by Mara Gan
I smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, really I am. I want to get better, but I just can’t seem to focus lately.”
He stood and helped me up. “You are focusing just fine, Meda.”
I yawned for real this time. “I think I just need an early bedtime tonight.”
Kos chuckled as he led me to the door. It whooshed open and Egil stood there, standing silent sentry as usual. “Relax, Princess,” Kos said, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re doing far better than you think. Just relax and the rest will come eventually. Have patience.”
I nodded, wiping a hand across my sleepy face. “Good night, Kos.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I rolled over onto my other side and let out an exasperated sigh, twisting under the sheets as I tried to get comfortable. My back hurt and my lower legs twitched. All I could think of was how I really wanted to go for a run; I hadn’t been to practice in days and my body was feeling the lack of exercise.
Myrtilos expressed his irritation at my restlessness with a halfhearted meow and, with a flick of his tail, stalked off the bed in a huff.
“Fine,” I muttered, watching him go. “See if I care, you little traitor.”
I flipped onto my back and stared at the ceiling.
Meditation with Kos had muted the roar of emotions and thoughts on the station, but now my mind felt relaxed and awake while my body cried out for punishing exercise.
I flicked on the bedside lamp and swung my legs over the side of the bed, considering. I needed exercise. Any kind, even light exercise, would do. Perseus had limited my freedom so much that I didn’t get as much as I would have liked; even I was having trouble finding ways—or even time—around his tightened security.
I checked the clock. It was a little after 2:00 a.m.; the Esplanades would be deserted at this hour. I could easily take a stroll down to the viewing dock and be back in an hour. Then maybe I could try sleeping again.
I would just have to be extra quiet when leaving. Perseus had crazy good hearing and would most certainly not be pleased if he found me leaving at this hour. I knew there was a risk, but I also wasn’t about to live my life in some kind of vacuum, perpetually surrounded by bodyguards; if they never let anything happen to me, then life would never happen to me, either. I didn’t want to live in a pillow.
I glanced quietly to the doorway; not the one leading to the hallway, but the secret doorway Kos and Perseus thought I didn’t know about. I did, of course, but it was far more useful to let them think they were one step ahead of me. I pressed my ear to the wall and paused for several long moments. Perseus’s bedchamber was on the other side, and I focused on listening for noises in that room.
Hearing only silence, I crept away to the main door of my quarters and slid it open as quietly as I could. It was around the corner and a good forty feet down the corridor from his main door, but I didn’t want him to hear me through the wall we shared and come barreling through his not-so-secret door into my living room.
I slipped out into the hallway and reached the lifts without incident. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window and sighed. I was still dressed in my nightdress. It wasn’t scandalous; it was essentially just a long white V-necked T-shirt that fell just above my knees. I would have certainly preferred to put a wrap on, but I had been so anxious to leave without Perseus catching me that I hadn’t even thought about it. Or shoes, for that matter.
Oh well. Too late now. I pushed the button for the lower level and waited, admiring how quiet and beautiful the station was at this hour.
I stepped into the lift and watched the doors hiss shut, half expecting Perseus’s muscled arm to reach in and drag me out. When it didn’t, I heaved a big sigh of relief, feeling as though I really had escaped. I felt almost giddy with my success; I could slip back into my room later and he would never know the difference. He must be sleeping hard tonight.
Or with someone….
I frowned. I had no right to feel that way, but the thought had bothered me anyway, and at least I could admit it to myself.
I stepped out onto the lower level of the Esplanade, marveling at how dark and quiet everything was. All the shops were shut tight, although many chairs and tables remained outside. The few windows looked out on the solid black canvas of space, littered with tiny spots of light. At certain times, depending on the rotation of the city, I could see not-so-distant nebulae, all of them swirls of blue and green and orange.
I smiled as I walked the circuit around the Hypethral, preferring the star-viewing route instead of inside the forest tonight. I used to come for late night walks all the time, before Perseus had arrived, and would usually alternate forest walks and star-viewing walks. But he had put so many restrictions on where I could and couldn’t go, and when, that I hadn’t gone for a walk in weeks. Walking around one of the Esplanades in the middle of the night, by myself, was a favorite hobby of mine. It was soothing, somehow, to see how a place that was normally so noisy could be so still and solemn without people around. It made me remember that humans were the cause of all our own problems, while nature just continued existing as though nothing had changed. We would do better to adapt to it, rather than trying to force it to adapt to us.
I had meandered past all three Esplanades and was approaching the entrance to my Cube again when I started to feel drowsy.
I stopped at a smaller window and stared at the stars, admiring the silence of space. It was strange how a plain black canvas with tiny points of silver light could look so pretty. Space appeared so simple, so uncomplicated, that it seemed like it wouldn’t be much to look at. Yet I wasn’t the only one I knew who couldn’t stop staring at it. It was beautiful, endless, and never the same; pedestrians, no matter how busy, were always stopping to admire its unchanging yet utterly changeable nature.
“Hello, Princess.”
I jumped three feet in the air and pivoted to see Durga, the merchant I’d met with the other afternoon, standing a few feet away.
