Courting Kel (18 page)

Two older women, still striking in appearance and strength,
drew heavy high-back chairs to the window seat. A third placed a laden tray on
the table. The three left without saying a word. They did, however, smile at
Kel, who smiled back.

“Sit.” Pouring amber liquid into three crystal goblets,
Basalia handed one to Kel then one to him. Raising her own goblet, she inhaled.
“This is our version of your winale, Aren. A tastier brew and even more
potent.”

They drank, Kel quaffing hers while her mother sipped.
Interesting.
Is Kel so uncomfortable in her mother’s presence she wants to get drunk? And
why hadn’t the queen greeted her daughter?

“It is lighter in taste than what we brew but pleasant,”
Aren said, wondering if Basalia intended to offer it in trade for Ondrican
goods. That possibility kept him from proclaiming it the finest winale he’d
ever tasted.

“Basalia developed the recipe.” Kel spoke for the first time
since entering her mother’s quarters.

Basalia smiled as if pleased by Kel’s proud tone. But her
remarkable green eyes held a trace of sadness. She banged the goblet on the
table, startling both him and Kel into looking directly at her.

“To the depths of our deepest swamp with all this polite
nonsense. Has Keleos acknowledged your marriage or not?”

“Mother!” Kel protested with an embarrassed glance at Aren.

Basalia turned her narrow-eyed gaze on him.

“According to Ondrican law we are married, Majesty.”

“We. Are. Not. Married.” She shot her mother a “so there”
glare. “I lied earlier, Basalia. Sorry.” But she neither looked nor sounded
apologetic. In truth, she seemed downright proud of lying.

“According to Ondrican law we are married,” Aren insisted,
his focus on Basalia. “Moreover, her breasts are fuller, her nipples tender.
She may carry my babe.”

Kel groaned. Basalia nodded.

Surging to her feet, Kel shouted at him, “Now you’ve done
it! Whether I will it or not, Basalia will insist that we remain on Amazonia
until the baby is born. Whether I will it or not, she will keep a female child
here. Whether I will it or not…” Kel collapsed in her chair, burying her face
in her hands.

“I’ve been told hormonal overload is common at this early
stage of pregnancy,” Aren felt compelled to say by way of excusing Kel’s
outburst.
Guanshit! Now I sound like a royal ass!

Basalia grinned as if she knew a secret Aren did not. But
she said, “By all the gods, Keleos, behave like the princess you are!”

Kel’s head snapped up. Her spine stiffened. Her eyes swirled
so many colors Aren lost track and found gauging her true mood impossible.

“As to whether you are married or not…” Leaning against a
pile of pillows, Basalia folded her hands in her lap.

“What?” Kel demanded, thrusting out her chin.

Bewildered, Aren leaned back to watch the fireworks he
sensed coming. In this instance being ignored worked to his advantage.

“I think we can arrive at a compromise,” the queen said, her
voice calm, her eyes sly.

Kel snorted, disbelief all over her face.

When the silence lengthened to unbearable Aren risked
saying, “Compromise?”

“She doesn’t know the meaning of the word,” Kel sniped.
Mimicking her mother’s nonchalance, Kel leaned back. But Aren could almost feel
the tension vibrating through her.

“I grow weary, Keleos.”

Kel’s gaze sharpened but she remained still and silent.

“I grow weary of the constant stream of invaders who lust
for our women. I grow weary of the constant need to stay on guard. Of the
constant lack of a moment’s respite from worry. Will we have enough rain for
our crops or will storms destroy them? Drought or deluge, starvation for us
all.”

Covering his mouth, Aren hid his smile. Basalia played guilt
like a virtuoso, striking its chords not for herself but for her subjects.
Storr should take lessons from this woman. For that matter, so should he,
noting how Kel now leaned forward—her concern for her people obvious and fully
engaged.

“What do you propose we do, Mother?”

“Somehow we need to establish a truce with Ondrican.”

“
Somehow
,” Kel echoed. “You’ll use the sham of our
marriage—mine and Aren’s—to make this desired truce a reality.”

Marriage
, he thought, ignoring the word
sham
.

“If Aren agrees.”

Seeing Kel’s mouth gape and her eyebrows shoot toward her
hairline, Aren wondered if Basalia had ever asked for a man’s agreement. “That
depends on what’s offered by way of compromise,” he said, choosing his words
with care. He had his own people to consider as well as his father’s wishes.

