by Liz Craven
Ilexa rolled her eyes. “They are fine, but you are missing the point. You’ve earned the love and respect of these people—who aren’t known for their concern. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the people who don’t even know you, but believe you can protect them from the war that tore the planet apart. The people who are demonstrating in the streets across the world to protest the attempt on your life.”
“Demonstrating?” Lia’s eyes widened in surprise.
Ilexa stepped forward and grasped Lia’s hands in her own. “When I first saw you, I can’t describe the elation I felt—not just because we’d finally found the Damaia, but because I knew she was strong enough to be what we needed. You are what we need.”
Her sister-in-law’s sincerity nearly overwhelmed Lia. “That’s quite humbling.”
“I’m not blessed with clairvoyance, but I sincerely believe you will find happiness both as the Damaia and Talon’s wife.”
Tears clogged Lia’s throat and she whispered, “I wish I could be as sure as you.”
Ilexa squeezed her hands in sympathy. “Let me ask you something. Were you happy working in the mines? Doing nothing but hard, physical labor with the Guild making all your decisions? Being all alone? Lying about who you are?”
Memories of life on Tmesis flooded her mind. While she had cherished the freedom provided by life in the mines, the years of loneliness and boredom had beaten at her, leaving her battered. Still, she felt a twinge of homesickness for the simple life she’d left behind. A tear leaked from the corner of one eye.
Ilexa dropped her hands and grabbed some tissues, passing one to Lia. “Look at us. A couple of watering cans.”
Lia dabbed carefully at her face, not wanting to disturb the cosmetics Ilexa had applied. “I suppose we should head downstairs.”
A knock at the door drew their attention.
“No doubt one of my brothers trying to move us along,” Ilexa said. “Come in.”
Teresa entered the bedroom, looking beautiful in a shimmering green dress. She carried a small box in her hands. She stopped and stared at Lia.
“You look beautiful,” Teresa said softly.
“Thank you,” Lia replied.
Teresa set the box on a table next to the mirror. She opened it and withdrew a pair of simple, elegant gold earrings. “My husband gave these to me the night before our wedding and I wore them to the ceremony. I have cherished them ever since. I would be honored if you would wear them today.”
The idea of wearing a family heirloom started Lia’s eyes welling again. “Thank you, Teresa.”
“Mother,” Ilexa scolded good-naturedly. “I just got her to stop crying.”
Lia took the earrings and hooked them in place. They glittered in the light and made the perfect finishing touch to her ensemble.
Lia met her mother-in-law’s gaze in the mirror. “I will draw courage from them today.”
Teresa smiled. “You are welcome to call me Teresa, but should you ever desire to call me mother, I would be delighted.”
Lia’s throat burned. “Thank you. I will.” She couldn’t utter the word “mother” without dissolving into a puddle.
Teresa sniffled and blinked back tears of her own. “We need to go. The men are waiting.”
Three nearly-in-tears women descended the stairs with their arms linked.
—
Despite her fears, Lia managed to walk the long aisle in the center of the palace’s temple without passing out.
Painfully aware of the hundreds of eyes in the room—and the millions outside the temple—watching her, she kept her gaze fixed on the High Priestess and took careful steps towards the altar. From the corner of her eye, she caught glimpses of heads bowing as she passed.
She had been told the front rows would hold planetary and interplanetary dignitaries. Naturally, the two Houses had been seated on opposite sides of the aisle.
Reaching the end of the aisle, she caught a glimpse of Lord Constantine to her right. The audacious man winked at her before bowing low. For the first time in years, Lia wondered about the Gemadam donor. She’d never thought of the woman as her mother, but with the introduction to Lord Constantine and her budding relationship with Teresa, she wondered about the woman. She saw the members of the Gemadam House, robed in House colors, and wondered if one of the women was her “mother”.
