Interstellar Service and Discipline 03 Fallen Star.lit

by Morgan Hawke

  He lectured a bit on the proper hand positions to carry the blade in a public area, then tucked the black chain leash through his sash and turned for the door.

  Fallon stared after him. No leash?

  At the door, Sobehk turned back to her. “Are you coming, or what?”

  Fallon’s brows shot up. No leash. Hot damn! She grinned and strode toward him and the door. “Let’s go!”

  * * * * *

  Fallon discovered very quickly that walking through the ship’s somewhat narrow hallways with a sword jammed in her sash was more complicated than it looked. The long end kept getting caught in her long full pants and the grip kept getting tangled with her robe. She was constantly shifting it away from her clothes and out of other peoples’ way. For some odd reason, people kept trying to walk into it, as though there were a magnet at the end designed to draw knees.

  Sobehk tossed the occasional smile her way, but other than that, he strode through the early cycle halls ignoring her presence at his heels.

  Fallon followed Sobehk into a lift and then out into a huge and somewhat empty shadowed room. The distant steel walls and the very distant ceiling were supported by immense girders. Massive crates were stacked and secured in seemingly random areas, and the plate steel deck was painted with gridlines. Lighting was focused straight down on the piled crates and nowhere else.

  Fallon followed Sobehk past several stacks of boxes. “This looks like a warehouse.”

  “It’s cargo storage and the designated practice area.” He stopped, turned to the right, and pointed. “That’s our spot over there.”

  Fallon took another look around. “I don’t see anyone else practicing.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, everyone else is still asleep.”

  Sobehk smiled as he led the way toward a blank area between two rows of cargo. “Do you really want people watching you stabbing yourself?”

  Fallon scowled. “I am very good with blades.”

  “I’m sure you are.” Sobehk stepped into the cleared area. Light snapped on overhead and poured down into the empty space. “But a sword is not a knife.”

  Fallon set her hands on her hips. “A sword is a really long knife. How hard can it be?”

  Sobehk raised his brows. “Draw.”

  Fallon pulled the sword from its sheath -- and got stuck, with half the blade still in the sheath.

  Sobehk did not laugh; he didn’t even smile. He tilted his grip down, angling the sheath. “Try it this way.”

  It took more than one try just to get the stupid thing free of her sheath. Finally free and in her hand, Fallon found that the practice blade was actually balanced, but it was awkwardly lengthy.

  Sobehk nodded. “Good. Sheath it.”

  Fallon swallowed. “Okay.” Getting that big long piece of steel back into its sheath in her sash was even more problematic. Her arms were just too short.

  Sobehk nodded. “Hold your grip like so, and return like this.” He tilted the sheath down and to the side.

  Fallon nibbled on her bottom lip and repeated his motions. The blade slid home.

  Sobehk nodded. “Good. Draw and return.”

  Drawing the sword and returning it without striking the floor or her shins or, oddly, jamming her elbow into her side, turned out to be far more of a challenge than it had looked. Eventually she got it right. Of course, her memorization program didn’t hurt.

  A sword was nothing like a knife.

  “Draw.”

  Fallon drew the blade and held it extended before her in the one-handed position he had shown her, one foot slightly forward in a balanced stance.

  Sobehk nodded. “Good. Now ...” He drew his blade with disgusting ease and stood at her right side in the same exact position. “All you have to do is copy what I do. When I say ‘hold,’ freeze in place, so I can adjust your stance. Got it?”

  Fallon took a small breath. “Yes, ‘Syr.”

  He moved, slowly and gracefully, lifting the sword above his head while his right foot slid back, taking nearly all his weight, and his left hand rose to the level of his heart.

  Fallon followed.

  “Hold.”

  Fallon froze.

  Sobehk stepped behind her and adjusted her head, her shoulders, her arms, and her feet. He caught her by the hips and moved her back just a bit. “Weight, back here. Balance here.” He returned to place and then changed positions.

  Fallon followed, and followed, and followed...

  Sobehk called out position changes and watched with a small smile on his lips, but he didn’t laugh, or make any nasty comments, or get upset when she took forever to do something. He was calm, relaxed, and ... centered, even patient. He seemed like a whole different person.

