Dark Star Rising

by Bennett R. Coles

  Dedication

  To Steven Erikson.

  Amazing what a coffee meet-up can lead to.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Praise for Winds of Marque

  Also by Bennett R. Coles

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  If there was one thing worth complaining about, it was the lack of rum.

  Petty Officer Amelia Virtue scanned the ornate liquor cabinet one more time, hoping that among all the crystal decanters and curving bottles there might be hiding a flask of good old Navy rum. It seemed such a libation was beneath her host, however, and she sighed in gentle defeat.

  “Champagne it is,” she muttered.

  “What was that, darling?” came a deep, familiar voice behind her.

  Amelia turned, feeling the weight of her dress spin and the layers of silk brush past her legs. It would have been roasting, if not for her bare neck and shoulders. And a fair bit of bare cleavage, she was reminded, as the eyes of the gentleman before her flashed down before returning to meet her gaze. She grinned.

  “I was just looking for a drink to calm my nerves,” she said. “This is my first grand ball.”

  Subcommander Lord Liam Blackwood rose from his seat. He’d only arrived in her chambers a few minutes ago and she was still admiring his appearance. She’d seen him in uniform countless times, but never before in his formal dress uniform. The deep blue jacket was cut short at the waist, narrowing with his lean figure over a white shirt with, she was relieved to see, a minimum of poufy ruffles. The jacket was accented with his gold rank insignia on the broad shoulders and a pair of starburst medals on his left chest. As he turned to face her he tucked a thumb into the gold sash around his waist, its ends hanging loosely down the left side of his white trousers. Black riding boots thumped on the wooden floor as he stepped closer.

  “You’ll do absolutely brilliantly,” he said with a smile, taking her hand in his and kissing it. “I can’t wait to see every head turn when you enter the room.”

  She glanced at the long mirror and her own reflection in the exquisite gown, deep green with gold highlights. Her dark hair, thankfully long enough to style into something she hoped would befit this crowd, was swept up. Her bare neck only accentuated the smooth skin of her shoulders, the eye naturally drawing down . . .

  “Stars, Liam, even I can’t help but look at my cleavage!”

  He laughed, coming up behind her and planting a kiss on her neck. It was smooth and sensual, and a sigh escaped her lips. Followed by a gasp as he smacked her playfully on the behind.

  “Outfits for the grand ball are intended to showcase the male and female forms,” he said with a grin. “Revel in it—just try not to stare too much.”

  She craned back and kissed him, enjoying the feel of his firm lips. She tasted a certain, familiar sweetness.

  “Do you have rum?” she blurted, turning to face him.

  With a conspiratorial smile, he reached into his inside pocket and produced a thin silver flask.

  She took it and popped back a swig of the fiery liquid. It warmed her throat, and she enjoyed the sudden rush of something familiar amid all this exotic finery.

  “Lady Riverton has exquisite tastes,” Liam commented, nodding toward the liquor cabinet, “but perhaps she still lacks the common touch.”

  “I’ve got plenty of that,” Amelia said, handing him the flask. “Now I guess we should go? I’m sure her ladyship is waiting.”

  Liam offered his hand. She took it and walked at his side out of her chambers—she still couldn’t believe she had a sitting room, a dressing room, and a separate bedroom—and down the arched hallway of the residence. They started to descend the main staircase, and Amelia grabbed the front of her dress to avoid tripping.

  “No, darling,” Liam said quietly. “Let it hang naturally.”

  “But I’m fighting about fifteen layers of silk under here—my feet are in close combat with every step.”

  He laughed. “Don’t fight it, then. Just take tiny steps and let the dress cascade down the stairs.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  She forced herself to slow, slipping each foot blindly down to the next stair and gripping Liam’s hand for balance. Her eyes dropped to gauge distance, and she kept the descent slow but steady. Liam was right there with her the entire time, his movements small and smooth. About three-quarters of the way down, she finally decided that she had the hang of it, and she lifted her eyes.

  Three figures had appeared in the foyer ahead of her and stood watching with various flavors of interest. She recognized the commander and two of the officers from Daring—no pressure, she thought to herself with gritted teeth.

  She felt her heel slip on the step, but she planted it and braced herself against Liam’s steadying hand. Swallowing a curse, she made her way down to the floor at last.

  Commander Lady Sophia Riverton stepped forward, her dark, luminous eyes as unreadable as ever. She was robed in a stunning outfit, the likes of which Amelia had never seen before. It was a ball gown, in the general sense of her own, but it had the same colors as Liam’s formal uniform, deep blue at the top fading at her narrow waist to white and then black as it rustled down to her feet. She wore the same gold sash around her waist, and gold rank insignia curved into half-moons at the edge of her shoulders. Miniature versions of her starburst medals hung along the edge of her left neckline. Her gaze moved quickly over Amelia in assessment and she offered the faintest of smiles.

  “Your first stairway descent, Ms. Virtue—well-executed. Far better than my own.”

  Amelia’s instinct was to knuckle her forehead to her commanding officer, but she resisted and instead lowered in a curtsey, her free hand gripping at her dress in a token show of lifting the fabric.

