The Consort (Tellaran Series) (23 page)

Jelara, the majordomo, awkwardly left with the fallout of an elaborate formal reception dinner that the guest of honor was no longer welcome to attend, explained to Kyndan that she had shown the ambassador to comfortable living quarters to await him.

“Well?” Kinara asked as soon as Kyndan joined them.

He shot his father a look. “Certainly makes me feel better a whole lot better about
my
job performance as the Tellaran representative.”

“I hardly think I could have done worse,” Ryndar said with an arch look at Kyndan’s black warrior clothes.

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t get myself thrown out of the Empire.”

Kinara groaned and dropped her forehead into her hand. Aidar sighed and Tedah looked crestfallen but Ryndar was outraged.

“She did
what
?”

Kyndan folded his arms. “Threw. You. Out.”

“She can’t do that!” Ryndar exclaimed. The sudden silence that followed had him glancing from one face to the other. “Can she?”

“You know,” Kyndan said to Tedah, “when I was an ensign I got thrown out of a bar once on Tellar. But I never met anyone who got thrown out of a whole
empire
.”

“I’m glad you think this is funny, Son.”

“I don’t think this is funny,” Kyndan flared. “I think this is a disaster. You offended her. You offended the Imperial Regent in full view of the court!”

“You think I’m to blame here?” Ryndar growled, with an angry gesture. “Little slip of a thing, no older than a cadet, practically stamping her foot at me!”

Kyndan stared. “Good thing she was wearing the Regent’s cornet or you might have tried to pat her on the head when you were presented.”

“This isn’t my fault!”

“Who’s fault do you
think
it is that she’s offended?”

“Yours,” Aidar said.

Kyndan’s head snapped around. “What?”

“You wished to know who is at fault that your mate is offended,” Aidar said seriously. “It is yours.”

“
Mine?
” Kyndan exclaimed. “I didn’t do anything! All I did was stand there!”

Aidar held his gaze steadily.

“Ah, fuck.” Kyndan passed his hand over his eyes. “Okay,” he said tightly. “Want to explain to me what I did wrong?”

“There were many transgressions.”

“Like?” Kyndan prompted.

“You addressed the admiral as ‘Father.’”

“I
am
his father,” Ryndar said shortly.

Aidar threw the admiral an impatient glance. “You are of the Imperial family now, Consort,” he said to Kyndan.

“And are not supposed to acknowledge ties to another family,” Kinara said, wincing.

“Kinna caught herself,” Kyndan realized. “But I didn’t.”

“Wait, they aren’t supposed to call me ‘Father’?” Ryndar demanded. “You mean to tell me that neither of my children will be publicly acknowledging me as their father?”

“Uh,” Kinara held out a hand. “Aidar—!”

“It is unseemly to acknowledge relation to a Tellaran,” Aidar said.

Ryndar’s nostrils flared and his posture went rigid.

“Well, then,” he began his voice low and furious, “I thank all you
Az-kye
for the welcome but I think I will be taking your wife’s suggestion and
leaving
now.”

“Father—” Kyndan began.

Kinara put her face in her hands. “Papa—!”

“Please,” Ryndar fairly spat. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”

“Believe me,” Tedah said a little loudly, “
no one
would rather be somewhere else more than I would right now.” He looked around at them. “But maybe we should focus on salvaging the peace talks instead?” Ryndar glared at him and Tedah raised his eyebrows. “That is your mission, Sir.”

Ryndar blew his breath out of his nostrils. “All right,” he said shortly, and yanked on his dress tunic. “How do we patch things up?”

Kinara sighed. “I wish Laric were here. She’d know.”

“Or Lianna,” Tedah said. “I can contact her.”

“Uh,” Kyndan said, looking at Aidar. “Jump in any time.”

“First, you must apologize—”

Kyndan glanced at his father. “I don’t think Alari’s really in the mood—”

“—to your mate.”

“Ah,” Kyndan said, then after a moment asked: “Want to quickly run through what I’m apologizing for?”

“There is much,” Aidar warned.

Kyndan sighed. “’Course there is.”

Free now of her formal garments and public mourning paint, Alari struggled to concentrate on the documents laid out before her. Even with Sechon’s brief visit to offer support after the debacle with the Tellaran ambassador, her stomach churned. Alari took a quick sip of tea hoping to settle her stomach.

