She made a noisy tsk with her tongue, pacing a few short steps across the paths of her uncle and her lover. She was aware of the press of the room behind the two detained men, aware that all eyes were steadily trained on her and waiting for what move she would make next. Would she prove herself a pushover or a tyrant? Was she indeed under the thrall of her Tarian so much that law and respectful tradition would mean nothing? Was she too weak to stand up to her bully of an uncle? Was she as savage as the rest of her blood who would think nothing of unfairly tormenting or murdering those who crossed her, be they of royal blood or not?
It was enough to paralyze her, and it might have done so if she’d had the time and luxury of indecision.
“Gentlemen, you have behaved very badly,” she scolded them, rather like they were scrapping boys in a schoolyard rather than great offenders of her crown. “This is perhaps why it is long past time for a woman’s touch in this empire. Men are much too hotheaded and bloodthirsty.”
Chuckles jumped through the waiting crowd, popping up here and there in light touches.
“Uncle,” she said standing before him. “This is clearly my fault. I have been remiss in explaining myself to you. So let me make myself resoundingly clear.” She stepped closer to him. “You are never to touch me again. Unless I hold my hand out to you to kiss it or extend my foot to you to hold it, your skin is never again to touch mine, your physical body is never to contact mine. If it does, it will be seen by me and those who protect me as an act of treason. It is only by my large ability to forgive your trespasses against me, and my keen understanding that no one knows the workings of this realm better than you, that I have tolerated your existence in my sphere. Rest assured, however, that once your usefulness to me is ended, you and all who side with you will find themselves banished to the coldest, darkest province in Allay where no one but the Great Being will ever have to set eyes on you again. The last thing my people need is the poison you have readily injected into their lives all of these cycles. And so the farther away you are from any sort of position of power that could potentially hurt them, the happier they and I will be.”
Then she turned to the Tarian before her, her eyes moving slowly over him from head to toe, carefully assessing him for any potential need for immediate care. He looked as powerful as ever, perhaps more so because he was riled up and frustrated. His muscles were bunched around his shoulders and down his arms, tense with his temper and, no doubt, with pain.
“My Tarian friend,” she said strongly, making certain that all of the court heard her, heard the respect with which she addressed him. A respect she would always use toward him. He had brought her so far in so many ways. “I thank you for your quick actions in protecting me. I only regret that I did not make it clearer to all of my people that, regardless of your lack of proper uniform, I have appointed you as Regal General, head of my Imperial Forces.”
Therefore making it perfectly legal for him to act in her defense.
“Forgive me for allowing the misunderstanding. Guards, you will please uncuff him. My uncle as well. But I suggest you remove my uncle from my sight for the remainder of the day.”
Then she turned and walked toward the rear exit of the room.
“General, follow me so my medic can attend your wound,” she said needlessly. It was unlikely that he would let her go anywhere without him.
The travel time to the Allay IM planetside depot was relatively short by most standards, but for Bronse the time it took was interminable. He held Ravenna close as the transport driver whisked them along. With the driver’s attention focused forward, they were as good as alone. And it was a good thing too. Whatever Ravenna had ingested or been affected by was acting like a powerful aphrodisiac. She couldn’t keep her hands in neutral quarters, and her words were twice as volatile.
“I want to make you hard for me,” she breathed against his cheek. “I want you to hunger for me the way I am hungering for you.”
It would have been a knee-jerk reaction for him to be aroused by her words and actions. It had always been so easy for her to turn him on. But the understanding that she was in danger left him cold inside. What was more, his concern was split in two. He was worried about Justice being alone in the Allay court. He should have waited for relief to arrive before leaving, but if this was poison, he knew that every second would count. And it wasn’t just Ravenna’s life on the line.
“How fares our child?” he asked her softly.
For the first time she stilled, stopped squirming against him, stopped stroking her hands over him. She had straddled his lap at some point and now looked him straight in the face. She tilted her head as if thinking about it for a moment. As a Chosen One with the ability to see the future in short but powerfully clear snippets, she also seemed to have an inner connection to their baby. Or perhaps this was true of all Chosen women. There was no way of knowing because all of their history had been lost in the Nomaadic raid they had fled from. All except the history in the remaining Chosen Ones’ memories.
“She is fine. Sleepy. Resting.”
“Or do you mean lethargic?” he pushed before Rave could get it in her head to resume her torturous touches.
Again that introspective cocking of her head. She closed her eyes, making certain to be careful, it seemed, as she took her time.
“Sleepy,” she reiterated with an assured nod. It was comforting to know that she was able to break her sexual fixation and that the well-being of their child still took precedence in her attentions.
Their daughter.
It was the first time she had given the baby a definitive sex. Whether she had realized it earlier or not, whether she had even intended to disclose the sex to him at all, it was like being hit with a stun gun, only nothing so painful and everything weakening to the point that he was glad he was sitting down. A daughter. He was going to be father to a little girl. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the idea, trying to figure out how he was going to be a proper role model for a girl. He’d been an only child, and the only women he knew were his mother, his wife, and several dozen hard-assed soldiers. Ravenna was the closest thing he’d ever come to what was feminine and delicate.
