by Genia Avers
“It’s unnatural.” As a technologist, she believed nature made reproduction difficult for a reason. Her kind lived for centuries. If it were easy to reproduce, overpopulation would be rampant.
“Don’t think about babies now, luv. I’m sure you’ll have one. After you’ve served your sentence and gotten away from that Drow creature.”
She didn’t bother to remind her mother yet again that Kamber wasn’t Drow. Having four children didn’t necessarily make one smart.
“Maybe,” she said instead.
“Not maybe. It will happen. We just need to get your marriage annulled first.”
“What?” Subena had spent days searching the ancient volumes for a way out of her marriage. And she’d found one, but how did her mother know? She couldn’t remember seeing her mother in the library. Ever.
“Despite his foolish announcement, I believe Taslin will wait for you, dear.”
“Taslin isn’t my true mate.”
“Of course he is.”
Subena shook her head. “You mentioned an announcement. What announcement?”
“You haven’t heard? He’s going to propose to Garilee. The girl’s mother told me yesterday.” The empress curled her tiny hands into fists.
“Garilee?” Subena wondered if the joist beneath the hardwood had slipped. She certainly felt like the floor had caved-in.
“Yes. Stupid, airheaded Garilee. She’s as bad as her mother. Can you believe it?”
“Mother.” She hadn’t meant to, but she’d used the same reprimanding tone one would use for an eight-year-old child. “Garilee’s mom’s your friend.”
“That’s not true. And Taslin’ll ruin everything if he announces an engagement.”
Subena sighed. Taslin had already ruined everything—just not in the way her mother supposed. He’d destroyed a longtime friendship. “Don’t be crass.”
The empress pursed her lips. “Isn’t it enough that I must sacrifice you to Gatsle? Must you also rebuke me?”
Subena wished the petty, whiny words coming out of her mother’s mouth surprised her. That too was probably her fault. Her actions might save her people, but she’d hurt her mother in the process. She vowed again to be patient—even though it might kill her.
“I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again,” her mother snipped, “if you don’t want to marry the prince, you don’t have to. We’ll find a way to survive without the Drow crystals. I’ll make the excuse and tell everyone I forbid the marriage. We can talk to our legal counselors and find a way to extract you from this treaty. However noble your heart, luv, you shouldn’t sacrifice yourself.”
Unable to face her mother, Subena turned away. “Of course I want to do this. It’s the only way. Rather it’s the best way.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Subena swallowed, feeling overcome with melancholy. Desperate to change the mood, she asked, “Are the rumors true?”
“Could you be more specific, dear? The universe is full of truths.”
Subena blinked. “Was that sarcasm?”
The empress dabbed at her eyes with a dainty handkerchief, a tiny smile lighting her face. “It might be. What rumor are you asking about?”
“Is Jalakin truly planning something as ridiculous as a freedom party? I thought those went out with—well, before the ancients left earth.”
Her mother huffed a long sigh and propped an elbow on the arm of her chair. For some reason, a flush covered her skin. “Well, yes. The ladies wanted to give you a party, too—with a pleasurer—but you got so angry when I mentioned it, I canceled the festivities. Have you changed your mind?”
“Of course not. That’s not what this—”
“Then it’s no big thing, dear. Let the boys be boys.”
“No big thing?” Annika was definitely up to something. “Mother?”
The empress looked away, but not before Subena saw a smirk.
“Mother...”
“Dear,” Annika spoke softly, “our Mydrian waltzers are renowned, even to the barbarians in Gatsle. To us, dancing is culture. To Gatslians, it’s…well, foreplay.”
Not good. “What are you planning?”
The empress smiled her most practiced smile. “Nothing. It only made sense to stage a performance. It’ll all be very tasteful. No one can blame us when certain males behave like animals.”
“Waltzers?” Subena tried to uncurl her fingers, but they seemed glued into fists. She had little doubt her sleazy groom-to-be would fall prey to her mother’s diabolical plan. Annika would cry foul, and justifiably so, but the treaty would be null and void. So would Gatsle’s promise of more quartz.
