The Consort (Tellaran Series) (32 page)

Dressed in Imperial black, attended by her advisors, Her Majesty, Regent of the Az-kye Alari, sat on the throne, her hands folded serenely around her jaha fan, awaiting the conquerors of her empire.

Communications were out. The Tellarans’ use of the override codes rendered the Empire helpless and even the most powerful of Az-kye warships drifted away like a child’s discarded toy from the invaders’ ships. The codes entrusted to the Imperial Consort had been changed upon his disgrace but he had clearly obtained the new ones. The Tellarans took the homeworld and the empress’ city with ease; there had been virtually no resistance possible.

And Az-kye swords were no match for Tellaran blasters.

Warriors were hit in groups with wide-beams; some fell before they had even drawn their blades. With no defenses left and the invaders closing in, there was no escape.

There was nothing to do now but wait.

Alari would be the last Az-kye ruler but she would not shame those who sat upon this throne before her by hiding.

The empress too waited here. She had been carried in and sat propped up with pillows, her face ashen. Her eyes were deeply shadowed but there was pride still in the tilt of her chin.

A fearful murmur ran through the courtiers as the sound of blaster fire came from outside.

“Have they broken through the Gate of the Blessed?” Alari asked calmly.

“They have, Your Majesty,” the majordomo reported, her voice trembling.

Alari concentrated on keeping her breath so slow and steady that even the jaha feathers on her fan did not stir.

“The warriors in the courtyard have fallen, Imperial Regent,” Jelara cried from the window.

She considered ordering her warriors to cease any resistance at all but now, in the final moments of the Empire’s twilight, Alari could not deny them honorable deaths.

They would be the fortunate ones.

Her guards, assembled around the dais, tensed at the sound of blaster fire in the hall. As one, their swords cleared the scabbards at their backs to defend her as the doors to the throne room burst open.

Alari’s face twitched to watch her guards, honorable warriors all, fall to Tellaran blasters before they had taken a single step.

He led them, these invaders of her home, these conquerors of her people, but then again, she knew he would.

Kyndan wore the dark grey combat uniform of a Tellaran commander and his hair had been cut back to the short length favored by Tellaran warriors. Two dozen Tellarans, all armed with pulse rifles held at the ready, came into the throne room with him.

Kyndan’s own hand blaster was leveled at the courtiers but his glance first snapped to her and a look of pleased satisfaction crossed his face.

“Secure the room!”

At his sharp order the Tellarans fanned out, moving the courtiers back, keeping their weapons trained on the prisoners.

Apparently convinced his men would meet no further resistance here, Kyndan raised his weapon to the ready position. Stepping over her fallen guard he crossed to the bottom of the dais to look up at her.             

“Gods, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you, Alari,” he said, a smile curving his mouth. “But I
am
going to have to ask you to get down off the throne.”

“I do not take orders from you, Tellaran,” she said coldly. “If you would have me from this throne you will have to tear me from it.”

His smile widened. “I bet you five—no, make it
ten
creds—I’ll have you off that thing in a couple minutes.”

He holstered his blaster and, to Alari’s surprise and alarm, approached the empress.

“I’m glad to see you, Your Majesty,” he said.

“Alive, you mean.” The empress’ gaze narrowed. “So that I may witness our defeat at your hands, Tellaran?”

He smirked. “That’s one reason, yeah.”

Two Tellarans came to the door and Kyndan jerked his chin at them. “Well?”

“The palace is secure, Sir.”

“Go make sure it stays that way.”

“Yes, Sir!”

“This him?” another Tellaran asked, his hand clasping Utar’s upper arm as he brought the former warrior in. “He’s the only one I’ve seen in white.”

Kyndan gave a nod. “That’s him. How’re you, Utar? Did they treat you okay while I was gone?”

The former warrior looked at him with horrified eyes as the Tellaran released his arm. “You—you have done such, Con—Kyndan Maere?” he asked, taking in the warriors lying at Kyndan’s feet.

“Oh,” Kyndan said. “Right. Let’s get these guys out of here. Wouldn’t want them to wake up and try to kill me. In fact,” he said with a wave at the courtiers, “while you’re at it, clear them out of here too. Not them,” he said to the Tellarans with a nod toward where Mezera, Sechon, and the High Priestess of Lashima stood at the sides of the dais. “They stay here.”

“Wake up?” Alari blurted. “You have not killed them?”

“I haven’t killed anyone,” Kyndan said, looking a little offended. “I knocked out the sensor grids and transmitted the emergency shutdown codes. Your ships are stalled but the crews are unharmed. The hand weapons my people are using are set on stun.”

To her astonishment the guards’ chests still rose and fell.

“Why—” Alari began as the Tellarans started to drag her guards out. “Why have you not?”

“I didn’t come here to hurt you, Alari,” he said seriously. “I came here to save you.”

“Save me?” Her brow creased. “Save me from what?”

“Your Eminence,” Kyndan said genially to the High Priestess of Lashima. “It’s nice to see you again. And,” he continued as the last of the courtiers and Tellarans left, “I see the war leader is here, doing her usual excellent work.”

Mezera’s face flushed. “How were you able to so easily breach our defenses?”

“I had the shutdown codes,” he reminded.

“I ordered them changed,” the war leader insisted. “I am sure they were.”