  There were a lot of “holds,” but, somehow, Fallon found the whole thing rather relaxing.

  Sobehk dropped into a relaxed stance and slid the sword into his sheath with a snap.

  Fallon followed, and her sword actually went where it was supposed to go, the way it was supposed to get there, on the first try. She blinked in surprise. “Oh!”

  Sobehk nodded and smiled. “Good.” He stepped forward and set his hand on his sword grip. “Assume the ready position. We’re going to do the entire pattern again.”

  Fallon stepped back, copying his movements, and frowned. “That was a pattern?”

  Sobehk grinned. “Yep, and we’re going to do it over, and over, and over, until you can do it without me.”

  Do it without him? Fallon’s mouth fell open. “Sobehk, that’s a long freaking pattern. It’s going to take forever to learn it!”

  “It only took me four years to learn that one.” Khan strode around the edge of a pile of crates bordering their space. He was dressed in matching red and black practice garb with a dulled practice blade in his sash.

  Fallon’s mouth fell open. “Four years?”

  Sobehk grinned. “Khan was an unusually quick student.”

  Fallon groaned, then frowned. “Wait a minute ... you said ‘that one.’ There are more of them?”

  Sobehk nodded. “Eight.”

  Fallon rolled her eyes. “I’m doomed.”

  Khan chuckled and moved to Fallon’s other side. “And this is the short one, if I recall correctly.” He stepped back into position, his hand on the sword grip.

  Sobehk chuckled. “I figured I’d start her on something easy.”

  Pain stabbed through Fallon’s heart. He might be starting her lesson, but after the auction ... He wouldn’t be finishing it. She took a deep breath to deal with the ache in her chest.

  Khan sighed and came forward. “Sobehk, are you paying attention?”

  Sobehk frowned. “To what?”

  Khan’s brows dipped and his eyes narrowed. “To your rehkyt? ”

  Sobehk looked down at Fallon. “Isabeau, is something wrong?”

  Fallon looked straight ahead, avoiding the heavy stares from both men. “No, I’m good.”

  Khan rolled his eyes. “Turn on the telepathic link, you idiot.”

  Sobehk rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever ...” He froze then released his breath and winced. “Ah ... shit.”

  Fallon glared at Khan. “Thank you, ‘Syr. Now you’ve made us both miserable.”

  Khan folded his arms and stared hard at Sobehk “Tell her.”

  Sobehk stared hard at the floor and took a deep breath. “I won’t be leaving after the auction. I’m staying, with Khan and you.”

  Fallon stared at Sobehk. “What? I don’t get it. Why?”

  He rolled his shoulders and looked away. “It’s ... complicated.”

  She turned to Khan and glared. “What did you do to him?”

  Khan’s brows shot up.

  Sobehk chuckled.

  Khan lifted his gaze to Sobehk. “Do you want me to tell her?”

  Sobehk sighed and turned to face them. “I’m Khan’s Dhe’syah . His ...” He frowned, then looked up at Khan. “Is there an Imperial equivalent for this?”

  Khan looked down at Fal
lon. “Sobehk is my liege man, my most trusted companion.”

  Fallon frowned in concentration. “Is that like a squire to a knight?”

  Khan smiled. “More like a knight to a prince.” He lifted his gaze to Sobehk and frowned. “Though he has yet to make his formal oath.”

  Sobehk rolled his eyes.

  Fallon choked. “You’re a prince?” Her voice came out in a breathless squeak.

  Khan pursed his lips and shrugged. “Yes.”

  Sobehk snorted. “He’s a blood prince. If he has a daughter, she’ll be in line to the throne.”

  Khan grimaced. “I doubt she’ll ever make heir, not with my four bloodthirsty sisters ahead of her.”

  Fallon’s brows shot up. “Not you? You’re not in line to the throne?”

  Khan shook his head. “My race is ruled by queens.”

  Sobehk nodded. “The men fight; the women govern.”

  Khan looked down at Fallon. “The point is, Sobehk is not leaving. You’re going to have us both.”

  Fallon stilled. Sobehk wasn’t leaving. Somehow that made the ache around her heart worse.

