by Val Roberts
"Or what?” he asked, his shoulders tense.
"Or he dies.” Blade glared at her a second longer, then picked up his uncle and trotted downslope to the flat area where they had jumped as the flying machine came in for a landing. Taryn picked up the discarded weapons, tore her coat free of the metal quarrel buried six inches into solid granite, and followed.
The other two came trotting out of the wooded area that was still smoldering, their faceplates also up. Juvenan looked at her—she was carrying both of the rifles as well as her sword, pack and coat—and shook his head, then spat on the ground. The flyer touched down and extended a ramp. She waited with a mouth as dry as summer dust for all the men to climb up it and duck through the hatch, and then swallowed hard. Summoning all her courage, she set one foot on the ramp, but for the life of her she couldn't make the other foot follow it. She didn't want to get on that thing. She didn't want to fly through the air.
Galen would die if they didn't get him help.
It was awkward, but she managed to pull her other foot onto the ramp without dropping anything she was carrying.
"Vixen, get in here!” Blade bellowed from the hatch. She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, using the pain against her fear, and walked up the ramp. He yanked her through the doorway and she heard the roar start up again as the ramp rose behind her, sealing her in.
She dropped everything she was carrying and turned around to watch the door close, her breath gone and her heart racing. She was going to throw up. The room—was the inside of one of these things even called a room?—spun crazily, as if she were about to faint. She had never been frightened enough in her entire life to faint, and she wasn't about to start now, so she took a deep breath and held it to keep herself from hyperventilating, then punched the door as hard as she could with her right hand. Pain was a wonderful tool to help a person focus. She turned around.
"Vixen, are you all right?” Grigor asked, his voice gentle.
Before she could say she was fine now, the floor shifted under her feet and trees fell away from the windows. And that was when sanity deserted her entirely. Someone screamed the high-pitched wail of an animal being disemboweled.
She realized she was clawing at the hatch when she was pulled away from it.
"Get this off me,” a male voice that might have been Blade's bellowed as she struggled in a metal-ceramic embrace, still screaming. “Sedative. Now, damn it!"
She was still trying to get away from whoever was holding her when another pair of hands grabbed her head and pulled it up, then something cold pressed against her neck and she felt the same warm tingling from when Blade had injected her in the cave. Almost immediately, her body went lax and a wall of thick glass slid between her and the intolerable reality outside her skull. She was passed from armored hands into flesh-and-blood hands and the last thing she heard before unconsciousness covered her like a warm blanket was Blade's voice.
"We're almost there, Taryn. It's okay, nothing bad's going to happen.” Cradled against the heat of his skin, surrounded by his familiar scent, she almost believed him.
* * * *
"Gods, I think she left teeth marks in the armor,” Juvenan muttered, and Blade looked up from her hair. Indeed, the nearly invulnerable fullerene-tigerm alloy did look scuffed. He shook his head and wondered what else could possibly go wrong. They had discovered Taryn's one weakness at exactly the wrong moment, while struggling to keep Galen alive. Who would have thought she would be terrified of flying?
"Blade, where would Zonans get depleted-uranium crossbow bolts?” The question came from Dorcan, who had one of the items in his hand with a portable scanner in the other. The skimmer shook a little as Grigor brought it back to ground inside the Enclave walls.
Blade waited for the impellers spin down some before he said, “Depleted uranium?"
"Scanner says so, and it's mixed with a type of fullerene I've never seen before.” Dorcan shrugged, which the power armor amplified. “It wasn't made on Timarron."
What was Zona doing with off-world ammunition for antique weapons? Blade tightened his arms around Taryn's limp form and rocked her a little.
"We'll take it with us. How's Galen?"
"Alive,” came a whispered response from the floor, “but I've had better days.” He didn't even try to sit up. “I'm too old for this noise.” Grigor popped the hatch.
Blade shifted his hold on Taryn and stood with her in his arms. “We all are. And thanks to Taryn, you're going to get older.” He waited until the Enclave medical team had carried Galen out before he climbed through the hatch himself, careful not to hit his burden's head on the coping. He snarled at the Sanctuarian who tried to take her from him and followed the floating stretcher.