She did not look up when Kyndan came out onto the balcony where she worked, and feigned attention on the papers spread in front of her.

He came to stand on the opposite side of her worktable.

“You know . . .” Kyndan tilted his head to look at the parchment. “Tellarans don’t use paper anymore. Just datapads.”

“These are Imperial edicts,” she said tersely. “They must bear the Imperial seal and one cannot place a
seal
on a
datapad
.”

“Makes sense,” he said, nodding.

He watched as she held back the silk sleeve of her white dressing gown and, using the sharpened reed and black ink, painted the elaborate swirls of the Regent’s mark on the paper. Alari took up the carved vessel of red wax and poured a small amount then applied her seal with a firm press.

She leaned back and the scribes hurried to take one paper away and place another before her.

“You have come to ask me to reconsider receiving the Tellaran ambassador?” she asked without looking at him. “Come here to suggest I
apologize
to him?”

“Oh, hell no,” Kyndan said.

She blinked and her hand paused over the parchment.

“Even after I have offended your sire with my
fucking
rudeness?” she asked, dipping her reed in the ink again.

She looked up, scowling, at his choked laugh.

“Sorry,” he said, smothering a smile. “That word doesn’t translate perfectly into Az-kye but trust me, it’s not a word a princess should use.”

“Did you deliver my message to the Tellaran ambassador?” she sniffed, signing again.

“You mean that he was no longer welcome in your Empire and not to forget his coat on the way out? Yes, I did.”

She worked for a while, the reed scratching against the paper, the
ruh-ru
calls of the jaha birds rising from the park below.

“And?” she asked finally, pressing her seal to the wax harder than was necessary.

“And maybe the next Tellaran representative will have better manners.” He leaned casually on the table. “But you’re two for two so I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“No, I should not think to,” she said shortly.

“Hey, the tea smells good. Mind if I have some?”

Exasperated, she put her reed down. “Leave us,” she commanded.

The scribes and attendants hurriedly bowed and backed away.

“You have come here to complain to me that I sent your father away,” she said when the last had gone. “To demand I invite him to return! Why do you not do so?”

“Actually I wanted to ask you about a tutor.”

“A what?”

“I’m Prince Consort now—”

“You are?” she broke in. “Her Imperial Majesty welcomed you into our clan?”

“I’m not sure ‘welcomed’ is the right term . . . more like ‘groused’ me into it. In any case I’m of the
Shina’
clan. They’re sewing the clan beading to my clothes now.”

“I just  . . . I did not think Her Majesty intended to do such.”

“Well, she did. Just before the ceremony to greet the ambassador actually. Anyway—you don’t mind, right?” he asked, already taking a cup from the serving tray. He poured himself some of the steaming tea. “I was thinking, I could use someone to get me up to speed on palace etiquette. You know, keep me from blundering like I did.”

“Blundering?” she asked, shifting her weight a bit.

“I mean, I messed up pretty badly earlier—huh, this
is
good,” he murmured taking another sip. “It smells a bit too spicy but it’s not really.”

“You did not ‘mess up,’” she mumbled.

“Sure I did. I acknowledged another family group as if I were disparaging my own clan, I should have moved forward as soon as the ambassador started arguing —Come on, you can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

Alari looked away. “You are new to the palace. You did not even wish to be here.”

“Well, now I
am
here and I might be new but that’s no reason for me to continue looking like a buffoon. So,” he took another quick sip of tea, “a tutor. What do you think? I would ask Laric but Kinara needs her and let’s face it, the woman just hates me.”

“Why are you no longer angry that I sent your father away?” Alari demanded. “Why are you no longer angry that the peace accords are delayed?”

“Well,” he began, considering. “Beyond the ‘young lady’ comment, he really didn’t put his best foot forward. And the accords are no more delayed than they were before. I understand that it’s a bad plan to just reverse your mother’s decisions. You want to give the impression of a completely smooth transition. But mainly because I should have known better.” He met her gaze. “I embarrassed you by not stepping forward, by not speaking up when he offended you. I’m sorry.”

She looked away. “He is your sire. You esteem him. I could not expect such.”

