by Mara Gan
“So you are!”
He shrugged. “Kos seems to think so. Personally, I think the jury’s still out.” I could tell this was not a subject he enjoyed discussing, which was probably why he abruptly changed topics as we walked toward the Hypethral. “Given your opinion of mercenaries, I’m surprised how comfortable you seem with me. Aren’t you afraid I’ll rob you?”
I looked up at him. “No, not really,” I said, my eyes turning forward as we walked. I enjoyed the quiet of the deserted Esplanade; it was so peaceful at this hour. Away from the Mathan tavern, anyway. “First of all, I understand that mercenaries, particularly ones with your reputation, generally go after bigger fare than pickpocketing.”
“Mercenaries are opportunists, my dear,” he answered, keeping hold of my elbow as he led me away from the bar, which seemed to be the only establishment still open. “We take treasures when we see opportunities, not just when we’ve got a commission.”
I glanced at him askance, eyebrow raised. “Well, if you’ve got it in your head to pickpocket me, you’ll notice that I have neither jewelry nor pockets.”
“Treasure comes in many forms, little one,” he said softly.
My eyes widened. The flush crept over my cheeks before I looked away, my heart beating faster. His fingers tightened on my arm. “Uh, maybe, but regardless, Halians are empathic. I would know.”
That was such a lie that my mouth tasted bad. Halians were empathic, and ordinarily I could probably sense any emotion from him, but he was a complete blank to me.
Which I really, really liked. The slight headache I almost always had from empathic overload was gone, quieted by his buffering presence. Whatever the reason, I liked the outcome.
Perseus snorted. “Gi has mentioned some empathic abilities,” he replied, “but he claims they’re rather sporadic and spotty. Are yours stronger, or has he been fibbing?”
“Not at all,” I laughed, imagining the kinds of conversations the two of them must have. “Most Halians are only partially empathic; they can sense things only from people whose emotions are running high, or from the weaker-willed, less-controlled sort. If Halians could sense everyone’s feelings all the time, we would probably have annihilated one another millennia ago. It can be difficult, not being able to shut out the jumble of emotions from so many different people.”
“But your abilities are stronger?” he asked, looking down at me.
I grimaced. “Yes.”
“How so?”
I shrugged. “Even when I was little, I was able to sense things on a far greater level than everyone else,” I admitted. “I can sense emotions from everyone, not just whether their feelings are strong; some people have enough control over their feelings that I can’t sense anything, but most people are open books. I can also sense animals’ emotions. I always know what Myrtilos is feeling—although that isn’t really very difficult.”
“Myrtilos?”
I grinned. “My cat,” I clarified. “Although Synie says he’s a demon.”
“I bet he’s just spirited,” Perseus murmured. “But your abilities are rather remarkable. Can you do anything else?”
I nodded, rubbing my arm. “Occasionally… I can read thoughts,” I murmured, looking away. This was not something I enjoyed sharing; most people were uncomfortable with my abilities, knowing I could sense their feelings, and knowing I could also read their thoughts wasn’t likely to gain me any more friends.
Not that I had any friends, but nevertheless, it seemed wise to keep that aspect of my ability quiet for now. Only Synie, Kos, the king and queen, and the Mousai knew. And now Perseus.
A glimmer of surprise crossed his face. “You can read my mind?”
I shook my head, noting his sudden discomfort. Yep. No one likes a telepath. “No,” I reassured, “I’ve never been able to read the mind of a Mathan, and Mathan emotions are also more difficult for me than most. I usually can’t read much from your kind at all.”
He nodded thoughtfully and looked up through the corridor’s ceiling, which was open to the stars. “Can you read my emotions?”
Ah, the million-credit question. I couldn’t, at all, which was not especially strange. I couldn’t really sense the Mousai and certainly not Kos, but only Perseus muted everyone else for me too. I didn’t know what to make of that yet, but I decided to keep it to myself for the time being.
