by Susan Grant
Dake shrugged. “She was looking to get a rise outta me. I decided not to give her the pleasure.”
On the other hand, there was someone he’d like to give a little pleasure to, and she bloody wasn’t there.
VAL BURST THROUGH THE front door. “You’re bringing the storm in with you,” her mother cried, a loving grin and affectionate eyes taking all bite out of the complaint.
Sashya was resplendent in a deep blue, curve-hugging dress and tall boots of the softest matching leather. Long tresses of dark brown hair so similar to Val’s swung from a pretty clasp at the top of her head. Sashya’s parents and Conn’s mother sat on the sofa, waiting to leave for the feast. Jaym, Conn’s father, had died long ago in a training accident right here at home on Artoom. Val dropped her dirty work boots by the front door, gave and accepted kisses from the beaming grandparents, then snatched Sashya’s shoulder to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I have to hurry. I don’t want the slango to start without me.” There hadn’t been a dance with all the clans there in more than a generation. Like hells if she’d be late.
Val hurried to the washroom to shower and then dried off in a heartbeat, pulling on clean underthings. Her mother smiled at her frantic preparations. “All those young handsome foreigners to ogle. I’d be excited, too. I never had the chance when I was your age. We had no gatherings then. The only thing we Blues did with other clansmen was try to shoot them.”
“If you’d fallen in love with an out-clan boy, you wouldn’t have married Papa.”
“Oh, I’d have married him all the same. There wasn’t any man I ever saw outside the clan who came close to him.”
Val nearly confessed that there wasn’t any man inside the clan who came close to one she’d met outside it. Instead, she opened a box of makeup so rarely used that the lid was dusty. “Help me look my best, Mama.” Because of all the special guests in the village, she told herself. And because she represented her clan. That was why she got all prettied up, and dabbed a fragrance that reminded her of sultry summer evenings on all her body’s hot spots. Not because of Dake.
“Should I wear my hair up?” Val lifted it off her shoulders, exposing a slender neck she rarely looked at in the normal course of raider training, turning her head side to side to decide. Then she let her freshly washed hair tumble over her shoulders, shaking it loose.
“Yes, that way. To see your natural waves.” Sashya dusted Val’s cheeks with color. “What will you wear?”
“I was thinking of the green dress.” Thinking? She’d already decided on the dress early that morning while on her knees scrubbing the exhaust nacelles on the Varagon. The green dress was silky, clingy and flattered her lean curves. The boots she’d wear were rugged enough to withstand the mud and light enough to dance in. She flashed a smile at the mirror, tilting her head to find the best angle.
“I’ve never seen you fuss this much. Now, who are you hoping to impress?”
“I’m not trying to impress anyone, Mama.”
“Seduce, then.”
“Mama!” Val choked to her mother’s amusement. And blushed, too, much to her personal dismay. The more she sat in her parents’ house under maternal interrogation, the less like a raider she became.
“It’s him, isn’t it? Tomark’s son. The man who saved you. Conn told me that he asked after you today. Numerous times.”
“He did?” Then, blushing, Val cursed herself for giving away the secret. “Father’s filling your head with raider gossip again.”
“Daughter, you’ve got your father’s cockiness and his smile, but you’re going to have to work on your fibbing.”
Someone pounded on the door. “Hoy, Sashya! It’s Hawkk.”
Her mother went to answer the door. Val pulled her robe closed before one of her father’s men tromped in.
“Don’t be bringing the storm in with you,” Sashya scolded.
“Sorry, Sashya. Is Val here?”
Her mother stepped aside to let the raider in the doorway. Val saw Hawkk’s double take as he caught the scent of perfume in the air. She knew she looked far different with artificial color accenting her eyes and lips, and her hair falling wavy and loose. “Val, I’m short guards tonight.” He sounded almost apologetic now that he saw her all prettied up. “Sethen’s late getting back from Gosmorn. I need you to take his place on security.”
Sethen, late again. Nodding, Val shoved aside her immediate and crushing disappointment. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to fill in for Sethen. But why did it have to be tonight?
She picked up a brush and scraped her hair away from her face, weaving it into a braid. “I’ll be there in five.”
