by Regine Abel
“Love her well this season, my brother,” Kilian said. “Cherish every moment you have left. Make this the happiest time of her life.”
My eyes burned as silent tears trickled down my face. In the twelve years of this nightmare, nothing had managed to break me. But this…
“Our daughter?” I asked with a broken voice.
His eyes filled with compassion. My heart shattered.
“Let yourself mourn now, my friend, then make the most of this fleeting time with your mate. Your firstborn will need you strong once you are free. Your bloodline will revolutionize this world, but will fail without you.”
He rose to his feet, gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze, and then walked away.
I buried my face in my hands and gave free reign to my grief.
* * *
Leaning over the sink in the fresher, I washed my face, wishing a Veredian healer could fix the red in my eyes which testified of the sorrow that ate away at me all afternoon. I took a deep breath and marched back to the living area, under the compassionate stares of my brethren. Those who hadn’t overheard my conversation with Kilian had seen me fall apart after he’d rejoined them. They knew Fate had lain another tragedy at my feet.
I didn’t acknowledge them, heading instead straight to a quiet, golden-haired Korlethean with a gentle face and reserved demeanor.
“Haran,” I called out. “You are paired with Aleina, my mate’s sister. Correct?”
“Yes, brother,” Haran replied.
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Name it.”
“Aleina and my mate had a bit of a falling out,” I said, running my hand through my hair. “Sevina didn’t give me details, only stating there was some tension between them. Please remind her that whatever time she gets with her family is precious and she should make the best of it. The Goddess only knows if and when they will meet again.”
Haran nodded. “Do you wish me to keep what is coming a secret?”
I swallowed the flash of pain, and focused on the question, pondering.
“I don’t know Aleina. Can she keep it a secret? Sevina can’t find out. She’s too sensitive to handle it.”
“Aleina is as fierce as they come. Strong, tough, a true Warrior and protector.” Haran’s voice dripped with admiration and respect. “She will not give anything away, and she would want to know.”
“You talked?” I asked.
“Yes, a great deal... I wish we could attune. She’ll make a great mate to a lucky male. You would never have guessed she was a virgin.” He shook his head smiling. “As soon as we walked into the room, she tossed off her clothes and said to just get it done and over with. That left us plenty of time afterwards to talk. If I had credits, I’d bet them all that if she’s ever freed, Aleina will lead the rebellion.”
“I don’t know that she will lead it, but she will play a major role,” Kilian said.
“That’s quite the understatement,” Haran said. “She wanted to know what abilities we possessed and if we could use any of them to help put an escape plan into action.”
My brethren smiled—so did I.
“Indeed,” Kilian said. “She has fire. Telling her is a good idea.”
That bastard knows more than he’s saying.
Kilian had a peculiar affinity with visions related to political intrigues and war. If you needed the latest gossip, you knew who to ask. Getting him to talk, though, was a challenge in and of itself.
Over the past decade, I’d had a number of visions of my own about the future. Most of them meant nothing to me. I only knew that a few of our main experimental species would come together in an epic coalition that would determine the future of our galaxy. I couldn’t see Amalia in any of this, and my fellow Seers either had nothing or, like I suspected Kilian did, kept silent until they believed it the right time to share.
The beep of the security lock disengaging prevented me from questioning Kilian further. I cast a glance at Haran. He confirmed with a nod that he would fulfill his promise.
With a heavy heart, I walked back to the holding area, to my beautiful, delicate soulmate. For what little time remained for us, she would be cherished.
CHAPTER 9
Maheva
Sitting crossed legged on my bed, I observed Amalia with amusement. She stared intently at her mother who was settling down in her own bed to read, her back resting against the metal headboard. My great-daughter kneeled on the bed then sat on her haunches. The little brat leaned forward, eyes glinting. I knew then that she had used her ability to tamper with Sevina’s datapad… again.
That child was a menace.