I shook my head again. “No. Well, sort of. I can read body language and facial expressions fairly well, but I can’t read your emotions. As I said, you have a lot of barriers up. But I know you mean me no harm.”
“How do you know that?”
I grinned, thinking about his role of Protector and his vow to Kos that he would stay away from criminal activity for the coming year. “I can just… tell.”
He eyed me curiously, eyebrow raised. “Awfully sure of yourself for a short person out alone with a Rage-prone Mathan mercenary.”
I frowned, pretending to be disconcerted by that. “Hm. You’re right. This definitely sounds like a bad idea, when you put it that way. But I did give my word. Escape from the bar in exchange for a tour of the Hypethral.”
Perseus smiled as he pushed the button to the door of the Hypethral.
Instantly the fresh air of the forest assailed us, wafting through my senses like a blanket over the shoulders. I inhaled through my nose, feeling the invigorating smells and robust atmosphere, and I felt at once awake and relaxed.
Gods, I loved the forest. Nothing eased my tension or anxiety like a few minutes here. Halians had a word for this: elezaéa. Essentially, it translated to something like “free-air-life.” It was the idea that people felt more comfortable when outside, in nature, and that they were more at peace and more human when they were. This was one thing that had been so hard for me in coming to Galaxia; the Hypethral was the only means of elezaéa I had. It suited me perfectly, of course, but I wish I had more access to forests. Being in nature revitalized me. It made me feel free and alive.
“So what am I feeling now?” Perseus asked, looking down at me.
I turned to him, my happiness at being back in the forest momentarily forgotten as I noted his intense expression. I wasn’t exactly well versed in matters of romance, but the look on his face seemed to broach that arena. I swallowed uncomfortably, the butterflies in my chest going full force against my rib cage. I didn’t know how to respond to such a look, or what to do, or what to say, or—well, anything.
And anything romantic with Perseus is forbidden, a voice reminded me.
Right. Forbidden. I had an Intended, and Perseus wasn’t royal. Neither was I, technically, but Galaxian law had made an exception for me. Most Heirs were royals from their planets; they were nominated by their governments to be the next ruler, trained to be a diplomat, and hoped that the Moirae chose them. I had been just a middle-class citizen, but thanks to an obnoxious and rather ominous Prophecy spoken at my birth, I was now the next to be queen.
Of the galaxy.
He was staring at my mouth. My lips parted and I could swear my shoulders shuddered a little as my smile faded.
“You smile at being in this forest,” he murmured, his eyes roving over my face. “It makes you happy.”
I nodded, searching his dark eyes. “It does.”
“Your smile is genuine.”
I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it again as I thought about that. “Of course my smile is genuine,” I said softly. “Isn’t a smile supposed to be that way?”
He shook his head, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. I caught my breath. “Maybe,” he said. “But I’ve never met anyone as genuine as you.”
How awful. He must be even lonelier than I was.
I almost laughed at that. What a pair we were, both desperately lonely but unable or unwilling to be with other people; me because of my abilities, him because he was convinced people were not worth his prolonged attention.
I twisted gently out of his grip, grabbing his arm and leading him down a side path. �
��This way,” I said, tugging him along. “My favorite spot is over here.”
I led him along the narrow trail, one few others took, toward my little waterfall pond in the corner of the Hypethral.
Birds chortled in the trees above our heads and I looked back to see him squinting up with what looked like concern.
“What?” I asked, amused.
His mouth twisted a little. “Birds.”
I glanced up as we walked. “Yes…?” I laughed outright as he ducked his head. “You’re worried they’ll defecate on you!”
He scowled a little but kept his head down as we moved through the dense forest.
I giggled. “Big bad mercenary, afraid of a little bird droppings?”
He raised that eyebrow at me again, making his scar stand out. “Are you saying they won’t?”
“No, it’s a valid concern,” I said. “It is a forest, after all. But it’s never happened to me.”
