by Liz Craven
“I would like to try the poultice,” Lia spoke up. “In my quarters and out of this disinfected hellhole.”
Talon heard the command in her voice and felt more of his rage subside. Whoever had attacked her hadn’t damaged her spirit. He decided to let the medic apply the treatment. After all, he held the ace she didn’t know about. Now that they knew of the poison—if indeed that’s what it was—Ilexa could tune her senses to it, in that mysterious way she had, and monitor Lia’s progress.
The medic wouldn’t need to fear Vardin’s vengeance if she tried to injure Lia. There was nothing more fearsome than his sister in defense of those in her care.
“The pain reliever will not interfere with the poultice?” he asked.
“Talon, I don’t want—”
“Do you want to stay in sickbay?” he asked, but his tone made it clear he would insist she stay if she chose to forgo the pain relief.
Lia glared at him, then fixed that more-golden-than-blue gaze on the medic. “I want as little medication as possible.”
“I would feel the same in your position,” the medic responded. “I make an even worse patient than you do.”
A faint smile teased the corners of his wife’s lips, and Talon could have kissed the medic for that alone.
“We’ll proceed,” he decreed.
The medic placed a pain-relieving patch on Lia’s upper arm, explaining how it worked as she attached it. Talon summoned another medic with an imperious crook of his finger. “Have my sister meet me in Lady Lia’s quarters.”
The male medic gave a brief nod of his head and scurried away.
“We can move her to her rooms now,” the female medic announced.
Lia smiled at Talon with a loopy a grin. Her eyes appeared glazed and unfocused. She lifted a wavering hand to stroke the side of his face.
“Down in the mines we chip at the rocks,” she belted out in a somewhat slurred manner. Only to stop and look puzzled, before repeating the first line of the ditty.
The medic had apparently been honest about the effects of the pain medication, and he found his wife’s reaction amusing.
While still singing the same line, Lia tried to stand and would have fallen on her face without Talon’s quick reflexes. He swept her up in his arms, one arm under her knees and the other wrapped around her shoulders.
“I’s can walks,” she objected, even as she snuggled into him.
His body tightened and he couldn’t have put her down if someone had pulled a blaster on him.
Chapter Eight
Talon found Ilexa pacing the corridor outside the Damaia’s chamber. He passed his sister and slapped his hand against the lock ordering a security override to open the door to her quarters. Ilexa followed him into the room on his heels. She hovered so close that Talon felt her step on his heels three times, nearly causing him to stumble.
“Talon, what’s wrong?” she breathed.
“Xyreon poisoning,” he replied, climbing the steps to the bed on the dais.
To his surprise, Ilexa did not argue the safety of the xyreon ore or question him about the projectiles. She followed him up the steps, but rounded the bed to the other side. The medic stayed at Talon’s side.
He settled Lia against the pillows and tried to pry her hands from around his neck.
“You’re so strong,” she purred, arching against him and rubbing her full breasts against his chest.
Talon gritted his teeth, reminding himself the woman was drugged, and his baby sister was in the room. He tightened his grip on her wrists and forced her hands from his neck.
His sister smiled at the medic and extended her hand. “I’m Ilexa. On N’yota, I am a sixth level healer.”
Talon scowled. He hadn’t wanted the medic to know of his sister’s talent. Of course, with N’yota’s isolated location, it was unlikely the medic was familiar with Ilexa’s particular type of medicine.
“Mauri,” the medic replied, settling on the bed next to his wife. She opened a bag and began to sort through a number of unidentifiable objects. Talon turned away from Mauri and began smoothing Lia’s hair from her face.
In his peripheral vision, he saw the medic wrap several bundles of herbs in a porous cloth and swath the bundle in gauze. To his surprise, the medic handed the bundle to Ilexa.
“I intend to bind this to the wound in her side. It will draw the poison concentrated there. With the concentration gone, her body’s systems will be able to naturally filter the poison circulating in her bloodstream.”
