Alien Hostage (37 page)

Tasha had just slipped her shoes on when the home’s door announce went off. Falinset grabbed Tasha and half-shoved, half-carried her out to the corridor. He turned to Nur, who followed hot on his heels.

“Take her and get Princess Noelle! Go!” he said urgently. Thank the ancestors they’d prepared for this eventuality.

Nur grabbed Tasha by the arm. They raced to the guest room, from which Noelle’s sleepy voice could be heard saying, “Tasha? What’s happening?”

Falinset darted back into the common room to make sure everything was as it should be. Wekniz was dealing with that matter already, confirming there was no sign of Tasha and Noelle’s presence left behind. They raced through the house, searching the various rooms for any evidence of their guests. In his private office, Nur was ushering the wide-eyed fugitives into a closet. The door announce went off again.

“Secure them,” Falinset said needlessly before following Wekniz to the home’s entrance.

Dramok and Nobek paused by the front door, giving each other the once-over to make sure nothing was out of place. Wekniz wrinkled his nose. “We smell like Tasha. Whoever is out there will not mistake the scent.”

Falinset scowled. “We can’t do anything about that. With luck it’s only Sitrel with whatever offer Maf is making.”

“Are we still going with the plan?” Wekniz asked.

Falinset nodded. “I’ll tell him I’ll take the gift under consideration to buy us time. Then we’ll lure him back after we’re ready to make our break for it, hoping the guards will be lax.”

The announce went off again, buzzing twice with seeming impatience. Falinset adopted his usual attitude of dislike for visitors, breathing evenly to get his pounding heart under control. He snapped, “What do you want?”

The voice that answered him was almost unrecognizable in its hearty cheerfulness. “Dramok Falinset? It is Dramok Sitrel. I have brought you something special from your father.”

Falinset’s teeth ground together. He didn’t have to pretend his irritation at the man’s arrival. Wekniz put a hand to his blade handle. “Just in case he brought Ket or his thugs,” he whispered. “Stand back, my Dramok.”

Falinset nodded and gave Wekniz room to maneuver, moving away from the door. “Open.”

The door opened. Sitrel stood in front with an overly friendly smile. As Wekniz had feared, he had company: Ket and four uniformed Nobeks stood behind him. Ket was glowering, looking thunderous with anger.

It wasn’t Ket and the soldiers’ presence that caught Falinset off guard however. It was the person standing at Sitrel’s side. Falinset and Wekniz froze as they looked at the young Kalquorian woman giving them a bored smile.

Falinset blinked. She’d be statuesque, even pretty perhaps if she put on a little weight. The woman had a gaunt paleness to her, as if she’d been recently ill. He could well imagine Nur clucking over her overgrown lusterless hair and dull skin. The expensive gown she wore, a purple that complemented her bright eyes, couldn’t disguise the woman had seen some tough times.

At a loss, he looked at the beaming Sitrel. Had he ever seen the man smile like that? The expression looked alien on Sitrel’s usually covert face.

With a grand flourish, Sitrel said, “Matara Narpok, this is Dramok Falinset and his Nobek Wekniz. I present Narpok, daughter of the late Clan Pwaldur.”

Narpok. Clan Pwaldur. Even keeping himself away from Kalquor for so long, Falinset knew the names and the story behind them. He stared in shock at the woman who had once been in line for the Imperial Throne, the daughter of a traitor.

When Falinset still couldn’t find his voice, Sitrel prodded, “Is Nur home, Falinset?”

Falinset stared at Narpok, completely dumbfounded. Did this mean what he thought it did? No, it wasn’t possible. Maf couldn’t be offering his clan—

Impatient with Falinset’s immobility, a scowling Ket motioned his men forward. “We’ll look for the Imdiko.”

The paralysis holding Falinset snapped as a growling Wekniz moved to intercept the other Nobeks. Narpok put her hand to her mouth, tittering as if the unfolding drama was mere entertainment put on for her benefit. As Falinset grasped Wekniz’s shoulder, Sitrel put a restraining hand on Ket’s arms. “I’m sure Nur will come if called. There is no reason to invade Clan Falinset’s home like a pack of raiders.”

