Starlaw (35 page)

Orat stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Indeed, our own prosecution team
did
fail to even notice Goll's ship. It fell into the category of minutiae where all else was concerned. But this Earth woman seems to have grasped its importance. As investigators have confirmed, she used computers aboard the
Titan
to trace its probable origin, and suspected Prefect Lon's duplicity for some months … but did not tell any of
you
. Is that not so?” he questioned as he raised one brow. “Why?”

“No, sir. She didn't tell us,” Darius readily defended. “Her reasons now are quite understandable.”

“Elucidate.”

“She was a woman torn from her world, injured and with the recent deaths of her friends to contemplate. She was inflicted with a new life and new technology not of her understanding. She was in the middle of a culture that was as alien to her as hers would be to us. I wrongly assumed her to be inferior in every way, intelligence included. She was cordial to my ship's crew, even to the point of becoming quite popular among them, but who could she really trust? After all … if a major dignitary from Luster might be a conspirator involved in her fellow Earthers' deaths, to whom could she go?” Darius searched the faces of those around him as he spoke. “She bided her time and learned. She figured out who she could trust, but withheld that evidence until she could reveal it in such a way that only she'd take blame for any misunderstanding. She knew one of two things might happen. Either revealing Prefect Lon's involvement would get her in serious trouble,
or
she'd draw out others of his ilk, and make them believe their names were next. She made them consider running—and face eventual capture—or throwing themselves on the mercy of the court.”

“For all intents and purposes, she became like a member of your crew?”

“Not
like
, sir. She
was
a member of my crew, in every way that mattered. She even risked her life to save mine on Chamron. That incident is recorded in the ship's log.”

“Hmmm. It appears that the Earther has shown ingenuity and loyalty beyond expectations,” the magistrate noted.

“I have no reason to believe she's an exception to her culture,” Darius said, knowing Laurel would heartily approve of that comment.

“It still bothers me most grievously that all of us overlooked the very thing that damned Prefect Lon,” 'Cur said. “To have disregarded the craft Goll used for escape was … profoundly unprofessional and decidedly embarrassing. For everyone.”

“May I speak, sir?” Gemma chimed in.

'Cur nodded as he lifted one hand and let it fall.

“Sir,” she began, “I understand Laurel as well as anyone aboard the
Titan
. I believe she was curious as to how Goll's ship evaded detection and landed on her world. She might not have understood terminology concerning advanced shielding capabilities, but she'd conclude that an escaping criminal would not purchase such noticeable transportation. And minus any kind of theft report—”

“Yes … that was the key to the prefect's duplicity. Hence the rest of her testimony,” 'Cur concluded as he crossed his arms over his chest in contemplation. “But to have kept that information to herself was most unusual. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth that an Earther, centuries behind our own culture, discovered it.”

“She's an unusual person,” Darius advised. “Laurel looks beyond the obvious and finds what's important. She is, in every way imaginable, most extraordinary. Where I attributed her behavior to stubbornness, she was guarding herself. Watching and learning. She may assume her entire race … everyone on her world … is being judged by what she does in front of us. And if any of us were faced with that kind of burden, how much information would we share? How much would we keep to ourselves?” He shook his head. “I judged her too harshly. I was stern and prejudiced. She withheld information because of me, and I take full responsibility.”

He'd stared into the distance as he'd spoken, and thought of nothing but what he'd say when he saw her again. What could he do to apologize for those days aboard the
Titan
? Especially their first few encounters, when he'd said and done everything wrong.

He suddenly realized everyone was staring at him, drew himself up, and assumed a more practiced, commander's stance. He pasted on what he hoped was a very stoic expression. There'd be a time to express himself. First to
her
, then to everyone
else
.

The magistrate had a contemplative look on his face.

Barst and Gemma were trying to suppress laughter, as was his mother.

His father cleared his throat and spoke next. “Son … I think you just answered that question I put to you earlier. Now … if we're done here for the night, I suggest we head to the safety of our various abodes.”

“There is but one more matter to discuss,” 'Cur added, then sighed heavily before continuing. “We have made a decision concerning Goll's sentence.”

Darius stiffened. His family and friends drew closer, as if they were protecting each other.

“Goll will get his wish, whether he thought it would actually occur or not,” ‘Cur declared. “The death sentence will be carried out tomorrow … midnight. I will not risk having some vamphiere clansman covertly landing on our world, attempting to free him, and taking more lives in the process.” He slowly bowed his head before turning away.

The chamber slowly emptied.

As they walked to their transports, Darius silently contemplated the news.

An impending execution didn't deliver the triumphant feeling he'd expected. But after all that'd happened, pity was too much to ask.

• • •

Events of the last days filled Darius's mind. His transport driver's alert was the only thing that brought him out of his reverie.

As they approached the castle, hundreds of small craft, ground shuttles, and vehicles of various sizes were scattered across the great lawn, leading up to the front of the structure.

“Kronos's blood! Now what?” he sullenly muttered as he halted the other transports behind him, especially the one carrying his mother and father.

Once he was sure they were secured by guards, he took action.

Leaping from the deck of his small, oval-shaped, silver vehicle as it hovered several feet above the ground, he unlatched the trigger guard on his sidearm. Along with the restoration of his position, he'd been given back a duty weapon but prayed he'd not have to use it.

In his life, he'd never seen so many people and craft milling around the palace. He approached at a fast lope, praying something heinous hadn't taken place during the day. His beloved sisters, Laurel, and all of the household staff were inside. Members of the Elite Household High Guard were nowhere to be seen.

His heart was in his throat as he took three steps at a time, up the main outer marble stairway, through the foyer, and into the entrance gallery.

