The Seer

by MacArran, Ariel

  “I’ll stand,” he said.

  Jasa rested her arm on the round table beside her. Her immaculately manicured hand dangled in studied casualness as she regarded him. “Well, I’m delighted to see you, Jolar. How fortunate for me that my other business kept me here.”

  Jolar’s brow creased. “I wasn’t aware you were involved in any other business.”

  “No.” Jasa smiled without humor. “But you aren’t terribly attentive to me, are you darling?”

  He closed his eyes briefly. “Jasa, I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “I would prefer we didn’t,” she agreed.

  While he had never loved her, he had no wish to hurt her either. He caught himself pacing, at a loss for the right words.

  “Jolar?” she asked and her brows rose. “Whatever’s the matter?”

  He stopped and wet his lips. “I’m afraid there’s no easy way to do this.” He leveled his gaze at her. “I’m breaking our betrothal contract, Jasa. I’m not going to marry you.”

  Her crystal blue eyes didn’t waver, her expression still one of polite interest.

  He cleared his throat. “Did you hear me? I said—”

  “Yes, I heard you. In fact, I’ve been expecting something like this.” Jasa stood, smoothing the skirt of her cream gown. “Unfortunately, I am quite busy today. Are you sure I can’t get you anything before I go? Shall I have a meal brought to you? The brandy really is excellent.”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m glad you—” He shook his head a little. “Took it so well.”

  Her full mouth curved upward. “If there’s nothing I can get you, you’ll excuse me then.”

  The sun’s final rays of daylight faded from the room and suddenly the hairs rose on the back of his neck.

  “Certainly.” He took a step back. “I can see myself out.”

  Jasa held up one graceful hand. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to stay here, Jolar. It’s safer for you, darling.”

  “Safer?” He realized he was fighting fleeing the room. But this was Jasa, his former betrothed, a woman who, while he had never loved, he had certainly never feared.

  Until now.

  “Jasa, I think it would be better if we spoke again lat—” Jolar started, twisting around when the door opened.

  Two Utavians stood there, blasters already drawn.

  “Jasa, get—!” He glanced back at her to finish his warning to see that the drawer of the table she stood next to was open and she too held a blaster.

  Pointed right at him.

  “You were supposed to be safely tucked away on Tellar, buried in work,” Jasa said with a sigh, adjusting the hold on her blaster. “Not running around Sertar on some mission for Dacel.” She spared a glance at the men in the doorway. “Wait outside.”

  They gave a nod and closed the door behind them.

  Her mouth quirked up a bit. “Oh, do stop looking so alarmed, Jolar. I’m not going to kill you. Although, since you just tried to jilt me, I suppose it’s a reasonable assumption to make.” She raised the weapon a bit. “The blaster is set on stun.”

  “I’m happy to hear it,” Jolar said, eyeing her warily, easing his body around to face her better. “Then if it’s all the same, you can stop pointing it at me.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured, pursing her lips then shook her head. “No, I don’t put it past you to play the hero even when it’s too late.”

  “Too late?” he demanded. “Too late for what?”

  “To stop us, of course. By this time tomorrow, the New Order will be ended, the monarchy re-established and we—” she smiled, “will be returned to our proper place in the Tellaran Realm.”

  “The Fleet ships, the shifting of personnel, the murders . . . it’s not just Sertar? It’s wider—” Jolar felt the blood drain from his face. “Gods, you’re seizing power to rule Zartan.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the one seizing power.” Jasa bent her head respectfully. “Prince Jolar.”

  Twenty-eight

  Jolar stared. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you taking your proper place,” Jasa returned. “No council seat, no elections, just you claiming your birthright as our prince and ruling Zartan—with me, of course, as princess.”

  “I’ll be honest, Jasa,” he managed after a moment. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or just crazy.”

