Morningstar (10 page)

Bryn’s brow rose, and Sabine peered at them both. She had never heard the term before, and she spoke only a few words of Cy’reni. “What does that mean?”

“It’s like a bodyguard. Permanent personal protection,” Bryn explained. “You worried that someone’s going to assassinate you?”

“The captain often threatens to. She suggested this idea. You have an excellent service record, and I’ve experienced your skill with a blade firsthand,” he replied dryly. “As my
shathlinn
, you would be expected to be always at my side. It would allow us to serve together aboard the same ship. The position would also offer financial advantages that aren’t granted by the mate rights currently available to you.”

Financial advantages
sounded encouraging. Jace was projecting genuine sincerity, though Bryn remained guarded. “Say yes,” Sabine urged, and Bryn chuckled.

“Let me ask him a few questions before I agree to anything,
a’gra
. You don’t have a problem with having a female
shathlinn
?”

“I don’t have a problem having a shadow sword as a
shathlinn
,” he said. “There are a few other things you should know.”

“Oh?” Sabine picked up her plate and helped herself to mixed fruit of some sort. Bryn was too busy stabbing the food on her own plate to offer her a bite. The syrupy sweetness turned Sabine’s sour stomach.

“Yes. As you’ve become fond of reminding me, I am the second son. My older brother, Wylarric, is the heir. He views me as a threat, afraid I’ll attempt to remove him and become heir myself. He tried to have me killed when I was twelve years old, and again when I reached my majority. I became a shadow sword to learn how to defend myself. I joined the resistance to put as much distance between us as possible to keep him from trying again.”

“That’s awful,” Sabine said.

“And you didn’t think we needed to know this
before
agreeing to become your mates?” Bryn asked. Anger sizzled through her, and Sabine squirmed atop her lap.

“I was not thinking clearly.”

“Because you were thinking with your cock instead of your head,” Bryn retorted.

“Perhaps.” Jace shrugged. “I’ve been often informed that males only have enough blood to power one or the other.” Bryn snorted with surprised amusement, and though Jace was attempting to appear unaffected, Sabine noted a furrow in his brow and a line of tension in his shoulders. “Judging by how you bested me, I was confident that you would be able to protect Sabine.”

“Do you really think your brother would try to kill me?” Sabine asked.

“It is possible. Cy’ren have always been a people of strong instincts. We’re jealous, territorial. Wylarric sees me as a threat to his power, and I am, whether or not I plot against him. He has daughters, but no sons. Until he produces one, I am his heir. I hadn’t taken a mate before this out of concern that she wouldn’t be safe on Cyprena. But with you, Bryn, I knew that this could work. Who better to protect my mate than a shadow sword who would always be at her side?”

“And if I hadn’t been here? Would you have left Sabine to the wolves?” Bryn asked.

“Of course not. I would have made arrangements for her protection. But no bodyguard will ever be as motivated as you.”

“It sounds like a gilded cage, with hungry beasts clawing at it,” she countered.

Jace sighed and hung his head. “Perhaps it is. But it’s all I can offer. Regardless, I do want you to be happy. You both deserve happiness.”

“What would make you happy?” Sabine asked. It seemed to her as though he had been avoiding his family, like a runner trying to keep one step ahead of the slavers. Afraid to let anyone close enough to him to become a potential target.

“I’m perfectly happy.”

“No, you’re not.” To emphasize her point, Sabine set her nearly untouched plate down and crossed to him. Sitting beside him, she traced the furrow of his brow with the tip of her finger. “You frown too much. It’s beginning to wear a crease in your skin here.”

His pale eyes widened, and he took her hand and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. “That’s very observant of you.”

“She’s good at that,” Bryn commented. “She ought to be. She’s an
aleithir
.”

“Really?” Jace’s brow rose.

Sabine blushed. “That’s what Bryn says it’s called. I haven’t been able to read much since the phase began, though. It’s beginning to come back.”

“You two can discuss that while I’m gone.” Bryn set her empty plate aside. “I’ll think on what you’ve said, but I believe I’m wanted elsewhere at the moment.” She rose and straightened her borrowed jacket, and then crossed to them, kissing them both affectionately. “Make sure she eats something. Other than you.”

