Collision: The Battle for Darracia - Book 2 (The Darracia Saga) (12 page)

“I don’t like it, Staf. He’s been out too long.” It was a new voice, but Zayden dared not glimpse at the speaker.

“It is a serious wound, Sire,” Denita offered, bowing her head. “I am not a healer. His eyes move, but do
not open. Perhaps your bullet struck true, and he will sleep forever?”

“It is a graze only,” Staf dismissed her explanation. “I know of a healer onboard. She understands the ways of these things.”

Zayden heard them leave, and waited a few minutes until Denita’s voice cut through the pain.

“They are gone, warrior. You can get up now.”

“Some warrior I turned out to be. I couldn’t even keep you safe,” Zayden replied as he eased into a seated position. Black dots swam before his eyes, and he wondered if he was about to pass out again.

Denita’s heart did a little flip flop when she realized he meant to protect her, not bully her. Oh why, why, why did she not trust other’s intentions? she thought ruefully.

“Oh, your nose is bleeding again!” He felt tender hands cup the bottom of his head and lean him backward to slow the bleeding. “You are a proper
mess, Zayden,” she chuckled. “No, don’t get up yet, you dummy.”

“Yes, sir, General, sir!” He gave her a half-fast salute, which pained his forehead. “Ow…ow…ow…” His eyes were closed, and he was startled when he felt her soft lips caress his.

“Better?”

Despite the pain, Zayden reached out to pull her closer to kiss her fully on the lips, their arms entwined. Denita rested her forehead against his, then kissed him again.

“Oh, this is nice!” A voice interrupted them, pulling them apart, Denita’s face lighting up with joy. “Just what are your intentions with my sister?” The stunning woman demanded from the doorway.

“Naje!” Denita ran to her sister, grabbing her around the waist, tears of happiness springing to her brown eyes.

Naje hugged her fiercely, her gimlet eyes watching
Zayden, who observed with a reddening face. Closing the door, she held her sister at arm’s length, asking, “What are you doing here, and with a Darracian?” She glanced at the long, messy braid dangling down his back. “And a royal one at that?”

“Royal? Zayden?”

“Hardly royal.” Zayden stood painfully, gripping the cot as the room spun.

“Sit…Zayden, is it?” she examined the bloody crease above his ear. “Are you Drakko’s get? Oh, don’t tighten up on me, you numbskull. Even out in Venturian we’ve heard about you.”

“Drakko?”

“This is the King of the Darracian’s firstborn, not the prince, Denita. This is his natural son. Hold still, this is going to sting a bit.”

She poured something sharp smelling over the wound near his ear, and Zayden arched with a hiss; his eyes rolled backward, and he fell forward. The
women caught him with easy hands and slid him back onto the cot. Naje checked his pulse, gave a satisfied nod, and sat down on the side of the bed.

“He’s out,” Naje said to her little sister. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

Denita explained her past few weeks, and then asked her sister to relay what had happened to her.

“You don’t seem like a prisoner to me,” Denita accused Naje, who then covered her hand affectionately.

“I would have gotten word to you if I could, Denita. Make no mistake”—she got up to wrap a bandage around Zayden’s head—“I am a slave here. I have no rights, but Staf has been good to me.”

“You are still a slave!”

“Was I not a slave to my husband Racin? Do you think I loved him or that horrible graphen den? Do you think I like peddling death?”

“You are still a slave…” Denita repeated. “But no matter. I am here, and we escape together.”

“You will have to. Staf means to kill you both.” Naje stood. “I cannot let that happen. Do you love him?”

Denita shrugged. “What is love?”

“If you have to ask, then I have my answer,” Naje told her sister. “I will let Staf kill this one and let you go,” she told her matter-of-factly.

Denita grabbed her arm. “No! I…you can’t. He…I won’t let him die.”

“So the cold, Venturian heart can speak. Yes, sister. I will have to think of something to save both you and your fallen hero.”

She exited quickly, leaving Denita to wonder what else her cold, Venturian heart would have to say.

“I have waited so long for this. Why does not the bastard wake?” Staf demanded as he sucked the
smoke from the ever present graphen pipe.

Naje shrugged. “Why have you this need for revenge?” She came close, wrapping her arms around his midsection. He was mean and arbitrary, and Naje did not understand why she was drawn to him. She worried her bottom lip. “Can’t you forget? There are places, my lord… there are places we can go to forget.”

“What are you talking about?”

Naje pressed herself against him, holding both him and her secret close, and whispered against the back of his strong shoulder, “I am a slave to the Plantan.” She rested her chin against him, trying to see his reaction, but his face was elusive. She watched the muscles tighten under his beard.

She heard a soft reply: “You are not a slave to me.”

Emboldened, she went on, “As long as I am near a Plantan, I will be seen as a slave.”

“You are my woman. You will be my consort.”
“But not your queen.” She moved away to turn and look him full in the face. “I have no future. I see no future for me. You will contract a royal marriage. Lothen will see you married to one of his pig-faced daughters. I will die alone.”

Staf grabbed her by both arms. “Stop this talk! Stop it instantly!”

“I may be Lothen’s slave,” Naje hissed, “but I will not be yours!” She yanked free and ran from the room, leaving Staf with his graphen and his thoughts.

Chapter 17

“I don’t quite understand what Ozre was telling me,” Reminda told her son from the confines of her room. “I have searched my mind, but cannot find an answer.”

“But he did communicate with you?” V’sair asked, filling a glass with liquid for her to drink.

“Yes.” She paused, biting her lip. “It has something to do with Ereth, but what exactly, I just don’t know.”