“As long as everyone behaves himself, you may come in,” Falinset said in a tight voice. His words were more for Wekniz than to welcome these unwanted visitors, however. He did not want his Nobek fighting five soldiers, especially when Ket looked like he’d love any excuse for a bloodbath. He raised his voice and called, “Nur? Can you join us please?”

Narpok winced at the shout. “Do you have to yell? Have your servants fetch your Imdiko, silly man. And I would like something to drink. Some leshella would be nice.”

With that she breezed into the home, looking all around with a critical eye. Her long skirts swished as she moved. “Ah, a mirror from the Evim Period, isn’t it? You don’t see that kind of craftsmanship outside of Joshada any more.” She examined the frame of one of Nur’s favorite finds, wincing when she caught sight of her reflection. “The lighting in here leaves much to be desired.”

Nur’s entrance into the corridor drew her attention. He hurried, his eyes wide with worry until he caught sight of Narpok. The Imdiko stopped short, still several steps away. His mouth dropped open in shock to see a Kalquorian woman in his home.

She stared back, her gaze evaluating. She smiled after a moment with queenly approval. “Well, you look handsome enough.” She glanced over her shoulder at the nonplused Falinset and Wekniz. “You too, Dramok. I like a man with strong features. You and your Imdiko contrast well. As for you,” her eyes twinkled merrily as she gazed at Wekniz, “a Nobek isn’t a Nobek without some battle wounds. He reminds me of my father Mox, don’t you think, cousin?”

Sitrel’s ridiculous smile was starting to fade, but he made it stretch wide again. “I never saw it before, but yes, he does have marks of honor similar to Mox’s.”

Ket snorted, probably over them calling Wekniz’s burns honorable. Falinset had the urge to punch the sneer off his half-brother’s cowardly, unmarked face.

Narpok nodded, looking pleased. “Yes, you’ll do. This home is much too small though. By the ancestors, where are the servants with my drink? Did you give them the day off? I’m not so sure about this.”

She wandered down the corridor, peering in rooms and making disappointed noises as she went. Falinset whirled to face Sitrel.

“What is this? Why did you bring this woman here?”

Sitrel’s unnatural grin had lessened significantly. His voice was strained. “She is to be your Matara, Falinset. A once-future empress and pure Kalquorian. A perfect match for your clan, arranged by your father.”

Nur’s gasp rang through the hall. Falinset’s stomach dropped as his suspicions were voiced. Apparently Wekniz had never considered Narpok could be the trade Maf wanted to make. His expression couldn’t have been more senseless if Ket had fallen at his feet, professing everlasting adoration.

Meanwhile Narpok moved on, reaching the doorway to the common room. She sighed as if disheartened as she looked in, then shrugged her thin shoulders. “This will do for our introductory meeting. Don’t forget the leshella.”

She swept into the room, leaving Clan Falinset gaping, Sitrel smiling sickly, and Ket glowering at them all. The other soldiers were impassive, watching the drama unfold with cold, calculating eyes.

Hardly able to feel his legs, Falinset set off after Narpok. He was dimly aware that the others followed him into the common room where she waited.

She moved from seat to seat, her expression bemused at the mismatched pieces Nur had collected. Falinset had always enjoyed the eclectic mix of styles his Imdiko had decorated with. The furnishings didn’t make for a cohesive look, but at least it wasn’t boring décor.

Narpok stopped at the lounger, the blue velvet fabric presenting a better sheen than her brushed but unstyled hair. If Falinset hadn’t been so taken aback by the woman’s presence, he would have been amused at how much Nur’s taste for good grooming had rubbed off on him.

Narpok glanced at him and the rest of the men gathering in the room, her look furtive. She spread her skirts out to keep them from wrinkling as she sat down and kept fussing over them for a few moments. She even put her hand in a pocket, as if to make sure it too was not being creased on the inside.

As she settled, Falinset forced himself to wrap his head around Maf’s latest ploy. Playing for more time to plan his next move, he went to the bar in the corner and fumbled around its offerings.

He said, “I don’t appear to have any leshella to offer you, Matara Narpok. Would shel do?”

She gave him a pained expression, her nose lifting in the air. The entitled attitude reminded him of his mother, and his stomach clenched. No wonder Maf liked her. He should have expected a self-absorbed witch would be the bastard’s choice for his Matara.