“I’m Prince Consort. I’m Imperial Warlord. Hell, I’m Son to
Shina’ aru’ Az-kye
now. Of course you should expect it.”

She swallowed. “What of your father?”

Kyndan made a dismissive wave. “It was a temporary assignment anyway. And he accomplished what he really wanted to come here for. To see how Kinara was doing and make sure I hadn’t completely lost my mind.”

“He was angry that we were mated,” she said.

Kyndan shrugged, putting his teacup down. “He understands now.”

“He does?” She had just cut him before the court. She had ordered him from Imperial territory. His son wore the clothes of an Az-kye warrior. How could he possibly understand?

“Well, sure. Now he’s seen how pretty you are.”

Alari blew her breath out. No one could find her “pretty” in that ghoulish makeup.

“You are joking,” she said irritably and turned her back on him, tugging one of the edicts closer.

“My father asked my mother to marry him an hour after he met her. It’s true,” he protested at her disbelieving glance. “They met at a Fleet dance. She was actually there with someone else but my father said he took one look and that was it. He loved her.”

“That is a legend, the hero’s aria in an opera.”  She sat again. “Such does not truly happen.”

“It did to me.”

She froze, the reed hovering over the paper.

“The first time I saw you,” Kyndan said softly. “I was counting the seconds till I could leave Az-kye, and right there in the palace hall, on your way to marry someone else . . .”

Her heart hammered and she was listening so hard she was scarcely breathing. He touched her cheek, his fingers very warm from holding the teacup. He tilted her face to meet her gaze.

“Your beautiful eyes burned right into my soul, Alari . . .”

His blue eyes shone as he leaned toward her. His lips were a hairsbreadth from hers, his breath warm and moist against her mouth. As he spoke, his hand brushed her thigh.

“And,” he breathed, his fingers sliding beneath the silken dressing gown, “I loved you.”

In the very instant his lips touched hers, his sensitive fingers brushed her center and the reed fell from her grasp.

Kyndan’s arm went around her, his hand pressed against the small of her back to hold her in place for him as he stroked her. It was different this time, how he touched her, the way his mouth moved over hers. It was gentle, tender still, but there was an undercurrent of mastery to it that he had held back before.

In a sudden move Kyndan pushed the edicts, the reeds, and tools of Imperial authority aside and lifted her by the waist onto the table.

He undid the sash, spread the white silk of her robe wide, and freed her of her undergarment. His gaze went hot as his glance went over her, lying there naked before him and she shivered with pleasure as his hands, roughened now from his training, slid up her thighs, spreading her wider. 

An almost predatory smile touched his mouth as his fingers found her center again. Her palms pressed against the wood table as he stroked her and she shut her eyes to let herself sink into the sensations of it. With quick, sure skill he brought her to the very edge of her peak. She was arching against the pleasure of it, a heartbeat from climax, but in the next moment he cupped her buttocks and pulled her toward him so that he stood with her legs held open by his powerful thighs.

Still fully dressed, he took a spare moment to free his hard shaft. He held her hip steady, and his mouth parted, his eyes going hot with pleasure as he entered her. He held her like that, his hands cupping her buttocks as he took her, the skins of his warrior clothes smooth against the inside her thighs as he thrust. It thrilled Alari in a way she never could have imagined, to see her nakedness against the skins of his warrior clothes.

The lingering fears and her need to keep some measure of control at all times, legacy of Jazan’s cruel acts, crumbled away. Lying helpless beneath Kyndan she felt utterly protected. She thrilled at the power of him as he filled her, each stroke moving against the most sensitive part of her. Alari finally allowed herself to surrender, to trust, and cried out at her climax.

At her release Kyndan moved faster and deep. He bent his head, losing the rhythm for an instant, then with a cry, he thrust again and she felt him pulse within her.

He was still breathing hard from his release when he raised his head to look at her and his eyes flashed blue fire as they met hers. There was possessiveness in his gaze and in it, too, was raw power.

In those eyes she saw that, Tellaran or Az-kye, Kyndan had been made to command. Through their marriage he might have gained this mantle as a young man but had he remained with his people he would have risen to a comparable role on his own merit.

These were the eyes of a warlord.