Nightwing’s home planet was called Kresynt and it orbited a white star at the heart of kres space. It was named for its six satellites, and at least one moon was always visible, night and day. Glacial ice covered much of the planet and the only liquid water was near the equator. A continent straddled much of that balmy zone, circling Kresynt like a girdle, and its fertile land could be clearly seen from space. It was a vivid tapestry of fawn and green, broken occasionally by the white streaks of mountain ranges and the gold of beaches.
The kres capital, Arckaydia, was poised above a hundred kilometres of sand that ran along the Great Sea. It was a busy city that spread across dunes and cliffs, sprawling around the core of kres society, the Palace of the Arck. The palace was home to Kresynt’s ancient ruling family and was perched on the highest point of the city’s beachside cliffs. It had grown over the millennia to become a city in its own right and housed all of the staff needed to control an interplanetary empire.
It was still early and the palace gleamed in the dawn. It was made of snow marble and draped across the edge of a wide plateau. Towers of ice seemed to rise from the plateau’s cliffs, while artificial icicles flowed down its seaward side. The palace mimicked the glaciers that covered much of Kresynt and the morning sun lit blue fire within the stone as its dawn blush faded.
The city was still quiet, but the household of the Arck was already stirring. A purposeful hum filled its myriad rooms as machines and courtiers began their day. The Arck was in residence to meet with his court and everyone was busy. Muted noise rose from all the main levels. However, there was an exception, a single thread of silence that unwound through the bustle. A series of rooms briefly stilled; first one, then the next and the next, as a beautiful kres passed imperiously through.
She strode through lofty chambers with obvious disdain for those around her. She was tall and blonde, with flawless skin the color of honey. Her face had only the faintest trace of golden glitter across angled cheekbones. Her features were fine and her eyes large, but their beauty was marred by coldness. Their pale gray was chilly and distant. The kres she passed were all too busy to greet her, but none forgot to bow deeply until she moved on. She was the Arck’s only child and she passed through her people without siblings or friends. Princess Goldown had always been alone, but the last years of her life had been the loneliest yet and her eyes conveyed all the bitterness and anger that her aristocratic features denied.
Goldown moved confidently through the palace, her blonde hair streaming back from the family crest braiding it and her trailing robes snapping in the speed of her passage. She pounced into each new chamber, determined to make the courtiers scurry. Palace staff scattered before her in a flurry of bows and curtsies. Goldown smiled grimly and continued to stride through the palace until word of her approach spread and she started to enter empty rooms. The staff’s avoidance of her was satisfying and she walked faster as the wing cleared. She was relieved to finally be alone as she slipped between the shadows thrown by the narrow windows of the Long Gallery, completely unaware that she was being stalked in turn.
“Princess,” an overly familiar voice called, and she cursed softly. “Princess!”
Goldown stopped her headlong rush and turned with a swirl of skirts to face her pursuer. She stared hard at the approaching male, making no effort to hide her displeasure. “What do you want, Blizzard? Be quick.”
The two studied each other, one outwardly seething and the other apparently calm. The male’s robes were nearly as fine as Goldown’s and one side of his hair was plaited through a noble crest. The ornate spray of gold stars gleamed brightly against his dark locks. His eyes narrowed in response to Goldown’s glare, but his thin face remained serene. He bowed deeply and rose with a flourish. “You look more lovely each time we meet, Your Grace.”
“Ye, ye. Save your effusive compliments for some other heir to the throne, My Lord.” She jerked a dismissive hand and turned away again.
“Goldown.”
The princess’ back stiffened and the soft dilmah covering it stretched taut and starched in outrage. She swivelled slowly to face Blizzard, but was too affronted for speech. Her face felt twisted by the fury within and he paused, as if his usual honeyed words had turned bitter on his tongue. He swallowed convulsively and bowed, bending until his hair swept the floor in the full genuflection reserved for a ruling monarch.
Goldown’s breath hissed through her teeth and some of her anger escaped with it. She watched with growing pleasure as Blizzard held the excruciating pose. His slim frame quivered and she had to hide a smile.
Drak, she swore mentally and her mood abruptly changed as she realized she was in danger. He certain-sure knows how to appease me. What suspicions does he hold? Has he guessed? Be calm. Give him naught.
“Rise, Blizzard,” she said coldly, and he stiffly obeyed. “Such genuflection is inappropriate, as is your use of my first name. I am the Arck’s daughter and you will never be so familiar. At the same time, you will remember that I am merely the heir to the throne and not its occupant. Never bow as if I was more.”