Llamass was waiting in the infirmary, but Blade pushed by him and found an empty bed. He could feel the truthtester's eyes on his back as he pulled off her boots and covered her.
"I'm sorry, Blade.” He ignored the olive branch to sit next to the bed and let his face drop into his hands. “I thought this was an isolated issue between Taryn and Talyn."
"Yeah, well now it's an attack against Bariani royalty on Sanctuary lands with off-world weapons and bite me if I know what's going on or how Taryn fits into it. Gods, I'm tired.” He pressed his thumbs into the hollows of his eyes. “Why is it so important to kill her?"
"You will have the opportunity to find out when you return to Krystale,” Llamass said. “Was she hit?"
"No, she came unglued when the skimmer took off. We had to sedate her before she hurt herself.” He dropped his hands and looked at the bed, where Taryn's chest rose and fell in a reassuring rhythm. “She might have gotten a little too much, but she was trying to dig her way out of the hatch with her fingernails, and then she was trying to dig her way through Juve's armor to get to the hatch."
Llamass moved closer to the bed and freed one of her hands, then inspected her nails. Blade noticed blood and felt a little dizzy. Normally the sight of blood didn't faze him, but it was Taryn. This was twice now that she'd managed to get hurt while the worst thing that had happened to him was a bad hair day. “Indeed. I will have someone look at this.” He regarded Blade with an inscrutable look. “I relayed her testimony to the prime minister."
"And?” Blade took her hand from Llamass and covered it with his own. If the universe was kind, she hadn't broken any fingers.
"She found it most interesting, since Silean has been demanding Prince Taryn's return from just a few hours after the incident. Apparently, Zona has threatened war over this. Your father was unavailable, as he had been sealed into the war room."
"Silean wants her dead too?” It came out more bitter than astounded, but what kind of mother would kill her own child? Desertion was plenty bad enough. Ramondar going into the command bunker under the palace because of this was just ridiculous, so he didn't dignify it with another thought.
Llamass shook his head. “From what I understand, Silean believes Barian is trying to kill her daughter. Whatever Talyn is up to, neither the prime minister nor I feel Silean has been included."
"Which makes about as much sense as the rest of this misbegotten plot.” Taryn's body twitched as if she were having a nightmare. He checked her eyes, but they weren't moving.
"There's something else, Blade.” Blade tore his gaze away from her and looked at Llamass. “Three Dozen Worlds representatives were tracked to Balsom in a direct landing a week before you were sent to Zona. It's believed they were from the trade ministry."
"We can barely get Zonans to trade with us,” Blade blurted. “What would they have to talk about with Dozen Worlds reps?"
Llamass sat down on the end of Taryn's bed. “What comes out of Zona?"
"High-end handmade goods, mostly art pieces that go for a small fortune off-world,” he responded automatically. He could recite the figures for the last five years of trade with Zona in his sleep, and there was always demand for more than could be produced, which meant Barian had a fairly lucrative tra
de in authentication service, as well. Not that weeding out the low-quality, mass-produced fakes was a problem since they tended to be obvious. “Although,” he continued, suddenly remembering the travelers rugs, “they're not art pieces in Zona. They're eminently practical everyday articles and not considered all that valuable. Zona could be a wealthy place if they'd—” He stopped talking abruptly as it clicked into place.
Talyn wanted off-world trade. She might even want to form an alliance with Barian. Maybe even an alliance cemented by a dynastic marriage, and her lover Mychell, discovering what she had planned, had tried to prevent being displaced. Taryn hadn't been involved at all, at least not in the beginning. But Talyn had to remove the Silvergard witness while keeping her potential husband alive, at least until her political power was solidified. He'd foiled the little bitch without even trying, even if Leone had originated the idea.
"Blade?” Llamass sounded worried. “It disturbs me when you smile like that."