Thrusting aside the disconcerting thoughts, she returned her focus to the altar before her. The High Priestess stood behind the altar’s rail in her formal white robes. She was much younger than the High Priestess who’d served before Lia had left the planet. She also lacked the old biddy’s sour expression.
Talon materialized at her side, helping her kneel at the altar in her heavy skirts. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze and offered her a warm smile before withdrawing. Lia bowed her head and listened as the prayers began.
—
Talon escorted his wife into the ballroom where the formal reception had been set up. His feet ached from the long coronation ceremony. He hadn’t remembered the sheer number of gods in the N’yotan pantheon. A priest or priestess for each deity had offered a prayer over his wife’s head, droning on and on with their solemn, ritualistic words. The boredom had almost made his eyes cross, so he grimly amused himself by studying the attendees and calculating the odds of each one being invested in killing his wife. He didn’t like the results he determined.
Lia had remained perfectly still—a vision kneeling before the altar. He suspected she had fallen asleep and wished to do the same. The blasted ceremony lasted over four hours.
Now, they had to spend the next several hours making meaningless small talk with self-important people. Standing beside his wife, he watched Lia accept congratulations with grace and deflect prying questions with aplomb. While his chest swelled with pride, he still had to fight the part of him that wanted to grab her and run, to get her away from the crowds and public venue, to secrete her away somewhere safe.
Lord Constantine approached and Talon stiffened. Despite the man’s overtures to Lia, the heir to the Lassan line had ample motive to see her killed. Narrowing his eyes on the older man, Talon searched his “father-in-law’s” face for any hint of hatred.
Lia’s face lit up when she saw Lord Constantine, and Talon’s gut tightened with fury. The murderous rage he’d felt at the bombing only burned hotter at the thought of the pain Lia would feel at betrayal by a man who tempted her with the hope of family. While the Dhakir family had embraced his wife as one of their own, he knew it was no substitute for blood kin.
Lord Constantine bowed before taking Lia’s hands in his own. “Congratulations on your formal ascension. No one can doubt you were chosen by the gods after witnessing the poise, grace and courage you displayed today.”
A warm bronze stained her cheeks, surprising Talon. The lack of a biting remark from his prickly bride nearly sent him into shock. Remembering her response to his first compliment, comparing her beauty to a sunset, he’d expected her to blast the man.
“Thank you,” she said shyly.
A matching blush tinted Lord Constantine’s cheekbones. “I hope I don’t overstep myself by saying how proud I am of you.”
“You don’t overstep yourself,” Lia said, turning her nervous gaze to her husband.
Talon’s heart turned over when he realized she had no idea how to respond to a compliment from her “father”. The soft emotion warred with his fury, but his political acumen thrust the conflicting emotions aside. He tucked his wife’s hand into the crook of his arm. “We appreciate your open approval of the Damaia’s ascension. Hopefully, it will help smooth her transition.”
Lord Constantine fixed Talon with a look only a man with centuries of breeding for power behind him could manage. “I’ve made it clear to my House the Damaia has my blessing. Anyone who seeks to harm her is not only a traitor to N’yota, but to our line.”
Talon narrowed his eyes at
the Lassan heir, but detected no sense of subterfuge. Not for the first time, Talon wished he had something of Ilexa’s ability to sense others. Finally, he gave the older man a hard nod.
Lord Constantine bowed to Lia, preparing to withdraw, when her free hand reached out to touch his arm. “Once we are settled, perhaps you would care to join Talon and me for dinner some night?”
“I’d be delighted,” he replied, before melting into the crowd.
A short, matronly woman dressed in a conservative suit nudged her way to Lia’s side. After a moment, Talon placed her as the palace’s protocol officer, Kalia Lystan and the woman who would have spent time with Lia before the ceremony. The woman’s wide smile and friendly expression didn’t match the urgency in her voice. “Damaia, you must speak to a high-ranking member of the Gemadam line, before proceeding to the buffet.”
