by Val Roberts
"Ready?” It was Blade's voice echoing her own thoughts. She looked up at him and saw the glow coming from his eyes again, as if he were enjoying himself.
"I don't know. It sounds like there are a lot of people out there.” She wiped her hands on her thighs.
"Well, it's not every day I kidnap a princess from Zona and bring her home to meet the family,” he said, shrugging. She looked up and his lips stretched in a smile, but his eyes looked grim. Maybe the glow came from anger.
"Who said you kidnapped me?"
"Your mother, who has been raising eight kinds of hell ever since the ambush site in Balsom was discovered.” He smirked. “She's threatening to personally rip out my liver if she hasn't heard from you by sundown."
"How...?” But she knew Bariani had ways of talking to each other even when they were far away. She had to stop forgetting things like that. “Can you get a message to her now?"
"We can relay it through the embassy at Balsom."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Seventeen
She stood, feeling a bit like herself for the first time since the smoke had cleared outside the Sanctuary Enclave that morning. “Send her this message: ‘Do not attempt to invade Barian under any circumstances. The Zonan soul needs no scar.’ Sign it Taryn.” She pushed past him and trotted down the ramp into sunlight. A breeze blew hair across her vision so she wasn't prepared for the wall of sound that engulfed her, nearly knocking her over. She had to get away from it, but with hair in her face, she had no idea which direction held shelter.
Familiar arms slid around her from behind while she was still clawing curled locks out of her line of sight, and the roar intensified. He said something, but she couldn't hear it over the crowd, could only feel it as a vibration from his body into hers. She looked up, turning in his embrace, and this time the smile was genuine and his eyes were glowing with pure joy.
"Where do I go?” she tried to ask, but he shook his head, lifting one hand to wave to the people being held back by something invisible a foot beyond the polite velvet ropes. The roar got even louder. He glanced back down at her and his grin became positively wicked, just before he kissed her in front of a thousand screaming strangers. Or maybe ten thousand. The thought of being watched by that many people was enough to keep her from losing her grip on reality while he was trying to lick her tonsils, but not enough to keep her from melting into him for protection against all those eyes.
Finally he lifted his head and smiled at her again, then turned her around, looped an arm around her waist, and with a final wave to the berserker crowd, marched her across the landing pad into a highly ornate portico fronting the biggest building she had ever seen. Two metallic doors, flanked inside and outside by men in armor holding energy rifles, clanged shut behind them, echoing in a marble hall almost the size of Mother's ballroom.
"Gods, I'm glad to get out of that noise,” Blade muttered.
"Now what?” she forced herself to ask, even though she didn't really want to know.
"You go get some rest, and I find out what's been going on through channels while we were hiding in the wilderness."
"But—You want to split up?” He must have heard something in her voice, because his arm tightened on her waist.
"No, but we have to.” He stopped walking and pulled her close. “If it were my choice, I'd never let you out of my sight again.” It seemed like he was about to kiss her when footsteps echoed across the room. “You're safe now.” She didn't feel safe. She wasn't sure if she would ever feel safe again.
A throat cleared behind her and Blade raised his face from her hair. “Your Royal Highness, His Majesty wishes an audience at your earliest convenience."
"Which is herald-speak for ‘Get your ass in here, slime-for-brains,'” Blade translated quietly, then sighed.
"If you would see the Heir Consort to my quarters, Alainor, I can speak with His Majesty now. It's been a rough journey and she needs to rest someplace where people aren't trying to kill her."
There was the tiniest hesitation before the man she couldn't see said, “The Heir Consort. Of course, Your Royal Highness.” Taryn set her shoulders and tried to center herself, but it was very difficult. She pulled away from Blade and turned around to face the herald, who was wearing an expression not unlike someone who had bitten into an unripe piece of fruit and was trying to hide it. “If you will come with me, lady."
"Alainor.” Taryn tensed, because she'd only ever heard Blade use that tone of voice when the situation was dire. “If I ever hear you address Her Serene Highness Taryn Penthes von Stassos as lady again, I'll cut your balls off and feed them to you. Do I make myself understood?"