“You have to cancel the Waltzers.”
Her mother looked at her thumbs. “Can’t. It’s already on the schedule and we don’t want to disappoint our guests.”
It wouldn’t do any good to argue with her mother. The lady might be flaky, but once she set her mind on something, she couldn’t be easily deterred. If Subena managed to get Jalakin to cancel the Waltzers, her mother would try something else—possibly something irreversible.
“I suppose you’re right.” Subena wanted her mother to go to bed believing her silly plan would work. She’d have to find some way to keep Kamber from falling victim to her mother’s scheming, and inadvertently ruining everything.
“Of course I am. The Gatslian party wanted to see the dance, so I arranged for Dilena to perform. There’s no reason to get yourself into a stew.”
“What stew?” Jalakin asked, pressing his lanky frame against the door.
“The freedom party. Doesn’t anyone knock?” Subena tried to make eye contact, but Jalakin seemed distracted.
He threw up his hands. “This party thing sounds lame to me, but Mother insisted.”
“Mother insisted?”
He nodded. “But I agreed. If you’re going to have to live with Gatslians, I figured I could help smooth the way, make a goodwill gesture. You know, start undoing centuries of mistrust.” Her brother, ever the diplomat, had no idea what their mother plotted.
Jalakin laughed, apparently oblivious to her tension. “Maybe you should’ve danced. According to the Waltz-Master, you’re the best dancer in Mydrias. I don’t see how that’s possible since you have two left feet, but I can’t contradict him since I’ve never seen you waltz.” He looked at her, waiting for a reaction.
Not a bad idea. Dancing was her one extravagance–one she hadn’t planned to share with anyone—but desperate times called for the dance of the doomed. She kept her expression impassive, knowing she couldn’t telepath her plan to Jalakin without alerting their mother.
“Seriously, Subena,” he said. “You can’t be mad about this party. Allow the man his last night of freedom.”
She wanted to argue, but a glance at the time monitor indicated only two hours until the scheduled dance—barely enough time. It might involve using ancient skills of persuasion, skills forbidden by Mydrian law, but what could they do to her? Send her to Gatsle?
“I’m not mad,” she replied. “Just don’t let my fiancé embarrass me.”
Suspicion flashed in Jalakin’s eyes. Subena lowered her head and hurried away, leaving her mother and brother in her chambers. She didn’t want Annika to sense her brother had reason to be alarmed.
Chapter Six
Dilena stared at her with vacant eyes. Subena felt a wave of guilt. Not about Dilena. The female wouldn’t be harmed and wouldn’t remember a thing. She felt uneasy about deception, period.
“Surely, there’s no need to worry about a little trickery when one’s fiancé is a sleazy barbarian,” Subena whispered, pushing self-reproach from her mind. She didn’t particularly care if her future husband ogled a Mydrian waltzer on the eve of their wedding, but anything more than ogling would lead to dissolution of the treaty and she didn’t intend to let that happen.
A knock on the door turned Subena’s body into a block of stone. Had someone missed Dilena?
“Subena?” The voice belonged to her
mother’s assistant.
Her body regained some of its elasticity. The assistant couldn’t possibly know about Dilena.
Subena yanked the bed curtains closed to hide Dilena’s sleeping form and rushed into the sitting room, a mere second before the door opened. The assistant stuck her head in the door.
“Porala,” Subena wheezed, positioning her body so the assistant had to back into the hallway. “Do you need something?”
“Actually,” the empress’s assistant looked at her through narrowed eyes. “I need you. Everyone is waiting.”
Subena’d forgotten about the planned dinner with her future in-laws. Bockle. She couldn’t attend now.
“Please convey my greetings and make apologies for my absence.” Subena didn’t have to make her voice sound weary. She felt weary. “I have a killer headache.”
“Subena, you’re going to have to—”
“Thank you, Porala.” Subena stepped back into her bedroom, wishing she could save the quartz without being rude to everyone she knew. She closed the door and hurried to get dressed. Before she completed her preparations, another knock sounded.