Talon gritted his teeth. Babying the feelings of the former ruling Houses irritated him to no end, but he recognized he had to let Lia make her own way.
“Why?” Lia asked.
Horror lit Kalia’s eyes. “Because failing to do so would snub the Gemadam House.”
“Lord Constantine approached me to offer his congratulations and well wishes. I will not scramble to placate one House, because a member of the other spoke to me.”
“Damaia, you must consider the political and social ramifications—”
“Madam Lystan,” Lia cut her off coldly. “I have no interest in currying favor with those who seek to maintain the status quo. The two Houses have each given up their claim to rule N’yota. It is time they recognized that.”
“The social structure of our world revolves around—”
“The social structure of our world no longer revolves around the whims of power-hungry aristocrats. I suggest you remember that.”
Biting back a smile, Talon inclined his head politely at the protocol officer and swept Lia away. Lowering his head, he whispered, “Well done.”
“I need a break,” she whispered back. “Five minutes where I can breathe.”
Talon nodded. He guided her around a column and through a secure door hidden near the buffet, pausing only to ensure her security escort followed to stand guard outside the door.
Lia sank with a loud groan onto a sofa in the small retiring room.
“Pretty dramatic sound from someone who got to kneel through most of the ceremony,” Talon teased.
She shot him an irritated look. “Try spending the day with your lungs constrained. Even kneeling is an effort.”
Talon settled beside her, draping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her against him. He brushed her temple with a kiss, enjoying the easy affection of being with his wife, while anticipating the night ahead. “You’ve done very well today. I’m proud of you.”
Lia snorted. “I keep waiting for someone to come running in screaming ‘fraud’.”
That surprised him. “Why?”
She shrugged and looked away. “Even as a child, I never thought I’d actually be here for this.”
He grimaced at the reminder she didn’t want to be the Damaia. “Planning your escape from the cradle?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t figure I’d live long enough to see it.”
His arm tightened around her reflexively. “They are going to have to go through me to get to you. I swear it,” he repeated.
“They almost took us both out.”
“But they didn’t.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t live together,” she said quietly.
Talon shot to his feet, almost knocking her off the couch. “The hell we won’t.”
“Hear me out. I thought about it during the ceremony—”
“I thought you were asleep,” he said snidely.
“I was thinking.”
“Obviously, all the prayers fried your mental circuits.”
Lia rose gracefully, despite the yards of fabric wrapped around her. “They will keep coming after me. If you die with me, N’yota doesn’t just lose a figurehead, but the first minister.”
He couldn’t believe she was actually suggesting he abandon her for his own safety. His anger simmered and he snapped, “I’m not listening to this. You’re my wife and that’s all there is to it.”
“Talon—” She began.
Irritated, he wrapped his hand around her wrist and hauled her from the room back to the reception where the crowd would stop her from saying anything else so incredibly idiotic and insulting.
Chapter Eighteen
A month after the ceremony, Lia lay boneless across Talon’s chest, her body damp from exertion and her pulse pounding.
“I think you might have just killed me,” Talon groaned.
“If I did, I’ll definitely mourn you after this.”
Talon’s laughter rumbled against her ear, temporarily drowning out the sound of his heartbeat. A satisfied smirk curved her lips. She liked making him laugh almost as much as she liked making love to him.
The weak light of dawn shone through the windows of the first minister’s residence, illuminating her husband’s face and chest. She shifted, resting her chin on her hands and studied him.
He gave her a slow smile as his hands traced an absent pattern on her back. She sighed and considered the stubborn man who’d wormed his way into her heart. He’d refused to stay anywhere other than in the same bed with her. Selfishly, Lia was glad. She relished the time spent with him and loathed the idea of living apart.
Still, she found herself constantly worrying an assassin would err and hit him instead of her. But Talon stubbornly stuck by her side. Depending on her mood, she found that either endearing or remarkably stupid.