Jace chuckled. “Of course.”

Sabine watched her lover leave, and then turned her focus back to Jace. Bryn’s suggestion teased her with thoughts of sliding to her knees and sucking Jace’s cock, but she pushed the images aside. Not yet.

“My sister, Andelynn, is an
aleithir
,” Jace said. “Until now, she was the only one I had met.”

“I’ve never met another one.” Sabine looked away. “Bryn is the only person I’ve ever told about it. I knew that it was different, and different is bad when you’re a slave. You want to be forgettable. Invisible.”

“I’m sorry, Sabine. I hope that you’ll be happy with me. At least you’ll have no doubts of my sincerity.”

Sabine nodded. Jace was being honest, she had no doubt of that. She glanced back and met his gaze—he had pale eyes, quite different from Bryn’s vibrant teal stare. His ramrod straight posture and the haughty tilt of his head showed calm command, but beneath that, Sabine sensed turmoil. Fear of rejection, and an underlying loneliness.

“You don’t know, do you?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“You don’t know what would make you happy. Have you never been happy?”

“I was content.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Sabine insisted. “And it’s not enough. I was content for a long time, or at least I thought I was. Slaves live day-to-day. You don’t think of where you’ll be in a year, or ten years, because it’s likely to be the same place you are today.”

“What changed?”

“I met Bryn, and I learned that things could be different.”

“I see.” He considered her words for a moment, and then smirked. “It would make me happy if you ate something.”

Sabine giggled, and then stole a bite from his plate. She returned to the desk and stared down at her own food, suppressing a grimace. Food next, then inevitably more phase-frenzied sex, but then she would ponder this more—the unhappy Second Son of House Morningstar, her new mate. Jace wanted her—both of them—to be happy. Perhaps they could help him find happiness in return.

Chapter Ten

Bryn stared up at the dull gray ceiling of the medical bay, bored, cold and tired of being poked and prodded. She was fairly certain that Dr. Morgan had declared her of sound mind—the woman hadn’t sedated her or had her hauled off in restraints, so Bryn assumed she’d passed. Now the doctor was scanning her body to see if the slavers had left any permanent physical damage. There were new scars, but they were superficial. Nothing that should interfere with her duties. Not that she had duties, yet. Those would come after Sabine’s phase ended if she decided to stay with the resistance. Her service seemed less important in comparison to Sabine’s safety now that she knew the truth about Jace’s murderous brother. What would she do if not fight for the resistance? Sit around the Morningstar manor, constantly looking over her shoulder, waiting for assassins to attack?

She should have known that there would be a catch, that the second son’s offer was too good to be true. Bryn wouldn’t have yielded to him if she’d known Sabine would be in danger. But if she hadn’t, Sabine would still be delirious with the phase instead of finally coming out of it. Or they would be with Commander Soth, though Bryn was glad she had bested him in their duel. She knew his type well enough from her days as a shadow sword. Soth was a good soldier, but he wouldn’t be a good mate—he was too set in his ways. Jace at least seemed willing to learn, though the bombshell about his family had fried the small amount of trust he’d earned in Bryn’s mind.

“Ah, I thought so,” Dr. Morgan said.

“Something wrong?” Bryn asked.

“No, not at all. It should be good news, in fact.”

“I passed the test?” She sat up and turned to the doctor, who was busily tapping away at the data pad in her hand.

“Yes. You’re a bit malnourished, but otherwise in excellent health. This is a different matter. It appears from your scar tissue that someone attempted to sterilize you. Is that true?”

“Yes. Wait,
attempted
?” Bryn asked. Not succeeded?

“Sometimes the effects are reversible, depending on the procedure used. The quick, inexpensive methods are often the least permanent.”

Reversible.
Bryn’s stomach dropped. “And in my case?”

The doctor smiled warmly. “In your case, I believe the effect can be reversed with surgery. I could probably manage it, but your odds of complete recovery would be better if you consulted a Cy’ren doctor when we return to Cyprena. I’m sure there are many capable surgeons within House Morningstar who could handle such a thing.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say. The knowledge left her body numb but her mind racing.

