“But it isn’t.” He didn’t know how to describe what was intuition for him. “It can be frustrating, but when you see improvement, it’s magic.”
“Magic, yes.” For the first time since she had entered the room, her face warmed with a smile. “When you dance, it is extraordinary. Mesmerizing. With your gifts and your spectacular looks, you could have an empire at your feet.” In her throaty, compelling voice, she added, “I can give that to you.”
Vyrl stared at her, unable to respond. He could barely imagine people tolerating his dancing, yet Devon promised him an empire. Of all the inducements Majda could have offered, she had chosen the single one that made a difference.
Devon stood up. “I’ll wait downstairs. Take as long as you need to decide.”
After she left, Vyrl pulled up his knee, rested his elbow on it, and gazed out at the rippling plains. Today his tower chamber offered no serenity. He could have what he wanted—Lily and a farm—but it would weaken crucial alliances built on the expectation of his marriage to Devon. Nor could he perform. If he accepted the marriage, he would lose Lily and Lyshriol, but he wouldn’t have to give up farming completely, and he could have the dance career he craved, one almost beyond his imaginings.
The droid whirred around his feet, cleaning up the last shards, hiding the broken pieces inside itself. Once again, the chamber was spotless and smooth, like a polished box.
A tear gathered in Vyrl’s eye and slid down his cheek. He knew the decision he had to make. He went to the door and descended the stairs, headed toward Majda.
Maybe he could never escape the pain—but he could hide it inside.
6
DREAMS
Vyrl tried the combination of steps again, studying his technique in the mirror as he skimmed across the floor. His reflection showed a young man with long legs and red-gold curls, in black pants and a black pullover, all soaked with sweat. Frowning, he tried the steps yet another time. Pah. No wonder he kept stumbling on the last jump. He was leaning to the side, almost imperceptibly, but enough to throw off his balance.
“Are you going to glare at yourself all day?” a voice drawled from the doorway.
Vyrl refocused on the mirror, looking at the reflection of the doorway. His brother Del-Kurj stood there, resting his lanky self against the frame, his arms crossed. Vyrl glowered at him via the mirror, but he decided to be civil. For all that Del-Kurj could be a bog-boil, he had been remarkably decent lately, even showing sympathy for his younger brother’s melancholy.
Vyrl turned to him. “Has the broadcast started yet?”
Del nodded. “In the Hearth Room.”
Vyrl felt as if a lump was lodged in his throat. The meditative calm of his dancing vanished. He cleaned up and changed into trousers and a white shirt, then followed Del upstairs.
His siblings were already gathered around the hearth: Althor in an armchair, his large size and self-assurance dominating the room; Chaniece, fraternal twin to Del-Kurj, poised and regal, gold hair spilling over her arms; thirteen-year-old Soz, with wild, dark curls, busily taking apart Althor’s laser carbine, trying to figure out how it worked; twelve-year-old Denric, smaller than his brothers, with a mop of yellow curls and violet eyes; eight-year-old Aniece, also dark-haired, small and pretty, curled on a sofa by their mother; and four-year-old Kelric, a strapping toddler with gold curls, gold eyes, and the kind of heartbreakingly angelic face that only beautiful young children could have. Their father was sitting in a large armchair, his booted legs stretched across the carpet. Only ten-year-old Shannon was missing.
Seeing his family together, knowing this would soon all change for him, Vyrl wanted to hold this moment close, like a treasure within a box. He would miss them more than he knew how to say.
Del-Kurj dropped onto the sofa next to Chaniece and sprawled out his long legs. On the other couch, Soz eyed Vyrl dubiously, as if she hadn’t decided yet whether or not brothers qualified as human. But then she moved over, making room for him.
Vyrl sat down, with Soz on one side and Althor on the other. As he settled in, the room lights dimmed.
“Got dark,” Kelric stated.
“So it did.” Roca picked up the small boy and put him in her lap.
A news-holo formed around the hearth, encompassing the entire area. It unsettled Vyrl; he suddenly seemed to be sitting in a balcony of the Assembly Hall on the planet Parthonia. Hundreds of men and women packed the amphitheater, rank upon rank of interstellar leaders, dignitaries, diplomats, military officers, and newscasters.