Dignitaries in every state of dress and undress turned as he barreled into the massive, ancestral hall bearing tapestries and banners of every Starlaw to have ever occupied the dwelling.

Nyssa spoke with the Regent of Askarid, the next largest city on the planet. Members of the High Guard seemed to be escorting other recognizable dignitaries. Servants were busy carrying luggage and offering trays of food and drink.

“What in the name of all creation is going on?” he loudly asked.

“Maybe I can explain.”

He turned when he heard Laurel's voice. Her hair was down and floated in long soft waves around her shoulders. She was dressed in a midnight blue gown he recognized as one of Nyssa's.

“Laurel? What is all this? Why are these people here?”

“Darius … come with me,” she softly requested as she turned and walked toward the great library.

As she strode away, obviously expecting him to follow, he briefly dropped his head and stared at the floor. Weariness mixed with the realization that yet
another
drama was playing out almost did him in.

One thing struck him above all else.

Since having met the Earther, life had been one series of tempestuous encounters. He shrugged, felt the corner of his mouth lift, and gave in.

If loving her meant being thrust into one fracas after another, life would certainly never be dull. And with someone so challenging in his existence, it was a good thing he'd decided to take a ground position. As of tonight, he'd be replacing a man the traitorous Prefect Lon had appointed as Crystol's Chief of Enforcers. Anyone associated with ousted Warlord sympathizers would likely forfeit their positions. Perhaps the dignitaries, staff, and assorted flunkies' presence in his home was part of an all-out power grab—sure to rock the entire planet's government to its core.

First, he had to question the one person who seemed particularly good at attracting controversy. With a deep sigh, he picked up his booted feet and headed to the library, anxious to get this new scenario straight as well as the future.

As tired as he was, he'd stay awake for the next month if the result was making Laurel a permanent fixture in his life.

Laurel shook her hair back, tied her gown's sash more securely about her waist, and turned to see the eldest son and heir to the throne walk through the library.

He looked like hell. If ever there was a man who needed sleep, food, and down time, it was Darius Starlaw. He'd uncharacteristically pulled his long, black hair loose. The left epaulet of his dress uniform tunic was undone. The sidearm he wore trailed down his right hip, reminding her of the town sheriff in an old Hollywood epic.

Weariness made the few wrinkles around his dark green eyes more pronounced, but his jaw wasn't nearly as set and intimidating as it'd been when he'd first burst into the gallery.

Because she'd been helping prepare rooms, food, and beverages for arriving dignitaries all night, she had a better understanding of where everything was, including the library. It was the one spot no one currently occupied, hence the only choice for having a conversation of the type that needed to transpire.

“Are you okay?” she softly asked as she approached him.

He put his hands on his hips, briefly tilted his head back, and took a deep breath before responding. “I suppose that depends on what's happening
now
,” he joked.

“We weren't back to the palace very long before a lot of bureaucrats started arriving with their families and entourage. Seems there are a lot of highly placed friends of your parents who're worried they might be targeted by as yet undiscovered vamphiere and Warlord sympathizers. Some are asking for a few days of protection behind palace walls. Most want to journey to the execution with your mother and father, as a show of solidarity for the royal family. We heard about the magistrates' decision concerning Goll,” she supplied. Then she took a deep breath and quickly continued. “Nyssa and the rest of your sisters have things well in hand. She'd have contacted your parents or you, but I suggested it might not be a good idea to broadly telegraph the fact that the honest legislators and dignitaries on the planet have temporarily taken up residence on palace grounds … all in one place.” She lifted one hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear.

She was babbling and knew it. Nyssa should be explaining all this but, as Darius's oldest sister, the girl had been officially in charge for the last six hours. In fact, Nyssa and the household staff didn't have time to mollify and pamper the elite
and
explain everything to the absent members of the Starlaw family. That left her.

“Uh … the outbuildings and cottages are full. The overflow will be assigned guest rooms upstairs,” she quickly supplied. “Nyssa … she couldn't just turn people away, Darius. Some were really frightened by what happened at the trial. And with all the terrorists turning themselves in … some of whom were once very trusted members of Lusterian society … they're afraid for their children and need your parents' stalwart presence to soothe them,” she finished. “They want to assert their loyalty. But, all that notwithstanding, I suggested the guards search everyone for weapons. Tactfully …
of course
.”

He dragged both hands through his hair, nodded, and slowly walked across the room. Then he poured a very large amount of alcohol into a crystal glass and drank it down in one smooth gulp. He took still another drink before finally putting the glass down and standing in silence.

Laurel understood weariness and frustration with the day's happenings. She put her gaze on ceiling-high shelves filled with ancient tomes. Nyssa had told her that that no one ever used paper anymore; the resource was considered too valuable and was reserved now for the most important documents of state, where actual signatures were required. The relics she gazed on were part of a carefully archived and preserved library—a library she'd been given permission to use. So far, however, anything she'd needed to learn had been gleaned from computers. But nothing in one of
those
was going to help her tell Darius how she felt. Still, he had to know. If he didn't reciprocate, it wouldn't be the first time she'd loved someone who didn't wholly and unreservedly love her back. Her parents were included in that list. But she'd learned one thing from all her adventures—just one simple truth that made all the difference to her attitude.

Life was damned short. When one loved someone else to the point that everything else fell by the wayside, that love should be unequivocally expressed. She hadn't told Cory he'd been the closest thing she'd ever had to a brother. She'd assumed he knew. That was a regret she wouldn't repeat.

Darius slowly faced her, leaned on the corner of a massive marble desk, crossed his booted ankles, and stared for a long moment. His face was a mask of determined strength. She couldn't guess what he was thinking but was sure to hear it now.