerful men. He doubted that they’d take a female’s word over his own should Gloriani dare to gainsay him.

  “That was not my question,” Garen growled. As he spoke, three black and white striped creatures appeared over the top of the hill behind him. Rollo’s breath left his lungs as he watched the enormous wolf like creatures race toward them, their gigantic paws causing the very earth beneath his feet to tremble.

  The creatures slowed their pace as they approached, pausing a moment to stare down at the Princes and Princess before stepping around them and spreading out directly between Rollo and the Dracons. And Gloriani. In an instant the black and white striped creatures vanished, replaced by three large and obviously war-like men with blue hair.

  Blue hair? Rollo wondered, his mind sticking on that oddity rather than the nightmarish creatures they’d been an instant earlier. Was this a hallucination brought on by too much opia? He surreptitiously dug his nails into the palms of his hands until the pain brought tears to his eyes. No. This was real.

  “Ban, speak with the driver,” the man with the darkest blue hair ordered. The one with light blue hair walked toward the ground car he’d ridden in. Rollo saw that the Dracons and Gloriani were speaking quietly together, but they were too far away for him to overhear.

  “According to the driver, they gained entrance to the ranch by claiming they were sent by Princess Gloriani’s father with an urgent message for her,” Ban said, returning to his place in front of Rollo a few moments later.

  “Do you carry a message?” Prince Garen demanded. “Before you speak, know that I’ll verify every word you say with King Bashir.”

  Rollo felt a tightening sensation around his throat. How had he gotten into this? His gaze fell on Gloriani. It was her fault. All of this was her fault. If she’d stayed on Ramouri and wed him as she was supposed to, he’d be pleasantly occupied with taking up residency in the royal palace. Not standing on an alien world being questioned by half monster, half human, heathens.

  “I’ve come to claim my betrothed,” he said again, unable to come up with anything else at the moment. He opened his mouth to embellish his statement, but remembered the Prince’s threat and snapped his mouth shut.

  “This person is your betrothed?” Prince Garen asked Glory.

  “No, he is not,” she denied. “I was given the choice of wedding him, or banishment from Ramouri. I chose banishment.”

  Rollo felt the familiar haze of fury rise in him. That she’d chosen banishment over him was an insult he’d never forget nor forgive. That she’d even gone so far as to risk Free Claiming rather than accept him had only added insult to injury.

  “You are trespassing upon our land under false pretenses,” Garen said in a low voice that throbbed with menace. “You lied to our officials, and to us. You brought weapons to Jasan, and onto our private land, against our laws. One of your men threw a knife at our Arima. You gravely insulted both Princess Lariah and our honored guest, Princess Gloriani.” Garen turned to Gloriani, gentling his expression and tone. “Have I covered everything?”

  “That we’re aware of at the moment, Highness, yes,” Glory replied.

  “Good point, Glory, thank you,” Garen said before turning his fierce gaze back to Rollo. “I don’t know how things are done on Ramouri, nor do I care. Here, on Jasan, any violence or attempted violence against any female is a serious crime. An assault on Princess Lariah carries a penalty of death.” Rollo’s face went gray. “Since the man who threw the knife is dead, and since no one heard you give him an order to attack, I cannot hold you responsible for his actions. Therefore, you will not be executed for that crime. You are charged with the other crimes I’ve listed, and any others that may come to light.”

  “Name your fine, Highness, and I shall pay it,” Rollo said, scraping up the remnants of his injured pride. “However, I insist that Gloriani be forced to accompany me back to Ramouri.” He gave Garen his haughtiest glare. “It would not be wise of you to refuse me. You will find that I am much wealthier, and more powerful, than you realize.”

  “Your wealth and power, whatever they may be on Ramouri, are meaningless here,” Garen said dismissively. “As for Princess Gloriani, she is free to do as she wills.”

  “She is not free,” Rollo nearly shouted. “I have rightfully claimed her. She belongs to me.”

  “To claim me you must touch me,” Glory said. “And I warn you, should you attempt to touch me, I will kill you.”

  “You cannot,” Rollo snapped. “That’s against our laws and well you know it.”

  “I’ve no intention of abiding by the laws of a world no longer my own,” she warned. “I thought I’d made that clear, or did you not hear of the trail of one handed men left in my wake
before I left Ramouri?”