"Without doubt, Your Royal Highness.” Alainor bowed, his hands visibly trembling. “If Her Serene Highness would be so kind as to accompany your humble servant, I will show her to the Heir Consort's apartments."
Blade gently pushed her in the herald's direction and she followed him through another ornate doorway, down a hall, up a staircase, down another hall, and when he was about to ascend the second staircase she couldn't keep silent any longer.
"Herald Alainor?” she asked, unable to keep quite all the hesitation out of her voice. He stopped and turned to her with one slightly raised eyebrow. “I'm sorry you got in trouble. He's ... a little touchy after what happened on the trip.” She remembered the firefight outside the Enclave and shivered involuntarily.
His expression softened the tiniest bit. “Nonetheless, to address a person who is royal both by birth and by ... marriage is an unpardonable lapse of etiquette, Your Serene Highness, and His Royal Highness was most proper to correct me. Rest assured, dear princess, it will not happen again.” He bowed slightly, and she felt heat rise in her cheeks.
"He didn't have to be so brutal about it,” she murmured. “Or so graphic."
Alainor cocked his head a little to one side. “Your Serene Highness found the correction offensive?"
"Not if it were coming from a top sergeant,” she said with a shrug, “but Blade has the power to do it. As the heir to the throne, I would expect him to be a little more circumspect."
Alainor's mask cracked completely in the form of a broad grin. “Ah. I should have expected that only Crown Heir Blademir could go into the wilderness and return with a Zonan royal to her fingertips.” He bowed deeply this time. “Shall we continue, Your Serene Highness?"
Taryn took a deep breath and tried to be gracious. “Of course. I'm actually looking forward to a little peace and quiet.” They finally stopped in front of a set of floridly carved double doors, whitewashed and the most outrageous of the wooden swooshes highlighted in gold leaf. “This is where Blade lives?” she asked with only a tiny bit of the horrified amusement leaking into her voice.
"Oh, no! This is the Heir Consort's quarters,” Alainor informed her as he swept open the door into a gloom-filled room full of dustcloth-covered furniture. He cleared his throat. “It hasn't been used since His Majesty ascended to the throne, so things might look a bit ... dated.” Taryn walked in and shed her pack.
"Well, it's been dusted at least.” She smiled at him, though she knew it didn't make her look anything more than resigned to her fate.
"If we'd had a bit more notice—” he tried to apologize, but she waved him down.
"This is a thousand times better than the cave,” she told him as she pulled out a comb that had started digging into her scalp and tossed it on what looked like a cloth-covered table to the sound of breaking glass. She froze.
"I'll send someone to make this a bit more habitable, Your Serene Highness.” And Alainor disappeared down the hallway.
* * * *
"I hope you have a very good explanation for this.” Ramondar von Stassos turned from the viewscreen showing the kiss on the landing pad and regarded his firstborn with the stare Blade had privately named the Laser-Death-Look many years before.
He folded his arms. “You kiss your wife in public. Why can't I?"
Hi
s father stepped physically back from him. “Gods and demons! Please tell me that was a joke, so I can believe my son isn't that masochistic."
"It's no joke. Taryn Astaren Penthes von Stassos made her vows at a Sanctuary bonding ceremony this morning, with full knowledge of exactly what she was getting into.” Blade took a deep breath. “Can you say my mother did the same? Did you tell her the truth?"
The king's complexion faded to an ashy white and he turned without a word and fumbled for his chair. “Who told you?"
"Nobody told me. Thirty fucking years and nobody ever spilled the secret that my mother was Zonan.” Blade moved forward and planted his fists on his father's ornate desk. “What did you tell her?"
Ramondar's hands fisted on the chair arms. “I loved her. And we don't know that she was Zonan. Julesan never said where she was from."