To her great surprise, the attack on the palace had outraged the planet’s population, which her husband continued to gloat about. There was nothing the man enjoyed more than saying “I told you so”. People had been so irate the High Priest and Priestess had taken up residence in the first minister’s house, which meant a bomber ran the risk of harming the most revered religious leaders.
She also found herself surrounded by Inderian guards anytime she went out in public. Strangely, she wasn’t intimidated by their presence. Vardin continued to train her in Ngäkau and several of her new guards joined them. Lia didn’t know how long they’d be allowed to stay on N’yota, but she’d miss them when they left. Not only did she respect them, but she got a great deal of entertainment out of the reaction people had to their arrival. Hell, Lia barely rated a second glance when people saw the Inderian warriors.
“Remember me?”
Lia blinked, and Talon’s face wavered back into view. “Huh?”
“Where’d you go?”
“Just thinking about things.”
He frowned. “Is your schedule too busy?”
“No,” Lia replied with a frown of her own. “It’s not what I expected to be doing as a diplomat.”
“Enjoy it,” he warned. “The League is giving you time to settle in, but it won’t last. They aren’t very patient.”
Catching the undercurrent in his voice, she rolled off him and sat up, dragging the sheet around her. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“So much for afterglow,” he grumbled, getting out of bed.
“Talon,” she called in warning when he disappeared into the closet.
He returned to the bedroom with clothes in his arms. After dumping them on the foot of the bed, he pulled a pair of pants from the pile and stepped into them. “The Energy Guild is complaining to the League about the ‘unfair’ trade practices regarding trynnium.”
“Unfair trade practices?” Lia asked.
“They are claiming because trynnium is exclusive to N’yota our trade agreements violate fair trade laws.”
“They are whining because their profit margins are down. So what?”
“I expect the League Trade Commission will be sending someone to attempt a renegotiation of our trade agreements.”
“And because I’m new to the diplomacy game, they exp
ect to take advantage of me.”
“That’s right.”
“What does the Guild want besides a kickback?”
“How did you know they wanted a kickback?” Talon asked with pride in his eyes.
Though that pride warmed her heart, she rolled her eyes. “Believe me. I know how Guilds work.”
“I suppose you do,” he replied. “I expect the LTC representative will try to get a lower price along with some sort of ‘economic contribution’ to the Guild.”
Offended at the assumption she was an easy mark, she growled, “Let them try it.”
Talon laughed and sat down on the foot of the bed to put his shoes on. “I look forward to seeing you take them on. He leaned across and pressed a quick kiss against her lips. “You need to get moving if you are going to make your Ngäkau session.”
Lia sighed. He was right. She tossed off the covers and dressed in her loose-fitting white clothes. The workout helped clear her mind, and after a shower, she headed to a girls’ school for orphans—more useless public relations.
She felt ridiculous walking into a school full of girls under the age of twelve with four armed Inderians. Inderians believed anyone capable of assassination and treated the most routine of events as high-level threats. She had chosen to bring Asha along as a cute, gangly counterpoint to the intimidating Inderians.
Unlike the Home Guard, the Inderians never protested Asha’s presence. Not even when she had taken the gimfrey to an arts event at one of the new museums. She still winced when she thought of Talon’s reaction when he heard Asha had knocked an antique vase to the ground, shattering it. Since then, she took care with which events she allowed Asha to attend.
A girl’s school seemed like a safe choice, but Lia found herself reevaluating her decision when a young girl, no more than eight years old, broke from the group assembled to welcome the Damaia. She ran towards Lia, no doubt fascinated by the gimfrey, but was immediately intercepted by Syval, one of her fiercest guards.
“You will not approach the Damaia,” he growled. “Hand over what you are holding behind your back.”
The remaining guards surrounded Lia while soldiers positioned themselves on the stairs leading into the school, clearly prepared to open fire on the girls standing on the front lawn. A frantic teacher tried to run to the child facing the Inderian, but was restrained by a soldier.