“I shall all times do as you say, Glory of the kres.” Blizzard dared to hold her haughty gaze and actually smiled. “But I must observe that one day you will deserve my full obeisance... and that of every other kres.”
Goldown frowned, unsettled by his warm smile, and spun away without dismissing him. She used her com to check behind her, but her wretched suitor stayed resolutely in place. He tipped his head to one side, and the tip of his tongue appeared between his lips as he watched her progress along the sun-striped gallery. His mouth pursued and she enlarged the image to read his lips with all of the skill gained from a life at court.
“One day, I will call you Goldown again. I will find a way and then your body will bend before mine.”
The princess slowed in shock, but found enough composure to keep moving. She’d known Blizzard was besotted with her, but had never realized he could be so… forceful. She almost looked back over her shoulder, but there was no time to delay. Her father would soon be awake.
Goldown forced Blizzard from her mind and changed direction to sweep back into the east link that led between palace levels. She stepped from the smooth stone of the corridor into empty air and launched herself downward with a practiced pulse of her com. The ancient service link was seldom used now and was completely empty so early in the day. She drove herself faster and her robes fluttered strangely as she plummeted. They billowed wildly and then wrapped tight around her. Her outer cloak seemed to pale as it enveloped her. It flashed briefly, with the reflective sheen of water on a sunny day, and then both it and Goldown disappeared.
A sensor had discreetly followed the princess and it hesitated uncertainly. Its drift down the weightless link slowed and it sent a query to its operator. The target request was answered by fresh scan priorities and it moved purposefully after its prey once more. In the privacy of an upper level annex, Blizzard faded his control display and his forehead puckered in fascination. He tapped his lips in brief indecision, but then moved quickly after his spying sensor, to follow the object of his hunt.
Deep beneath the palace, a long-abandoned sewer system was now used to carry a range of supplies into the Arck’s home. Despite the tunnels’ change of function, they managed to retain a dank atmosphere of rank neglect. The darkness would have been absolute without the eerie glow of the energy feeds now covering their stone walls.
One of the deepest corridors had just enough light to reveal an odd shimmer in its chilly air as an unnatural thickening moved through it. A distortion like grease on glass slid to a halt beside food lines that had been painstakingly exposed. It wavered wildly and finally stilled, then solidified.
Princess Goldown appeared, wrapped tightly in her cloak. She stepped to the wall covered in conduit fields and started to shiver until her metabolism adjusted to a temperature just below freezing. Able to ignore the chill, she used all of
her com’s power to slide a probe deep into a single energy feed. Her movements had the deftness of familiarity and her com connection pulsed as a shadow flowed through it into the Arck’s food supply.
“There you go, dear patri. A fitting present from a loving daughter.”
Goldown carefully withdrew the probe and deactivated it. She knew the myriad layers of palace security that she risked alerting and her heart thudded painfully in her chest. Thank ice her sabotage was safely complete. She drew her cloak closed again, but, before she could move, a heavy hand fell on her shoulder. Its grip was bruising and she stifled a scream as adrenaline surged.
Instinct ordered her to freeze, but instead she kicked back at her attacker. Her foot connected with com enhanced power and he grunted, but his grip tightened and he forced her against the wall. She tried to struggle, until he pushed forward to trap her with his body.
Goldown’s terror abruptly receded when she smelt the familiar scent of expensive dilmah cloth. Blizzard, she realized with sudden insight, and fury replaced fear. She pivoted, despite the painful restraint, and glared up at her attacker.
Goldown’s horror returned immediately. She was not struggling with her persistent admirer, but someone much more unwelcome. His blond hair gleamed, even in the dull tunnel, and his fine features were tight with anger. She paled and sagged further, until she was forced to rely on his painful support to stay upright.
“Patri,” she whispered, and the tunnels darkened until she was sure she had fainted.
However, his smooth voice carried clearly to her sensitive ears. It was even colder than the surrounding chill. “Goldown.” He jerked her close and his fingers ground into her shoulders.
She tried to smile, but his gray eyes were stony and his fronds bombarded her until she shuddered at his fury.
“What have you been feeding me?”
“Patri, please. Please... I would never harm you. Never. I swear-”
“What?” he yelled in her face, and she started to sob.
“A contraceptive. Only a contraceptive. That’s all.”