Ilexa took the poultice, hefting it in her left hand. She held the bundle aloft and placed her right hand over the wound in Lia’s side. Talon watched his sister’s eyes unfocus and her face take on the far-away look of a healing trance.
She lowered the poultice and removed her hand from her patient. She looked at Talon, her eyes still soft from her visit to that otherworldly place she went. “I believe Mauri is correct about the treatment. Its energies are opposite of the wound, like fire and ice.”
Talon eyed the holistic remedy warily. He didn’t like Dr. Brinson, but was beginning to regret agreeing to this treatment. “Shouldn’t they be similar?” he asked. “Won’t opposites repel each other?”
Ilexa shook her head. Her eyes lost their clarity as she struggled for an explanation. “It’s the balance between the two that is important for the healing. When they meet, they will come together in harmony.”
Talon stared blankly at her. Why did he even bother asking Ilexa questions? “You’ll stay and monitor her?”
“Of course,” his sister replied. Talon didn’t like the speculative look that came into her eyes.
Mauri apparently viewed the agreement between brother and sister as a green light. She took the poultice and turned to Talon. “If you can help her sit up, we’ll pack the wound and wrap a bandage around her to hold the poultice in place.”
“Lia, we need you to sit up,” Talon told her, cupping his hands around her shoulders.
Her eyelids fluttered open and she gave him a loopy grin. “Ham-some.”
He pulled her unresisting, boneless body to a sitting position, resting her carefully against his side. She turned her face into the crook of his shoulder and nuzzled against him. He felt oddly embarrassed at the easy affection Lia demonstrated. Never mind the healers paid them no attention.
The path he had been destined to walk required him to appear strong and capable. Softness could easily be misinterpreted as weakness, and he would not appear weak. To that end, he built a public persona as hard as granite. He chose his female companionship based on his ability to maintain an emotional distance from them, and their ability to understand his situation. He only showed gentleness to the women in his family and only in private.
He had shown his gentle side to Lia, he realized. His wife. The future mother of his children. Children who would lead N’yota in a new era of peace. The weight of responsibility he’d carried since she’d been born settled more heavily onto his shoulders as he studied her pale face.
For the first time, he wondered what Lia wanted in a husband. Had there been someone she loved in the mines? Had she dreamed of building a family out of love rather than duty? A flicker of sympathy ran through him, before he ruthlessly squashed it.
Talon scowled, tightening his grip on her shoulders. It didn’t matter what she might have wanted. The reality of the situation mattered. He was her husband and part of the hand fate dealt her.
Considering his role as husband to Lia, rather than husband to the Damaia made him uncomfortable. The Damaia could be viewed as an object, some necessity to his role as first minister. Lia was a warm-blooded woman with feelings, hopes, dreams and fears. Being mated to the Damaia required him to fulfill a role, do his duty. Serving as husband to Lia left him floundering with no clear objective. How did one be a “good” husband? Especially in the circumstances he and his wife lived.
He wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose, a telling habit he had conquered years before. Using bo
th hands to hold Lia up for the medic and Ilexa prevented him from giving in to the urge. A glance towards Lia’s waist revealed the bandage being secured.
Ilexa, who had held Lia’s top up, smoothed it back down to cover the bandage. “You can lay her back down now.”
Talon lowered her back to the bed, and watched her eyelids droop before drifting closed. She fell asleep in seconds. “Is this reaction normal?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s a reaction to the pain medication, not the poultice. She’ll drift in and out of sleep. It’s best if she sleeps and doesn’t jar the wound,” Mauri assured him.
“How long will this take?” Talon asked, his tone razor sharp.
Ilexa cut him a cold look at his treatment of the medic. “Talon, true healing takes time,” she reminded him.
Mauri smiled at the interplay, and Talon guessed she had an older brother of her own. “We’ll check the wound in six hours, clean it and apply a new poultice. The wound should be clean within a day. Two at most.”