He stood and began to pace, thinking furiously. It all depended on, “How soon can we have the bonding ceremony?"
"She hasn't agreed to it,” Llamass protested. “I can't perform it without Taryn's consent."
"You'll have it, if I have to mortgage my soul.” Blade sat back down and took her raw, bloody fingers in his own. “Weren't you going to find a healer to look at her hands?” He heard a scrape as Llamass left the room, but between watching Taryn and making plans, he couldn't spare the attention to look.
Someone else came in a few minutes later, clucked over her and started working, washing off the blood, wrapping antiseptic gauze around them, then giving her an injection to speed the healing process, all while Blade watched with every bit of concentration he possessed. If the man screwed it up and caused her any more pain, he would pay. But Taryn stayed out through the whole thing, even when a sliver of wood was pulled out from under a fingernail—only the gods knew where it had come from. When the healer left, Blade smoothed her hair away from her face and settled back to watch over her.
He was still watching her when she stirred about fifteen minutes later. He stood and leaned over her so that he would be the first thing she saw when she woke up.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Sixteen
Reality came back slowly, as if layers of fluffy, scrubbed wool were being pulled away and spun into the yarn of her life. Taryn wasn't sure she wanted to wake up, but she needed to know something, if only she could figure out what. Maybe Blade could tell her. Blade. The flying machine.
Galen.
She opened her eyes and blinked in the glare coming from around a familiar silhouette.
"Blade?” She clutched at the bed. She was on a bed. “Did we land?"
"About half an hour ago, Vixen.” He traced a fingertip along her jaw in a feather-light caress. “You're going to be fine."
"Galen. Did he make it?” Guilt roiled in her gut. Not Galen. Her life wasn't worthy of that sacrifice.
"Yes. His medical pack in the power armor injected everything you said to, and he'll make a full recovery in a few days.” He lifted her bandaged hand and she stared at it, trying to remember how she'd been injured. “I was more concerned that you would break bones trying to get out of the skimmer. Haven't I told you about trying to scare me to death?"
Her forehead furrowed, but she couldn't think. There were still layers of fluffy something between her and the world. “I don't remember."
"I told you not to do it again. You're not leaving me again, either; you're not safe unless you're with me. Please understand that, because I'm not saying it again,” he whispered just before he kissed the furrow away. And then, seeming unable to resist, he kissed her eyelids, her nose, and finally her mouth, nibbling gently on her lower lip the same way he had the first time he'd kissed her in her room at Leone's. It seemed years ago, not a few days, but his kiss was just as intoxicating as it had been that night. A small noise of want came from her throat and she skimmed her hands up his chest, expecting hot skin but feeling only the hardness through her bandages.
Bandages. She had hurt herself trying to get out of the—skimmer, he had called it. But Blade hadn't let her, Blade, who was parting her lips, licking into her mouth, wrestling her tongue with his. Blade, who was melting her joints and heating her body from the inside out. Everything centered on him and her connection with him, the sweet madness inside that grew every time he touched her with such tenderness and passion. If only it would last. If only she could be enough for him.
If only she could accept what he offered and be content with that. Maybe she could. And in the meantime, she would enjoy every moment, revel in every touch. There was one thing he wanted from her, one thing she could do to make him happy and she was ready for it now. It still wouldn't be enough to keep him from boredom in years to come, but it would make him happy now, and her sacrifice was nothing compared to what his people had gone through.
"Blade?” she asked when he raised his head, “Can we get this ceremony or whatever over with now?” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I'm so tired, I just want it done so I can sleep.” It wasn't the most eloquent she'd ever been, but then nothing about this relationship had been normal from the very beginning and she was tired and sore everywhere. She only hoped it was good enough.
"You're tired?” He grinned at her. “I don't know when I've been this strung out and I've got saddle sores with saddle sores.” He brushed his fingertips over her scar in another gentle caress, and she didn't even want to flinch because the sense of violation was gone. She had no privacy with him; he was part of her. “So that's a yes?"
