An unwelcome thought cooled his heat. Kelric. Jealousy surged through him as he imagined Tarquine with his uncle. The matured Imperator of an empire had far more to offer than an untried youth. Angry at himself, Jai suppressed the images of Tarquine and Kelric that intruded on his thoughts.
Without warning, she stepped away. Jai reached for her, but then he froze. She was watching him with a look that, had he been prey and she a hunter, would have petrified him.
“So,” she murmured. “You want an empress.”
He lowered his arm. “I already have one.”
“Do you now?” Her gaze didn’t soften. “You made many enemies today. Enemies you don’t want.”
“Including you?”
“Perhaps.”
He quirked his eyebrow. “You don’t know?”
“This empress isn’t your type.”
“Whose type are you?”
Her gaze turned sultry. “One out of your league.”
“I’m the emperor. No one is out of my league.”
Amusement flickered on her face. “Your boundless humility certainly knows no league.”
The conversation made Jai feel as if he were in a boat hurtling over a waterfall, out of control, both exhilarated and terrified. “Such reverence for your emperor.”
Her gaze darkened. “Your grandfather made my niece his child-bride, and she spent her life subordinated to his whims. Now you aspire to be my child-groom. For what? An easy road to power? Think again. You need a mother figure? Don’t make me laugh. A compliant shadow? Then you are deluded.”
Her words sliced the air, but they only made him want her more. “I’ve no interest in ease, mothers, or compliance. I want Tarquine Iquar.”
“Plainly put, Your Highness.”
In other words, an insult. Yet he sensed no offense from her. Far from it. Her mood was clear: he fascinated her.
“You began the plain language,” he said.
“Not I.”
“Then who?”
“I offered no betrothal.”
“A betrothal is an insult?”
She laughed. “Well, that depends.”
“On what?”
Her sensual voice deepened. “A betrothal, my innocent, is an invitation to intimacy.”
Jai would have winced at her evocation of his innocence, except her other words caught his attention. Was she saying that in sexual intimacy, Hightons spoke plainly? She had used direct language since she entered his office. She invited his touch even as she challenged him, spurned his advances even as she seduced him. Jai had never met anyone like her, which wasn’t unusual given his life, but he had no doubt she was unique.
His thoughts were knotting into snarls, his convictions of right and wrong turned backward and upside down until nothing made sense. None of it stopped him from drawing Tarquine toward him and pressing her body against his. He sought her mouth hungrily. Embracing her power, her menace—it excited him more than he would have thought possible.
So he fell hard, into a darkness of his own making.
Roca Skolia, sister and heir to the Ruby Pharaoh, served as the Foreign Affairs Councilor for the Skolian Assembly. It made her a top adviser to the First Councilor, who served as the elected leader of the Skolian Imperialate and shared power with the Ruby Pharaoh. As a member of the Assembly’s inner circle, Roca wielded a great deal of authority herself. For the past two years, however, she had been denied access to her power.
Now she lay in bed, staring at the canopy overhead. Her husband Eldrinson slept fitfully next to her. Age wore on him, like weather eroding granite that had been solid for ages.
Fate had been cruel.
From the moment of her conception, Roca had been infused with nanomeds from her mother’s body, including species designed to repair her cells and delay aging. Roca would enjoy a youth that few people could claim in one lifetime, let alone the centuries she would live.
Not so for her husband. He had been eighteen when she met him, his growth finished, his body formed. He had started the age-delaying treatments then, and it had helped give him a long life, close to a century, but his body was failing now. Silver streaked his hair. His walk had slowed, hobbled with a limp. Arthritis plagued him, despite the best efforts of his doctors. The lower gravity on Earth helped, as compared to his native world, but nothing could stop the decline of his years. So Roca grieved, her tears gathering.
She brushed her hand across her eyes, angry at herself. Her husband still lived, warm at her side. Dwelling on his death was morbid. She didn’t know how much time he had left, whether it was months or weeks, but for now they had each other. She wanted to give him happiness in these last days, not tears.
Roca kissed his cheek, savoring his warmth. But with all the trouble he had sleeping lately, she didn’t want to wake him. So she rose from bed and pulled on a robe over her floor-length nightgown. Padding in her bare feet, she crossed to a bureau against the wall. Her holo-album stood there, a cube glimmering with rainbow shimmers.
She rubbed an edge of the cube. It came alive, bringing up memories she treasured. The image formed of a golden-haired youth in the black leathers of a Jagernaut. He stood by a Jag starfighter, grinning. It was hard to believe this young officer had later become Imperator, a rock-hard leader who had commanded Imperial Space Command for decades. Feared and admired by his supporters and enemies alike, Kurj Skolia, her son from her previous marriage, had built the military into the mighty force that made Skolia an interstellar power.
Many had called him a military dictator, the true ruler of Skolia rather than the Assembly. Roca disagreed. Yes, he had been hard. But he had also been fair, and dedicated to the Skolian people. Three years ago, at the age of 105, he had died in an ESComm ambush. Roca swallowed, fighting the hotness in her eyes. Kurj, my son. To her, he would always be the shining young man in this holo, full of hope and dreams.
Roca’s vision blurred. She flipped the cube around and a new holo formed, a handsome child with bronze hair and violet eyes. Althor. Her third child. He had also become a Jagernaut—and he too had died, a casualty of war. Her eyes burning, Roca fumbled the cube around. A girl appeared, her head thrown back in laughter, her eyes full of mischief. Sauscony. Soz. She had been Roca’s seventh child, a storm, a force of nature who had grown into a formidable woman. At Kurj’s death, she had become Imperator. It was Soz who led Skolia into the Radiance War, Soz who brought two empires to their knees—and Soz who died in combat.
