Royal Obsession (7 page)

They played a big part in the Great Conflict, but the war is over. I’m not sure why they’re still here. I remember a major campaign to find them after Overlord Lyrik took command of the City of Tears
. Echo heaved a weary sigh and sat in one of the chairs along the far wall.
They’ve been stealing women for generations.

Aila is here of her own free will. There’s more to this society than any of us realized. Should I try and contact Uncle Trey or Aunt Saebin? Perhaps my information would mean more to someone directly associated with the military
.

E’Lanna was a much stronger telepath than Echo. All of E’Lanna’s gifts put hers to shame. She shook away the old resentment. They had far bigger problems right now than her childhood discontent.
Everyone was at the reception. I’m sure they already know
. She glanced toward the privacy panel.
I think I hear him. I better close the link
.

She stood as Varrik entered the room. His piercing gaze was all he needed to make her feel vulnerable. She wasn’t about to add to his advantage. In some ways this new, courteous Varrik was harder to accept than the brutish variety. He already appealed to some deeply buried element of her nature. The last thing she needed was to contend with his charm.

“I found blish and Bilarrian ale,” he said, pausing to secure the door. “Entertaining is not our forte, I’m afraid.”

“What is your forte?” She kept her voice even and casual. Life as she knew it was on the line. She would not talk about the weather. “The Great Conflict ended cycles ago. Why are the Shadow Assassins still in existence?”

He walked to the table near her chair and set down the bottles. “The House of Joon was never our only employer.” Two cups rested upside down over the neck of one of the bottles. He turned them over and set them on the table.

“You ply your trade off world?” She had always connected the Shadow Assassins with the Great Conflict. Her assumption was both naive and self-absorbed. Mercenaries could always find work. Someone was always at war.

“Ontariese is our base of operations, but people from all over the star system have utilized our services. Blish or ale?”

“Blish.” He filled one of the cups and handed her the beverage. “How do potential employers contact you? How many—”

“Is this really what you want to talk about?”

“Do you enjoy being an assassin?”

“Do you enjoy being a princess?”

She took a sip of blish, allowing the familiar taste to roll across her tongue. Tangy, sweet, and slightly spicy, the combination of flavors had always pleased her. “What does one have to do with the other?” Pushing the ale aside, he chose blish as well. Blish was refined and less potent than ale. Was he being polite, or did he want his wits about him?

“What are the advantages of being a princess?”

“I asked you about your life, and suddenly we’re talking about mine.”

“Indulge me for a moment. Your answers lead to mine.”

“My parents are loving and attentive. I’ve enjoyed—”

“That’s not what I meant. Most parents are devoted to their children. You are the daughter of the High Queen and the Head Master of the Mystics. What are the benefits of that position?”

“Shows of respect and material comforts,” she answered honestly, still not seeing the connection between her question and his. “I have access to the best of everything.”

He nodded, accepting her reply. “And what are the disadvantages?”

“The complete lack of privacy.” That was certainly true. She’d been surrounded by bodyguards and servants her entire life. “And let’s not forget the continual danger that someone will kidnap or harm me simply because of who I am.”

Again he nodded. “I’m sure there are many more, but you get the idea. You didn’t choose to be a princess, and I didn’t choose to be a Shadow Assassin. We were each born into a society with unique rules and expectations.”

“But you can choose not to be a Shadow Assassin. I can’t change who my parents are.”

“This is a closed, highly secret society. Do you honestly believe anyone is allowed to leave?”

She took several steps away from him and found herself at the foot of the bed. “Women are released.”

“Only after their memories have been swept.”

“Can’t this be done to a man if he wants to leave the Shadow Maze?”

“Each female remains in the maze for about a cycle. She has minimal contact with the inhabitants, other than her master, of course. The memories accumulated during that time are manageable. If I were to sweep someone’s entire past, they would be irreversibly damaged.”

“If
you
were to sweep their mind?” She regretted the question the instant it passed her lips, but it was too late to take it back. “You’re the one who erases the women’s memories?”

“I’m one of the sweepers. There are others.” He finished his blish and set the cup aside.

Only a select few Mystics had the control it took to extract memories. Was Varrik proficient in other forms of mind control? If she continued to resist him, would he unleash a sexual compulsion? She knew such things existed.

Moving away from the bed, she set her half-full cup aside and glanced at Varrik. She could feel his intent gaze following her, even with her eyes averted. What would happen now? How long would he allow the delay?

“I know who your parents are. Now tell me something about
you
.”

This was so awkward. She was his prisoner. If anything she said upset him, he could throw her on the bed and wrestle her back into the restraints. Her pulse gave an unexpected leap and heat pooled between her thighs. She looked at the door, avoiding both Varrik and the bed. Fear, combined with blish. She was afraid he would turn aggressive again. That was the only rational explanation for her body’s bizarre reaction. Play his game. Stall him as long as possible.

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you have personal aspirations, or are you content being a princess?”

“What do I want to be when I grow up?” Needing something to do with her hands, she retrieved her blish. “I share my mother’s fascination with the law. I intend to pursue a career in code management and perhaps apply to the Symposium one day.”

“Really?”

His disbelieving tone made her look up. “Why does that surprise you? A photographic memory is not required anymore, but I happen to possess one.”

“You can repeat verbatim anything you see or hear?”

Damn. She shouldn’t have told him. Now he would guard every word and restrict anything she was allowed to see.