Inwardly, I groaned. Of all the people I could have run into at this hour, it had to be Durga. I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. I remembered his unabashed lust from our meeting and was suddenly acutely aware of my nightshift.
“Durga,” I breathed, trying to act normal. “What are you doing up at this hour?”
“The same as you, I should think,” he said, taking a small step toward me. “Looking for company.”
I frowned. “I wasn’t looking for company.”
“I was.”
I shifted, uncomfortable, as he took another few steps toward me, and his meaning of the word company hit home. Durga’s mind and emotions were about as uncomplicated as you could get, but I was surprised he had snuck up on me at all. That was nearly impossible for anyone with poor mental control.
But I had absolutely no trouble discerning his thoughts, emotions, and facial expressions now that I was aware of him.
Clothes were interesting; they really made you behave in a certain way. Had I been wearing my imperial ceremony dress, I would have probably given him my most imperious chin lift and spoken in an authoritarian voice. In my usual petition clothes, I would have folded my arms and listened intently but taken no crap from him.
In my nightshirt, I was just uncomfortable.
I made myself pretend I was wearing clothes befitting my station and lifted my chin and eyebrow at him. “I should be getting back,” I said as imperiously as I could. I turned to go. “Have a nice evening.”
He placed his big, always-sweaty body in front of mine, casually leaning against the bulkhead. “Stay awhile.”
Now I was annoyed. The audacity! What, did he think all women just fell at his feet? That any compliment just drove us wild with gratitude and flattery?
But I was a leader and a diplomat, so I kept my temper. “Durga. I am going to my apartments now—”
And that’s about when things went south.
Durga grabbed my arm—god, even his hand was damp and squishy—and h
auled me up close to his face. He grinned and I grimaced; he smelled even fouler than he looked.
“I don’t think so, Princess,” he sneered, his free hand gripping my other arm. “I haven’t forgotten the horrible way you treated me.” He grinned and pushed his nose closer to mine. “And I’m well aware there is a price on your head.”
I struggled to remain calm, even though my heart was pounding. Extensive diplomat training had prepared me for keeping a straight face and a calm head, but that was usually limited to discussions and negotiations. I didn’t have a lot of experience in keeping a cool head when someone was physically attacking me.
I knew how to use a blaster, but that was the only form of self-defense Anin had taught me that had ever really stuck. And I hardly had a blaster with me right now.
I did, however, know that all humanoids kept their genitalia in the same place.
I brought my knee up as hard as I could, and had the satisfaction of seeing Durga double over in pain. The second his hands dropped, I turned and ran for my Cube. Running, thanks to my favorite sport, was something I could do.
In seconds I was within sight of the access point to my Cube, but then I heard him gaining on me. I ducked behind a wall column and frantically searched for somewhere better to hide. My eyes swept my surroundings as I fought to control my breathing.
There.
Across the hallway was a small access hatch, one the station engineers used to get to the inner workings of the city when equipment malfunctioned.
I closed my eyes and listened, willing my heart to stop pounding, trying to hear Durga’s movements. I was pretty sure he was still far enough behind me that I could make it across the hallway without him noticing. Risking a quick glance into the hall, I darted across the corridor and into the alcove of the access hatch, just as Durga came panting around the corner.
I tested the handle on the hatch, but of course it was locked. Luckily for me, I was good at locks. I scanned the hatch and quickly nixed lock-picking in favor of simply unscrewing the entire hatch cover from the wall.
“Come out, come out, Princess,” he called softly. “Don’t run from me.”
Mentally, I muttered a curse that would have made Perseus proud. I had almost unscrewed the entire cover when Durga grabbed me from behind and spun me around to face him, then backhanded me across the cheek. My head snapped sideways and I hissed in pain.
“You will learn to respect me,” he growled.
I pushed at him and gasped out, “Violence will never earn my respect. You can hit me all you want, Durga, but all you’ll have are my bruises!”
He sneered at me. “Then that will do just fine.” He backhanded me again and I cried out, stumbling back. I would have fallen if he didn’t have such a tight grip on my arm. He yanked me closer to his face and I glared at him, despite the pain and fear roiling in me.
“Durga.”
We both froze at the new voice.
Durga’s grip on my arm tightened as we turned to see my Protector standing about forty feet down the corridor.
To say he was angry would be an understatement. I didn’t need to be empathic to see the violence that burned in his eyes, the tension that rolled off him. He had clearly been sleeping; he was dressed only in loose black pants, and his black hair was wild and loose about his broad shoulders.
His eyes, however, were completely awake and intense, and his falx was poised in one hand. His bulky muscles looked fiercer than ever, and my eyes widened at the stark reminder of how huge he really was.
He looked like some avenging god of war.
He stood, feet apart, arms tense at his sides, his vicious expression fixed on Durga.
Durga released me and I fell on my knees, gasping to catch my breath. Perseus’s eyes flicked to me briefly, but his expression and stance didn’t change.
I swallowed. I had never seen this side of him before. I kinda wish it had stayed that way, but then, this was my fault.
“Pro-Protector,” Durga sputtered. “I- I was only having a bit….” He laughed nervously. “Surely you know, I would never have harmed….” He swallowed.