“We’ll have a wedding ceremony here on Amazonia. The public
mating—”

“No,” he and Kel said together, Kel’s objections preceding
his by a nanosecond.

“Ondrican has similar marriage rituals, which Kel and I
chose to ignore,” he said cautiously. As stubborn as Storr was he could deny
their marriage and force Aren to wed another. Or Aren could take a stand—for
himself as well as Kel. Consequences be damned.

Aren asked, “Do you acknowledge Kel—Keleos’ marriage to me?”

As if her answer mattered little, Basalia shrugged. But her
eyes told a different story—one of deep concern and abiding love for her child.
“That decision lies with my daughter.”

A soft knock delayed Kel’s answer.

“The council awaits, Majesty.”

Aren expected “Let them wait” from Basalia. Instead, she
stood and settled her skirts, saying, “Good. I’m starving.” Motioning her
guests to her side, she looped her hands around their elbows and led them to
her dining room.

Sly vixen.
A familial introduction to what might
become a different world. For her subjects and Storr’s.

Only after he and Kel returned to her quarters did Aren
wonder at how real the entire evening had seemed.

* * * * *

“Have you a guestroom?” Aren asked, shutting the hallway
door to Kel’s suite.

“Are you a guest or a husband?” Kel countered, her eyes
unreadable.

“I’d rather—” Quickly deciding actions spoke more clearly
than words, he swept Kel into his arms.

“We still need to talk, Aren.”

“Can’t…no, I see talk can’t wait.”

Carrying her to the window seat, he sat with her in his
arms. Waving his hand he dimmed the lights. “Amazing. I wondered if my skills
would still work—” Before he named one of Ondrican’s lesser moons, he caught
himself. “Would work so far from home.”

Kel looked puzzled by his comments but soon brightened.
“Good! Perhaps we can trade for them after all.”

“Flame, look out the window and tell me what you see.”

“Moonlight. Amazonia has only one.” She sounded so
apologetic Aren laughed. “Starlight.”

Her frown made him hold his breath. Now she would discover
the ruse he, Storr and Basalia had created to fool her. Now she would denounce
him as the liar he was. Demand he take her to her real homeworld.

“Ours stars aren’t so different. Perhaps our worlds aren’t
as far apart as I thought.”

Aren’s breath eased out.

Flinging his arms away, Kel sprang to her feet. “But that doesn’t
mean I forgive you. Making me think we shared a dream—
a dream
—when you
knew it was foretelling!” she shouted. “Now thanks to your guanshit tricks,
you’ve given my mother the perfect weapon to use against me.”

“What weapon?” He sounded as belligerent as Kel.
But—guanshit!—he was every bit as angry.

“Our marriage, you idiot! Our marriage!”

Kel, her chest heating with anger, noticed Aren’s matching
anger fading. The wretched man seemed about to smile, making her want to box
his ears. Never mind how stupid that was. Almost as ridiculous as shouting at
him.

“It is up to us, Flame. Neither Basalia nor Storr can
dictate whether or not we are married or where we will raise our children.”

Kel snorted. “If we remain on either homeworld, they’ll try
to run our lives.”

Standing, Aren paced to her side. He took her hand and led
her back to the window seat, resettling with her on his lap.

“I don’t know why I let you coddle me as if I were a child.”

“It is cuddling. And we both enjoy it.”

He leaned against the pillows, gently forcing her to rest
her head on his chest. His heartbeat drummed in her ear, as steady as his arms
around her. Groaning a sigh of contentment, she said, “Where shall we live?”

“If we had no responsibilities to our people?” She nodded.
“I’d steal
The Herald
, load her with a hundred men and seek a new
homeworld. After stopping here to pick up a hundred women, of course.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “But what if none of the women
liked any of the men?” Her soft laugh said she knew the improbability of nobody
liking anyone.

He tugged on her braid. “You are far too logical, Flame.”

“One of us must be. If we run… Is there anyone on Ondrican
who can replace you? Tage, perhaps?”

“He could, but I doubt he’d do so. He enjoys gallivanting
about the galaxy too much to give it up. Moreover, he lacks the royal coloring.
Erland’s another possibility but—” He traced the whorls in her ear. Tickled,
she shrugged away his hand.