Mauri leaned over Lia and placed two monitoring pads on her head. One at each temple.
“These are wired to sickbay?” Ilexa asked.
“Yes,” the medic replied and passed a small handheld unit to Ilexa. “They also transmit to this, which you can carry anywhere on the Aegir.”
Ilexa frowned. “I don’t like the idea of leaving my patient alone.”
Mauri began packing items back into her bag. “I agree. If nothing else, she needs to be watched to make sure she doesn’t move around and dislodge the treatment. Someone needs to ensure she eats. She will also need help going to and from the lav.”
“I’ll stay,” Talon announced.
“Of course,” Ilexa replied. “But you will need sleep as well. Why don’t we rotate six-hour shifts? You can take the first six hours.”
—
Lia swore she heard her eyelids creak when she cracked them open. She found herself staring into the silver eyes of Talon. He sat propped against the headboard, looking down at her with an unreadable expression on his face.
She studied him through slitted eyes, trying to figure out why he lay next to her in bed. It took a moment for her brain’s gears to engage and the botched escape to replay in her memory.
She closed her eyes with a groan. Talon reclined beside her, no doubt awaiting an explanation. The idea of closing her eyes again and feigning sleep tempted her, but that smacked of cowardice. Pride forced her eyes open and made her return Talon’s stare.
“How do you feel?” he asked, surprising her with his obvious concern.
She shifted under his penetrating gaze and took a quick mental inventory. The wounds from the attack itched, but didn’t hurt, and the pain in her side was gone. She no longer felt as though she cooked inside her skin, which meant the fever had abated. Relieved, she replied, “Much better. Maybe a little stiff.”
“That’s to be expected,” he assured her. “Are you thirsty?”
She nodded, wary of his solicitous manner. Why wasn’t he yelling at her?
“Let me help you sit up.”
Talon hauled her up until she reclined against his chest, and she felt an unwelcome warmth at the gentleness he used. He reached over to the nightstand, retrieved a glass of orange liquid and held it out to her.
Lia considered the bright substance with a wary eye, but thirst won out over concern. She took a cautious sip of the drink, pleased when the fruity, yet tangy concoction proved pleasant.
“This is good,” she announced with surprise.
Talon raised his eyebrows. “Did you expect me to give you some vile brew?”
She twisted her head to meet his gaze. “You have to admit it looks…odd.”
“It’s figila juice from Inderia,” Talon told her. “It’s quite popular.”
Lia turned back around, resting against his broad chest and sipping on the beverage. “I can see why.”
Several moments passed in an awkward silence. Lia wanted to ask about her injuries, but loathed bringing them up. That would lead to a discussion about her escape attempt, a topic she dreaded and wanted to avoid.
She passed a hand along her side and felt nothing. Not even a bandage. Finally, she asked, “Was my side infected?”
“No. It was xyreon poisoning. You don’t remember?”
Lia shook her head, uncomfortable with the blank spaces in her memory. “The last thing I remember is the hanger bay. There were two men shooting at me with strange weapons… They hit me with something.”
“Those injuries are healing well.”
“I thought the station’s sensors disabled all weapons but stunners and military coded blasters,” she said.
“All weapons that are energy based. Someone manufactured an antique weapon that shot metal projectiles into your body. Not as clean a kill as blasters, but they can be deadly nonetheless. You were quite fortunate none of the projectiles struck a major organ,” he explained, and she heard the censure in his voice.
“They itch,” she said for lack of anything better to say. The conversation was getting ready to deteriorate, and they both knew it.
“What were you doing in the commercial docking bay?” Talon asked the question that had loomed over the conversation.
Her mind raced, but no plausible scenario came to mind. She decided to be honest. Her one chance of escape was gone. They were headed straight to N’yota. She’d blown it.
“I was looking for a ride out of League territory.”