  “Well, you never did bother to get to know your bed companions all that well. As a point of fact, I’m neither. You will be declared Prince of Zartan. Actually,” Jasa said, tilting her head, her expression thoughtful. “You already have been. Your claim was acknowledged in a meeting with the Zartani lords two weeks ago. I’m happy to say you have their full support. In a few hours, your forces will have taken control of the planet and your rule will be declared publicly on Zartan.” She smiled. “Tomorrow together we will make our triumphant return home. You’ll be crowned and then we marry.”

  “My forces?” He shook his head. “What forces?”

  “The loyal Zartani sons and daughters who are poised now to seize control in your name, Your Highness.”

  “You’re serious,” he breathed.

  “Oh, absolutely.”

  He shook his head again, the sun had set and automatic controls raised the light levels within the room. “Why would you do this?”

  She blinked. “For you. For us. For the people of Zartan. For the people of the Tellaran Realm.”

  “For me?” he asked hoarsely, throwing his arm wide in outrage. “For the people? You coldheartedly plotted to overthrow their government—the government I vowed to uphold—by way of murder and you say did it for me – for them?”

  She lifted her chin. “I would have preferred a bloodless return to the old ways. It wasn’t possible.”

  Jolar stopped short, his hand pressed against the shattering pain in his chest. “Dear gods,” he whispered. “You killed Dacel.”

  “It was necessary. I’m sorry, I knew his death would be difficult for you.”

  “Necessary?” he snarled, his hands curling into fists. “He was the duly elected Councilor from Zartan. He was my friend. You murdered him!”

  Her eyes were blue ice and she held her ground. “Not every decision has been an easy one. I regret it had to happen that way. I didn’t think he would step aside for you when the time came.”

  “Why the hell would you think I would ever go along with this?”

  Jasa took a quick, urgent step toward him. “Because, Jolar, you want power as much as I do.”

  “I’ve never wanted anything like this!” He realized that unconsciously he’d put the chair— his chair—between them. “I’ve never been power hungry.”

  “Not hungry for power?” Jasa returned with a laugh. “You told me yourself you were determined to take the Zartani council seat after Dacel’s term ended.”

  “That’s an elected position.” His hand gripped the back of the chair. “To take it I would have to be chosen by Zartani people.”

  “Chosen?” she cried, circling the space to face him squarely. “You don’t really believe that? You don’t really think that your name, your money, your nobility wouldn’t be what brought you that seat? Do you really think they wanted a commoner like Dacel representing them?”

  “Other commoners have!”

  “How often?” she countered. “A handful of times, for a few years, and then another of us takes that seat? Jolar, don’t you see? I’m giving you everything you want! You will shape Zartan just as you wanted to, as you were meant to. Not for a few paltry years, not wheeling and dealing to keep a council seat like a common trader but as you were meant to, as our Crowned Prince.” Her blue eyes were lit with savage fire. “Together, Jolar, we will create a dynasty!”

  “You’re delusional,” he spat, with a dismissive push against the chair.

  “Your father was right about you. You do need to be guided and maneuvered every step of the way to the throne!”

  He ro
unded on her. “My father? He would never have agreed to this!”

  “Agreed?” she cried, her hand on her chest. “Do you think I planned all this? That my money funded it? Whose idea was it for us to marry? Your father set this in motion before you took your first steps, Jolar. He knew that with me at your side, with my work and support, you would take your proper place! When he learned he wouldn’t live long enough to see it done, he made me vow I would.”

  “My father couldn’t—No!” He shook his head vehemently and took another step back. “No, my father came to support my joining the Fleet, encouraged me to aim for the council seat—”

  “You’re so blind!” she said impatiently. “Of course he did! He let you go play hero so you would learn military strategy. He encouraged your political ideals to fuel your ambitions. He molded you into what you needed to be.”

  His throat felt like it was closing. His father’s insistence on his marriage to Jasa, his infatuation with Zartani history, with the monarchy, with their lost royal heritage . . .

  “Whatever he hoped to mold me into, he failed,” he said hoarsely. “I’m not a traitor. I won’t be part of this.”