"Oh, yeah, you loved her so much you couldn't tell her she was sleeping with the enemy.” He pounded the desk and ignored the feeble attempt to deflect him both from the truth and from the real issue. “And who paid for your silence, Dad? Who ignored the whispers and the innuendo, who put up with the tacit acceptance that, of course he has trouble with quantum mechanics, here, let him go into the infantry instead of the navy like every other von Stassos? Who paid?"
Ramondar stared at his desk. “Everyone,” he finally whispered. “Everyone paid."
"Well not this time.” Blade turned from the desk and started to pace. “Taryn knows, and she agreed to all of it. My Amazon is not going to run."
"I didn't think your mother would leave me once you were born, Blade.” Suddenly Ramondar looked tired and infinitely sad, almost helpless. It was an expression Blade had never seen on his father's face before and never wanted to see again, because he was pretty sure he'd felt exactly the same thing that morning, watching the woman who owned his soul walking away.
"Enough ancient history.” Blade picked up the remote and turned off the screen, where the crowd was looking ecstatic, if a little shell-shocked. “I need get a message from Prince Taryn to her mother immediately, and then I need a brief on the diplomatic situation.” He sat down opposite his father. “If we play this properly, we can reunify Grant Barian and get full membership in the Dozen Worlds."
His father sat up straighter, astonishment all too evident in his eyes. Yes, he really had believed the media's portrayal of his son. “You can't be serious. You really have it all worked out?"
Blade let his lips stretch in a smile that was almost the snarl he felt inside. “Sit back and watch, Ramondar von Stassos. You're about to see how political a feral half-Zonan can get."
It took over an hour to get through the entire story of what had happened while he and Taryn had been fighting for their lives in the Jags, and almost another to walk his father through his plans to unify the two countries and solidify the lucrative off-world export market for rare, hand-produced Zonan merchandise on top of everything else.
"I'll be damned, that's the most adroit bit of maneuvering I've ever seen,” Ramondar said when he'd finally fit his brain around all the complexities. Strangely, this time he didn't seem surprised at all. “There was nothing of this in your aptitudes."
Blade shrugged. “I learned one thing early on about strategy, Your Majesty. It's much easier to surprise people if you allow them to underestimate your resources."
Ramondar laughed, but he didn't sound amused. Or surprised. “I see Benedar was right.” A tone sounded, then warbled up an octave. “Crap of the cosmos, that's the secure line from Balsom embassy."
"I'll take it,” Blade said, standing. He punched the hands-free from the wrong side of the desk. “Yes, Tomal?"
"Y-your Highness? You've returned to Krystale?” Codreascu stammered, obviously not expecting Blade. “I, I have Her Majesty Silean in the embassy looking for news of Her Highness Taryn."
"Excellent. Can you get full video?” There was the sound of fumbling, then a click and the screen came on with the Barian ambassador's pale face.
"Yes, Your Royal Highness."
"Put on the Matriarch, please. I have a message for her from Taryn, and something to show her.” Blade opened his left shirt cuff and started rolling up the sleeve as the ambassador disappeared, leaving a view of his empty desk on the screen. After a moment, an older woman with pale blond hair pulled back in a braid much like Taryn habitually wore strode into the frame and sat.
"This had better be good,” she said in much the same tone of voice his father had greeted him.
"Hello, Silean,” he said and watched her face flush, then go ashen. He held up his wrist in front of his face so that she could get a good, close-up view of the bonding chain. “I have a message for you from my wife.” Then he repeated what Taryn had told him on the shuttle.
Silean's face tightened, but her color came back. Just for a split second, she almost looked relieved. “I see. And when did you enslave my daughter?"
"Excuse me? A life partnership between equals is not slavery. Sanctuary would not permit anything else."
"You expect me to believe Taryn entered into a bonding with a Bariani royal without coercion?” Silean's voice rose to a throaty female roar, again reminding him of his father, but he'd been facing down that kind of roar for more years than he cared to count. And something about it was playing false, as if she were putting on a show.