It was harder than she thought to pretend she wasn’t let down. After Hawkk departed, Val hung the green dress back in the wardrobe and replaced it with a simple pair of off-ship pants and a matching blouse in the same shade of soft, moss green—to keep with her intended theme, at least. Instead of the delicate chain waist belt she’d planned, she buckled a thick leather belt around her hips and loaded it with daggers, a dozer and extra ammo. She gave a little shimmy. Everything rattled. “You can’t say many of the other girls will be wearing this kind of ornamentation.” Or the boys. Only security could be armed at the gathering. “I’ll be unique, right, Mama?”
Sashya lifted her hand to Val’s cheek, her luminous brown eyes sad. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. It’s the life I chose.” Val closed her fingers around her mother’s slim wrist and moved her hand away to clasp it briefly in hers. “It’s the life I love.”
Val grabbed her jacket off a hook and strode out the door. Duty called.
CHAPTER NINE
UNDER AN ENORMOUS TARP, the music had started up in earnest, and so had the drinking. The atmosphere was edgy, aye, but so far calm.
Dake wondered what Tomark would have thought had he been here tonight, seeing Conn Blue sharing his best food and drink with his rivals voluntarily. He savored the moment for his sire’s sake.
Conn saw him arrive and waved a hand. “Hoy, Sureblood. I saved you a seat, boy!”
Boy. Hells. With the other Surebloods surrounding him, Dake took his drink cup in hand and pushed his way to Conn’s table at the edge of the dance pit. Conn sat next to a stunning woman who resembled an older, more sedate version of Val. Conn’s wife, he thought. Grizz and the rest of Conn’s senior raiders were there as well as the other clan captains. Dake nodded at Grizz and the others.
Conn reached for a smoldering cigarette. “Sashya, this is him. Tomark’s boy.”
“Ah.” Val’s mother gave Dake such a thorough, appraising inspection that he almost felt naked. Whatever he might have wanted to hide was a lost cause, including, he feared, his hopes to get to know her daughter better.
He greeted her with a dip of his head. “Dake of the Surebloods.”
“The man who saved my child’s life,” she said softly so that he had to strain to hear her over the noise. “Do you know what it feels like to lose a child?”
“No, ma’am. I imagine there aren’t too many kinds of pain that are greater than that.”
“No, there aren’t. Likewise, there’s no equal to a mother’s gratitude for someone who spared her that pain. And that is the gratitude I have for you, son of Tomark.”
He nodded in appreciation at her thank-you, phrased so that a Sureblood could accept it properly. She must have been briefed by her husband, who had spent time with his people. “Do you have any children yet, Dake Sureblood?” Her gaze nailed him to the chair like a piece of leather drying in the sun.
“No, ma’am.” He was aware of the amused looks from the entertained leaders listening in, and especially Conn’s. They kept quiet, happy to have him be cross-examined rather than them.
She nodded as if she approved, and smiled. If this was a test, he hoped it meant he passed. “Join us,” she said. “Please, sit. Food, drink, anything you wish.”
Your daughter will do. Dake cracked a private smile. It would probably be t
oo forward—too Sureblood—if he spoke his mind.
Malta was the only other female sitting there, and she wasn’t holding her liquor very well. As soon as she passed out, only Sashya would be left. Val was a raider. Ought she not be here, too? Maybe she’d flown off somewhere.
He swung his attention back to Conn. “Got any ships out on raids?”
“Why?” Kel Calder bellowed. “Gone too long without crashing someone else’s raid, Sureblood?”
The Lightlee clan captain sitting there spewed his ale as the Freebird leader threw his head back and laughed. Chuckling, Gorgan Feckwith folded his massive arms over his chest as his men clustered behind him. The other Calders and Lightlees waited as well, their eyes glinting with anticipation of a fight.
They expected one. The Calder all but said he was a raid crasher. Dake drummed his fingers on the table. To ignore such an insult in front of their host was to demonstrate weakness, Dake knew. Kage, his highest ranking captain, and Yarmouth made sounds of displeasure in their throats as the rest of the Surebloods standing at his back tensed for battle.