“All?” He released her so abruptly that she collapsed to the dank flags. He stood over her like a golden god and his expression was pitiless. “All, Goldown? I’ve been desperate for another child. You know that. I’ve even had sex with your mother. Repeatedly! A single heir is not enough. How can your understanding fail in this? If I had more children, you would be safer. At the moment, you alone block any path between ambition and the throne. Do you not wish to be safe?”
His daughter looked up from the floor, her fear forgotten. “Safe? Safe, Patri? What has safe to do with it? Of course I don’t seek to be safe. I seek to be Arck.”
“Ah.” The tension drained from her father’s face at the admission and an unexpected smile warmed his eyes. He leaned toward her, offering his hand, and Goldown warily let him help her rise.
She tilted her chin in defiance as she looked up at him, struggling to hide a shudder at his happy expression. He retained a gentle hold on her fingers and absently stroked her palm with his thumb.
“Yes, Arck,” he murmured. “I like ambition in a child. Especially one of mine.” His grip was suddenly crushing and he pulled her hard against him. “But never when it involves me or my throne. Do you understand that, Goldown?”
She nodded in helpless terror and steeled herself against further violence. The pair stood locked together in a parody of an embrace, two golden figures who should have brought a touch of light to the ancient sewers, but instead carried a deeper darkness.
Arck Sharpeye grinned down at his daughter, who could no longer suppress a tremor. His smile was so fierce it stretched his mouth taut across his teeth and she could see their imprint through its golden sheen. She closed her eyes to avoid the sight, but couldn’t help hearing the quaver in her voice.
“Can I go, Papa?”
“Of course, my dear, of course.”
He released her with shocking abruptness and Goldown staggered back. She bobbed a curtsy and gasped out her thanks as she began her retreat. Her petticoats and dress seemed unusually heavy and tangled with her desperate steps. She stifled a sob and then a curse as she struggled on. She twisted at the silken cloth, trying to unravel its golden folds without stopping. Her progress was halting and undignified, but at least it was progress.
The Arck watched her leave with obvious amusement and let her stumble as far as the exit, moving backwards as required in his presence, before he raised his hand. Goldown registered the gesture with fresh terror, but not surprise. She knew her escape had been too easy. She lowered herself until her forehead touched her knee, listening for her father’s approach, but unable to look at him again. He stopped beside her and reached down to stroke her hair, curling a blonde wisp tightly around his finger as he spoke.
“I am displeased, Goldown. I trust you realize that you need to be punished. Be in my chambers after dancing tonight.”
“Yes, My Sire.”
“I cannot hear you.”
“Yes, My Sire,” the stricken princess repeated and managed something more than a whisper.
Her father nodded happily and finally moved away. Goldown held her obeisance until his retreating footsteps faded to silence. Only when she really believed that he was gone did she let herself collapse onto the slimy flags. She hid her face in her hands, but lay without weeping. Dry-eyed and terrified, she willed time to stop, or run so fast that the night was gone, a thing of memory, like all the other memories that had been forced upon her and must be ignored. A faint tremor in the slippery stone beneath her cheek was the only warning Goldown had of an unheard approach. She groaned quietly and familiar terror welled in her gut.
“Goldown?” a hesitant voice asked, and her heart began to beat again. “Are you well?”
“Blizzard,” she murmured into the hand covering her face.
She tapped her forehead in exasperation and she wondered how to get rid of the ridiculous male. It had been briefly amusing to be adored, but this was mortifying and her anger flowed freely to a new target. She hardly noticed the revoltingly slick stone beneath her palms as she pushed herself onto her hands and raised her head. The look she gave her suitor was venomous, but he refused to quail.
“Are you well?” Blizzard repeated, and Goldown snorted with fury.
She opened her mouth, but, for once, the angry words were absent. She searched desperately for what she wanted to say, but was distracted by Blizzard’s expression. He watched her carefully, even... tenderly, and in his brown eyes she saw genuine concern.
“I…” Goldown started, but nothing came after that desperate word and she realized she was closer to tears than she had been for years.
Blizzard stiffened and his usually obsequious expression was masked by anger. She realized that it was more than anger when he started to shake. He crouched before her and his voice was thick with fury.
