“What the fuck is that noise?” Lenar mumbled. “I got a mother of a headache…Kareena, babe, what you put in my shovan this time?” He lifted his head.
John’s gaze met his.
Lenar gently disengaged himself from his lover and lurched to his feet. He shifted into his felinus self and became the golden cat.
John padded forward to his friends, ungainly in his new four pawed self.
“You’re gorgeous, Kuno,” Kareena whispered. “You’re twice Len’s size and tawny—black with gold and red streaks. You’ve got Ronsevaal silver bands, around the eyes.” The two men regarded her and she pushed herself to her feet and took a tottering step before halting. “Len, you really feegled me. I can’t walk properly.”
Lenar ran a tongue over his fangs. Kari morphed to cat and wiped the smirk from her mate’s face with her claws.
John settled beside Taren and bent his nose to the cat-wing’s cheek. He blew a gentle breath over his clan-brother.
Taren swatted the cat away. “Go back to sleep, Alesiar, I’m too tired. No more games.”
I’m not playing any games with you, Taren, you bite. John hissed mind to mind.
Taren’s eyes snapped open. “Kuno?”
John sat back on his haunches. Who else?
Taren laughed. Then, sobering, he pushed himself to his feet. We have a Hunt.
Yes. I’ve got the human scent in my nose and I’m going to gut him.
Not if I get him first, Kuno, brother-mine.
The regal audience chamber in the palace was filled to capacity, with courtiers, ministers and staff all jostling for position, according to claw order.
John waited until quiet descended before he made his request again. He glanced around, remembering the room as it had been, before Uncle Geraj had usurped his father’s place.
The circular room was still imposing in its height and width. Sacred crystals, embedded in the walls and vaulted ceiling, cast an iridescent light on everything within the chamber. The simple décor had been its greatest beauty, until Geraj’s ascendancy. The new king had introduced golden tracery over the walls, together with elaborate mirrors, most of which had been positioned so that he could glimpse himself from every angle.
The thick green rug over the polished wooden floor had been always covered by cushions of all shapes and sizes, each decorated with the personal heraldic device of its owner, so that when the Chizan nobility met in council, they sat with the king as equals.
The cushions were no longer there. It was now customary for all to stand before the King, while he—the feegling bastard—reclined in an ornate gold throne set upon a raised dais. A Chizan king sitting on a chair. Had things become so bad? Feegling bloody hell.
“It is absolutely forbidden, Kuno,” the King said, leaning forward. “You are last of the house. Your duty lies on Chizan, nowhere else.”
“To hell with your rotting house, she is my fe’ha tu. If you think I would ever abandon her, you’ve got a feegling cat-brain, Your Majesty.” That was another of Geraj’s innovations. No Chizan was allowed to call the King by name, no—he had to be addressed as ‘Your Majesty’. Fuck that! But he used the honorific to humor his uncle.
“You forget yourself, Kuno. I am your king and you will show respect.”
“Respect, Geraj, is earned, not ordered,” a voice said behind them. The room descended into expectant silence.
Gasping, John turned at the sound of his father’s deep voice.
“The last time you ventured into the throne room, brother-mine,” the King said, “you threatened to kill me.” He motioned to the guards on either side of the room and they stepped forward.
“Brother-mine, I am not here to commit murder. I am Herrall. I am King of Chizan.” He strode forward and halted a meter or so from the raised dais, beside John.
“You renounced your title.”
“It was Starlight Madness. I had lost my mate. You have never mated, so what do you know? I am here to reclaim my title.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Will that be necessary?”
Kuno glanced at his father. It had been six years since they had last met. His father was still tall and straight, the blue-black hair to his waist—so much like Hari, it made John’s heart cramp. But the silver he remembered at his father’s temples—the mark of Ronsevaal that appeared at middle-age—had now turned white and the creases around his mouth and eyes were new. Pain had etched deeply into his felinus soul.