“He’s still young. Besides, the pressure to learn everything
you’ve learned over years at Storr’s side—”

“Unfair to him, yes. Not that I doubt he could do it but
unfair. What about you? Have you a sister who could take your place?”

“A cousin. Who could be your half-sister, now that I think
about it. She’s a few years older than you and has Storr’s hair and eye color.”
Ruffling his hair, she kissed the underside of his chin. He shifted so she
could no longer reach him there. Grateful just to be with him, she settled
against his chest.

“Which coincides with Storr’s tales of sowing his oats on
Amazonia before marrying my mother. And again after her death, when he sired
Storrone through Storrsix.” Against Kel’s cheek, Aren’s chest rose and fell.
“Best keep your cousin to ourselves. If she is his, Storr would have the
perfect excuse to overthrow Basalia and put her on the throne.”

Kel bared her teeth. Not that Aren could see, but it made
her feel better. “He could
try
.”

“We need a better solution.” He tiptoed his fingers down her
spine and she reciprocated, running her hand from his knee toward his cock.
Catching her hand, he pressed it high on his chest.

“We could live apart. You on Ondrican—”

“No.”

Pleased, Kel snuggled closer. Aren’s cock pulsed against her
hip. Her breasts swelled and her nipples pearled. As always, his nearness
increased her appetite for mating, she admitted to herself, sitting up. “Aren.”

“I can’t hide that I want you, Flame.” He stroked her rigid
nipples, the bodice of her gown feeling deliciously rough over them.

“Neither can I.” She rose, tugged on his hands until he
stood chest to breast with her.

“I chose well,” he murmured in her ear, his breath hot and
moist. “Our heights allow us to feel every inch of skin.”

“My skin feels only material,” she countered, trying to open
his robe but unable to find a way in.

Laughing, he pulled it over his head. Catching her hands
before she could pull off her gown, he gazed into her eyes. “I’m going to
undress you, Flame.”

When he linked their fingers Kel said, her voice breathless,
“Any time soon?”

“Soon enough.” Glancing around the room, he frowned. “I find
your architecture inconducive to fucking. Is everything round?”

“Oh yes.” Freeing her hands she grabbed his cock then led
him into her sleep chamber. “Though the bed is round, I think it large enough
to accommodate us.”

“And several more.”

Hearing the jealousy in his voice, she said, “Until this
very moment, Aren, no man has entered this room. And I think there is another
architectural feature you’ll enjoy.” She looked up as she tugged on a rope that
ran through a series of pulleys. He looked up as well, his mouth gaping as the
ceiling and roof slid back, revealing the high-riding moon and countless stars.

“There are few nights I can do this. Usually it’s too hot or
too cold. Or it’s raining too hard.”

“Beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you, Flame.”

He untied the ribbon in her braid, ran his fingers through
the strands until her hair cascaded down her back. All the while his dark gaze
held her still. Mesmerized. His willing captive.

She felt her heart pounding against her ribs, heard every
beat thumping in her ears. Saw his hands rising to cup her face and his head
lowering to kiss her brow, her eyes, her cheeks. Sipped the lingering taste of
winale from his gently probing tongue. Smelled the scent of sandalwood
lingering on his freshly shaved cheeks.

When she dressed earlier tonight, her multicolored gown had
wound around her like a cocoon, leaving only her hands and neck exposed. Now as
Aren’s fingers glided up her arms, her sleeves fell open as if cut by a sharp
blade. His warm hands cupped her shoulders, seeming to melt the fabric with his
touch. Melding her bared breasts to his palms.

“Neat…trick,” she managed to say, feeling her gown sliding
down her body and pooling around her ankles.

Chuckling, Aren carried her to the bed. Easing them down,
his dark eyes intent on hers, he said, “If we must fuck in public, Flame, this
is the image I’ll hold in my mind. The moon and stars floating in black velvet.
Your satin flesh beckoning like realloppas, the rarest treasure amongst all the
gems. Your silky hair bright as glittering rubies in sunlight. Your eyes
swirling colors, a kaleidoscope meant only for me.”

They lay on their sides, content for the moment to simply
gaze into each other’s eyes. She had to touch him, to assure herself he was
more than a dream she’d conjured to ease her loneliness. His hair felt cool,
the silky locks sliding through her fingers like water. Stroking his eyebrows,
she laughed, saying, “The hair here is almost as coarse as the hair on your
balls.”