Irresistible Forces

by Catherine Ansaro et al

  Devon spoke gently. "You're different than I expected."

  "Different?" He blinked. "How?"

  "Quieter." She considered him. "More polished."

  Although he said, "Thank you," her words didn't feel like a compliment. He followed the manners his parents had taught him. That he lived a rural, simple life didn't make him crude.

  Devon leaned back on her hand. "What do you like to do, Vyrl, when you aren't in school?"

  "Come out here." He motioned at a nearby field of nodding stalks, each weighed down with orbs as large as a fist. "We're going to harvest the bagger-bubbles soon." He smiled, warming to the thought. "I'll work with Althor and Del, razing the stalks."

  "Cutting plants, you mean?" She seemed bemused.

  Cutting plants seemed a prosaic way to describe the joy of working with the land and the riches it produced. He wasn't sure, though, if Devon would understand his stumbling attempts to explain feelings he couldn't fully describe even to himself, so he only said, "Yes. Cutting plants." . "Ah."

  They sat for a while. When the silence became strained, Vyrl asked, "Are you on vacation now?"

  "I suppose you could call it that. I've five days leave, measured in Lyshriol time." She sat forward and rested her elbows on her knees. "The dates for the Metropoli summit have been moved up. That's why I had to reschedule this trip. I have to give a presentation there about the ground-based defense systems for Metropoli."

  "Oh." Vyrl had no real idea what she meant. "It sounds important."

  Devon grimaced. "Committee meetings always sound important. The more elevated the description, the less we get done." She shook her head. "I see no point in stockpiling more weapons on Metropoli. The planet is already as well guarded as we can make it. But its economy will benefit from the industry. Metropoli has a big population, ten billion, so it holds many votes within the Assembly." Wryly, she added, "Hence my presentation."

  He tried to look interested. "I hope it works out."

  "I'm sure it will." She didn't sound convinced. He was picking up traces of her thoughts now. She didn't expect the summit to achieve anything useful. He wondered why they bothered with meetings if they didn't think it would help. »

  After another silence, Devon cleared her throat. She wouldn't look at him, just kept staring across the plains. "The Assembly sent me many files about you."

  Vyrl stiffened. What was the Assembly doing with files about him? "Where did they get them?"

  She glanced at him. "They have dossiers on every member of your family. Surely you knew that."

  His face was growing hot. "No."

  "Oh." Now she looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound intrusive."

  "You didn't." That wasn't true, but it wasn't her fault he hadn't known the Assembly kept a dossier on him. Although it made sense, it had simply never occurred to him.

  "I've also spoken at length to your parents." She stared hard at the lyrine herd again, avoiding his gaze.

  Vyrl wondered what she was trying to say. "They didn't tell me much about the negotiations."

  She finally turned to him. "They are terribly proud of you, you know."

  "They are?" As far as Vyrl could tell, his truancy and procrastination annoyed them no end.

  "Yes. Very much." Now she looked self-conscious. "They've made it clear that if I don't treat you well, I will answer to them."

  Vyrl winced. That sounded like his parents. "I'm sorry. They say things like that sometimes."

  To his surprise, Devon gave an affectionate laugh. "I imagine they do." Her smile faded. "They also made assurances, discreetly of course."

  Vyrl waited for her to clarify that mystifying statement. When she didn't, he said, "What do you mean?"

  Devon cleared her throat. "There are, ah, certain expectations for the consort of Majda." She squinted at him, her cheeks tinged with red now. "Parents may have idealized views of their children that aren't, well, uh… realistic."

  Vyrl had no idea what she meant, and he didn't think he wanted to know. But he couldn't restrain his curiosity. "What kind of views?"

  . "They might assume a certain… innocence…" Her blush deepened as her words trailed off.

  "Oh." Now Vyrl understood. He knew exactly what she meant. He spoke stiffly. "My parents know me well." There. Now that he had humiliated himself with his lack of sexual experience, maybe she would leave it alone.