  Sobehk moved back into the ready stance. “Shall we get back to work?”

  Khan nodded and took position on Fallon’s left.

  Fallon stepped back and set her hand on her sword’s grip. Khan was a prince and Sobehk was his knight? It was like something out of one of Peter’s old storyvids . All of a sudden Sobehk’s reluctance to “serve” made an awful lot of sense. Sobehk wasn’t exactly the submissively obedient type. She smiled grimly. Served him right, though. If she had to wear a collar and have an “owner,” it was only fair that he had one, too.

  Sobehk scowled down at her. “Clear that head of yours. I can’t concentrate with all that noise coming out of you.”

  Fallon growled before she could stop herself. But she bit back her retort. If he hadn’t been listening, he wouldn’t have heard her.

  “I heard that!” Sobehk swatted at her.

  Fallon ducked his swing easily. “It’s my head! You , get out of it!”

  Khan turned and glared at her. “Whose head?”

  Fallon groaned. On second thought, having the two of them might not be the best idea in the world.

  * * * * *

  Deep in the ship’s hold, the three of them moved in unison, slowly stepping to the beat called out by Sobehk. Their blades rose and fell with arms outstretched, stepping, turning, and shifting from stance to stance in a very, very slow martial dance.

  All three sheathed their blades in unison.

  Fallon blinked as though slipping from a trance. “Whoa ...”

  Sobehk nodded. “Knew I’d find a practical use for that telepathic link sooner or later.”

  Khan nodded and stretched. “I think that worked rather nicely.”

  Fallon frowned. “What?”

  Sobehk stepped back and waved his hand. “Take two steps forward.”

  Fallon did.

  “Draw.”

  Fallon drew. The blade came from her sheath in a fluid motion and she held it up in perfect position without even thinking about it. Huh .

  “Turn around.”

  Fallon turned.

  Sobehk leaned back against a large crate with his arms folded. He smiled. “Begin.”

  Khan lunged at her with his blade low, held two-handed, and driving for her stomach.

  Fallon engaged, twisted to the side and back, and slid her blade up his blade, riding it to get to Khan’s throat.

  Khan wove out of the way.

  She followed, her blade snaking after him.

  Khan twisted sharply to avoid her, then lunged at her, snapping out a lightning-fast countermove.

  Fallon’s blade rang out as she met him. She lashed out with her foot.

  Khan dodged her kick and snapped out his fist.

  She blocked and brought up her blade to parry the steel headed for her outer thigh.

  “Hold!”

  Fallon froze.

  Khan grinned and laughed. “That was damned impressive!”

  Sobehk laughed. “Yeah, and she even used some of the moves from the pattern!”

  Fallon’s brows shot up. He was right. She had used a few of Sobehk’s fancy moves.

  Khan turned to face Sobehk. “That wasn’t all from the pattern?”

  Sobehk shook his head grinning. “Khan, there was no way in hell I could have imprinted that whole pattern in her head ...”

  Fallon turned to face him. “What?”

  “I projected the moves straight into your head to help you learn what I was doing.” Sobehk smiled. “Apparently some of it stuck.”

  Fallon frowned, thinking. “Huh ...”

  Sobehk lifted his chin at Khan. “Most of that was Isabeau’s natural fighting style.”

  Khan’s brows shot up. “Really?” He sheathed his blade.

  Sobehk stepped away from the crate he’d been leaning against. “Now you know why it took three days to catch her.”

  Fallon sheathed her blade and grinned. “It took him three days to tire me out enough to actually beat me.”

  Khan chuckled. “I don’t think she’s going to have a problem with the assessment.”

  Sobehk smiled and dropped a hand on Fallon’s shoulder. “I never thought she would.”

  Fallon frowned at one and then the other. “What assessment?”

  Khan dropped his chin. “It’s nearly time for midday supper. Shall we go?”

  Sobehk nodded. “I’m starved.” He caught Fallon by the shoulders and turned her toward the break in the crates. “Go.” He shoved her forward.

  “I’m going!” Fallon rolled her eyes and followed Khan from the alcove created by the stacked crates. “Sobehk, what assessment?”