Herrall held out his hand to Kuno, palm down, fingers spread in the gesture of apology. “I hurt you badly, son-of-mine. Your mother would have bitten me on the bum if she had witnessed our last encounter.”
“If she’d been there, father, you’d’ve had no cause to hurt me. We argued. I defied you. The blame was not entirely yours.” He held out his left hand, palm up and Herrall inclined his head. Forgiven, no words necessary.
“This reunion is touching. It is a bitter irony that the heir of our blood must be a wastrel sensualator,” the King snapped.
“There are worse occupations in the universe than being a sensualator,” Herrall hissed. “How about an imposter king?”
Laughter, quickly hidden behind discreet coughs emanated from the courtiers standing in various corners of the throne room.
The King growled. “I ruled Chizan while you were out chasing ghosts.”
“A pity you weren’t out chasing the collector who’s taken our people and your son,” John snapped.
“My son is dead.”
John frowned at him. How easily the old man gave up on his own flesh and blood. But that was Geraj. He’d never been a fighter, just an opportunist who had grabbed the throne. “You know that for a fact?” John demanded. “Don’t be so quick to abandon your son.”
Herrall visibly flinched at the words and then he straightened his shoulders and tilted his chin, flicking back his hair, so much like Harimal, that tears stung the backs of John’s eyes. So much alike…so little…
“I have laid my ghosts to rest, brother-mine. And as for ruling! From what I can gather you have been lucky to have survived this long. You can thank good ministers for the continuing prosperity of Chizan. It was certainly not due to your expertise.”
“Insult me as you wish, Herrall. I am king and henceforth, I forbid any felinus to leave Chizan. The galaxy is no longer our concern.”
Gasps and murmurs rumbled through the chamber.
John took a step forward and Herrall put out his hand, halting him.
“I especially forbid the heir-apparent to leave Chizan. Harimal was the first to do so and look what has happened. He is dead, my son is dead and a half-breed whore is the only thing—”
“Be very careful, Geraj. Very careful!” Herrall hissed. “Kuno is my acknowledged son.”
John glared at the King. The damn coward stayed up on the dais, too scared to meet them eye to eye. “Like I give a feegle what you order. I’m going to find Samantha and Harimal. I know if I find one, I’ll find the other. We’re being collected.”
“If Chizan is so concerned with blood lines and breeding stock, I am not incapable,” Herrall said. “I have managed before for duty, I can do so again.”
John glanced sidelong at his father and saw his pain. He almost laughed. Feegle a woman for duty? Like hell he could. Anymore than I can love another woman. But the King wouldn’t know. If the kingship passed out of the Ronsevaal line, so be it. Samantha was worth a world, a thousand worlds. He turned to go. His father’s hand on his shoulder restrained him.
“You will need the fleet behind you.”
“They won’t be able to keep up with my ship,” Taren snapped.
“You think so, mit-Suran?” Herrall whispered to the Avenor, using Taren’s formal title.
“I am in command of the fleet,” the King said, flinging himself to his feet.
“Command is earned, brother, not bestowed.”
Geraj smirked. “Herrall, ever the philosopher!”
“
No, you mistake me. I am Herrall, ever the King!” he said stepping forward, placing his foot on the first step of the dais. The king looked down. The two men locked gazes. The starlight crackled between them. “You cannot hope to defeat me, Geraj. Ronsevaal blood flows true in my veins, as it does with Harimal and Kuno. But never in yours.”
“Go to hell and take that whelp with you.”
“That whelp, you feegling idiot,” Herrall shouted, “is true felinus. He has shifted! And he has mutatis.”
“Lies!” the king cried.
“I do not lie!” Herrall retorted and with that he impaled his brother with the cat’s stare, the challenge issued.
John held his breath for what seemed like hours, but in reality, minutes. The mental contest between the two felinus was soon over. The former king crumpled back onto his throne and in the audience chamber, a cheer resounded.
Harimal had always told John that the court never fully accepted Garej as King. They would rather have had Herrall in the worst moments of his madness than the gutless, poncing Garej.