As a kid, I had been restless too, but never this mischievous. Amalia needed other children to play with; a need we couldn’t fulfill… yet. Since I responded better to her pranks, she usually reserved them for me. Sometimes, though, she simply couldn’t resist pestering her mother.
The faint glow of the datapad lit up Sevina’s face as she fired it up and opened the last book she had been reading. No sooner than she tapped the command that she squealed in fear. She nearly dropped the datapad from shock at the sight of a holographic wild beast leaping at her, jaws wide open. Amalia burst out laughing, clapping her hands.
I bit my lip to hide my smile.
“Amalia!” Sevina exclaimed, her hand clutching her chest. “Stop tampering with my things! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
The little hellion lowered her head, scrunching her face in the least sincere expression of contrition I’d ever seen.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, not sorry one bit. “You were reading about daggerclaws. I figured you might like to see one. Plus, it was funny.”
I repressed a snort and shook my head.
Sevina gave her the ‘I’m totally not amused’ look.
“Do you see me laughing?”
Amalia shrugged in that overly exaggerated way young ones did, her shoulders almost reaching her ears. At nearly twelve years of age, my great-daughter often displayed very childish behaviors, as if trying to cling to the safety of innocence.
I couldn’t blame her.
“You know I don’t like being scared,” Sevina said, placing her palm on her stomach, still flat at only five weeks into her pregnancy. “It’s not good for the baby.”
Amalia snorted. “I’m sure the baby is laughing too!”
She crawled closer to her mother and leaned over Sevina, her head inches from my daughter’s belly.
“You thought it was funny too, right baby sis?” She pressed her ear against Sevina’s tummy, as if listening to something. “What? You think Mama needs to get a sense of humor? I keep telling her that, but she won’t listen. She’s a grump.”
“Hey!” Sevina said, poking Amalia’s shoulder with her index finger.
I laughed. Amalia giggled and looked at her mother with big eyes that completely failed at looking innocent.
“It’s true! You’re a grumpypants,” Amalia said mockingly. Then her expression sobered. “You’re always grumpy for weeks after you come back from seeing Papa. Didn’t you miss us?”
My throat tightened as the atmosphere in the room shifted. Sevina’s annoyance faded, replaced by guilt. She averted her eyes and chewed her bottom lip.
Oh Goddess! Step up! Your daughter needs you.
Sevina struggled for a moment on how to respond. I fought the urge to smack her across the head. There should be no hesitation in reassuring your child that she meant the world to you, no matter what personal plights you faced.
She put down her datapad and pulled Amalia into her embrace.
“Of course I miss you, my darling, both of you. You’re my baby and I love you with all my heart.”
Better.
“But you’re always so sad,” Amalia argued.
Sevina heaved a sigh. “Because I miss your Papa. Because I wish he could live with us.”
Amalia curled up against her mother, resting her head on Sevina’s chest.
“I miss him too. I
wish I could see him. Does he ask about me?”
Sevina hugged Amalia and caressed her hair.
“Of course, he does! All the time.”
“Really?”
Amalia looked up at her mother, the eagerness on her face tugging at my heart. The poor child hungered desperately for paternal affection. It enhanced my guilt at how much we interfered in the father-daughter relationship that could have developed between her and Gruuk.
“Yes, baby. Really.” Her face lit up, remembering something important. “Actually, he told me how much he wanted to see you, too. And he did!”
Both Amalia and I startled.
“He did?” I asked.
Sevina glanced at me, her eyes full of pride. “Absolutely! Look at the wall,” she said to both of us. She gestured with her chin at the wall in front of us, next to the door.
Sevina placed her hand on the wall by the bed and focused. Before our eyes, the wall shimmered and slowly protruded, taking on the shape of a face with a wild mane; Amalia’s. My vision blurred, feeling overwhelmed by emotions.
“He thought you were the most beautiful little girl in the world,” Sevina said when she finished.