“That doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”
“No,” I agreed, pushing through the brush to my little pond. “But it’s not enough to keep me away from this.” I stepped aside, letting him follow me through to the small, enclosed pond with its tiny waterfall. Crystal-clear water flowed over deep gray rocks, trickling down into a pond so transparent that we could see the stones at the bottom. Deep green foliage, bright to the point of glowing, enclosed every side of the pond, and tiny flowers of every shape, size, and color imaginable dotted the greenery, all smelling faintly damp and fresh like moss and rain.
Despite it being quite late, there were small lanterns throughout the Hypethral, several of them reflecting soft light off the pond’s surface.
This, to me, was true tranquility, true beauty.
I could tell by his face that Perseus thought it was beautiful, despite his rather hilarious fear of bird droppings. “What is this place?” he murmured, glancing around at the lush greenery.
I smiled. “This is my sanctuary.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“It’s beautiful,” he murmured.
I nodded silently, a faint smile on my face. I loved this place; it was my escape, my refuge, my sanctuary. It was here that I came when the pressures of deciding a galaxy’s fate were too much for me. Here I could breathe the fresh air, smell the pungent forest, and listen to the gentle waterfall, or the wind in the trees around me. Here, the empathic and telepathic noise that was becoming my constant headache was lessened; trees had no emotions—at least none I could sense—and other people, as well as the problems I was asked to solve on a daily basis, seemed far away.
I loved my job, I really did. I loved helping people. I loved people. I loved their silly quirks, their daily habits, their pet peeves. I loved the little things about them that made them unique. And I loved being empathic. I loved joyous emotions when I sensed them; excitement, pleasure, love, and happiness were like a warm chocolate chip cookie to me. But fury, hatred, anxiety, jealousy… the majority of the emotions people felt, for most of the day, either gave me a splitting headache or made me feel like throwing up. Sometimes both.
Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have the ability to shut out other people’s feelings or thoughts, and for reasons Kos and I couldn’t quite understand, my abilities had become extremely powerful in the past few months. I had always been able to sense a general mood from the city, or sense that people were going about their day, and up close I could sense anyone and often their thoughts; now I could pinpoint someone’s thoughts from the other side of the city.
Sometimes, anyway. It came and went. Near as we could tell, there was no rhyme or reason to when my abilities were stronger, only that in general they were getting more potent as I neared my ascension to the throne.
I jumped to a log balanced along its edge and followed it to the rock that jutted out a few feet over the pond like a tiny cliff. I stretched as I closed my eyes and breathed in the sweet air. “Few others come here,” I said softly, not wanting to disturb the peace. “They seem to prefer the bigger lakes, or the orchid gardens. Me… I prefer the tranquility and solitude of this place, or the giant cedar grove on the other side. I like places where no one comes. It’s quiet.”
“Then why show it to me?” he asked.
I faltered. Now that was a good question; why had I brought him here? Particularly since, as my Protector, he would now remember how much I liked this place and know where to find me when I wanted to be alone.
I had been so at ease with him that I’d forgotten he was to be my Protector. Cursing myself silently, I said, “I… don’t know. Maybe because you seem like you could use solitude too.”
Perseus slowly climbed up the log and came to stand on the rock beside me. The rock wasn’t terribly large, leaving his large form heart-stoppingly close; I hoped he couldn’t hear my heartbeat, because it was pounding out of control now. His body heat seeped into my skin without even touching me.
But then he did touch me. His strong fingers wrapped around my arm and turned me to face him. His free hand tilted my chin up—and up, because goodness he was tall—and I thought I might faint.
Lordy, but he was handsome. I had so little experience with touching anyone that my body was reacting out of control; my breathing hitched, my eyes were wide, and I was certain my heart was going to pound right through my chest.
“You never answered my question,” he said softly, his eyes roving my upturned face.
Coherent thought wasn’t within my capability at the moment, and I was pretty sure the muttered reply I gave him was the least eloquent thing I’d ever said.