  Mercifully, she just went back to watching the lyrine. Apparently his father had been right about at least one reason why Devon hadn't offered for Del-Kurj. Vyrl suspected Del's brash lack of discretion was the problem more than his actual experience; if the noble Houses had truly required male virginity on the wedding night, they probably would have died out by now for lack of mates.

  He focused on Devon—and one of her memories jumped into his mind, a scene so vivid that it escaped her barriers. A tall man of about thirty-five, with dark hair and eyes, stood with his hands spread out from his sides, laughing as he pretended confusion about something, as if he were teasing the person watching him. Vyrl felt Devon's rush of love, followed by a sense of loss, the kind that came from separation, a loneliness so deep it made him ache.

  Saints almighty. What an insensitive clod his parents had birthed. Here he was bemoaning his own miserable fate, and it had never occurred to him that this arrangement might be ruining her life, too. Why would she want to court a half-grown stranger when she had a lover her own age whom she would probably be far happier to make her consort, if politics, heredity, and duty hadn't interfered?

  Devon turned to him with a strained smile. When she touched his cheek, a tingle went through Vyrl, but it only made him think of Lily. Before he could stop himself, he whispered, "It's not fair."

  "I know." She didn't even need to ask what he meant. "But this is how it works for those like you and me." Then she slid her hand behind his head and drew him forward.

  Vyrl hadn't expected her to kiss him. When her lips touched his, it jolted him, but from surprise rather than desire. The kiss was just, well… lips pressing his. No heart. No passion. Nothing.

  After a moment she drew back and gave him a rueful smile. "Perhaps it takes the sparks a while, heh?"

  He wanted to crawl under the rocks. "My apologies if I disappointed you."

  "Ah, Vyrl, no, I didn't mean that." She sounded as if she wanted to hide under a few boulders herself. "I'm sorry. I'm bungling this terribly."

  "No. Don't say that." He struggled to smile. "It's all right."

  So they sat on their rock, gazing at the plains, trying somehow, someway, to find a common ground.

  3

  Beneath the Lavender Moon

  Gusts of wind tried to knock Vyrl off the castle wall. In the light of the two moons, which were both in the sky tonight, he climbed down from his window, hanging on to cracks in the stone. Despite the wind, sweat dribbled down his neck. He had on too many clothes, not only those he had worn earlier today when he met Devon but also a sweater and thicker boots. He had rolled up his cloak and tied it onto his pack, which he wore on his back. Altogether it made him hot, heavy, and clumsy. Even worse, it would make it harder to run if anyone saw him.

  Finally his feet touched ground. He hunkered by the wall, hiding behind a cluster of bubble stalks in the garden. Then he checked his palmtop. The silvery sheet unrolled in his hand and lit up with holos, showing the house security system. Nothing had changed since he had turned off the alarms that guarded his room. It hadn't been difficult; the system was meant to keep prowlers out, not hold him inside.

  Vyrl reset the system to hide his activities, then tucked the palmtop back into his pack and stood up, scanning the area.

  He took off at a steady lope, headed for the starport.

  Vyrl clung to the windowsill, praying he didn't fall and smash himself on the gravel two stories below. A night-triller sang in the distance, its musical call echoed by another triller farther away.

  "Come on," he muttered, scraping his fingernails
over the recalcitrant window. "Open, you bog-boil."

  With a protesting screech, the window abruptly swung inward. Vyrl froze. Gods, he was going to look stupid if someone caught him hanging here on the wall of a private home in the middle of the night. It had taken him longer than he expected to finish his business at the starport; it meant he hadn't reached here until well after midnight had passed in Lyshriol's twenty-eight hour day.

  Mercifully, no one seemed to be out. This late at night, few people wandered these high, twisting lanes of Dalvador. No one came storming out of the house, and no one yelled from any other house to find out what was going on.

  When the trillers began singing again, Vyrl breathed out in relief. He nudged the window wide open, grateful it made no more noise, and peered into the shadows beyond.