"Frankly, Your Majesty, I don't care what you believe.” He rolled his sleeve back down and fastened the cuff as he continued. “The fact is that one set of your grandchildren is going to wear the crown of Barian some day, and your declared heir is so bent on preventing that from happening that I fought a company of Silvergard this morning to keep Taryn alive. The Duke of Northshield was gravely injured, and if it wasn't for Prince Taryn's expertise with Silvergard weaponry, he would have been killed. Do you want a hot war with Barian, Silean? Not even the ancestor you were named after was ballsy enough to match crossbows with energy weapons and absolute air superiority."
"I never ordered any such attack. You're lying.” Silean leaned back in the chair and folded her arms, suddenly calm. Ah, she'd known what Talyn had been up to and was confirming she hadn't been involved. “I want to speak to Taryn, immediately."
Blade sighed and pulled out the crossbow quarrel he'd gotten from Juvenan while Taryn had been dressing for the bonding. “Do you recognize this?” he asked, holding it up.
Silean's eyes narrowed. “Where did you get that?"
"Taryn pulled it out of Northshield's shoulder about twenty kliks from the Sanctuary Enclave in the Jags.” He heard his father hiss an inhale. “She said the yellow fletch denotes passadder venom, and all the medical scanners we ran him through agreed.” He tossed the bolt onto his father's desk. “Any idea where a rogue company of Silvergard—excuse me, extremely well-trained female fighters wearing Silvergard uniforms and using Silvergard weapons—would have gotten crossbow bolts made of depleted uranium and an offworld fullerene?"
"You've missed your calling, Stassos. You would have made a wonderful bard with stories like this.” She sniffed, somehow making her inhale derisive. Praise the gods his wife didn't do that.
"You know, I can wake Taryn from her nap and have her confirm everything, although I'd rather not as she's had a stressful day already and needs some extra sleep. Furthermore, I can bring in the Enclave truthtester to verify it.” He folded his own arms. “I appreciate the Zonan never-surrender attitude as much as the next ground-pounder, Matriarch, but there comes a time to get out of a bad situation before it gets worse. You've got one kid who's gone off the deep end trying to kill the sane one, who has just married into the Barian royal line.” He smiled. “You're going to have to pick one of them to back, and I'll tell you right now which one gives better odds of Zona finishing the year this side of a new stone age."
She dropped her face into her hands and rubbed her temples, a gesture he recognized from Taryn when she was trying to face unpleasant truths and make decisions.
"What do you want, von Stasso
s?"
He sat down in the same chair he'd used earlier and put his boots on his father's desk, crossing his ankles. “First off, I would very much appreciate it if you'd call me Blade. I don't think a cordial relationship with my mother-in-law is too much to ask for, do you?” She groaned, and he barely managed to contain his mirth to a slight smile. “Secondly, I want Grant Barian reunited. Zona will be a principality and a national treasure for its preservation of historic culture and inimitable artistic excellence, with all direct rule accomplished by the eldest daughter of the Grant Barian crown, after you decide to retire from ruling, of course. You're still a young woman. Furthermore, I'm going to institute a new order of knighthood for artistic excellence to be known as the Order of Penthes, and only the Princess of Zona will be able to bestow it."
Silean's head came up and she had the same expression Taryn had worn the first time he'd told her to stop scaring the daylights out of him—equal parts shock and wonder. He realized with a start that mother and daughter had almost exactly the same color of eyes.
"You would do that?"
He snorted. “If I did anything less, I'm sure my mother would track me down and give me the chewing out of a lifetime. It's widely rumored she was Zonan."
"Blade, that's a family matter—” his father tried to break in.
"And as of mid-day today, the Matriarch is family. My family.” He stared down his father until Ramondar subsided. “My father has always protected her privacy ... zealously,” he went on, as if he hadn't been interrupted. “It's a Bariani thing, protecting the women we care about.” He shrugged. “But if she's anything like Taryn, she'd probably beat the snot out of me in the process.” He let his booted feet drop to the antique hand-woven Zonan carpet and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I have strong ties to Zona, and I don't want everything special about the place and the culture subsumed once Grant Barian is reunited."