He chuckled softly, his fingers gliding along my jaw, leaving tingles along my skin. “You said you can read my expressions. What am I feeling now?” He shifted so that both his hands gripped my upper arms, pressing me closer to him.
Oh my, I thought, my breathing speeding up. Is he going to kiss me?
I knew it was wrong, but I really, really hoped he would. I had never experienced something so simple before. I hadn’t been allowed to. I blushed but couldn’t look away from his intense gaze. Rather than risk uttering another unintelligible syllable, I kept my mouth shut and just kept gazing into those beautiful eyes of his.
He smiled and edged his face closer to mine, his soft breath fanning lightly over my lips. I sucked in a breath. “You’re not answering me, Meda,” he murmured, his eyes still locked with mine.
I shook my head slightly. “I—”
He kissed me.
And the instant his lips touched mine, I lost all sense of conscious thought.
I’m certain I would have collapsed if his arms hadn’t suddenly locked around me. The sensation that overwhelmed me was powerful, more powerful than I had ever imagined passion could feel; like a ship coming out of light speed too fast, I felt thrown, like I’d been hurled against a solid object. Need slammed into me with a force that was worse than a rock wall.
It was almost unpleasant, the sensation was so strong; I was in pain from the sheer wave of wanting, of desperation that overcame me. I was being tossed about in a storm and my only anchor was Perseus; holding on to him, kissing him, feeling his warmth was the only calm in the hurricane that swarmed me. Nothing, nothing would make this pain easier, nothing but him; only his warm embrace could save me from the ceaseless barrage of aching.
I was dimly aware of Perseus tightening his arms about me, angling his head to deepen the kiss, sweeping away the crushing sensation in my chest. His hand tangled in my hair, gently but firmly, and I felt like I was flying. I pressed myself tighter against him, wanting to crawl completely into his chest. My arms were wrapped around his neck as tightly as they could go, my hands speared into his thick hair.
It might have been minutes or weeks later that he suddenly loosed me and we staggered a little on the rock.
Good lord, I had practically climbed up him like he was a mountain! No wonder he had loosened his hold on me—I was going to make us fall off the rock in my eagerness.
My cheeks flamed with embarrassme
nt, but Perseus had pressed his cheek to mine and tightened his hold again.
“My god,” he murmured, his breath fanning my cheek, “you taste like sunshine.”
I tried to get a bearing on what was going on. Before I could even begin to think straight, his lips were on mine again and all thought was lost. A little moan escaped my lips as his tongue swept my mouth—it was almost possessive.
I had never experienced such emotion in my entire life. It was as though he was filling a hole in my chest that I hadn’t known was there.
Without him, I was vulnerable. Exposed.
I shook from the power of my emotions. What was going on? I was clearly no expert, but this seemed out of control. Was this how it always was?
And, oh god, he was my Protector…. What had I done?
I broke away from him and stared into his eyes, panic no doubt written all over my face.
His own eyes were hazy as he held me, suspended on our little rock over the pond.
He pressed a kiss to my hair that only made me shake harder before he gently lifted me into his embrace, holding me tighter as he moved off the rock. Once on solid ground he wrapped his arms more solidly around me, folding me into his body, and rested his cheek on my head, still not speaking.
What had happened in the space of one kiss? A simple attraction had turned into something much stronger, much deeper—and simultaneously more agonizing.
Because it could never be more than this moment, and I had no doubt made any future relationship we were to have unbearably painful.
I had made a terrible mistake.
I squirmed. “Please,” I said, my voice barely audible. “Please let me go.”
He frowned and pulled away just enough to look at me but kept his arms tightly around my waist. “I did not mean to scare you,” he said softly. “Don’t leave.”
“You did not scare me,” I whispered. “It’s just… it’s late. I should go.”
His eyes swept my face, reading more than I wanted him to. “Alright,” he said softly. “When will I see you again?”