“I want you to fuck me hard enough to split me in two,” Ravenna murmured against his ear.
Well, on a good day, he thought wryly. And there was nothing wrong with raising a daughter who could kick a little ass, he told himself. Her mother might not be as physically powerful as Justice, but Ravenna had remarkable power in other ways. At the moment that meant pushing past his firm attempts to stay her groping hands. Bronse breathed a sigh of relief when the transport pulled up to the depot. He gathered Ravenna up close and the hatch hissed opened, revealing Jet and Ophelia standing there in their simple red and black work uniforms, which indicated they were IM medical personnel.
“What’s going on?” Jet asked.
“I have no idea. She suddenly—”
“Oh, this isn’t good,” Rave interrupted noisily, almost as if she were drunk on something, her head lolling back against Bronse’s shoulder. “We can’t have sex in front of my little sister.”
Bronse rolled his eyes and looked askance at Ophelia. Ravenna’s young sister hardly looked old enough or big enough to be wearing an IM uniform, and truthfully she wasn’t either, but she had proven stronger and more determined than any of them had expected when they had assimilated the Chosen Ones into the Special Active team. What she was, what she had always been from even the youngest age, was an extremely competent healer.
Ophelia stepped up and touched her fey fingers to her sister’s warm cheek for all of a moment.
“Let’s bring her inside. And Bronse, don’t worry, she’ll be just fine.”
Now that Rave was in Ophelia’s care, he had no doubts about that. He had seen the girl do miraculous things with just the power of her touch. Ophelia had once healed him away from the brink of death after a savage attack by a Hutha lion back on her homeworld. She was, in a word, amazing.
&n
bsp; But since she was too young to pass for a real IM doctor, and since she was not supposed to reveal her powers, she worked in tandem with Jet, a skilled physician, and they “hid” her abilities as a working team, with Ophelia currently playing the part of a medical intern. Also, Ophelia would exhaust herself if she were allowed to, so Jet had become something of a monitor. He forced her to do the majority of her healing through conventional medical means and save her Chosen power for instances when convention wasn’t quite enough or simply didn’t have the necessary answers.
The truth was, Ophelia was learning a great deal from Jet and the other IM doctors who surrounded her. The healing she had learned in the temple of the Chosen Ones in her backward little village on Ebbany had been nothing compared to what she was learning here. She was so grateful for the opportunity and was glad that her sister, as head priestess of the Chosen Ones, had made the life-altering decision to bring them to the attention of the IM.
As Bronse brought his mate into the sick bay and set her down on the diagnosis bed, Ophelia smiled at him reassuringly. There was no need for the worry and fear she saw clutching at his expression. But he loved her sister deeply. It showed every day and in every way. He was going to worry until she explained why he shouldn’t.
“Bronse,” she said, reaching to cover his hand with hers, “why haven’t you told anyone she’s with child?”
Bronse shrugged, unsurprised that Ophelia knew of it with just that one touch. “We weren’t ready yet.”
“Well, Ravenna ought to have known better. There are things about a Chosen woman’s pregnancy that are very different from that of other women. For instance, the baby will sometimes emit a raw dump of hormones into the bloodstream of the mother, which will act as an aphrodisiac. Or sometimes it’s like an emotional bender. She’ll seem like she’s gone crazy, but I assure you it’s normal for her expectant state. However, it can also be counteracted if need be.”
“If need be?” Bronse was incredulous. “She’s practically tried to rape me several times already!”
“Bronse, the baby creates these dumps as part of its growth process. The hormones flood the mother, the mother’s body reacts, and that reaction fosters growth in the fetus. If we interfere too much or in the wrong way, we endanger the baby’s growth process.”
“So you’re telling me this has nothing to do with the Allayan court? She has not been poisoned?” he demanded.
“Nothing at all like that. Just poor timing. But Jet and I can help her. We’ll at least be able to tone down her behavior and perhaps quicken the process.” She paused for a beat before looking her brother-by-law dead in the eye and saying, “I must be blunt, though. You have to consider that … umm … she very likely needs what she is asking you for.”
Bronse remained frowning for a beat, but then a single brow lifted over one of his periwinkle eyes. “Did you just tell me … are you prescribing sex for my wife?”
Ophelia lifted a shoulder in a light shrug and smiled.
“It’s rather like when we crave certain foods suddenly because our body reacts to a deficiency.”
“I assure you, Ravenna is in no way deficient of a healthy sex life,” Bronse said, having lowered his voice.
“A normal healthy sex life. The pregnancy makes things a bit abnormal, Bronse.”
“What could she possibly get out of sex that would benefit a growing fetus?” he demanded in a hot whisper. He really didn’t want to be discussing this with his wife’s baby sister, but he didn’t see how he had much choice in the matter.
“Hormone spikes mainly. Endorphins. Orgasm releases massive floods of pleasurable endorphins. This can provide energy and strength for your baby that—”
“All right.” He cut her off with a motion of his hand, shooting a glaring look at Jet, who was trying to make himself look busy while hanging on the discourse with the unquenchable fascination of a die-hard doctor faced with the opportunity to learn. But Jet was also a Special Active soldier, just as tough and ready as any of the other Special Actives, so Bronse’s attempt at intimidation was met with a shrug. “So, what do I …?”