Herrall lifted the sobbing Garej from the throne and flung his brother backwards, against the nearest courtiers. They righted their deposed ruler and then stepped away, as if proximity to him was a contamination, or an indictment. Probably both John, thought, as he glanced at them.
“Are there any who dare challenge me?” Herrall’s steely gaze swept the chamber. He raised his head, tossing his hair back from his eyes. “My first order is to call out the fleet. Captain Karev!”
The Korcan stepped forward and saluted. “Sire?”
“You will lead the fleet. Follow the Avenor’s ship. Think you can keep pace with it?”
“I know so.”
Taren’s derisive snort was lost on all but John.
“Minister Kalen.”
A middle-aged man stepped forward and bowed. “Yes, sire.”
“I want you to find out how Chizan security was breached. Someone invaded our planet, almost killed my son and stole his wife. The intruder must have obtained the codes to the planet-screen. I want to know how and I want that information fast!”
“I have already had the shield codes changed, my lord. Nothing unauthorized will get through our defenses again.”
“Good, very good. I suspect GTC was involved,” Herrall said. “They have, again, been sniffing around the outer asteroid belt.”
John stared at his father. “GTC is here?” He had not heard a whisper of this and where GTC was concerned, Starwatch operatives were thorough and reported their opponent’s movements to the Board. As a Director of Starwatch, he saw every report.
“By now our patrol will have closed down their base and clawed every ass in sight.” Herrall frowned at Geraj. “Just what did you think you were doing, allowing those feegling bastards here?”
“They offered—”
John swore, a mixture of human and felinus and Cetian that would have fried the whiskers off anyone, if they understood.
“I could not have sworn better myself, son-of-mine.” Herrall almost smiled.
“I know GTC better than anyone in this room, “John said. “They offer you the world and then they steal your world from under you. How much did they pay you, Geraj? What did they want?”
“I would guess exclusive mining rights for star-crystals,” Herrall said.
“We don’t allow them off world.” John’s mind whirled with plots and counterplots. “You think that’s why I was attacked and why Sam has been stolen? She’s a bargaining chip? Her life for a trade agreement? Feegle it! Not even GTC…” His gaze rested on Geraj and he took one step forward, fists clenched.
“Hold, Kuno san-Duran!” Herrall’s voice, chill with authority crackled in the absolute silence of the chamber. “Johnathan.” He lowered his voice. “Son-of-mine. Beloved. GTC is to blame for many things, not least my own incapacity.”
It took moments for his father’s words to sink in. When understanding dawned, the blood pulsed at his temples and for a moment John thought he was going to shift to cat, such was his shock, his horror. “Mother? The assassin’s touch?”
“Yes. With me indisposed due to the loss of my mate, how easily could Chizan be manipulated. GTC killed my Julianna.”
“I want his blood.” John stared at Geraj.
“Stand in line, son-of-mine.” Herrall straightened in his seat. “But we must follow protocol.”
“No,” John whispered.
“My clan-brother is right,” Taren said, his hands sliding over his knives. “I am Avenor. This is blood debt, for killing the mother of my—”
“Johnathan, are we to argue so soon after reconciliation?” Herrall paused, holding out his left hand, palm up. “Are we?”
The stench of Geraj’s fear invaded John’s nostrils. Taren had called blood debt and was waiting for his response. Just one word from John-Kuno and the whole clan would descend, knives at the ready. The galaxy would be awash with blood—starting first with Geraj and then followed by every member of GTC. Feegling bloody hell. Too many had died already.
John swallowed down hard and inclined his head. “I accept your decision, King-of-mine.”
Taren’s slow exhalation was followed by the sound of knives slowly sheathed in leather and a ruffle of fur-feathers, the assassin’s final display—of reluctant acquiescence.
“Protocol is our way!” the King said, his voice ringing around the chamber. “On behalf of Chizan, I have lodged a formal complaint of piracy with the Galactic Council. That will tie up GTC resources. And my brother will be indicted to answer for his duplicity in the GTC scheme, as well as for the murder of my mate. And after that, brother-mine, you and I settle this. Claw to claw.”