  Her face was expressionless, but Rollo would have sworn he heard amusement in her tone, making him so furious that he actually shook with it.

  “Lord Protector, these men are under arrest by royal order, charged with the crimes I’ve listed,” High Prince Garen said to Faron. “They are to be held until I have assurances from the Ramourian king that they will be punished in a manner I find suitable. Inform the King that if I don’t receive those assurances, Jasan will declare war against Ramouri and he may expect our battle cruisers to depart Jasan for Ramouri within two days.”

  Rollo’s mouth went dry. Ramouri had no navy to speak of. “Are you insane?” he asked incredulously. “You’d go to war over a few words spoken to a female?”

  “Of course,” Garen said, baring his teeth in a humorless smile, “Jasan is ready to go to war to defend any of the principles we regard as sacred. Know this, Rollo Shorif; should your King choose war, you will be its first casualty.” Garen turned to the man with the dark blue hair. “Faron, please escort these…people…off the ranch. They can be held in the human jail in Badia until their fate is decided. I want them nowhere near our lands.”

  “Excuse me, Highness,” Glory said.

  “Yes, Glory?”

  “There is no possibility that Shorif came here with only two men,” she said. “He surely left others at either the spaceport, the skyport, or the airfield. Perhaps all three. As you’ve noticed, he has a very high opinion of himself. He goes nowhere without a large retinue. Although he is a man without honor, he does have great wealth.”

  “Thank you, Glory,” Garen said, then glanced meaningfully at Faron while Trey stepped away, tapping his vox.

  “I’ll have his yacht impounded, and his men detained,” Faron said as he gripped the back of Rollo’s neck in one strong hand and spun him around.

  Glory watched as Rollo was taken away, and knew that, beneath his strangely feminine face and perfectly coiffed hair, lay the mind of a viper. He would be her enemy forever, but she didn’t really care since she’d never return to Ramouri.

  “I apologize for bringing trouble to your home,” she said to the Dracons.

  “You brought no trouble. Trouble, rather, sought you out, which was certainly no fault of yours. We thank you for protecting Lariah.”

  “Yes, Glory, thank you,” Lariah said.

  “Please, do not thank me,” Glory said, flushing with embarrassment. “I allowed one of them to throw a knife at you, which should not have happened.” She frowned. “You do not appear to be injured, though I know that it hit you.”

  “It did,” Lariah said. “It’s a bit harder than that to harm a dracon, though, and it’s not your fault the man threw a knife. You stood ready to protect me, and it is for that I thank you.”

  “It was my pleasure to do so, though I’ve no doubt you could have protected yourself well enough without me,” Glory said. “I am curious, though, as to how your Rami knew you were in danger.”

  “I roared which, unless they are very far away, they usually hear even in their human forms,” Lariah said. “When we’re in our dracon alter-forms, we communicate with each other telepathically.”

  “The moment we heard her roar we shifted, she told us where she was, and we speed traveled here,” Garen finished the explanation. Then he frowned at Lariah. “Why did you lose your temper, Sharali?”

  “He said something that set me off,” Lariah said, her cheeks reddening with either embarrassment or anger, Glory couldn’t decide which.

  Garen, Trey and Val waited patiently. Lariah sighed. “Fine. He told Glory that he’d enjoy watching her pay for causing him trouble. It reminded me a bit too much of something Loggia once said to me.”

  Glory was shocked when all three of the Dracons began growling. Lariah tilted her face up and smiled at them. “It’s all right,” she said soothingly. “It’s done and over. I’d like to go check on the children now.”

  “Of course,” Garen said, struggling to contain his temper. “You are welcome to join us, Glory.”

  “Thank you, Highness,” she said. “I think I’d like to spend the remainder of this day alone, if you do not mind. I have many things to think upon.”

  “Of course,” Garen replied. “Should you change your mind, know that you are welcome at any time.”

  After watching the Dracons vanish, Glory stood outside for a few minutes. She closed her eyes and breathed in the soothing scents of grass, water, and fresh clean air, cleansing her mind of the stain called Rollo Shorif. When she was fully relaxed she turned and went inside. She really did have much to think about. She also had research to do, and a decision or two to make.