“Yeah, but I know the algorithms that you use to generate your security codes. With that information breaking the new codes was easy. Elder,” he said to Sechon, inclining his head, “I trust you’re well? You know,” he added, putting his hands on his hips, and nodding round at them all, “I can’t begin to tell you how
very
happy I am to be back at the palace again.”

“Save me from
what
?” Alari repeated sharply. “Tellaran! I have addressed you!”

“Sorry, ’fraid you’ll have to forgive me my good mood.” Kyndan threw her a smug look as he crossed the room to the throne room door. “I’m about to win myself ten creds. Although it has been my great pleasure,” he said as she clasped his hand and entered the room, “to escort Princess Saria home.”

“Saria?” Alari breathed.

She shook her head a little but it
was
Saria smiling as Kyndan led her into the room. In the months since her disappearance, she had become a bit thinner, her eyes a touch sadder and more mature, but it was absolutely, unmistakably, her sister.

Alari rose, dimly aware of the others in the throne room who made their own exclamations of amazement, of her mother’s cry. Alari dropped the ancient fan, careless that it clattered to the floor, and lifted the skirts of her heavy court gown to race down the dais steps.

“Saria!” she cried, running across the throne room to throw her arms around her sister.

“Alari,” Saria said, hugging her back.

“I cannot believe it! I cannot!” Alari drew back to look at her, her hands on either side of Saria’s face. “It is you!” She shook her head, laughing a little even as her vision blurred with tears. “It is you! But—how? Where have you been?”

Saria smiled sadly. “Tellaran space. The area they call the Badlands.”

“You have been the Tellarans’ prisoner all this time?” Alari demanded, with a glare at Kyndan.

He held up his hands. “Oh, now hold on! Tellarans
rescued
her! That Tellaran ship in the recording really was there. Answering the distress call.”

“Je—” A shadow crossed Saria’s face. “The captain of that vessel rescued me.”

“But, why did you not come home? Why did you not contact us?”

Saria hesitated.  “I longed to. But to do so would have been . . . difficult.”

“The Badland territories aren’t exactly home to the most upstanding of Tellaran citizens.” Kyndan shifted his weight. “In fact, one of them even nailed me with a blaster bolt when I went to get Saria.”

Before Alari could stop herself her glance went over him worriedly. He caught her look and she flushed.

The empress reached her hand toward her daughters. Saria’s smile turned toward Azara then her face blanched.

“Mother—! Your Majesty is ill?” Saria cried, hurrying to her to clasp her hand. “Where are the healers? They must be brought immediately!”

The war leader caught her eye and shook her head gravely.

“There’s something I have to do now and I’m sorry,” Kyndan said, throwing Alari a troubled look. “I really am. But it’s all part of the same puzzle.”

“Puzzle?” Alari’s brow creased. “What do you mean ‘puzzle’?”

“Your Majesty,” he said, addressing the empress again. “I owe you an apology. I was pretty damned rude to you but I was working under a false belief that made me—well, I sure didn’t like you much.” His face was grim. “I thought you’d sanctioned Jazan’s assaults on Alari but that’s not what happened at all.”

The empress reared up and Saria’s shocked eyes met Alari’s.

“
Assaults—
?” Some color came back to Empress Azara’s sunken cheeks and her nostrils flared. “Jazan
never
—”

Feeling the eyes of the others in the room too Alari’s face heated and she dropped her gaze.

“Your Majesty?” The elder asked, horrified. “Is it true?”

“But . . . Jazan was an Az-kye warrior,” the war leader exclaimed. “To do such a thing would cost him all honor, shame his clan beyond redemption.”

Alari lifted pained eyes to him. How could he humiliate her further like this? To make so public what she’d suffered?

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “But believe me, there’s no other way to trace it all back.”

“Alari,” Saria murmured. “Oh, Sister! That is why you so feared him.”

“Is it true?” the empress demanded. “Did Jazan—?”

“You know it so,” Alari broke in sharply. “I sought an audience with Your Majesty the next morning. I begged you to release me from my betrothal the first time it happened.”

“Yes! But you did never say—Dear gods,” the empress cried. “Alari, was
that
why?”

Even now it hurt, even now the feeling of betrayal burned in her chest. “You told me as heiress there were things I must endure.”

Azara shook her head. “I did not mean—I thought only that you were anxious of being mated, of the responsibilities to come. Jazan showed only the finest of manners to me. Truly I did not know . . .” The empress’ expression collapsed and Alari saw the sheen of tears in her mother’s eyes. “I should have known. It is my place to know. Oh, my sweet girl, I am so sorry. I am sorry I did not understand. That I did not hear what you were trying to tell me.”

Alari searched her mother’s eyes and the genuine sorrow and guilt she saw there healed some of that hurt.

“I don’t think Jazan actually wanted to force Alari,” Kyndan said. “He was told to.”

“Told to?” High Priestess Celara exclaimed. 

“Who would tell him to act with such dishonor?” the empress asked, outraged. “And why would he obey?”

“You know, my sister scolded me when I showed up at her clanhouse with Alari because the Az-kye follow strict social rules. They obey their empress. They have to obey the clan leader. They’re sworn to obey all their social superiors. Isn’t that right?”

Alari’s brow furrowed. “The clan leader of the Az’rayah ordered her son to rape me?”

“No. That was orchestrated by the one planning our destruction all along. The one ready to murder everyone in the way to seize the throne. Our enemy from the very beginning,” he said.

Kyndan moved protectively to Alari’s side and met the dark eyes of the usurper. “You.”