  Sobehk fell into step beside her. “The one at the auction.”

  Fallon shot him a narrowed glare. “I figured that much out.”

  Khan led the way toward the lifts. “Now is not the time to talk.” He smiled over his shoulder. “Supper is waiting.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Following in Khan’s and Sobehk’s wake up in the lift and then through the black-walled hallways, Fallon found carrying the sword far less embarrassing. Even though the halls were far more crowded with many more people in long flowing robes, the ends of her sheathed blade didn’t get tangled in her clothing or in anyone else’s.

  They arrived at Khan’s quarters and found that supper was indeed waiting.

  Seated between Khan and Sobehk, Fallon found her table manners painfully annoying. She was starved, and yet she could only eat one slice of the succulent meat at a time and she couldn’t lick the bowl after. Of course, the headache wasn’t helping any, either. Fallon pressed a hand to her pounding temple and leaned over the table so she wouldn’t drip on her robes.

  Khan looked over at Fallon and then at Sobehk. He nodded at Fallon. “Are you monitoring?”

  Sobehk grimaced. “I feel it.”

  Khan leaned back. “That’s not from me.”

  Sobehk frowned. “What?”

  Fallon looked up, wincing through her headache. “What?”

  Khan lifted his brow.

  Oh, bloody Fate ...Fallon scowled. “What, ‘Syr ”

  Khan tilted his head toward Sobehk. “Do you remember what I said about migraines?”

  Fallon blinked. “Then this isn’t just a headache?”

  “No.” Khan lifted his chin at Sobehk. “You’re Sobehk’s rehkyt as well as mine, and he is in pain.”

  Fallon jerked back from the table and glared at Sobehk. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  Sobehk glared at Fallon, then at Khan.

  Fallon looked back at Khan. “What do I do?” She winced as a particularly nasty throb stabbed her temple. “‘Syr.”

  Khan raised his brow at Sobehk. “You need to feed.”

  Sobehk shook his head. “I need too much. She’s too new to ...”

  “From me.” Khan’s brows lowered over his copper eyes. “Once you start feed
ing, the pressure to feed will leave her.”

  Sobehk winced.

  “Sobehk ...” Khan lowered his chin. “Enough.” A growl threaded though his words.

  Sobehk closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ll feed.”

  Khan nodded. “Good.” He rose from the table and began unwinding his sash.

  Sobehk staggered to his feet. “Damn ...”

  Khan nodded at Fallon. “Help him undress. Leave the garb on the table for the attendants.”

  Fallon nodded, rose, and went to Sobehk.

  Sobehk held out his arms. His eyes were a glassy bright blue, and hot.

  She tugged his sash free and began unwinding it.

  He took a deep breath and froze. His jaw clenched and his hands fisted. “Shit.” He closed his eyes and lifted his head.

  Fallon looked up. “What?”

  “Just ... hurry. Please.” His voice was hoarse.

  Fallon looked over at Khan.

  Khan smiled. “He needs to feed, and you are who his body wants to feed from.”

  Fallon hurried. She untied the short robe, tugged it from his shoulders, and unfastened the pleated trousers. They fell to the floor, and she scooped them up, setting everything on the table.

  Sobehk’s breathing had deepened and became labored. He was also rigidly erect.

  Nude and also magnificently erect, Khan raised his brow at Sobehk. “Can you get to the bed yourself, or do you need help?”

  “I can do it.” He turned and walked to the bed, weaving only slightly. He fell among the pillows and groaned.

  Khan walked over to one of his black trunks and pulled open a drawer. He took out a squeeze tube and shoved the drawer closed. He looked over at Fallon and frowned. “Disrobe.” He walked over to the bed and stared down at Sobehk as he squeezed gel onto his palm.

  Sobehk stared up at him. “That’s going to hurt.”

  Khan stoked his gel-coated palm over his primary cock. “Yes, it very likely will.” He raised a brow. “Do you plan to resist?”

  Sobehk swallowed. “No.”

  “Good.” He dropped the squeeze tube on the floor by the edge of the bed and stepped down into the blankets. He dropped to his knees at Sobehk’s side.