  Riverton nodded, then turned her eyes to Liam.

  He gestured down the flowing lines of her dress. “Your Imperial gown is truly stunning, my lady.”

  “Thank you,” she said simply. A most uncharacteristic smile threatened her severe expression, and Amelia saw a sparkle in her eyes. Riverton glanced down at her own gown once, then turned and strode toward the front doors of the house. “The carriage will be here momentarily.”

  Before Amelia could take another step, the other woman in the foyer moved in to embrace her. Sublieutenant Lady Ava Templegrey was beautiful in her own version of the “Imperial gown,” although hers lacked any medals and the rank insignia was much more subtle than Riverton’s. Amelia guessed that the gowns were a kind of uniform, and she wondered if she could get one or if it was just for officers. Not that she was complaining about her own dress, which was by far the most gorgeous thing she’d ever worn.

  Templegrey’s fingers closed around Amelia’s bare arms, and Amelia breathed in an exquisite perfume as she received kisses on the cheek.

  “Oh, Amelia,” Templegrey gushed, “you’re going to be the most beautiful woman at the ball.”

  Facing the graceful, noble medical officer, Amelia had her doubts, but she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Thanks. You look amazing, too.”

  Templegrey’s eyes lit up and she stepped b
ack to do an elegant twirl, the skirts of her dress rising just enough for a flourish. It was such a natural movement, Amelia could see, done with barely a thought but executed to perfection. If the other ladies at this grand ball had the same sort of style and training as Templegrey, Amelia knew she didn’t stand a chance. She gripped Liam’s hand tightly. He squeezed back and glanced down at her with a smile.

  “Shall we board the carriage?” Liam suggested.

  “Yes, my lord,” Templegrey answered, reaching out her hand to the man who stood quietly to the side, dressed in a formal uniform like Liam’s. “Lieutenant Swift, attend.”

  Lieutenant Mason Swift scoffed openly as he stepped forward to take Templegrey’s hand. With his shaved head and intelligent eyes he had a certain rugged charisma, and as the only other commoner in this crowd Amelia intended to follow his lead.

  “You’re loving this, aren’t you, my lady,” he growled.

  “To be attended by such a handsome officer,” Templegrey replied with a sweet smile, “what lady wouldn’t?”

  “You know I only agree to come to these things for the food,” he said, guiding her toward the doors.

  “And the drinks,” Liam added.

  “And those, my lord.”

  Amelia snuggled against Liam as they stepped out into the warm, evening air. The sun had long since set but this far in toward the Hub the sky was awash with stars and the street before them was as bright as a foggy day back home on Passagia. Colors were muted and shadows were deeper, but her eyes adjusted in moments. She even descended the four stone steps without incident, casting a triumphant look up at Liam.

  “You’re a natural,” he offered.

  The carriage was large and comfortable. Amelia settled herself into a plush seat, remembering to keep her feet planted, knees together, and hands in her lap. The fancy dress and uniforms were still a novelty, but as the carriage rolled into motion she found herself feeling surprisingly comfortable. These people were her shipmates and she’d spent almost every day with them, often in close quarters and sometimes in extreme danger, for many months. She’d been nervous in the lead up to this grand ball, but as she looked around the carriage she felt a reassuring calm. This was just another day in the lives of the officers of HMSS Daring.

  The ship herself was anchored in orbit, most of the crew on liberty to explore this beautiful world known on Imperial charts as Cornucopia III. And unlike most port visits, the ship was actually docked under her real identity, with no disguises or false pretenses. For a few days, at least, Daring and her crew were off duty.

  And Liam was finally making good on his promise and taking her to a grand ball.

  “Lord Blackwood,” Riverton said, “you know our hosts quite well, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Liam replied, “although it’s been a few years since my last visit.”

  Amelia didn’t look up, but she sensed the slightest edge to his easy response. “I don’t know Lord and Lady Brightlake myself,” Riverton said. “But I went to school with . . . their daughter.”

  “Such a tragedy,” Templegrey suddenly added.

  “Yes,” Liam added stonily. “Not the sort of news any noble house wishes to be known for.”

  No one seemed willing to expound on what the tragedy was, Amelia noticed, feeling not for the first time like she was being left out of some secret noble conversation.

  “Are the Brightlakes one of the great houses?” she asked.

  “No . . .” Liam considered for a moment. “They’re notable, but not part of the inner Imperial circle. I think Lady Riverton would have a higher title?”

  Riverton’s lips pursed in thought, and she offered a slight shrug. “On the Imperial Homeworld, perhaps. But this is their world, and I’m merely a guest this evening.”

  “But how does that work?” Amelia persisted, genuinely curious about how nobles jockeyed for position. “Does Lord Brightlake bow to you, or do you curtsey to him?”

  “The host of a grand ball is always in the position of honor,” Riverton said. “If Lieutenant Swift decided to hold a ball in his new country home, even a lord from Homeworld would bow to him.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Swift muttered.

  “How is your new country home, Mason?” Liam asked.

  “Big enough to house the entire family,” Swift replied, his expression lightening. “Although my sisters are still arguing over who gets which wing. Their husbands are wisely keeping quiet and spending most of their time fishing.”