Amalia giggled, a quivering smile painted on her face. “My Papa saw me,” she whispered, her voice wistful. She stared at her mother, eyes wide, filled with hope. "Can I see him too, Mama? Can you show me my Papa, too?”
“Of course, my love.”
Amalia’s image faded to free the limited material for Sevina to reshape it into her mate. I stared in awe at the lithe but muscular body which appeared on the wall from the waist up. My heart warmed for my daughter at the joy etched on her face as the likeness of her soulmate took form. She truly loved him and it showed in the finesse of the details she included in her task, from his long eyelashes, the smile lines around his mouth, down to the tattoos on his forehead and right half of his chest and arm.
“That’s your Papa, Amalia,” Sevina said in a choked voice. Her eyes, glued to his image, filled with pained longing.
Amalia jumped off the bed and ran up to the carving, tracing her father’s features with the tips of her fingers. They lingered on his long hair and she combed the fingers of her other hand through hers.
“He’s sooo pretty.”
Sevina and I laughed.
“Pretty is for females, Amalia,” I corrected gently. “Handsome is for males.”
“Your Papa is the most handsome male in the world,” Sevina said.
She folded her legs, hugging them, and rested her chin on her knees. Sevina glowed with pride and love as she admired her creation.
Amalia turned to stare at her mother, eyes full of stars. My great-daughter had too few such moments of true happiness.
“He is very handsome. I like his tattoos. They’re really pretty.”
“They are! I love them. They are light gold against his dark skin. So beautiful and elegant…”
She took on a faraway expression, her cheeks coloring as her mind wandered, no doubt into naughty territory. I felt my own face heating, remembering how I loved tracing every line of Gruuk’s tattoos with my tongue. I stirred uneasily to hide my arousal. Many more hours lay ahead of us before I could sate my hunger for him.
Amalia crawled back on top of her mother’s bed and sat in front of her, cross-legged.
“I want tattoos too,” she declared with determination.
That snapped me out of my lustful haze.
“What? No! Out of the question,” Sevina exclaimed.
“But Mama—”
“No, Amalia. Why in the world would you get tattoos?”
“Because they are pretty! Papa has them!”
“He’s Korlethean. All Korletheans have to,” Sevina patiently explained.
“Master Gruuk isn’t Korlethean. Both he and the crew have them.”
“They’re Guldans. It’s also part of their culture. Veredians don’t wear tattoos. We have our markings. It’s enough.”
Amalia’s face took on a mulish expression. She crossed her arms on her chest, chin lifting in defiance.
“It’s part of my culture, too. I’m half Korlethean. Don’t Korlethean females also get tattoos?”
Sevina chewed her bottom lip, frowning at her daughter.
“I knew it! They do! It’s written all over your face. It’s settled, I’m getting a tattoo,” Amalia said with a stiff nod.
Blessed Goddess!
I covered my mouth with my hand to contain the laughter that threatened to erupt. Poor Sevina! That daughter of hers could be quite the handful.
Sevina stared at her little hellion, lips pursed, eyebrows pinched in a frown.
“You can’t get tattoos because you haven’t earned them yet,” she deadpanned.
Amalia gave her a blank look. Sevina settled back against the headboard, a smug expression on her face.
“Korletheans only get tattoos once they have done something of worth. It is a map of their accomplishments and of the honors they have earned. You, my beloved little hellion, haven’t earned any yet, and you can’t get tattoos until you’re done growing so they don’t stretch.”
Well played.
I stared at my daughter with pride.
“I’m already tall,” Amalia pouted.
And she was, for her age, already standing at five-foot-five, a mere two inches shy of her mother’s adult height.
“You’ll grow taller,” I said.
Sevina nodded. “I bet you’ll be as tall if not taller than your Aunt Aleina.”
“Oh yeah,” Amalia said. “Your baby sister is taller than you, isn’t she?”
“Yep,” her mother answered. “Significantly taller.”
Amalia smirked, her eyes sparkling.
“You’re a grumpypants and a shortypants.”