“Porala,” she snapped, grabbing a robe to cover her costume. “I told you, I have a headache.”
She’d scarcely unhitched the latch when the door flew open. Subena jumped backward, barely avoiding being struck. Jalakin’s large frame blocked the light which filtered in from the sitting room. The fury etched into his features sucked the very life from the room.
“Porala says you aren’t coming to dinner.” His voice echoed, eerily calm, but his wrath wrapped around every word. “What’s the matter with you, sister? This treaty was your brilliant idea, but you’re acting like a spoiled brat.”
“It’s not what you think.” Before she could say more, a rustling noise captured her attention. Someone was coming.
“Then what is it?”
“I have a headache.” Subena didn’t lower her eyes. Not daring to speak aloud, she flashed Jalakin a message. She had to make him understand there was more at stake than a compromise of the diplomacy he prized. “You will come down and eat with the Gatslians, even if I have to carry you.” She huffed a breath. Jalakin’s anger obstructed her communication. Her brother stared down at her, his purple irises turning black as he gnashed his teeth. What was wrong with him?
The sound of footsteps on the stairs barely registered before Annika’s voice rang out. “What’s happening in here?”
“Our little Bena is hiding,” Jalakin snarled, turning toward the empress. “She needs to get her butt downstairs and quit being a snit. Mydrians are superior beings. We should act like it.”
“I’m not being a snit.” Glaring at Jalakin, she wrapped her robe tighter around her shaking body and willed him to understand. He blocked her telepathic plea.
“See? Being a snit.” Jalakin threw up his hands before he whirled. “I’ll repeat myself. Bena, you wanted this damn treaty with Gatsle. Why are you trying to destroy it?”
“I’m doing no such—”
“You most certainly are.”
“Jalakin, don’t be so harsh,” the empress interceded.
“Harsh? She’ll insult Rothart if she doesn’t show. Do you have any idea what that man and his army can do if we tick him off? Subena’s already missed one planned event. If she stalls again, the king might cancel the second quartz delivery and you know how desperately we need it.”
“The only way we could insult that fiend is if we run out of brandy,” Annika said, winking at Subena. “Let’s go, Jalakin.”
Was that a glint of amusement in the empress’s expression? Gads. Her mother thought she was trying to help get the wedding canceled.
“Please convey my regards to the Gatslian queen,” she whispered.
Jalakin harrumphed. “Women. Winsome didn’t bother to show either.”
Subena stared at him. She hadn’t heard that.
“It’s a long journey,” Annika interceded. “I’m sure Winsome would be here if she could.”
Jalakin crossed his arms across his chest. “Everyone says the king and queen can barely abide each other. That should make it easier for Subena to return after one year.”
She jerked her head toward her brother. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Come on, Jalakin,” Annika cooed, interrupting before her brother could reply. “Let’s go so Subena can rest.”
“But mother, she doesn’t need to rest because she doesn’t have a headache.”
“If Subena says she has a headache, she has a headache. We won’t make her greet her future family if she isn’t feeling her best. She has sacrificed enough.” The empress tucked her arm around Jalakin’s elbow and pulled him toward the door. Behind his back, she winked at Subena again.
Jalakin looked as though he wanted to argue, but he allowed the empress to guide him through the door. Subena heard him mutter under his breath, “Exactly how is being a princess in the planet’s most powerful country a sacrifice?”
She intended to flash her brother a reassuring message, but Annika released her son’s arm and pushed him gently toward the stairs before she had the chance. “Go ahead, son. I’ll be right down.” She half closed the door and flashed a beautiful smile. “Hopefully, you won’t have to show up for the ceremony either, luv.”
* * * *
Kamber watched as the Mydrian emperor-in-training rose. The regent simply stood, unmoving, until every man in the crowd stopped talking. Kamber frowned, wondering what it must feel like to command that kind of respect.