She felt Talon grasp her shoulders. He lifted her off his chest and slid from the bed. He moved to the foot of the bed and resettled. His expression was cold, harsh, and for some reason, it not only made her feel guilty, but caused her heart to sink with dismay.
“Do you want to explain that?” It wasn’t a question, but an order.
Lia took a moment to adjust the pillows behind her before responding. “It seems obvious to me. I don’t wish to return to N’yota. I’ve said that before.”
“The entire future of our world is dependent upon your return and assumption of your rightful place. This is your destiny.”
“Says who?” she asked, fury lacing her words. “The scientists who oversaw my conception and modified my genes? The League officials who discovered a new energy source on N’yota and concocted the scheme that resulted in me? Well, guess what. They created a living, breathing person. Not some android they can program to fulfill a function.”
Talon rose and paced the dais around the bed, prowling like an angry animal. “I will not debate the Prophecy with you again. You are the Damaia, destined to lead our world, and it is time you accepted that fact. It’s time to grow up and stop sulking like a spoiled child because you aren’t getting your way.”
Outraged, Lia pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Spoiled child?” she spat.
“The lives of millions of people depend upon your return. I’m sorry you didn’t get to choose your life, but are you truly selfish enough to condemn our entire world to war rather than assume your responsibilities?”
Guilt rose up to choke her. When he put it like that, she sounded petty and small. Thrusting her guilt aside, she snapped out, “I’d rather be selfish and alive than selfless and dead.”
“Had you stayed with your guards, you would not have been exposed to that attack.”
“Are you trying to tell me those men weren’t out to assassinate me? That I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
Talon shoved a hand through his dark hair. She hadn’t thought it possible, but the man sounded even angrier. “No. The men were hired killers. We found a copy of your image on them.”
The argument had sapped her strength and a macabre acceptance had her leaning back against the pillows. She’d missed her chance to escape, and yet she didn’t entirely regret it. “You’ve just delayed the inevitable. If I return to N’yota, eventually someone will kill me.”
Talon suddenly filled her line of vision, looming over her like an avenging god. “No one
is going to kill you,” he vowed. “I swear it on my life.”
Lia snorted and closed her eyes.
She felt Talon pull away from her and opened her eyes to see him standing at the foot of the bed watching her with a consideration she found unnerving.
“Do you remember anything pleasant about your life on N’yota?”
“I remember you,” she blurted out before she thought.
Genuine surprise registered on his face. “Me? I’m what you remember?”
Well, she had gone this far—albeit unintentionally—she might as well go for broke. “I’d look forward to seeing you all year. You were always very kind to me. The presentation days were the best ones I had on N’yota.”
“You need to rest,” he told her abruptly, before heading towards the sitting area. “I’ll send Ilexa in to sit with you.”
Lia watched him leave and felt an unwelcome sense of loss without his presence. The man was getting to her. His kindness, his devotion, his dedication and that all-too-brief kiss they had shared. Now that he was gone, she admitted she had hoped he would kiss her again. Of course, behaving like a harpy was probably not the best way to get that result.
And why had her simple admission sent him running for the door? His reaction made her feel naked and exposed, which she immediately suppressed under a layer of umbrage. She nursed her resentment for the five minutes it took Ilexa to arrive.
Ilexa breezed into the bedroom, a vision in a red tunic over black trousers. To Lia’s delight, she carried Asha in her slender arms. Behind her, Thane carried parcels Lia recognized from the pet store. She had purchased a number of things to be sent to the ship in the event her escape attempt failed.
Her sister-in-law dropped the gimfrey on the foot of the bed.
“Place them there,” Ilexa directed, her normally warm voice crackled with ice as she pointed for Thane to set the items by the wall.
The usually implacable Thane shot Ilexa a hot look, but made no reply as he complied with her direction.
While Lia watched the byplay with fascination, Asha crawled from the foot of the bed to curl beside her. She emitted a loud purr when Lia absently stroked her behind the ears.