  Moonlight silvered the room below. The cozy chamber looked as he remembered it, though years had passed since he had last been here. The bed was just below him, but even the screeching window hadn't awakened its occupant. Vyrl grinned. Lily had always slept like a rock; he had long suspected it had something to do with her rock-headed stubborn nature.

  He let himself down into the room, gripping the sill as he slid lower. Then his feet touched the bed. Exhaling, he knelt next to the slumbering Lily, his head bent while he caught his breath. She murmured, turning restlessly. This time the surge in his pulse had nothing to do with a fear of being caught. He wanted to touch her, but he held back, having no idea how she would react when she discovered him kneeling in her bed.

  Lily rolled onto her back and sighed, her eyes slowly opening. For a long moment she simply stared at him, her gaze fogged with sleep. Then she said, "Vyrl?" She sounded as drowsy as she looked, warm and snuggled in her nest of blankets. The embroidered flowers on her white nightgown gleamed in the moonlight.

  "It's me," Vyrl said. For some reason the temperature in the room seemed to be rising. How different Lily made him feel, compared to the enigmatic, cool General Majda.

  Her lips curved in the teasing smile she always used with him. "You're a terribly misbehaved fellow, to climb in my window. I must yell and make a great fuss."

  "Lily!" His whisper came out fierce. "Your father would kill me."

  "You better hide, then." Her voice had an unexpected tremor.

  With a start, Vyrl realized she wasn't her usual teasing self. She was shaking! In all the years he had known Lily, he had seen her laughing, mischievous, glowering, joyous, annoyed, teasing, and earnest, but she had never been afraid of him.

  Vyrl lowered his mental barriers, unsure, but trusting that her thoughts wouldn't hurt him. As her mood permeated his mind, he realized she feared he would leave her forever, disappearing from her life, lost to rumors he had to marry an off-world queen. His crawling in her window didn't frighten her; she trusted him the same way he trusted her.

  He touched her cheek. "It's been a long time."

  She folded her fingers around his with that new, charming shyness of hers. "Too long."

  Vyrl sighed, his memories rushing in. When he and Lily had been small children, they had often curled here in a pile on her bed. Then one day her parents and his had told them that they could no longer take naps together. Now Vyrl felt as if he were returning home, but with full knowledge of why their parents hadn't wanted them together this way. They had been right. If he were Lily's father, he would take a sharpened farm implement to any youth climbing in her window late at night.

  But he wasn't her father, he was the boy—no, the man—who dreamed of her every day. He stretched out next to her, still wearing his backpack and sweater, and pulled her into his arms. A jolt went through him, ten times stronger than the shiver Devon had evoked. Nor did this fade. It leapt like fire on oil.

  "You make me crazy," he whispered, fighting the urge to put his hands everywhere on her. He pressed his lips against her cheek. "You torment my nights."

  She slid her arms around him. "But I've done nothing, good sir." Instead of offering sympathy for his travails, she sounded inordinately pleased by his declaration of unrequited passion.

  Vyrl caressed her face, pushing aside her disarrayed curls. He found her lips with his and held her close, losing himself in her tenderness. He savored their kiss all the more for having so painfully labored to accept, these last two days, that he could never hold her again. She parted her lips, her embrace tightening, her body fitted against his, her touch uncertain but so very, very fine.

  With reluctance, Vyrl lifted his head. She smiled, her big eyes luminous in the shadows. Ah, but he could lie here forever, lost in her arms. That was the problem, though. If he didn't stop now, his plan would fail because he would end up staying the entire night. He and Lily would be found in the morning, thoroughly shocking her parents and his. Everyone would hush up his scandalous behavior, and his parents would probably lock him up in his tower room until he was safely married to Devon.

  As Vyrl drew away, Lily made a low protest. He swallowed, even more aroused by her sweet, guileless desire. Determined to control himself, he sat up. She regarded him, puzzled and hurt, while he took her hands and drew her into a sitting position. The covers fell away from her body, revealing the soft sleep-gown that outlined her figure.