“Welcome.” Jalakin abruptly turned to his right. “Hold on.”
“What now?” Kamber groaned. He knew the Mydrians were trying to entertain him, but he didn’t want to celebrate his forced nuptials. He just wanted the night to end.
“Shhh.”
Had Remmy actually shushed him? He pushed his shoulders back and stared at his old friend. If he weren’t so bored, he might muster enough enthusiasm to be offended, but his brain felt fried.
When Jalakin had surprised him with a freedom party, he’d been honored. And horrified. With his reputation, the last thing he needed was a lap dance—even one under the guise of a cultural experience.
Monotony had long since killed any hopes he had of enjoying his last evening of freedom. After almost a week of tedious political gatherings, his party had turned into another droll event with more blah, blah, blah. Even Remington’s ribald toast had seemed contrived and clichéd. And every bit as embarrassing as he’d feared.
He could scarcely believe he’d arrived in Mydrias only six days earlier. It seemed like he’d been in an abyss of dull for at least a month. Playing big brother to Nally and Quika, Subena’s thirteen-year-old sisters, had provided his only semblance of relief in a week of hell. Thank the God of the Mountain the girls were too young to have been tainted by the Gatsle-Mydrian hostilities.
He’d had one moment of hope when he’d spotted the beauty in the window. He’d felt something powerful, although he didn’t understand exactly what he’d experienced. He’d hoped the charmer he’d spotted was Subena, but the eye color was wrong. Instead of the fabled blue eyes Remmy had droned on and on about during the trip, he’d been ensnared by a depth of silver beyond comprehension.
“Gentlemen,” Jalakin spoke when the crowd quieted. “For your pleasure, and for the groom’s last pleasure…” The Mydrian waited until the laughter trickled off. “For Kamber’s last hurrah before he dons his ball and chain…and knowing my sister, we all know where she’ll put the chain.” Jalakin rubbed his crotch.
The crowd cheered. Kamber did his best to make his smile look genuine. The Emperor-in-Training actually had a sense of humor. Who knew?
“Joking aside, we are very proud of our famed Mydrian waltzers. In honor of the prince, I present one of our very best. The one, the only…”
Nothing happened.
Chapter Seven
What am I doing?
Subena chewed on her thumbnail and tried to swallow
the self-doubt rising in her throat. The music hadn’t started. Still time to halt her deception, but that would mean questions: Where is Dilena? What were you thinking?
She peaked through the curtain and saw a large man—probably Remington. She knew all about him. Her spies indicated the man not only accompanied the prince during his official duties but actively participated in the nights of debauchery. Pond scum.
Kamber sat next to Remington. Double pond scum.
She only wished the second scum wasn’t so easy on the eye. Even his scowl didn’t diminish the appeal of his striking features. What did he have to scowl about anyway? It wasn’t like she could demand fidelity.
She’d been more careful after the window incident, but she’d continued to spy on her husband-to-be, searching his eyes and his manner for hints of cruelty or ambivalence. She’d been unable to detect the expected traits, but the dark ones were renowned for their acting abilities. She’d seen kindness, intelligence, and a great deal of sadness. Subena decided her intuitive skills didn’t work on the Gatslians, because she didn’t sense any evil.
Without warning, Kamber’s jade eyes lifted, examining the stage curtain. She jumped back. The damn man always seemed to be aware of her scrutiny. Every single time.
The music started. Too late to back out.
She checked her mask to make sure it wouldn’t come loose before she steeled her shoulders and took the ready position. Whatever she wanted to prove with her little stunt, it was show time.
“Ready, Dilena?” someone whispered from the left wing.
She started to raise her hand to indicate she was in position, but doubts accosted her. Did she want Kamber to be pleased? Lustful? Bored? She knew he could be easily seduced—why did she need confirmation? Life would be bad enough without knowing with a certainty that her husband had desired another on the night before their wedding.
The stage manager hissed, “Dilena, what’s wrong with you? We have to start.”
Subena whispered, “Stop the music. I’ve changed my mind.”