“You little brat!”
Sevina threw herself at her daughter and tickled her relentlessly as Amalia roared with laughter, begging for mercy.
I watched them, my heart full of love for my girls and thanked the Goddess for these small pleasures we found together.
* * *
A little over four months had gone by since that happy day. Now, I paced around my room, failing to get my anxiety under control. Amalia needed me, but I couldn’t appear before her in this state.
Damn Gruuk. Damn Guldan rules.
An hour ago, we’d had our first major fight in nearly six years of blissful peace. Who would have expected him to plan on sending Sevina on a mission with only four weeks left before her due date?
One of Gruuk’s slaves, a Korlethean Seer, received a vision of a bloody battle between a trader ship and space pirates in a nearby sector. Both sides sustained heavy casualties and severe damage to their vessels, forcing the surviving crews to abandon their respective ships in escape pods. The Korlethean couldn’t see the actual content of the cargo. His vision had focused on the pirates and revealed details suggesting they believed the traders carried a large shipment of celesium.
The invaluable metal would sell for a fortune. The Tuureans kept exclusive control of that material, only rarely trading it at outrageous prices. They were a bio-cybernetic race, at least according to the rumors, considered to be the most powerful in the Western Quadrant. Gruuk couldn’t pass up such an opportunity.
Nor would he.
The damage sustained by the trade ship would make boarding and reaching its cargo a difficult task. By now, distress signals had long been sent out and rescue teams were already racing toward it. Without a doubt, scavengers would have also intercepted the signal and were inbound.
As were we.
Gruuk’s crew would only benefit from a narrow window to grab the cargo and get out unchallenged. Sevina’s ability provided the fastest way to accomplish this with the least risk of casualties or discovery. When Doruk came to fetch her, she cried. I lost it, demanding to speak to Gruuk. Doruk, who had steadily climbed the ranks in his seven years on board, now acted as Gruuk’s right hand. He reminded me with a threatening t
one that, as a slave, I didn’t get to question orders or make demands.
I thanked the Goddess that Amalia was still in the training room. She would have jumped him for threatening me.
Doruk and the crew hated the privileges bestowed upon my progeny and me. They showed very little interest in me, being already too old for their liking—which suited me just fine—but they resented my lack of fear of them. Sevina, however, they wanted to have a go at. Her submissive nature excited them. Thankfully, Gruuk had made her off-limits. So, out of spite, every chance they could knock me down a notch, they seized it and rubbed it in.
As soon as Doruk left with her, I ran to Gruuk. It wouldn’t accomplish anything; Gruuk couldn’t change his mind now without appearing weak. Moreover, as much as I hated to admit it, it was indeed the most effective way to complete the mission quickly. I understood all that but couldn’t stop myself from confronting him about it. Deep down, though, what I really sought was reassurance from him that he would keep my baby safe.
Gruuk’s door opened before I even rang the door announce.
He stood by the entrance, clad in his dark, formfitting combat uniform. It made my blood curdle. Gruuk didn’t enforce a formal dress code on the ship. The crew wore their casual clothes every day. Only the slaves wore the standard ill-fitting beige dress. That he prepared for battle meant the possibility existed. A possibility I didn’t want to contemplate with my daughter caught in the middle.
“It will be over quickly,” Gruuk said, as soon as I entered his quarters. “She will be fine.”
“She’s about to give birth!” I said, gripping his weapon belt.
He placed his hands on my shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.
“She still has a month to go,” he chided gently. “We have performed long-range scans. There are no other ships nearby. A full contingent will escort her to keep her safe. All she has to do is breach the outer hull, open the fastest path to the cargo hold and if needed, breach the celesium container. As soon as that’s done, Piruk will bring her back while the crew handles the shipment. She’ll be gone no more than an hour.”
“But what if something goes wrong?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“We’ll take every precaution to make sure nothing does.” He cupped my face in his hands. “You know I would never hurt your children, right?”