Narpok sighed, as if sorely put upon. “I suppose shel will be fine. Do you not get many shipments on Lobam, Dramok Falinset? Nalta City is an hour or so away, is it not?”

He offered her a tight smile as he opened the bottle of shel. “Thirty minutes flight, Matara. Had I been warned of your impending arrival, I would have been better prepared to entertain you properly.”

He said that last with a glare at Sitrel. He hoped Maf’s lackey would see he was not impressed with the ‘offer’.

Sitrel groveled through gritted teeth. “That would have ruined the surprise, Falinset. Maf went to a lot of trouble to bring Narpok to you. He can’t wait to hear of your gratitude.”

Narpok beamed at her cousin. Apparently she thought she was worthy of gratitude too.

Falinset seethed with resentment as he poured her a drink. His gratitude indeed. He was supposed to exchange the princess and Tasha for this vain twit? Did Maf think him so shallow as to relinquish principle for a mate – one that didn’t appeal to him in the slightest? Or was he so profoundly convinced of Kalquorian women’s superiority over the Earthers that Falinset’s instant allegiance must be assured?

Whatever else Maf had hoped to accomplish for the good of the Empire, his fanatical need to keep Kalquor’s purity intact had blinded him to rational sense. Falinset thought he might very well be delusional. He wondered if he could somehow capitalize on that weakness.

He brought Narpok her drink. As soon as he left the bar, Ket swaggered over and started to root through the bottles. He gave Falinset a teeth-baring glower, daring him to protest. Falinset gave him a knee-jerk scowl, but said nothing. If Ket got drunk, that would be fine. Stupid and inebriated always made him less a threat.

Falinset decided to ignore his brother. He sat on a cushion across the dark firepit so he could face Narpok. His clanmates settled on the cushions on either side of him. Nur still looked bamboozled by the turn of events, but Wekniz seemed to have recovered his equilibrium. The unscarred side of the Nobek’s face gave Narpok a calm, interested expression.

Sitrel came over to sit on the lounger with Narpok, leaving four feet of space between them. The soldiers wandered around the room, patrolling the confines of the common room restlessly. When one Nobek wandered near Narpok, his nostrils flared. He looked disconcerted and gave the young woman heated stare before recovering his scowling demeanor.

Falinset didn’t know whether to be amused or worried at the soldier’s response. Narpok sat near where the clan had enjoyed Tasha only minutes before. The Nobek must have thought Narpok had become aroused. Sitrel was also eyeing his cousin with a confused look. As for Narpok, she seemed oblivious to anything strange. But how could that be? Surely she scented something.

But Matara Narpok had been severely emotionally damaged according to all the reports. Maybe she was still removed enough from reality that she wasn’t quite aware of everything going on around her.

Falinset was glad to see Ket remaining in the vicinity of the bar. His hateful brother didn’t need to smell Tasha. It might spur the fool into a confrontation.

Falinset arranged his expression to be as pleasant as possible. “So. Matara Narpok. Dramok Maf told you we wished to clan a female lifemate?”

She shrugged carelessly, sipping the shel as her gaze swept over the room. She seemed to be cataloging the clan’s possessions. “He said you’d be thrilled to clan a pureblood. I understand your investment portfolio is vast.” She glanced at them to smile, but her countenance appeared more avaricious than sweet.

Tasha at her darkest had never looked mercenary. The comparison between the two women was like day and night. Even if he’d never had the pleasure of the Earther’s acquaintance, Falinset knew he would not have ever liked Narpok.

Her attention had gone to Nur. “I hear you’re a grooming specialist, Imdiko.”

His voice uncertain, Nur said, “That’s true, Matara.”

“I’ve been ill for some time. I suppose you’ve heard.”

For a moment Falinset glimpsed pain move across her face. In that instant he saw someone quite vulnerable, someone he might have wanted to help. Nur shifted uncomfortably at his side. A devout follower of the news vids that beamed from the home planet, he knew all too well what had happened to Narpok. His face twisted in sympathy. Despite his dislike of her personality, Falinset shared his Imdiko’s compassion. No woman deserved the horrors Narpok had endured.