“If he ever hurts you, I’ll kill him. I swear-”
Goldown surged forward and her hand rested against Blizzard’s lips with sudden urgency. The gesture interrupted his vow and his eyes widened at the contact. She felt his lips soften beneath her touch and jerked her fingers back in annoyance. However, despite her embarrassment at his arousal, she felt none of the anger that his audacity would usually cause. Instead she looked at him tenderly and accepted his hand, so they rose together.
“Don’t say such,” she whispered, leaning against him. “Don’t even think it. At least never in the palace.”
“I do think it,” Blizzard hissed, and Goldown’s unusually tender feelings hardened again.
“No and I truly mean this. My father still refuses to name me as heir. If he dies without choosing me, I’ll never rule the kres. Not easily.”
“Surely his choice of heir is obvious,” Blizzard protested. “A mere formality. It must be so,” he persisted. “You’re his daughter and your rule must follow his, just as a son of yours will sit the throne once your time is past. All kres kn
ow such is the natural path. A male must pass his rule to a daughter. A female will carry more of his genes, but in turn you will pass more of those strong traits to the males you bear. You’re his perfect heir. This is pre-school genetics-”
“Not to my father. He calls old Lady Grace, who leads the Bureau for Genome Protection, a manipulator and cares for nothing else. She showed me favor, so he does not. He even had me registered as un-favored. If I want the throne, it needs must be with his fresh consent.”
Blizzard gaped in amazement and Goldown laughed as his narrow face was split by the expression. He quickly closed his mouth and dared to look at her reproachfully. She sobered and, to her own amazement, nodded in apology. He nodded gravely back. “I can’t believe he off-listed you. You’re his daughter. Why would he do such?”
“Because he still hopes for another child. And because he likes to hurt me.”
Goldown sensed a blast of anger from Blizzard so strong that it felt like a blow. She stepped back and her golden slippers skidded on the patchy green stone. She almost fell, but Blizzard caught her before she hit the slimy flags.
He drew her upright again and back into his embrace. They stood close and his grip loosened, but she remained in his arms. They were both motionless and Goldown searched for a sense of revulsion at his touch. She was surprised to find nothing. She sighed softly and tested the contact further, tilting her head until their faces touched. They stood cheek to cheek and she dared to wrap her fronds around his.
I never want my father killed. I simply want what should be mine. Once the Aging forces him aside, I want my throne. Until then, I needs must remove any threat to my inheritance. Discreetly. Do you understand?
“Huh?” Blizzard seemed to be smelling her hair and was clearly too distracted to use telepathy. “Gods… I can be discreet. I’ll do whatever you wish, Goldown. You know how I feel for you.”
“The whole drakking court knows how you feel for me,” she answered with asperity, but her indignation was less heartfelt than usual. She drew back to study his eyes, and he held her gaze without wavering. “You know what I ask?” she whispered, and his forefinger tapped her shoulder in assent. “And what I offer?”
Blizzard had to moisten his parched mouth before he could say the word. “Marriage?”
“Certain-sure.”
It was his turn to study her and he did so closely. “Is this real? Don’t tease me here, Goldown. What of past romance? What of… him?”
The princess went rigid in Blizzard’s arms and her mind went white with fury. “How? How dare you ask such?”
I dare because I need to know. If you want me to kill your future siblings, you have to commit. He’ll not marry you now, Goldown. Even the BGP couldn’t change his mind. His honor is gone and he’ll never regain it.
Grief/loss escaped her fronds before she could stop it and colored her scattered thoughts. A royal edict could restore-
“Yes, it could. Is that what you want? If he came back, would you welcome him? Pardon all? Call him bonded and true mate? I need to know.”
Goldown quivered, struggling with temptation, but her pride was stronger than her infatuation. Her body stilled and she looked at Blizzard with new certainty. “If Nightwing returns, I’ll see him executed myself. If he tries to find his old life again, he is dead. He could crawl over razorbacks, begging my forgiveness and never get it. Nightwing is gone.” I’ll marry you instead, if I ever have need to. Kill any competition that arrives and you’ll win his place in my bed. I swear it, Blizzard. If my father names another and you remove them, I’ll be yours.
“My oath,” Blizzard said and his voice was deep and strained. Shadows crowded the tunnel to gather thickly around the pair. I swear that any other heirs will die. I accept your pact, Lady. Accept it and seal it. He lowered his head and his mouth covered hers without hesitation or permission.
Goldown’s eyes opened wide, but she stared at the roof in triumph rather than shock. Her lips softened beneath Blizzard’s and she responded ardently as she secured her succession.
13
Blast from the Past