  The prize money from their first mission had been a life-changing windfall, and Amelia smiled as she thought of the town houses she’d bought for her parents and each of her own three siblings. She’d splurged a bit on herself, of course—she rubbed the fine fabric of her ball gown—but for now the rest was tucked away safely. It was enough for her family to live comfortably, and for her to choose freedom whenever she wanted.

  A few of Daring’s crew had chosen exactly that, retiring from Navy service with their new wealth, but most of them had done what sailors always do whenever money was burning a hole in their pocket. From what Amelia heard, the upscale taverns and brothels on Passagia had struggled to meet demand for the first few weeks after the payout. Word had spread across Daring’s home port that this little frigate was spewing forth riches, and no end of hopefuls had requested to join the crew. Too bad, Amelia remembered, that almost none of them were qualified to even set foot on a star sailing ship. Commander Riverton had been forced to cut short their shore leave, just to get Daring out of the limelight.

  “I assume you’re comfortable enough in this formal setting, Mr. Swift?” Riverton asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. The XO was kind enough to drag—that is, invite me to several balls on Passagia.”

  Riverton’s gaze shifted to Amelia.

  “And you, Ms. Virtue? This is your first ball, isn’t it?”

  “It is, ma’am,” Amelia replied, suddenly hot under her voluminous fabrics. Liam hadn’t said anything, but she sensed that it had taken considerable effort to convince Riverton to let another commoner attend this evening. “But everyone has been coaching me on how to act.”

  “No doubt. But do remember that nobles spend their entire lives practicing for events like these. You’ll do best if you don’t stand out in any way.”

  “Yes, ma’am . . . milady.”

  “Just remember,” the captain said, taking in all of them, “we’re here for a reason. The pirates won’t wait while we dance the night away. I’ll meet with my contact as quickly as courtesy allows, and the rest of you will ensure I’m not disturbed.” She glanced at Liam. “I may need you to use your connection to our hosts this evening. Because I’m one of the ranking nobles they’ll likely want to keep me close, but I need to be free to meet with my contact.”

  Liam’s face was locked in a neutral mask, most unlike what Amelia had seen so far this evening, but he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Amelia reached out and took his hand. He glanced at her in mild surprise but squeezed her fingers affectionately. She felt his warmth beside her and noticed Templegrey smiling as she tried not to watch. Riverton had turned her gaze out the carriage window, but in such a small space Amelia knew her action was lost on no one. It was nice to be able to display their relationship openly, at least in front of the officers. Discretion was all the captain seemed to require.

  The carriage rolled to a smooth stop, and the door was opened from the outside by a liveried servant. Liam exited first, followed by Swift, and they both extended their hands up to guide Lady Riverton down the steps. Lady Templegrey followed, and finally Amelia rose to her feet and stepped to the door’s edge. She took Liam’s hand to her left and Swift’s to her right, and with tiny movements placed her feet on the wooden steps. She heard the hard click of her heels striking the stone walkway and she let Swift’s hand go. Staying close to Liam, they slipped into place behind Swift and Templegrey, who followed Riverton through the beautiful open doorway of the Brightlake castle. Ame
lia knew that it wasn’t really a castle—just an ornate, stone-fronted manor house—but it was the closest she’d ever been to a real castle, and it was plenty good enough for her.

  Through the doors was a great hall, with a towering, vaulted ceiling that drew her eyes up to the arched windows through which starlight streamed. From each pillar projected a colorful banner, the meanings of each Amelia could only guess, and at the far end of the hall was a massive fresco depicting heroic figures battling mythical monsters. It was all Amelia could do not to stare.

  “And you say the Brightlakes are not a great house?” she whispered to Liam.

  He shook his head and smiled, but his expression lacked its usual, easy charm. His eyes were already returning to the obvious focus of his attention ahead. She peered past Templegrey and spotted a collection of nobles standing in the broad doorway beneath the fresco.

  “Is that the receiving line?” she asked, remembering the briefing he’d given her.

  “Yes,” he responded. “I’ll do the talking, if you like.”

  “Yes, please.”

  The hosts consisted of two couples, the first about Amelia’s age and the second a generation older. She watched as Riverton curtsied then received a kiss to her hand, speaking to the first couple before moving on to the second. Swift and Templegrey were next, repeating the procedure without incident. Then it was her turn.

  Amelia composed her expression into one of polite interest, lowering herself in a quick curtsey as Liam gave a half bow. The young couple before them nodded in return.

  “Lord Blackwood,” the gentleman greeted with a smile, reaching out to grasp Liam’s forearm, “how nice to see you again after so many years.”

  He was shorter than Liam, with a thick, powerful build. The light gray of his civilian tunic contrasted his olive skin and black hair, and a bright red sash dominated the outfit.

  “Lord Brightlake,” Liam responded with his usual ease, “it’s been too long. But no doubt affairs of the estate and married life have kept you busy.”

  Brightlake made a quip about boating that he and Liam both apparently found funny, even if its meaning went right over Amelia’s head. He then introduced his wife, mentioning that she was from another noble house Amelia had never heard of. Liam then took Amelia’s hand in both of his.