by Val Roberts
"I don't want to be subjected to some outworld machine,” she protested. He opened the locker and she almost—almost—cringed. It was the closest thing to fear he'd seen from her so far in their admittedly short acquaintance.
"Why not?” he asked, wondering what had caused the reaction. It seemed very specifically targeted to medical gear, since she hadn't had a qualm about Galen's laser pistol. “It's not like it's going to hurt. I'll just run a scanner over the cut to make sure we got all the bacteria and viruses out this morning.” He picked it up and set it for female vitals, then set for full scan. “It should take half a minute. Stand still."
She did, parade ground attention still, until the scanner beeped. Blade looked at the screen and had to stop himself from swearing under his breath. She was showing a low-grade anaerobic bacterial infection in the cut, but that wasn't a problem. According to the scanner, she was indeed within forty-eight hours of ovulation, and one amenity the cave lacked was privacy.
"What's wrong?” she asked, obviously picking up something from his expression. He had stubble back, but clearly not enough beard to hide things just yet.
"Nothing bad,” he said, turning away. “I just need to give you an injection.” He replaced the scanner and picked up the nanite/phage injector while he got his face under control and set it for both. Phage would take care of the infection, but the nanites would do something else he wanted. When he turned back, she had taken several steps away from him. “I'm not going to hurt you, Vixen. You picked up some bacteria from the sword cut, probably off your clothes. This will prevent fever."
"I'll take the fever.” She took another step back, her eyes darting.
"Oh no you don't.” He lunged and got her by the arm, pulling her enough off balance to rip the shirt and get the instrument in contact with her skin. A quick squeeze on the trigger and it was done. “Welcome to modern medical care,” he said as she stared at her arm. She transferred her gaze to his face, her expression a mixture of shock and wonder. He liked that look. Maybe he could get to see it again tonight if he left the lamp on. If he could find someplace without an audience.
"That's it?” She sounded skeptical, as if she'd been expecting a great deal more. Gods, did they bleed people in Zona?
He forced himself to grin. “That's it. Of course, you're going to need a new shirt tomorrow, but didn't Leone say she'd packed clean clothes for a week?” He let go of her arm and patted the skin where he'd pressed the nozzle. “Go grab some chow."
"What did you do to open it?” she asked, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I couldn't figure it out and the directions were these bizarre little pictures that didn't make any sense at all."
"I'll show you, since I'm starving, too. Come on.” He moved down the row of lockers to the insulated food storage, pulled out a couple of redimeals and some water bottles, then led her over to the area where a few camp tables had been set up. After showing her how to heat the food and open the container, they ate in silence and he thought about the real problem.
There was a small alcove off the back where they'd stored some of the bulkier foodstuffs when this had been his central headquarters for the covert aid operation that might do the trick—if he could talk her into it. Getting her drunk and surprising her wasn't going to work twice in a row, especially without Leone's help. And that meant he was going to have to be at his eloquent best, and talk fast enough to make her change her mind before she decided to kill him and go home. Unfortunately, eloquence always seemed to desert him when he needed it the most, and this was one conversation where dear old Uncle Galen wouldn't be at his shoulder to feed him lines.
Blade ate mechanically, barely tasting the food because all the redimeals tasted vaguely alike. He'd never been much of a gourmet, but six solid months of the stuff had made his first state dinner back in Krystale taste like manna from Heaven, and state dinners were notoriously bad food, because they had to be bland enough not to offend any offworld palates. Taryn betrayed her military training by silently shoveling food in as methodically as he did, although she somehow managed to make it look elegant as she did it. That meant she was probably thinking just like he was, and in his short experience of her, that could be bad. He started eating a little faster.
They were almost finished with the food when she looked up at him with round eyes. “How did you know I have a sister?"
"I don't know, doesn't everyone have a sister?” he countered over the racing pulse. “I have two sisters.” He must have let something slip, but for the life of him he couldn't remember when. This could be really bad.
"You said ‘How will letting your sister kill you be helpful to performing your duty?’ when we were at the border.” Now she was staring at him with that familiar smoky glare. “How did you know?"
Blade swallowed the last bite of whatever he'd been eating, then fixed her with his most open expression and lied through his teeth. “I honestly don't remember. Maybe Leone mentioned something.” She was still staring at him, but her expression changed slightly, from accusing to troubled.
"I'm going for a walk.” She stood and walked back across the cavern to Maris, shrugged into her coat and started strapping on the scabbard. He watched, fuming, because there was no way he could stop her short of dragging her off to the alcove and bedding her now. When she had stomped through the baffled entrance, someone cleared his throat. Blade looked up to see Dorcan standing a few feet away.
"Where do you want to set up, ah, Vixen's bedding?” He shifted his weight and looked at the floor.
"How about the storage area?” Blade stood and picked up the empty containers. “It should be pretty empty.” He glanced over to see Dorcan looking relieved and fought the urge to frown.
"Good, I put your stuff in there, too.” Dorcan walked away with the air of a man satisfied with his decision, and for some reason it irritated Blade. Did everyone know what was going on, or was he that obvious? He sat down at the table again for a moment, then pounded his fist on it and went to make sure the bedding was set up properly and figure out exactly how he was going to persuade her to sleep where she belonged.