Ophelia suppressed the urge to giggle. It wasn’t often that Bronse Chapel was at a loss for words or actions.
“Let us look her over, work on her a bit. Then I think it best you take her back to your rooms and, well, let nature take its course.”
“Let nature …” Bronse huffed in frustration. “We’re on assignment! Justice needs backup! We can’t just ditch work and … and—”
“Fornicate?” Jet said helpfully.
“Fuck you,” Bronse snapped irritably.
“Actually—” Jet began leadingly.
“Say it and you’re a dead man.”
Jet shrugged and chuckled. “Bronse, you and Ravenna aren’t the only soldiers in the IM. I’m sure we’ll survive.”
Bronse turned to a chair and sat down with a sigh.
“Yeah.”
It was the end of the day and Ambrea was utterly wiped out. The suns had faded away long ago and there was nothing but darkness and city lights outside her windows. She stood looking out at Blossom City with drooping eyelids as Suna and another young woman helped her out of her intricate court dress and jewelry. They had barely begun when the outer door opened, admitting Rush into the room.
“She’s exhausted,” she heard Suna murmur to him under her breath after taking a few steps away to greet him.
Ambrea felt fingers at her throat and opened her eyes to look into an increasingly familiar face.
“Lady Eirie,” she greeted the noblewoman softly.
“Great Lady,” the woman said in return with an inclination of her head. Ambrea smiled softly. Eirie was such a pretty girl. Her warm, chocolaty hair was brilliantly streaked with sparkling silver much in the way her own red hair was accented with gold. She must be close to her own age, Ambrea mused, but it was clear she was a bit younger.
“How does someone so young manage to float so easily in that sea of sharks?” Ambrea couldn’t help but ask her. “And how is it you are so independent and so court-wise?”
“I have been at court since I was an adolescent,” said Eirie. “When I was sixteen cycles my parents were killed, leaving me their titles and the independence of wealth. I suppose that’s all the more reason I might be gobbled up by your sharks, madam,” she said with a smile, “but I was fortunate to find a kind protector or two.”
“You mean lover,” Ambrea corrected the young woman, knowing very well how things really worked for women in the court of her father. “You were very lucky my father did not tap you for his harem.”
“Yes, Great Lady,” she agreed. “But my fortune and independent status thwarted any desires he might have had in that regard.”
Yes. Benit could prey on the daughters of his nobles, but not the nobles themselves. Those he would have to treat more like equals, more like lovers. Although, had Benit wanted her, he could have made Eirie’s life very difficult. He could have found ways to attack the wealth that kept her safe. She had indeed needed protectors.
“But this court is not always about the machinations you are inundated with at the moment,” Eirie assured her. “This is just typical of any change in regime.”
“Balkin would have my seat for himself,” Ambrea sighed. “And everyone knows it. Everyone is waiting to see if I fall under his heels as he tramples over me.”
“Perhaps. But I suspect you know they act more in fear than anything. Many of them are just sheep looking for a herder to hustle them along.”
“I do not like having a court full of sharks on one side and sheep on the other. Though perhaps they will merely devour one another and leave me in peace.”
Eirie smiled, her soft eyes lighting with humor.
“Ambrea.”
Rush stepped up behind her, his presence falling over her like a warm, heavy blanket. She never truly felt safe unless she felt him there, at her back, watching over her in his careful way. As she held her arm up for Eirie, who
was disconnecting her intricate, decorative series of ringed Delran platinum bracelets, she turned to look at him. Her eyes immediately went to his shoulder, seeking any visible evidence of the wound he had suffered.
“You behaved rashly today, General,” she scolded him gently and equally praised him by giving him the incredibly honorable title she had bestowed on him.
“I …” He paused and she wondered what it was he was trying not to say because they weren’t alone. Then he shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “I couldn’t stand to see him put his hands on you like that.”
She smiled. That was the Tarian warrior she knew best. The one who didn’t much care what anyone thought of him. Yet in contradiction he did care very deeply. It was why he hid himself within himself.
“You denied me the pleasure of smacking him for myself,” she informed him. “I would have been well within my rights. And perhaps I would have provoked him to take that extra step that would have given you the right to rip his head off once and for all.”
“What extra step would that have been? Backhanding you? Wrapping your throat between his hands?” His words were coming hard, telling her that the very idea of it enraged him. She reached out a hand and laid it over his steadily throbbing heart. He seemed to take the gesture of comfort strongly. He reached up and took hold of her hand where it lay against him, his earth and fire eyes locking gazes with her. His free hand came up to brush back a few stray strands of her hair.
“You shouldn’t have …” He hesitated, then flicked a finger at the cuff of his new office around his wrist. He might have been in uniform already, she supposed, if they had had one to fit him. He knew as well as she did that it was important he visually represent his position in order to command the authority he deserved. Still, it seemed more suited to the role he was playing that he didn’t step in line as neatly as he was supposed to. She preferred he keep the cuff and have nothing else change. He probably preferred that as well since his true loyalties were to a very different uniform.