In the past, Vyrl had never had much interest in such broadcasts. Nor had he paid enough attention to his physics to understand how this transmission came to Lyshriol, many light-years away, except that the technology bypassed spacetime, making light speed limitations irrelevant.
After a moment, Vyrl located Devon. She was standing on a dais in the center of the amphitheater by a podium. Seeing her, he felt the proverbial shimmerflies in his stomach. She made an impressive sight, resplendent in her dress uniform, tall and strong, like an ancient warrior queen from the Ruby Empire.
People surrounded her, aides and dignitaries. More were seated at consoles below the dais, probably minor clerks recording the Assembly session. An unfamiliar woman was speaking at the podium, and many people in the amphitheater were talking as well. It seemed like bedlam to Vyrl, but perhaps the meeting had an organization he didn’t see.
Finally the speaker finished and moved aside, glancing at Devon. The general nodded to her, then stepped up to the podium. As Devon tapped the com, the newscasters zoomed in, so that instead of being in a balcony, Vyrl abruptly found his virtual self only a few meters from Devon. It gave him vertigo.
Suddenly Vyrl froze. At a console across the dais, a dark-haired man was talking into a com. Heat spread in Vyrl’s face. He knew that man. He had seen him in Devon’s mind.
Vyrl leaned toward Althor and spoke in low tones, trying to sound nonchalant. “Do you know who that man is? The one with the gray sweater and dark hair?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Althor said. “Why?”
“I just wondered.”
Althor pulled off his palmtop and flipped it open. While Althor worked, Vyrl watched people argue and yell in the Assembly session.
After a moment Althor spoke discreetly. “His name is Ty Collier.” When Vyrl turned to him, Althor added, “He’s a recorder for the Imperial Library.”
“That’s it?” Devon was in love with a clerk? Vyrl had expected more. But perhaps that wasn’t fair to Collier.
Althor gave him an odd look. “Do you know him?”
Vyrl avoided his gaze. “I thought he looked familiar, but I was wrong.” He could tell Althor didn’t believe him, but his brother didn’t push. Vyrl wondered how he would feel if he met Collier. Right now, Devon showed no sign she even knew Ty sat a few meters from where she stood.
When Devon began to speak, the amphitheater went silent. Vyrl could almost feel people leaning forward. Her throaty voice rolled over the audience.
“A great deal of speculation has occurred in regard to my marital state.” She stopped while more newscasters zoomed in. Ty Collier had stopped working and was watching her with poorly disguised pain.
“Rather than let rumors proliferate,” Devon continued, “I have prepared a statement.” She paused. “It is true that I plan to marry.”
“What the hell?” Vyrl’s father said.
“The Ruby Dynasty and House of Majda have long been allies,” Devon continued. “Strengthening ties between our Houses offers many advantages to the Assembly and its governing bodies.” She raised her head, surveying the amphitheater. “The House of Majda honors the Ruby Dynasty. We esteem the Imperial line and welcome the idea of joining our Houses through the Majda Matriarch and a Ruby prince.”
Vyrl felt blood drain from his face. No. No! This couldn’t be happening. “She told me she would accept my decision! She gave me her word.”
His father spoke tightly. “She cert
ainly did. We all heard her.”
Lights glittered as newscasters recorded Devon’s next words. “And it may be that someday such a joining will grace our House—if my sister Corejida Majda so wills.”
“Corey?” Vyrl’s mother said. “What the blazes?”
Voices rumbled in the Assembly Hall, and Devon paused, waiting for them to quiet.
Eldrinson gave his wife a puzzled look. “Have we spoken to Corey Majda?”
“Not that I know of.” Roca spread her hands in a shrug, then quickly brought them back to keep Kelric from falling off her lap. “I’ve no idea what Devon is about.”
“Devon has a sister?” Vyrl asked.
His mother nodded. “Two sisters. Corey and Naaj. Corey is next in line. She’s ten years younger than Devon.”