* * * *
Silean was stirring the food on her plate and trying to work up a will to swallow some of the potatoes when Herren pushed open the door of her salon and grinned at her across sixteen feet of space. Her fork dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers.
"No, no, it's good news.” He walked to the small table where she had set an extra place for him, just in case, but he knelt at her side and took one of her icy hands in his warm grasp. “Tomal printed some pictures of them crossing the border at mid-afternoon. She's all right, Silean.” He fumbled with the large envelope he'd been carrying and had dropped to take her hand, then pulled out several letter-size printed pictures. She took the stack and immediately tracked her daughter's glorious titian hair from the aerial view. Rapidly she flipped through the pictures, only coming to a stop with a gasp when she got to the one where Taryn and one of the male figures melded together into one bizarre figure astride two horses.
"What...” She looked up at Herren. “What are they doing in this picture?"
His eyes glowed. “Kissing.” He leaned toward her and murmured. “He cares about her, Silean, because she tried to turn back and he wouldn't let her. He went after her, he told her in the only way she wouldn't be able to talk herself out of, and he led her out of Zona.” He pulled the prints from her and shuffled them to a picture she hadn't yet seen, Taryn's little gray being led by the male figure on the larger horse. “See?"
He set the prints on the empty plate and took her hands in his again. “Everything is going to be all right. Taryn is well, and she's with someone who understands her, someone who can love her as she deserves."
Finally, she found her voice. “I doubt that very much, Herren.” She pulled her hands out of his grasp and picked up her fork. “While I'm grateful that Taryn is still in good health, I'm not certain that her current companions are good for the Zonan political situat
ion.” She brought the fork to her mouth laden with creamy vegetable, but she hadn't counted on how dry her throat would become when Herren shuffled the prints again and thrust that disturbing scene back in front of her face. It was difficult to swallow, in spite of the carefully hoarded butter softening the starchy root.
"What do you mean, not good for the Zonan political situation?” He shook the printed page. “Look at that. That is the Bariani Crown Heir so besotted with our daughter—your daughter—that he went after her. He forgot his dignity far enough to kiss her where a witness could see. He took her home with him.” He tossed the stack of paper aside again. “Silean, don't you see? If he mates with her, no matter what happens to Zona, the next generation but one of Bariani royalty are going to be Zonan. House Penthes will rule Grant Barian, not just Zona."
"If he mates with her, House Penthes will cease to exist,” she said through numb lips. “House von Stassos will swallow us as House Tinitias swallowed every woman they chose to mate.” She lifted the wineglass and sipped twice, both because she wanted to numb the shock and because her throat was still dry.
"But, Silean, my darling—"
She cut him off, brutally. “The first Penthes of Zona was an escaped Bariani sex slave. Would you have Zona's existence end with the recapture of a Penthes to become a Bariani sex slave?” Silean set down the goblet hard enough to slosh its contents onto the linen tablecloth, though not quite hard enough to break the stem. “A full circle,” she finished, and the bitterness made her voice flinty.
"Not entirely a full circle,” Herren disagreed, his tone equally hard. “Taryn Astaren is a Silvergard commander, one of the Matriarch's Own. No Bariani pleasure slave could have made that claim even when they still had such a thing. She has held her own in combat with members of the Barian Crown Guard. Nobody can take that away from her, or from you.” He grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “And nobody wants to."
She looked at him and wondered how she could feel the pull of him and want to slap him across the room at the same time. “What name will her children carry?” she asked instead. Herren recoiled and she remembered, too late, that Taryn didn't carry Cavanaugh, his family name, at all. He let go of her and she bit her lip until she could taste her own blood, wanting with all her being to apologize for the unintended insult at the same time she knew she was right. Penthes wasn't just a family name, it was a royal dynasty of three centuries’ standing. If that name died, all of Zona might well cease to exist along with it, because there would be no memory of what they had fought for or why.
"If that's how you feel,” he whispered, “then I apologize for bringing you such ill news, Your Majesty. A pity your daughter couldn't have died on Zonan soil by the hand of the Matriarch's Own rather than possibly find happiness for the first time in her life.” He got to his feet and left without looking back.
The first tear forced its way out of her before the door had slammed shut behind him. “Goddess,” she gasped between long, wracking sobs, “what do I do now?"
* * * *
Taryn stalked out of the cavern without asking permission, and that made her feel like she was in control of something for the first time since she'd been led across the border. However, it didn't prepare her for exactly how dark it had gotten in the meantime. A little light leaked through the baffle, but outside of that it was inky black until her eyes adjusted.
"I thought you were off watch tonight,” Galen's voice cut through the darkness. “You got cut today, after all."
She rubbed her arm through the coat where Blade had pushed the outland machine into her skin and made it tingle. “I don't like caves,” was all she could think of for a reply.
"You get used to it after a while,” he said. “So if you're out here, who's guarding the negotiator?"
Taryn fumed silently for several seconds. “Maris is."