The effects could be reversed—cured. Bryn could have children. Her lip twisted at the idea of children with the second son, immediately put in danger by his older brother’s paranoid greed. It would be risky. Dangerous. But children of her own…the possibility of it was like having a piece of her soul restored, a piece that she thought was lost forever thanks to the slavers. When they discussed having a family, it had always been assumed that Sabine would have the children, if they didn’t adopt. Sabine might be pregnant soon. If she had a son, he would be the Morningstar heir. Might as well have tattooed a target on her instead of a mate mark.

“You can return to your quarters now. I’ll let the captain know you’re cleared for duty,” Dr. Morgan said, and Bryn nodded.

“Thank you,” she repeated. Other words seemed too complicated at the moment.

Cleared for duty, just like that. Her legs moved of their own accord, carrying her out of the med bay while her mind burned like an engine kicked into overdrive. Gods, what would she say to Jace? To Sabine? Did this change things? Sabine would be happy for her, and probably encourage having the surgery. But she couldn’t protect Sabine if she was round and pregnant herself, and though Bryn wanted this piece of herself restored, she’d be damned if she let the Morningstars define her worth to their house by the status of her reproductive system.

She’d keep the information quiet for now. Sabine’s safety was more important—was most important. Bryn loved her more than anything. She would’ve gotten herself killed by their master long ago if not for Sabine.

The deck shook beneath her boots as the rumble of an explosion rocked the ship, and then flashing alarms and blaring sirens kicked on. Bryn froze, paralyzed by the nightmare memories of the final moments of the
Sabre
. Fear clutched her throat, and she struggled to breathe—if the ship was taken by slavers, Bryn would be right back where she started. Worse, even, because new slavers would surely separate her from Sabine. Then Bryn’s training overrode her fear and started her moving. The
Talon II
was down a first officer because he was busy fucking her mate, and they would need a hand on the bridge.

Captain Hawke glanced at her with a raised brow when she entered, but then motioned her forward. “Lieutenant Viera, take weapons. I’ll cover engineering.”

The captain moved to the engineering station, and Bryn took a seat at the weapons console. It was all familiar, even after so much time spent as a slave. It helped that this ship was older than she was, so there were no surprises in the technology. The bridge was larger than the
Sabre
’s, but the
Sabre
had been a light—and admittedly ancient—military cruiser, not a modified transport. At least the chair was comfortable. Civilian design was always more comfort-oriented than military specs.

The indicator lights flashed green across the board. Their cannons were armed, but the approaching ship was out of firing range.

“Captain, they’re broadcasting an Alliance military ID,” the navigator announced. “They’re ordering us to power down and submit to being towed aboard their ship.”

An Alliance warship? Here?
Bryn glanced at her data screen and brought up the coordinates for the
Talon II
’s current position. Unable to kick the ship into VFF speed, they had limped to the edge of the system that had been home to the jump station. This was U-space, and the only Alliance citizens Bryn had ever encountered on the station were traders, not military.

“Their shields are up and their weapons are armed, but they don’t have a target lock,” Bryn informed Captain Hawke.

“Rizzoli, what’s their ship name?” the captain asked.

“The
Adamant
,” he replied. Bryn committed the navigator’s name to memory. He was an older human, like Dr. Morgan.

Captain Hawke cursed. “Captain Gleason. Figures. Viera, keep a lock on them for now.” She punched a button on her console. “Bridge to Harrow.”

“Harrow here,” Jace answered.

“Stay in your quarters. We have an Alliance cruiser sniffing around, but I don’t think they’ll be trouble. Lieutenant Viera is manning your station in your absence.”

“I am capable of performing my duties,” Jace argued.

“I gave you an order to stay put, so stay put. Bridge out.” She closed the channel and glanced at Bryn, who straightened. This was her chance to prove herself to her new captain, and she didn’t intend to waste it. “I’m opening a comm. channel to the
Adamant
.” The ship-to-ship comm. pinged, and Captain Hawke leaned forward. “A little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you, Dwayne?”

There was a long pause. “Captain Hawke. Somehow I’m not surprised. Are you responsible for the attack on Jump Station 3?”