Conn observed it all from behind a cloud of squatter’s weed smoke from the cigarette pinched between his stained fingers, frowning as he watched the interaction. Would he allow himself to be dragged into petty fighting? Or was he man enough to remain focused on the larger issues? All these questions could very well be going through Conn’s mind, too, as he sat there, quietly smoking his squatter’s weed, pondering the future of his people, and to whom he dared entrust it.
Once again Dake felt he was being tested. The man’s eyes might look friendly, but his scrutiny was intense. Never had Dake felt as much under a microscope as he did then. You vowed to behave. Aye. That meant no bashing heads and tossing chairs. If Dake gave in to every animal impulse, the pirates would be right back where they started—at each other’s throats and under Nezerihm’s thumb. It took extra effort to tamp down his urge to throw the smirking Calder across the room.
Drily, Dake told the Calder, “If there’s any crashing to be done tonight, it’ll be my clumsy ass on that dance floor.”
The Calder roared with delight.
Conn Blue’s eyes crinkled with humor.
“Look.” Sashya touched Conn’s sleeve as a group of children came to the table with bowls of glazed berries.
Artoom might feel as if it were closing in on him at times with its relentless clouds and drizzle, Dake thought, but somehow it produced fruit like this, a rare and tantalizing treat for the people of his dry world.
Then one little girl came forward to hand Conn a flower. As the entire Blue clan looked on, from the elderly to wide-eyed toddlers, all grinning warmly, Conn made a show of choosing a berry to taste, then rubbing his stomach with much enthusiasm after he did. Then he pulled each of the giggling children close for a quick kiss on the cheek and a ruffle of their hair before sending them away giggling. The merrymaking resumed.
And soon…slango, Dake thought. The dance was energetic and very specific in its moves. It required spot-on reactions and endurance, and grace under pressure when competing against other couples. Raiders were notoriously good at it. Most considered slango the dance equivalent of busting hulls. Men could dance with other men, women with women, but the favorite to watch was a well-matched couple. It had to be done right and quickly, or you were out of the running. When was the last time he’d danced? He seemed to remember a curvy redhead as a partner and he fueled by ale, but it was a fuzzy memory like everything else fun.
With a cigarette smoldering between his lips, Conn offered the berries to the table and slipped the flower into his wife’s hair. Whatever she whispered to him had him grinning like a fool.
He’s a happy man. Conn loved his people and was loved by them. Dake was sorry that the fate that had ended Tomark’s life too soon had prevented him from enjoying the same.
“Back to your question, Sureblood. I’ve got but one ship out at the moment,” Conn said. “My eldest, Sethen. Been out at Gosmorn, the trade route there. The boy’s always late, and not too good with staying in comm contact, which I don’t like either.”
He leaned his weight on thick forearms, his missing hand a constant reminder of how a raid could go wrong. “So, I asked him, what’s going to happen someday when I pass, off to hunt treasure in the Ever After? What kind of clan discipline will we Blues have if that’s the example he sets? I keep threatening to appoint his little sister clan leader in his place when I die.”
Dake sat up straighter. “Val,” he said, eliciting a shadow of a smile from Conn. Dake had asked after his daughter enough times today for the man to see through all the supposedly casual queries about Val’s well-being. If Conn hadn’t guessed Dake was interested, well, then he was thicker than the Artoom mud plastered to his boot heels.
Maybe it was why the girl was nowhere to be seen. Conn had hidden her away for her own protection despite his wife’s gratitude for her rescue.
“Sethen thinks it’s an idle threat. Sometimes it is, sometimes it ain’t.” Conn pinched the cigarette as smoke exited his nose. The pungent sweet smell of the narcotic-laced weed hung over the table, trapped by the tarp. “As you’ve already found out, my girl’s got the makings of a leader, if not the opportunity. Our tradition favors males in the position of clan leader, not women. Sethen will take my place when I’m gone.”
“Val will marry a well-positioned raider in our clan,” someone interrupted. “In case anything ever happened to Sethen, there will be a male in position to be clan captain.”
The voice belonged to a young, lean raider taller than most of his clansmen and with the kind of pretty-boy looks the ladies adored. The man was part of a group of Blues—a mix of junior and grizzled lifelong raiders—who loitered in an outer ring of revelers as opposed to those invited to sit with Conn’s inner circle.