“Maybe she’s making Corey her heir,” Althor said. “She has to do something, or she will lose power within her House.”
Devon was speaking again. “A young man once told me something I found true, words with a wisdom well beyond his age: ‘For all that our dreams bring meaning to our lives, we cannot have them all. What we give up may cause regret, even grief, but we must find a balance we can bear. Otherwise our hearts will shatter.’”
Vyrl gaped at her. She had just repeated the words he had spoken when he told her that he couldn’t become the Majda consort.
Devon had an odd look now, as if she were about to jump off a precipice. “In this matter of balance, I, too, must choose.” Her voice carried throughout the amphitheater. “For that reason, I am abdicating my position as the Majda Matriarch.”
“Gods al-flaming-mighty,” Vyrl’s mother said.
“Has she gone mad?” Eldrinson demanded.
The newscasters exploded with questions. Vyrl couldn’t sort them out, the session had turned into such a tumult. Devon stood calmly, waiting for the clamor to subside.
“Why would she abdicate?” Roca said.
“Corey is next in line,” Eldrinson said. “Saints, Roca, she’s making Corey the Matriarch. That’s what she meant.”
“Corey,” said Kelric, snuggled against his mother.
Vyrl absorbed Devon’s words. Abdication. It would create a far bigger furor than his refusing the marriage. Had he caused this? When he had spoken with Devon, it had seemed everything would be all right. Had her House demanded she abdicate because her betrothal fell through? That made no sense. Devon was a force to reckon with. They couldn’t just make her abdicate, besides which, she could arrange another marriage, if not with the Ruby Dynasty, then with a man from another noble House.
As the amphitheater quieted, Devon resumed her speech. “I do not make this decision lightly. I have considered it for years.” Then she held out her hand—to Ty Collier. In front of an audience spread across interstellar space, she asked him, “Will you join me?”
Ty stared at her with undisguised astonishment. Apparently the news had surprised him as much as everyone else. When Devon gave him an encouraging smile, he visibly shook himself. Then he rose to his feet, his movements uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure what to do. But he didn’t hesitate; he climbed the dais and went to Devon. Taking her hand, he stood side by side with the general at the podium.
Devon spoke into the com. “Marriages of nobles and commoners are not unheard of among the Houses, but such has never been permitted for the Matriarch.” Dryly, she added, “Especially not Majda.” Still holding Ty’s hand, she said, “I cannot marry a commoner and retain my title. So I release the title, abdicating to my sister, Corejida Majda.”
Exclamations burst out in the hall, cries, people calling out questions. A rare serenity lightened Devon’s face, and Ty stood with her, looking dazed but happy. Vyrl had never heard of such a powerful sovereign giving up her title for love. No doubt holobooks would be written about Devon and Ty, scholarly treatises published, holomovies produced.
Beneath the din, Althor spoke to Vyrl in a low voice. “You knew, didn’t you?”
Vyrl shook his head. “Not that she intended this. Just about the man. She thought about him a lot.”
The lights suddenly came up in the Hearth Room, jarring and bright. Blinking, Vyrl looked around. His ten-year-old brother, Shannon, had wandered into the room.
“I’m hungry,” Shannon announced.
Roca made an exasperated noise. “Shannon, where have you been?”
“With Moonglaze. I missed him.”
Vyrl sat up straighter. “Moonglaze is back?” Lily’s family had agreed to bring the lyrine home with them after their stay with Lord Rillia. If Moonglaze had returned…
He realized everyone was watching him.
His father smiled. “Go on, son.”
Vyrl jumped up, knocking Althor’s arm off the chair. He mumbled an apology, then strode from the room.
Within moments he was outside, running through the winding streets of Dalvador. His feet pounded the blue cobblestones as he sped along the familiar route. When he was halfway up the last hill, someone came out of a house at the top and ran down toward him, her red-gold hair flying about her body and her blue dress whipping around her legs.
They collided in the middle of the street. Vyrl threw his arms around her, hugging as hard as he could, until she gasped for breath. He pulled her into a kiss, uncaring of the pedestrians around them. Lily was crying and laughing, trying to talk and kiss him at the same time.