“Echo. Is that your given name or a reference to your gift?”

“Both,” she admitted. She had to be more careful.

“Most Ontarians are named at birth. How could your parents anticipate your gifts?”

Her mother’s abilities were well known. He didn’t gain anything by what she was about to say. Besides, she couldn’t think of a feasible lie. “My mother is a Catalyst. She can identify latent abilities and activate them when necessary.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.” He lapsed into silence, his gaze studying her face. “At birth your mother knew you would possess an infallible memory?”

“At
my
birth.” She scrambled to lighten the conversation. “At her birth she knew no more than any other infant.”

“What other abilities do you possess?”

Damn and double damn. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with him. He wanted to create a child brimming with Mystic abilities. If he realized how limited her gifts were, he might summon E’Lanna. She couldn’t let that happen.

“I’d rather talk about your abilities.” She returned the cup to the table where she had first placed it and meandered toward him, praying her movements seemed casual, not calculated. “Will you be able to sweep an infallible memory?”

The second she got within reach, he grabbed her upper arms and reeled her in. “You better pray I can, Princess. The only alternative is to kill you.”

Tal pressed both hands against the
storax
tree and tuned out his surroundings. Activating his Mystic receptors, he sifted through countless energy strands, some old and faded, others vibrant and new. Pulsing with a unique imprint, each thread was as individual as the person who’d passed this way. Searching, scanning, it took all his concentration to single out E’Lanna’s familiar rhythm. He latched on to her strand and absorbed it into his being.

E’Lanna and Echo had been conceived during the ceremony which bound his soul with Charlotte’s. E’Lanna’s Mystic potential had revealed itself almost from birth. Her prophetic dreams began at five cycles. At eleven, she’d been embraced by the Farseers’ guild. She was only halfway through her formal training, and already her mentor struggled to find exercises that challenged her.

Father, I can feel you
. She responded immediately to his gentle touch.

Have you learned any more about your situation?
He shielded his emotions with meticulous care, unwilling to compound her anxiety.
Every detail is important. Leave nothing out.

We’re in the Shadow Maze. I still have no idea where that is. I thought we were being held by Rodytes because of our captor’s appearance, but everyone else I’ve seen looks Ontarian.

Focus on my signal
, he instructed.
I’m going to do my best to come to you.

I’m at full strength now. I’ve felt a gradual leeching of my energy ever since I arrived.

Locking on to her strand, Tal let his instincts guide him. Easy, smooth, he floated across the metaphysical plane. Shields were often designed to increase at the first sign of struggle. He must insinuate himself past the distortion.

Closer.

Heat flared along the link. Tal paused, calming himself until the temperature stabilized. He must detach himself from all emotion if he hoped to reach her. Slowly, gently, he slipped back into the flow. Her fear tormented him. Despite his soul-deep need to comfort her, he couldn’t react.

Faint crimson light erupted in the distance. E’Lanna’s signal flowed directly into the light. Mist surrounded him, obscured his vision, then drifted away. A silhouette appeared. E’Lanna’s image separated itself from the darkness. She knelt in the center of a stone cubicle that was encrusted with firestones. Her hands rested in her lap, her mind open and still.

I’m here,
leyanti. He used the familiar endearment to soothe her and keep her calm. He’d found her. Now he had to reverse the pulse and determine her location.
I must expand the scope of our link. Don’t be afraid.

I understand.

He retreated by painstaking degrees. Aching to clasp her more tightly, surround her with his warmth, he had no choice but to ease away. He broadened his focus, releasing his hold on her. Fear slashed across their telepathic link. He ignored the emotion and his instinctive reaction to it.

A barren corridor stretched beyond the stone cubicle. He already knew this much. The Shadow Maze was a vast underground fortress, secrecy its most valuable defense. Wider, higher he climbed.

Her signal bent, fragmented, and dispersed. No! He would not lose control. He was too close. His fingers dug into the bark as he refocused his mind.

Pouring energy into the link only sped the deterioration. Distorted. Shattered. Her strand multiplied and twisted over and over again until he could no longer tell where the true signal began.

As if reviewing a vidfile in high speed reverse, the images receded. The corridor, the cubicle, and finally the light were sucked back into the darkness. Tal watched it happen in helpless misery.

Father, are you still there?

Yes, sweetheart.

It didn’t work, did it? I felt something shift.

We will find you, E’Lanna. Do not give up hope. We will not rest until we find you.

* * * * *

Varrik stared into Echo’s thick-lashed eyes, amazed by the emotions she elicited in him. He’d expected the slow, burning desire. She was a very beautiful woman. But the rest was an uncomfortable surprise. Her temper challenged him, and her courage intrigued him. He enjoyed talking to her, wanted to spend time with her, wanted…wanted things that had no place in the Shadow Maze.

She was here for one reason and one reason only. Every minute he spent longing for illusions was a waste of time. “Are you ready for bed?” He allowed a hint of a growl to roughen his tone.

“Do I have an alternative?”

“There are always alternatives—” He lowered his gaze to her parted lips. “Or at least variations on the theme. You can sleep in my arms, or I’ll cuff you to the foot of the bed and you can sleep on the floor.”

She glanced at the bed, and her lips pressed together. “What’s the catch?”

He cupped her chin and drew her gaze back to his. She had the most beautiful eyes, expressive and luminous. “Why must there be a catch?”

“There’s always a catch, and you know it.”