  Chapter Eight

  Jung Del, Supreme Commander of the Marrazon Space Defense Force, Uncle and Regent to the reigning Queen of the Two Systems, and friend to Ellicia Daniels of Earth, arrived precisely two minutes before his scheduled appointment with the Director. None of the impatience he’d struggled with the past two days while waiting for the Directorate’s offices to reopen following something called a weekend, showed on his face or in his manner. Moments later he followed Mark Baza into the Director’s office without giving him a second look. “Jung Del,” the Director said, coming around his desk to greet the Marrazon with real pleasure. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “And you, as well,” Jung Del replied, shaking hands with the Director in the manner of humans while Baza excused himself from the room. He took a seat in front of the Director’s desk, tapping a button on what appeared to be a wristwatch while the Director walked back around to his own chair. The flashing yellow light on the miniature display warned him that the office was not as private as the Director no doubt thought. It was not a reflection on the Director, however. He was able to detect the Xanti monitoring technology only because the Jasani were so generous with all that they’d learned in the past few months.

  “Director,” Jung Del said, “I apologize for arriving somewhat later than I intended. I stopped on Jasan to visit and stayed longer than I meant to.”

  The Director frowned and started to speak, but Jung Del held one finger to his wide mouth in a universal request for silence. The Director’s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent. “I learned from Princess Lariah that her beloved sister, and my friend, Ellicia Daniels, now swims the seas of Paradise. I am most sorry for your loss. I know that she was as a daughter to you. She forever carries a place of importance in my heart, as well as the hearts of my people.”

  The Director’s frown deepened. “On a somewhat lighter note, I’m sure you were pleased to learn that the one who called himself Stephan Loggia now lies beneath the feet of his eternal tormentor. He lasted much longer than we expected.”

  The Director’s eyes widened, then narrowed once more as he leaned back in his chair. “Actually, I had not heard that, Jung Del. Did you send me a message?”

  “Oh yes indeed, Director,” Jung Del said. “It appears you did not receive it. I am surprised.”

  “As am I, my friend,” the Director said slowly, his mind racing as he tried to arrange the bits and pieces Jung Del was offering him into a coherent picture. “I also sent you a message informing you of Ellicia’s passing which, it seems, you didn’t receive. I wonder what happened to them.”

  “I confess that my personal assistant, Sidley, suffered from a temporary bout of idiocy caused by an inordinate fondness for jellyfish fire,” Jung Del said. “I’m afraid he made a number of errors during that period.”

  “Ah,” the Director said, his eyes flashing toward the door at the words personal assistant, then back to Jung Del.

  “Yes,” Jung Del said with a deep sigh that did not remotely match the intensity of his expression. Then he smiled, a rather frightening sight to behold on a Marrazon. “I have something that I think you would very much like to see aboard my ship, Director.”

  “Do you?” the Director asked politely.

  “Indeed,” Jung Del said. “A Xanti.”

  T
he Director’s eyes widened in shock as understanding hit. “Excuse me,” he said. “Did you say Xanti? Truly?”

  “I wouldn’t jest about something of such serious import, Director,” Jung Del replied. “Would you like to see it?”

  “Can you bring it here?” the Director asked.

  “Oh no, I’m afraid that would be very unwise,” Jung Del said, shaking his head. “It’s an extremely dangerous and wily creature. They move extraordinarily fast in their natural form, and have a stinger that’s quite deadly. It would be best to view it on my ship where we have a cage of sorts for it. Much safer for everyone, I assure you.”

  “I’ve no wish to offend you, Jung Del,” the Director said, choosing his words carefully. “Unfortunately, there are rules that I must follow in certain situations. I’m afraid that if I’m to join you aboard your ship, I’ll need to bring at least one guard with me.” The Director waited a beat, then added, “And my assistant, Mark Baza. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all,” Jung Del said, waving one hand, though his grin widened appreciably. He was very relieved that the Director had understood him so well, though he had expected it. The man was extremely intelligent, after all. “Don’t worry, Director. I promise you, I’m not offended in the slightest. In fact, it’s exactly what I expected.”

  “When can we do this?” the Director asked, sitting up straight in his chair.

  “Immediately,” Jung Del said, smiling again.

  The Director pressed a button on his desk. “Yes, sir?” Mark Baza’s voice sounded through a hidden speaker.

  “Grab a member of my security detail and come to my office, Mark,” he said.

  “Yes sir,” Mark replied. “At once.”

  “Shall we take my car, or yours to the spaceport?” the Director asked.