Eventually they calmed down enough just to hold each other. Vyrl stroked her curls off her tear-stained cheeks. “It’s so good to see you.”
She took his face in her hands. “Your father’s runner reached us in Rillia. He told us you weren’t going with the sky queen.”
“I’ll never go away. Never, Lily.” For all that he would always wonder what he had given up, he could live with that loss. He couldn’t live without Lily.
He touched her cheek. “My parents say that if we want, we can live with them until we are ready to run our own farm. But they will help us no matter what we decide.”
She ran her hand over his arm as if marveling that he was real. “I don’t think I would like to live with parents.”
“I neither.” He spoke earnestly. “But even with their help, setting up the farm will be a lot of work. And I must finish my schooling. That was the only way they would let me stay married to you.”
“We can manage.” Her mood shone with optimism. “Lord Rillia gave my father three lyrine and many crop cuttings as compensation. My father says you and I can have it all to help us start out.”
Vyrl blinked. “Your father said that?”
She laughed softly. “Actually, what he said was ‘If you intend to stay with the damn fool boy, you better take this, because you’ll need as much help as you can get.’”
Dryly, Vyrl said, “That sounds more like your father.”
“He likes you. Really. He’s just worried about us.”
Vyrl pulled her close. “I’ll make you a good husband, Lily, I swear.” He finally became aware that other pedestrians were watching them. His parents were a few houses farther along the road, talking with Lily’s parents. Taking Lily’s hand, Vyrl drew her off the lane into an alley between two houses, where a bubble tree hid them from view. As they brushed the tree, one of its bubbles detached and floated into the air.
Then Vyrl took his wife into his arms.
EPILOGUE
Light sifted from the hall into the darkened bedroom. Vyrl stood with Lily in the doorway, watching their two youngest children, toddlers of two and three, sleeping on the downy bed.
“They’re so sweet when they’re asleep,” Lily whispered.
Vyrl laughed, quietly so he didn’t wake the boys. “And terrors when they’re awake.”
“They’re angels,” she admonished. When he didn’t look suitably chastised, she tickled him. Vyrl picked her up and swung her away from the door, with Lily struggling not to laugh or make noise. It amazed him how light she felt. He had kept growing after their marriage and his shoulders had broadened e
ven more. Now, at nineteen, he had reached his full height of six feet two.
He set her down outside their daughter’s bedroom, and they peered in at their toddler snuggled under her quilt. Then, as quiet as mumble-mice, they walked into the living room of the farmhouse their families had helped them build. Rugs warmed the floor, hangings brightened the walls, and bubble plants in pots added touches of color.
Lily tugged Vyrl toward their bedroom, but he shook his head. “I need to study.” He suddenly felt heavy. Sometimes the weight of his responsibilities seemed to sink into him. He was so often tired, working the farm, raising the children, and keeping up his studies. Even having delayed his entrance into Parthonia University until this year, he didn’t feel ready. If their families hadn’t helped so much, he didn’t know how he and Lily would have managed.
She laid her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
Vyrl smiled at her. Don’t worry. “How often you’ve said that to me. And how often you’ve been right.” She made him want to dance.
He had less time to work out now, but he managed to keep up his training with Rahkil. That he and Lily had two sets of parents happy to spend time with their grandchildren meant more than he knew how to say. It gave Lily time to learn more about the farm while Vyrl studied. It astonished him that Lily was so good at running the farm. She could do sums faster in her head than he could on his palmtop. But as much as he worried about his university work, he liked the challenge. Lily settled him, and now that he could pursue his own interests in agriculture and biology, it was easier to concentrate on the subjects he dreaded. And no matter how much the children exhausted him, he loved them so much that sometimes he thought he would burst with it. Perhaps someday, many years down the road, he could think of dancing beyond Lyshriol, but until then this was more than enough.
Vyrl pulled Lily into his arms. “Dance with me.”
“Always,” she murmured.
They twirled around the living room, moving to music they heard in their minds, and Vyrl’s heart filled with the stained glass colors of joy.
Skin Deep