V’sair nodded. “That flood was deliberate. Do you think the Elements are angry with us?”

“If they were, neither Tulani or I would have survived. The Elements are never vengeful, you know that.”

“But what could the flood signify?”

“I feel like I know, I just can’t put my finger on it. If they meant to frighten me, they succeeded.” Taking
a shaky breath, she added, “I did not realize how long I haven’t really used my gills. I have gotten lazy in the clouds.”

“What use have you or anybody else for gills when you make your home in Syos? It makes no sense. I watched the whole flood from Hother’s back, unable to do anything. If not for Bobbien and that captain, Seren, surely I would have perished trying to get to you.”

“They have my eternal gratitude for keeping you from harm,” Reminda said quietly.

“I have the bruises to show for it.” V’sair smiled.

“Bobbien said only their strongest warrior was able to contain you.” She motioned for him to sit beside her. “So, Tulani is finally here.”

“Just in time for the coronation,” he agreed. “I will make it a wedding ceremony?” he asked her permission.

Reminda nodded regally. “It is time for you to start
your dynasty. I just wish Zayden was here.”

V’sair kissed his mother’s forehead. “I must go, Mother. General Swart is waiting for me.”

V’sair took the steps from his mother’s apartments two at a time. She would be moving now, he knew. These would be Tulani’s quarters within a few short weeks.

Both Swart and Vekin were waiting in his own chambers when he got there.

“You have told him?” V’sair asked the old man.

Vekin nodded, but Swart spoke. “I cannot believe it. How could he betray us?” He had seen the message revealing Chanter Brault as a traitor. It detailed a coming invasion, a Planta invasion, engineered by both his uncles. Their unlikely alliance was as disturbing as their plans to replace Staf Nuen on the throne by getting rid of V’sair.

“The problem is, we don’t know how deeply rooted this decay runs.”

“I want to arrest him!” Swart slammed his fist against the wall. “I will flay him alive!”

“Think, General—if we arrest him, we will never know who else is a part of this. We must see this thing through. What have you done, General Vekin?”

Vekin stood painfully, snapping his gnarled fingers so that a three-dimensional map sprang up to rotate in midair.

“We don’t know where the attack will be, so I have spread our forces throughout the four continents. Division one is hidden on the lee side of Aqin.” All three of them walked around the map, studying the placement of the troop. He indicated the slope of the great volcano and continued, “I have placed a regiment facing Hixom Sea. The third division, run by Seren, the new commander, is hidden in wait on Eastern Provinces, and lastly, I have left the elite guard within the castle.”

“Seren?” Swart asked.

“It’s the new Quyroo infantry that we’ve created. I’ve given him a brevet command for his bravery in the flood. I’ve removed all Darracian commanders from the Quyroo forces, consolidating them into one huge fighting unit. Rather than facing the infighting within the ranks, we are keeping the two groups separate.”

“Do you think that’s wise?” V’sair asked, looking at a list of each unit and its commander.

Vekin shrugged. “I’d rather they fight the enemy than each other.”

“A recipe for disaster!” Swart argued. “As it is, we are spread too thin. You can’t expect swords and spears to beat their guns! I wish I had cannon!”

“May I remind you, General, it was the Quyroos that stormed the castle and made it possible for us to put down the rebellion, without the aid of gunpowder. I know my uncle; he would never use cowardly means to retake Darracia. He will never be able to keep it that way. Besides, there is no missile or ammunition
capable of penetrating our dense rocks.” V’sair’s blue eyes bore into General Swart.

“That may be so, Your Highness. You know my thoughts on the matter.”

“I will go over the battle plans with each individual commander, but I fear to bring them together until we root out the traitors,” Vekin added. “I know they are waiting. Waiting for a signal.”

V’sair sighed. “As long as we remain a planet divided, there will not peace within.”

“As long as your uncle is on the loose, there will be no peace anywhere,” Swart told him grimly.

V’sair knocked gently on the door to Tulani’s quarters. He was admitted by Bobbien, who smiled and said, “I go to your lady mother now. I must then return to the Desa. I have work to do, you know.” She pressed her hand flat on his chest. “Are we friends, again, Your Highness?”

“Don’t ever do that to me again!” he told her sternly. “You could have told Seren to let me go. I know a Quyroo will listen to a high priestess over a king.”

“Things have changed in the Desa. I don’t know if anyone hears me anymore. Besides, I changed your diapers, quite a few times.” She chuckled. “You may be king, but to me, well, it is different.”

“Grandeam!” Tulani hissed. “Some respect for the king, if you please.” She reached out to pull him deeper into the room, her lips moist and inviting. V’sair needed no more invitation.

They heard Bobbien’s boisterous laughter all the way down the halls.

V’sair embraced Tulani, his lips kissing her temple, her cheek, then finally her lips. She moaned with pleasure, pulling his shirt free so their skin could touch. She ran her hand nimbly up his strong back. V’sair gasped with pleasure as their skin molded. He pushed his face into the soft skin of her neck and inhaled her fresh scent. Tears leaked from the
corners of her eyes, and V’sair stopped to push her chin up. “Tears?”

“I am happy…I feel whole once more.” It was hard to speak with the king nuzzling her neck. She felt her skin come alive, tingling from head to toe, and wanted nothing more than to touch him all over.

He hugged her tightly. “I know. I know.” Their lips met again for a soul-searing kiss that seemed to last forever. They parted for a second, their breathing harsh. “I have to stop, or I won’t be able to…”

“I don’t know if I want you to stop,” Tulani whispered, her eyes bright pools of longing in her face.