  Vyrl's concentration flew out the window. With a valiant effort, he tore his gaze away from her curves and made himself focus on her face. "Lily Opaline, I have an important matter to discuss with you."

  "And what might that be?" Although she tried for a mischievous smile, she looked more scared than playful.

  He took a deep breath. "I'm running away."

  Her tremulous smile vanished. "Vyrl, no! Don't go." Softly, she said, "Please don't leave. Even if you have to marry that—that person, at least we can be friends."

  Vyrl couldn't imagine being "friends" with Lily. It would cut out his heart. Nor did Lily understand; to marry Devon, he would leave Lyshriol and go live in some palace with a staff of hundreds, which he would be expected to manage while his wife attended her military duties.

  "Lily, we can't be friends," he said firmly. He forced out the words. "General Majda, the woman who came from the sky—the leaders of my mother's people say I must marry her. My parents agree."

  A tear ran down her cheek. "Don't say good-bye this way." Her mischief had vanished. "I can't bear it."

  "Don't cry." He wiped his knuckles across her cheek, smearing her tears. Then he went deep in himself, calling up his courage, and spoke the words he had come to say. "I want you to run away with me."

  For a long moment she didn't react, not in her face, her posture, or even her mood. Then her emotions flooded over him. He couldn't sort it all out, but two responses came through strong and clear: She both feared and hoped he meant what he said.

  "It's true." He could hardly believe that he had actually asked her. "Come with me."

  "But we can't." She drew his hands together and held them as if they were a treasure. "Your parents will bring us home. With their magics, they will easily find us."

  Vyrl had long ago given up trying to convince his friends that technology had nothing to do with magic. "I know they can find us. But I have a… well, a—a solution."

  "Solution?" Her emotions were clearer now: apprehension that she would lose him; uncertainty in how he felt about her compared to the mysterious adult who had trespassed in their midst; a desire for him that she didn't fully understand; and the shyness that came with that desire, a self-conscious recognition of Vyrl's masculinity, an awareness she had hidden this past year by tormenting him with mischief.

  Emboldened, he plunged ahead before he lost his courage. "By the time they find us, we will be married." Then he stopped, terrified. What if she refused him? He would die of shame, curl up into a ball the size of a bubble pod and blow away on the wind, never to be heard of again.

  Lily stared at him. Then she gave an uneasy laugh. "You're teasing me."

  "I'm not." Vyrl raised her hands and pressed his lips against her knuckles. He spoke with all the
persuasion he could muster. "Be my wife, Lily. You're the only one I've ever wanted, the only one I ever will. Say yes." He had gone too far to turn back now. "Tell me you will marry me. Tonight."

  She let go of his hands and covered her cheeks with her hands. When she said nothing, he added, "I would court you, but we haven't time, I'm afraid. You have to decide now."

  Instead of accepting or refusing him, she just lowered her hands. He could no longer catch individual emotions in the tumult of her thoughts. Why wouldn't she speak? Had he offended her? Maybe he had been a fool, presuming where he had no place. Chagrined, he felt his face heating.

  "You're always so impatient," she chided, her voice quavering behind her bravado. "This is worse than the time you pushed me into the lake."

  "You would have taken the entire summer to jump if I hadn't pushed you." His voice softened. "Be brave now, Lily. Say yes. We may never have another chance. Everyone is busy arranging my marriage. General Majda needs heirs and she's thirty-eight, so she can't wait much longer."

  Lily's face changed slowly, her expression unlike any she had shown him before. No imp this, no child. This Lily looked… older. When she spoke, her voice caught. "Then, Havyrl Valdoria, I—I would be honored to marry you."

  Yes! She had said yes! He wanted to shout her answer to the sky, and he would have if it hadn't meant her father would come thundering in here, threatening to skewer him for invading his daughter's bedroom. He took her hands again and spoke in a low, intense voice. "I will make you a good husband, I swear it."

  Despite her best intentions to look somber, naughtiness crept into her voice. "But how do I know? You must give me a sample." She put her arms around his neck and tilted her pretty face to his. "Unless you're afraid to kiss me…"