I scrambled to my feet and backed away from him, rubbing my cheek.
Perseus stalked toward him. “You can come with me quietly,” he said, voice deadly calm, “or you can run.” He stopped about twenty feet away from us. “I would enjoy it if you ran.”
Durga had been backing away, eyes wide, watching my Protector. “You’re half-asleep,” he said, his fingers flexing. “You can barely see straight.”
“Try me.”
Durga looked uncertain, his fists clenching and unclenching, and I caught my breath. He turned and bolted down the corridor.
Without blinking an eye, Perseus whipped his falx at him, the sword curving end over end as it hurtled toward Durga—
And caught him right in the back, throwing him to the floor.
Durga cried out in shock and pain as Perseus approached. Grabbing hold of the sword’s handle, Perseus twisted it in Durga’s shoulder.
My hands flew to my mouth as I watched in horror and shock. Neither of them even glanced at me.
“You’re right, Durga,” Perseus hissed. “But even fully asleep, I dream of maiming you.” He twisted the sword again, making Durga cry out a second time.
“Perseus, stop it!” I started toward them, frightened by the vengeance in Perseus’s eyes. This was really not good.
Perseus didn’t even look at me. “Be silent,” he snapped. “I could have chosen to kill him.”
I swallowed thickly. Had he really thought about killing Durga?
Perseus yanked the falx out of Durga’s back and whipped the merchant to his feet, closing a fist around the sputtering man’s neck. Perseus then turned his glare on me.
I flinched at his fierce expression. “But—”
His furious glare turned deadly calm. “I would be extra nice to me right now, Princess,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I am not in a good mood.”
I closed my mouth. I had never seen this side of Perseus and felt a little out of my element. Even Nia’s temper was manageable compared to his.
“I’m going to the brig, and you are going to follow me, Meda,” he ordered. “Understood?”
I nodded, wide-eyed. He grunted and, lip curled, hauled Durga off in the direction of the brig. I followed meekly, shivering a little.
The brig wasn’t too far. We arrived in a few minutes and found one guard on duty. He raised his eyebrows at the spectacle we presented but nodded us in.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Perseus tossed over his shoulder, still holding Durga by the neck. “If I find you anywhere but here—”
“I know,” I said, trying to placate him as best as I could. I didn’t need him madder than he already was.
I stayed near the front with the guard, who was trying not to focus on my nighttime attire but at the same time trying to salute me. I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, but the guard was obviously in mild distress at the awkwardness of it all, and I was too anxious about the scolding I was about to receive from my furious Protector to laugh.
Perseus reappeared a few minutes later, still looking disheveled and angry, and jerked his chin at me in a way that I assumed meant “follow me, now” before marching back out the door. He gripped his falx in one hand, since he wasn’t wearing his back holster, and the blood staining the tip of the weapon didn’t make me any more excited to join him.
But I knew full well that not following him would be worse.
I trailed him back out to the window where I had run into Durga. Perseus stopped abruptly and I almost ran into him, squeaking as he turned to face me, folding his arms and glaring, his jaw ticking.
I shut my eyes to avoid that stare and rubbed my arm absently, waiting for the yelling. He was so close to me that I could smell the scent of sleep and the faint traces of burnt citrus oil on his skin.
After what felt like hours of silence, I let out a breat
h and dared to look up at him, offering, “I’m sorry?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re ‘sorry’?”
I gave him my best shrug and apologetic smile.
He tilted his chin, his jaw tense. “You sneak out in the middle of the night to do god knows what, and you’re ‘sorry.’”
I nodded again, bracing myself for the fury.
But it never came. He bit his lip, looking off over my head. “I’m sorry too.”
I hesitated, surprised. “You… you’re not angry with me?”
He snorted. “Of course I’m angry. Angry enough that you should probably be sensing it.”
I couldn’t, but decided not to divulge that just now. “Then… why aren’t you yelling at me?”
“Would it do any good?”
I considered. “I guess not,” I said slowly. “But that never stopped you before.”
He sat on the bench beside the window, toying absently with his falx. “Maybe this time is different.”
I sank down next to him. “What’s different? And how did you even know I was out here?” I asked, suddenly realizing it was unnatural for one of us, let alone both of us, to be out here in our sleep clothes.
He raised an eyebrow. “You were afraid.”
I opened my mouth to deny it, then closed it again as awareness dawned. “Oh,” I said quietly. I guess I had been. “And… you were able to feel it?”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he said dryly. “I was sound asleep for once, but I was jerked awake by a shooting pain that radiated from my arm into my chest. For a minute, I thought I was having a heart attack.”
I smiled. “Well, it’s good you weren’t.”
His gaze hardened as it met mine. “No, Meda,” he said, voice slow and deadly. “No, it wasn’t good. Feeling your fear is quite possibly the worst thing I have ever felt.”
I flushed. “Was the pain really that bad? We should ask the Moirae to—”
“Pain I can handle,” he said, looking down at his falx and running a thumb along the edge of the sharp blade. “But knowing you were terrified and not knowing where you were? That was not something I’d care to repeat.”