Dake noted the subtle snub and stored away the fact.
“That raider will be me, of course,” the man said. “Ayl of the Blues.”
The raiders with him pushed at him and laughed, offering all kinds of encouragement as Ayl preened.
His attitude all at once broadcasted insecurity, inexperience and the desire to impress. It helped keep Dake from bristling at the man’s claim of ownership. “You’re engaged to marry Val?” he asked, aghast if he was indeed her choice.
“The decision’s not final,” Conn muttered.
Dake’s focus remained on Ayl. “But you’re confident it’s you,” he persisted drily. Who was this competitor for Val’s affections and how serious was the threat?
“It’s nothing you’d understand, Sureblood.”
Dake snorted. “I understand women.”
“Not our women.” Ayl glared at him, his dark eyes threatening, his manner territorial. For the first time all evening, the atmosphere was truly tense.
Dake thanked the fates Ayl hadn’t been on the freighter with Val. There was nothing worse than a green raider with a gun and a head full of glory. It would be easy to goad Ayl into losing his cool. Then he’d have the excuse to beat the flarg out of him. But Conn’s visible irritation revealed Ayl wasn’t the front-runner he assumed he was.
“Ayl.” One of the senior raiders sitting with them caught Ayl’s eye and shook his head. Dake noticed a resemblance. Was he Ayl’s father? Enough, his expression said.
Sulky, Ayl obeyed and poured the last dregs from a cask into his glass. “Alleene—more moonshine!”
A serving woman tossed her long, curly hair. “Come and get yourself some, then. And bring your new friends.” She winked at Dake.
The preening raiders with Ayl seemed to miss the girl’s invitation, but Ayl hadn’t. Ayl walked past the back of Dake’s seat to his clansmen’s dismay. “Our women are hands-off, Sureblood,” Ayl warned, his voice low and threatening while the noise of the party swirled around them. “Do you hear me? All of them.” Then he lurched away. “Alleene! Come back.”
Ayl’s friends snorted and swore as they followed, acting more like a bunch
of rambunctious, barely trained pups than raiders. Had Dake been like that once? He must have been. Life without the huge weight of clan responsibilities seemed so long ago that he couldn’t remember what it was like.
“There ain’t much time for pleasure anymore, is there?”
Dake jerked his head around at the sound of Conn’s voice. The older man was observing him. Dake wondered how much he’d guessed of his thoughts. “When you’re leader, it’s all about the clan,” Conn said. “Your own needs take second place…if there’s no one there to remind you of them.”
It was true. The clan came first. From the alcohol he might imbibe to the fists he might throw to the women he might take to bed, his actions affected his people. Dake gave him a quick, wry and grateful smile. “This isn’t the first time you figured what I’m thinking, Conn Blue. That isn’t good, if we’re rivals.”
“It is if we’re allies, though.”
Conn’s words hung between them. They shared a look that did more to fortify their tentative truce than the entire day of talks had.
Then Conn’s attention jerked away and his face lit up like it hadn’t all evening. “It’s about time you showed up, daughter!”
Daughter? A woman walked in out of the damp night, pink-cheeked from the cold. Her long dark braid gleamed like the polished shell of a maccam nut as she cast her gaze around the tent. Bright and sparkly and full of life she was. The girl shot light into the part of him that had been dark since the day he lost his father.
Val Blue, he thought, rising to his feet. Finally.
CHAPTER TEN
FRESH FROM PERIMETER PATROL in the dark and damp night, Val blinked away beads of mist clinging to her lashes and wiped them from the fine hairs at her temples. A tall and powerfully built stranger pushed to his feet as she approached her father’s table. Recognition flared inside her. Hells be. She’d know those eyes anywhere. It was Dake Sureblood without a specken of war paint.
Be still her pirate heart. Tanned and clean-shaven, the brash, charismatic captain brimmed with energy and raw good looks. His off-ship outfit was rugged in brown-and-black wool and leather. Only his thick hair, twisted into silky braids tied at the base of his neck with a leather strap, and his eyes were as she remembered. Aye, like gems they were and focused intently on her.