“You cannot do this. No Ronsevaal has ever been charged, you—”
“It is a day for firsts, then, Geraj. My hybrid son becoming felinus and you under arrest. Security!” Herrall snapped his fingers and two cats leapt to Geraj’s side, growling, fangs bared. “He is to be confined to his apartment until the Justiciary arrives to escort him to Earth.”
“Charges against me and GTC will not stand up in court.” Geraj paused, wringing his hands. “I will not get a fair hearing because you have already convicted me and everyone listens to you. I am your brother—”
“Very well, brother-mine. Prove your innocence. I am listening.” Herrall’s gaze captured Geraj in one feral swoop.
Seconds later, Geraj retreated. “I am Ronsevaal… My own son is missing. I am a victim.”
“Yes, a victim of your own greed and ineptitude.” Herrall glanced distastefully at the closest mirror. “And your own vanity. The fact that your son is missing is the only mitigating factor, why I have not clawed you to death. I share your loss and you have my sympathy. I know what it means to lose a son.” He straightened his shoulders, eyes narrowed. “But there my clemency ends. I believe that GTC had its own agenda, and when the collector began taking us down, the company took advantage of the turmoil to further their plans.”
“Are you saying that GTC and the collector are working together?” John asked.
“I am not certain. Doubtless, our assassin allies will get to the truth.”
Taren nodded and Garej retreated a step, before his guards restrained him.
“I am Ronsevaal, I will not be interrogated by birds!”
Herrall’s smile was lethal. “You have forfeited your name, your heritage. You are felinus no longer.”
Geraj gasped. “You cannot disinherit me.”
“I just did.”
“No one will agree. I have allies.”
“Truly? Your GTC lobbyist friends have been indicted, too. Ortela has issued a class action against GTC and its subsidiaries. Trust me, GTC will not be bothering anyone for a very long time.”
John stared at his father, as if seeing him for the first time. Herrall was ingenious where politics were involved. Relentless, inventive. Tangle with a cat and people got bitten. If that cat was also the King of Chizan… He grinned at his father. �
��Clever bastard.”
“Thank you for the compliment.” Herral studied his son. “Do you really think that after I recovered from the Madness I forgot you and what you and your mother stood for? They killed my wife, do you think I would let them destroy you?”
“I wasn’t thinking very clearly at our last meeting.”
The King smiled bitterly. “Neither of us were. But I have done a lot of thinking in the years since then. I believe my wife discovered their plans to mine the crystals. For that she was killed, because in getting rid of her, they thought I would be lost to the Madness. Their plot almost succeeded, except they did not count on the recuperative power of Ronsevaal blood and the mutatis. The planet-crystals healed me. I pretended Madness for longer than I actually was. I have been watching the galaxy and making small, but regular donations to Starwatch—I have two thousand pseudonyms.”
“Actually, two thousand five hundred, my lord,” Minister Devril said, stepping forward. “I have kept receipts.”
Herrall laughed. John had not heard his father laugh in a long time. “I was proud of you, Johnathan. Will you forgive me?” He held out his hand.
John climbed the dais and bowed. “Father-mine.”
Harrell rose and embraced his son, kissing him, cat-style, cheek to cheek. He ran his fingers through John’s hair. “You have my beloved’s coloring.” He stepped back, assuming a regal pose. “Kuno, san-Duran.”
“Duran-mine.”
“Bring your Samantha fe’ha tu home. Bring Harimal home. No matter what.”
John nodded. “He’s not dead. I sense him.”
“Then go.”
John turned.
“Kuno, son-of-mine, be careful.”
“I will guard him with my life,” Taren said.
Herral inclined his head, his palm over his heart. “I can ask no more, Taren-mit-Suran.”
John and Taren strode out of the audience chamber, Lenar at their side. Kareena trotted to keep pace with the men.
StarlightComplete Page 23