  “Part? You are the center of this. This was done in your name, for you. There’s no stopping it now.”

  “The center? You sent a man to kill me on Tellar!”

  She stopped short. “What are you talking about?”

  “The night before I left for Sertar you sent a man to kill me.”

  “Kill you?” The set of her shoulders showed for the first time a waver in confidence. “Don’t be stupid, why would I do that?”

  “Right,” he said bitterly. “Without me to marry, you can’t be princess. You need me to frack to make your dynasty.”

  “You never minded fracking me before,” she said coldly. She tilted her head and leaned her body forward slightly as if to remind him of its allure. Her mouth curved a little. “I’m sure you can summon the motivation again.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” he bit out.

  She raised delicate blonde brows. “I know you Jolar, far better than you think I do. Once you see how much power you wield, once you see how much the people need you to continue your line for their safety and security, you’ll do what you need to. Besides we always got on, didn’t we? You never got out of my bed disappointed, did you?”

  He leaned down to look into her eyes. “I don’t love you, Jasa,” he said, relishing the cruel bluntness. “I never have. I never will. Even your plot succeeds you’ll never be Princess of Zartan. I won’t marry you.”

  Her white teeth flashed and she laughed. “Do you think I love you? Don’t get me wrong, you are a beautiful man and a skilled lover but really—” Her eyes, cool and speculative, ran over his form. “Your confidence in your appeal is quite pompous. I don’t care if you don’t love me. We will marry.”

  “No.” He straightened and folded his arms. “We won’t.”

  “I know who you do love,” she said, her voice deceptively soft. “That pale little thing, Arissa. Tell me Jolar,” her crystal blue eyes narrowed, “have you stopped to think what’s happened to her while we’ve been having this conversation?”

  His mouth went dry. “She has nothing to do with this. If you hurt her—”

  “You love her,” Jasa said simply. “Quite desperately. It’s in your eyes when you look at her, Jolar. It surprised me, really. I’ve carefully followed every one of your many liaisons but you’ve never fallen in love before. And I was never one to throw away a gift when it was handed to me. Play your part and be the Zartani Prince you were born to be or you’ll watch your little whore die screaming.”

  He felt himself blanch. “You really are insane.”

  She sighed. “Once you have that power you’ll thank me for making you take it. I’ll even let you keep her, provided she doesn’t bear you any children to challenge my own.” She paused. “On second thought, before I give her back I’ll make quite she won’t be able to.”

  He glanced at the blaster in her hand.

  “Don’t try it, Jolar,” she warned, her body tensing as she edged slightly toward the sitting room door. “I don’t want you injured but we can carry out the plan with you unconscious just as easily. Maybe that would be better.”

  “You can’t hurt her,” Jolar growled. “I’ve sent her somewhere safe.”

  “Yes, the Zartani embassy.” Jasa smiled. “I’ve been told she’s just arrived.”

  Twenty-nine

  Arissa stood outside in the late afternoon sun with Bruscan waiting for the Zartani shuttle. Nela had helped her pack the belongings she and Jolar hadn’t taken with them to Danlen’s and their luggage now sat neatly piled on the paved courtyard.

  Kemma called to invite them to dinner and Arissa, feeling guilty as well as disappointed, made an excuse and promised to contact her later. According to Jolar though, they would soon be off-world. Kemma lived on Lian’s homeworld and it was possible that she might not see her again.

  “It has been a pleasure having you here,” Bruscan said.

  “Thank you.”

  He gave a faint smile. “It seems you and Jolar have come to . . . an arrangement.”

  She swallowed. Jolar assured her he was going to break the contract with Jasa, that he was headed there after his call telling her to ready herself to be taken to the Zartani embassy. Still, the deed wasn’t done yet.

  But if Jolar asked her to marry him again she would say yes. Despite the danger and her fears, she couldn’t imagine a life without him. Perhaps, she might even risk having the children he wanted so badly. That she wanted too . . .