"Maris has no head for hydrocodone. He probably couldn't tell you his mother's name right now, so he's not going to do Blade a hell of a lot of good.” Galen sounded amused, and as if he were genuinely fond of Maris, who was young enough to be his son.
"There are four other guards, and the negotiator seems quite capable of guarding himself. He's got some interesting calluses for a man in diplomatic service.” It suddenly struck her that she might have said too much about what she had noticed.
Galen was the most like the oily courtiers she had expected, other than the little fop who had been the first to die, and he was standing watch like a common trooper. She felt herself frown in the darkness. No, he was more like a mid-level officer, as she herself had been. Tactical, not strategic. Strategic was Blade, who didn't trust her enough to tell her his family name, although she would bet money it started with “von". Who was he? She couldn't ask Galen, because he wouldn't tell her anymore than she would tell a near-stranger she was the younger daughter of the Matriarch.
"There are some interesting scars to go with them,” Galen commented, interrupting her train of thought. “I thought they were being paranoid to send a seven-guard escort, but we've already lost three fighters and the valet, and Maris is wounded. I don't know what we would have done without you, and His ... Excellency seems rather taken with you, Commander."
She looked toward the place where his voice had come from. “I thought you were supposed to call me Vixen."
"Vixen is not a word I would associate with you.” Was he smiling? It sounded like it. “Tigress, perhaps, but a vixen is a sleek, sensual creature capable of seducing with a glance. I don't see that in you, but Blade obviously feels otherwise."
She shrugged in spite of the darkness, because she'd never seen herself that way either. “I'm handy, I suppose. There aren't a lot of sleek, sensual creatures around, in case you hadn't noticed."
"You're an independent, stubborn pain in the ass, and a fighter equal to any in the Barian Crown Guard,” he said in much the same way he might have commented that it was a little warmer out than the night before. “In spite of exactly no training, you're a better shot with a laser pistol than I am.” It was a ferocious compliment and she allowed herself a small smile, secure that he couldn't see. “Exactly his type of girl,” Galen went on, and her smile died. “Tread carefully, Commander, or you'll have a Bariani of considerable rank in love with you."
"If that's a threat, it's not very convincing,” she said, and moved off into the darkness. “I'm going for a walk.” She needed to think about some things, not the least of which were his slips. How would Galen know the fighting styles of the Barian Crown Guard so intimately, and exactly what was Blade's considerable rank? If she'd slept with a von Stassos, the Goddess would want some hard answers from her come time for judgment. They weren't the same family that had discarded her ancestor as unworthy, but she'd been told all her life they came in a close second. A tiny voice in the back of her head whispered that just because she'd been told that didn't mean it was true.
"Don't ever say I didn't warn you,” he called after her. She snorted her derision, because Blade would never allow himself to feel anything for a woman he couldn't control, and she was never going to relinquish control of her fate to someone else again. Of course, it seemed to happen every time she looked him in the eyes, so she was never going to do that again, either. Kind of a pity. He had gorgeous eyes.
She hadn't made it thirty yards from the cavern entrance before she heard the telltale crunch of a boot snapping a twig, and it had come from behind her. Galen was on watch, so it couldn't be him, but he wasn't above making sure she had an escort. Who else had been listening to the conversation? She glanced at the sky to orient herself. The moon was a faint, dying sliver, nearly gone, but the sky was clear and she saw several orienting constellations, so she continued walking.
"Taryn.” Blade's voice.
She stopped and sighed. “I thought my name was Vixen. Did you all forget the protocol as soon as we crossed the border?"
"Fine. Vixen. You need to get extra sleep tonight, not go wandering around unfamiliar ter
ritory in the dark.” His hands closed over her shoulders with uncanny aim, almost as if he was so attuned to her presence that he knew exactly where every part of her body was. Or, and she wouldn't put it past him, he could see in the dark.
"I'm not tired. I have to burn off some energy before I'll be able to get to sleep.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew it had been a mistake. He pulled her back against him and she could feel body heat in spite of the coat and her sword in between them.
"I can think of less dangerous ways to do that,” he purred into her ear. “And by the time you're relaxed and ready to go to sleep, you're already in bed."
"Maybe I like danger.” She tried to pull away and he slid an arm around her waist to hold her where she was.
"I'm dangerous.” He nuzzled her hair. “Come to bed."
"Is this your way of saying you want sex from me?” He stiffened at her wry tone.
"I want to protect you, and I can't do that if you're out here wandering around.” It sounded defensive, no longer coaxing. “I won't lie to you, sex would be nice, but I'll be able to sleep if I can just hold you and know you're all right.” She laughed at him, or more precisely at the idea of him not being able to sleep without her next to him. For all his sincere voice, he made himself sound like a sheepdog worrying over a lame member of his flock.
"What about Maris? Do you need to hold him, too?” She tried to pull his arm off her, but he ignored her to nuzzle her ear through the hair.
"Somehow, I find the two situations completely different,” he whispered, just before he nosed her hair aside, buried his face inside her coat collar and nibbled the base of her neck. At that moment, he felt warm and somehow comforting, and the intimate touch raised goose bumps on her thighs, of all places. It also made her breasts tingly, as if they ached for his touch, and her knees went a little weak. He was really good at this.