She swallowed hard and pushed away all her doubts. It wasn't easy, because there were a lot of them. “If you still want me.” She managed a slight smile. “I'm trouble on two legs."
He gave a short, quiet laugh. “Vixen, my love, you're trouble on no legs and I want you more than I have words to say."
"I can't bring Zona with me,” she warned. “There's still a Crown Prince."
"I don't care anymore.” He looked vaguely startled at his admission. “I love you."
"Then I'll...” what was the word? “...marry you."
He buried his face in her neck and let out a long, slow breath, seeming to relax into her. She slid her arms up over his back, unable to resist touching him. “I promise when we get to Krystale, you can take a nice, long nap,” he mumbled into her neck.
She heard herself sigh. “How many days will it take to get to Krystale?"
He pulled away, but only far enough to look in her eyes. “It's about an hour flight.” She felt herself tense with the remembered terror of the floor vibrating under her feet and the sight of the ground streaking away, sheer paralyzing terror that she had no way to fight because she'd never felt it before. Could she go through that again and remain sane? “Shh, sh, sh, it's okay. It's very safe. In fact, given our record on the ground, it's got to be the safest way to get from here to there, because Zonans don't have aircraft.” She hadn't thought of that. Maybe, if she had him to hold onto, she wouldn't be so frightened. “Besides, it's the best way to get Galen to someplace where we can monitor the anti-venom's effectiveness, in case he needs another dose."
Galen. She would have to suffer flying again, because she could not let her childish terror get in the way of his recovery.
"All right,” she acquiesced. And the sooner she got out of this bed, the sooner it would be over. She tried to sit up, and he backed far enough away to let her. “What do I have to do for the ceremony?"
"Ah. That.” His expression smoothed into a mask. “You have to get beautiful.” Her face must have given something away, because he amended it to, “Well, more beautiful. I don't suppose Leone packed that green dress, did she?"
Ah, the green dress Leone had thought was provocative. Apparently she'd been right. “You liked that, did you?"
Her eyes had begun to glow again, but they were darkening with passion. “Yes,” he admitted in a voice so husky
that her smile spread slowly from the heat building in her body. A knock sounded and the door opened behind him.
"Excuse me, Your Highnesses, but a trio of shuttles have just landed outside the gates and there's an admiral demanding to speak with the crown heir.” It sounded like Hideo, but she couldn't see around Blade.
He sighed, straightened, and turned. “I'll be there in a minute. Is there someone who can help Her Highness prepare for the ceremony?"
"Absolutely.” Hideo put one hand on his hip and shifted his weight as Blade turned to leave. “Girl, I thought you'd never come to your senses. I know exactly what we're going to do with your hair.” Something about the way he said it reminded her of someone she'd once known, but she couldn't think of whom.
* * * *
Blade walked out of the infirmary room and hit a roadblock—Crais on one side, Llamass on the other. “Llamass, I'm going to need a clean shirt if you can scrounge one up,” he said over his shoulder as he turned to the military man with the thundercloud between his ears.
"You don't mind if I verify that with Her—the commander, do you?"
"As long as you don't mind that she's still working on mood-altering medication, I don't care if you play pat-a-cake.” Blade pointed to Crais. “You, come with me."
"So it's true, you did abduct a Zonan soldier.” He heard the sneer and turned back.
"Do you have a problem with the Barian Crown Heir, Admiral Crais?"
The man stiffened to attention. “No, Your Royal Highness."
Blade suppressed his temper. “Then you'll be relieved to hear that I did not, in fact, abduct anyone. Her Highness Commander Penthes escorted my party from the original ambush site to the border, and elected to seek sanctuary in Barian after the Matriarch's Own tried to kill her—twice."
"Twice?” The admiral's face flushed, then paled. “Her Highness? She's royalty?"
Blade started walking again, and this time Crais fell in at his side as he explained exactly what had happened. “Tell my father he can come out of the bunker. The invasion was repelled with prejudice.” Which meant, of course, that all of the invaders were dead. “Now if you'll excuse me, there's a bonding I have to attend."