  “I hope we will.”

  Bruscan looked away. “Perhaps, someday, you will return to Sertar.”

  His attraction was unmistakable. She wondered how long it would last if he knew she were a Seer. “Maybe we will.”

  Bruscan’s dark brown eyes rested on her again. “You are welcome at my home anytime, Arissa. And if you ever have need of me . . .”

  “Thank you,” she said sincerely. She smiled a little. “That means a lot to me.”

  Bruscan nodded at the sky. “Your shuttle’s here.”

  The shuttle landed and even Bruscan was surprised at the number of ZarSec that were to accompany her.

  “Looks like Jolar doesn’t want to take any chances with you,” Bruscan said.

  Arissa reached out with her Seer’s senses but these men were genuine about their task to keep her safe.

  One of them, the ranking officer, came forward and gave her a nod. “Mistress Legan, our orders are to transport you to the Zartani embassy compound immediately. If you’ll get onboard?”

  The luggage was already being loaded. She turned to Bruscan and shyly kissed his cheek.

  He smiled and pressed her hand. “Good journey, Arissa. I hope we meet again.”

  “So do I,” she said.

  She followed the ZarSec into the shuttle and waved to Bruscan as they lifted off. The men onboard had the look of Zartani, with their height and light eyes. They were efficient and respectful but none tried to engage her in conversation.

  Despite it though, her stomach knotted in anxiety when she reached the Zartani embassy. Jolar insisted she come but despite the wall, the guards, the assurance that the grounds were as secure as any military base she felt far less safe here than she had with Bruscan.

  The ranking ZarSec officer, Lieutenant de’Rec, walked her into the embassy building. It was quiet inside, no doubt at this hour most of the embassy staff had finished for the day and his footfalls echoed in the soaring reception hall.

  “Councilor d’Barat asked me to bring you to him as soon as we arrived.”

  Arissa’s brow creased. “The Acting Zartani Councilor? He’s here?”

  Lieutenant de’Rec’s sense was heavy. “The Zartani Senior Councilor was killed a few days ago.”

  “I heard,” Arissa said quietly. “Did you know him?”

  The officer shook his head. “No, but he was well regarded.
A good man. Councilor d’Barat has a great deal to live up to. He came for the trade summit but I understand he intends to return to Zartan tomorrow.”

  Lieutenant de’Rec led her to the second floor and walked past the empty desk and to the double doors that sat behind it. He rapped his knuckles on the carved dalsawood door then opened it.

  A man seated at the large elaborate desk looked up. “Ah, Mistress Legan.” He stood. “Please come in.”

  Rekan d’Barat was in his early thirties and had the Zartani height and blue eyes but his hair was far darker than Jolar’s, closer to a light brown than blond really. He smiled in greeting but Arissa swallowed at the contempt she sensed.

  She wet her lips. What did Jolar tell him to make him think so little of me?

  “Please come in,” Councilor d’Barat urged. “Lieutenant, you may go.”

  The ZarSec gave her a nod and left, closing the door behind him.

  The Councilor’s smile was polite but the way he clasped her hand was somehow a bit too familiar. “Well, you’re not what I expected.”

  It’s like this is all a private joke to him.

  “Expected?” Arissa frowned, easing her hand out of his grip. “I don’t understand.”

  “I just thought you would be somehow . . . different.” He shrugged, and leaned on the edge of his desk, his pale blue eyes ran over her appraisingly. “Well, certainly Lord d’Tural thinks highly of you.”

  What the hell is going on here?

  Arissa sent a quick tendril out to touch more deeply into Rekan’s mind even as she shifted her feet to move away from him.

  Gods, he hates Jolar! Hates him enough to tear him apart. And he feels nothing but contempt for me . . .

  “In any case,” he continued, his face the soul of affable politeness. “I am very glad to have you here. I understand that you have done a great service to the Realm.” That amusement reared again. “I imagine you will continue to provide excellent service.”