“Oh, sure,” she replied. “You know me, Dwayne. I’ve got an itchy trigger finger and a bad attitude.”

Rizzoli snickered at his station.

“I assume you also are also going to claim ignorance about why we’ve lost communication with the colony on Parcola 5?”

Frowning, the captain muted the comm. and turned to Rizzoli. “Parcola?”

“Checking,” the navigator replied. “Alliance colony. Small-time mining. Not too far from here.”

“Huh.” She switched the comm. on again. “That’s a new one to us, Dwayne. Maybe they forgot to pay their power bills.”

“Very amusing. Reduce power to your engines and prepare to be brought aboard.”

Captain Hawke sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “Why?”

“What?”

“If you check your sensors, you might notice that you’re in U-space, and that this ship is registered to the independent planet Cyprena. You don’t have the authority to bring us aboard. But, if you ask nicely, I could be persuaded to pay you a visit and trade our information on the attack for your cooperation in repairing our VFF drive.”

There was a hiss of static over the comm. that sounded suspiciously like swearing, and then another voice, a female this time, came on and politely requested that the
Talon II
please power down in preparation for being guests aboard the
Adamant
.

Bryn smiled, impressed.

Captain Hawke rose and beckoned her. “Lieutenant Viera, you’re with me. Rizzoli, tell Sam and Soth to meet us at the ramp.”

“Aye sir.”

Bryn fell in step behind the captain as they left the bridge. “I assume that the doctor cleared you?” Captain Hawke asked.

“Yes sir.”

“Good. You ever been on an Alliance ship?”

“No sir.”

The captain rolled her shoulders and then tugged at the hem of her uniform jacket. “The
Adamant
’s captain is Dwayne Gleason. He’s your typical by-the-book Alliance son of a bitch. We’ve met before. I’ll handle him. Just keep your eyes open and your mouth shut.”

“Yes sir.”

“I mean that. Don’t feel obligated to defend the ship’s honor when he slights it. We’re all lower than dirt to him.”

Bryn cleared her throat. “I’m used to being treated that way, sir. It won’t be a problem.”

Captain Hawke stopped and turned. She studied Bryn for a silent moment, her gaze trailing to Bryn’s slave marks, and then she nodded. “Good. Come on. We’ve got some shiny Alliance decks to scuff with our independent boots.”

The
Adamant
’s landing bay was enormous, and the
Talon II
looked like an old, broken child’s toy that had been dropped into the center of it. Bryn winced in the bright lights as she stood at the bottom of the landing ramp—Cy’ren ships tended to keep their lighting dim. Samlen Wirett, the
Talon II
’s Chief Engineer, was quickly whisked away to discuss parts and repairs with a group of techs, and Bryn and Commander Soth followed Captain Hawke through the ship to meet with the
Adamant
’s captain.

The Alliance ship shined like a jewel, its gleaming corridors filled with crew in crisp, dark blue uniforms hurrying about on what had to be Very Important Business. It was a far cry from the boisterous Wintersend shadow sword barracks. Even the air smelled cleaner than a normal ship. Bryn tugged at the sleeves of Jace’s borrowed jacket and kept her eyes forward.

When they reached the bridge, Captain Hawke and Captain Gleason stepped into his ready room. Bryn and Soth stood guard outside, watching the Alliance officers. Most were human—humans bred so fast that few other species could keep up with their ever-expanding population. They went about their work with hushed efficiency, as though afraid to break the stern quiet with a laugh or a joke. The top-of-the-line consoles were sleek and spotless. No exposed wiring or missing panels on this ship.

“Too fussy,” Soth muttered in Cy’reni. “They look like they’re afraid we’re going to piss on the floors, or bite them.”

Bryn glanced at him and replied in kind. “I only bite when asked nicely.”

“Did Harrow ask nicely?”

“He did. How’s your nose?”

Soth scowled and fell silent.

Captain Hawke emerged almost an hour later with a scowl, her face flushed with temper and her shoulders pinched with tension. She muttered a few Cy’reni curses that questioned Captain Gleason’s parentage, cleanliness and sexual preferences.

“We’re out of here,” she said. “Let’s go before they change their minds.”