Roca couldn’t bear to look at that young face, the happy child with no idea of the hells she would face as an adult. Her hand shook as she turned the cube—and again her heart broke. A six-year-old boy smiled in this holo, his face luminous. Her golden child. Her youngest.
Kelric.
He had been the sweetest natured of her children, loving and affectionate. He had grown into the largest, towering over his siblings, a taciturn giant, muscled and powerful. And one day he too had gone off to war, wearing the uniform of a Jagernaut. She had lost him first, eighteen years ago, his ship attacked in the cold, lonely reaches of space.
Tears ran down Roca’s face. She tried to rub the edge of the cube, to stop the memories, but she couldn’t find the switch. Kelric smiled at her across the years, the little boy who laughed so easily and loved so deeply.
“My children,” she whispered. To have outlived them was more than she could bear. Soon their father would join them. Roca cried out soundlessly. With shaking hands, she put the cube down.
Unable to remain still with her memories, Roca walked into the living room, where gusts of wind stirred the curtains on the glass doors across from her. She went to pull them open, letting in the wind. It whipped back her hair, throwing it around her shoulders, arms, and hips. Her floor-length robe blew open and billowed out behind her, and the layers of her nightgown fluttered. Even with heat threads weaving through her clothes, she felt the chill of the Scandinavian night.
Roca walked onto the balcony of the house where sh
e and Eldrinson had lived these past two years. The Allied United Centre spread out below, one of many Centres established on Earth to study the effects of uniting Earth’s many nations under one world government. Located in Sweden, this one was hidden in a remote wilderness, surrounded in every direction by snow and trees. It was here the Allied military held their Ruby Dynasty prisoners.
Roca couldn’t deny the Allieds treated them well, with an elegant home and every amenity. But it didn’t change the fact that she and Eldrinson were prisoners. Whatever happened to them affected the interstellar balance of power.
Three civilizations reigned: the Eubian Concord, the Skolian Imperialate, and the Allied Worlds of Earth. Eube and Skolia were giants, more militaristic than the Allieds. In a treaty with Skolia, the Allieds had agreed to provide sanctuary to the Ruby Dynasty during wartime. But after this last war had ended with no winner, crippling both Eube and Skolia, the Allieds refused to free their “guests.” They feared, perhaps rightly so, that if the Ruby Dynasty regained power, the star-spanning devastation would resume.
Roca gazed at the forest, wishing its wild beauty could ease her pain. A few lampposts glowed among the trees. She didn’t know why she felt so restless. She kept thinking of Kelric, her youngest—her first child to die. A tear ran down her face. She walked along the balcony to a staircase. Going down the stairs, she picked up her pace. Her heart beat fast, in time with the slap of her bare feet on the stone steps.
An AUC lieutenant was waiting at the bottom, crisp in his khaki uniform, a carbine in his hands. She had no doubt a monitor had detected her activity and told security to find out why she was stirring at this late hour. His presence didn’t intimidate Roca. She set out on a path through the rustic buildings and the soldier followed. He spoke into his comm, his voice low. Whatever orders he received apparently didn’t include taking her back to the house. He simply kept pace with her, a discreet distance away. Another soldier joined him, both of them accompanying her on her walk to—
To where?
Roca wasn’t sure, but she had to keep going.
A drum beat within her.
A drum.
Stronger now.
Recognition.
Recognition of—what?
She began to run. Three soldiers were jogging with her now, but no one tried to stop her. A strange urgency drove her, undeniable. Lengthening her stride, she ran up a long hill. At the top, she crossed a wooden bridge high above a river that roared in a cataract. She kept running.
Feet pounding.
Pounding to a drum.
The beat of a drum.
Beyond the bridge, Roca ran down a slope, barely feeling the icy grass beneath her feet. She kept going, driven toward the visitor’s center. Why? The long building stretched before her, surrounded by snowy trees. A raised walkway with an arched roof led to its nearest entrance, like a pier. Roca ran toward it, her heart pounding, her breath condensing in the air. In her mind, she called to her husband, reaching to Eldrinson through a link so strong, it defied the distance limitations nature put on telepaths.
Eldri, wake. Eldri, come.
She felt his mind stir, felt his answering awareness. He would come, striding in the forgiving gravity of Earth.
Roca took the stairs to the raised walkway two at a time. She ran down the pier, the soldiers jogging with her. As she approached the entrance of the visitor’s center, she slowed to a walk, then stopped before the double doors.
The drum beat within her.
No. Not a drumbeat.
A heart.
The heart of the sun.
Roca grasped wooden handles and heaved the doors open. The wind whipped back her robe and her hair. Holding the doors wide, bracing herself against them, she stared into the lobby beyond. A man stood in its center, his golden gaze heartbreakingly familiar, though in that moment she knew he had gone blind, that his eyes could no longer see her.
But his mind knew.
His mind saw.
He had changed. Gray streaked his metallic gold hair, and lines added years to his face. He had aged decades since she had last seen him. She could only guess what hells he had gone through to reach Earth. He stood now only through the strength of his indomitable will.
But he was alive.
Roca ran across the lobby and flung her arms around him. With infinite care, he took her into the powerful arms that could crush a man twice her size. Her head barely reached his shoulder. As tears poured down her face, she repeated his name over and over, sobs catching in her throat. He was crying as well, in silence.
Hoshma, he thought. Hoshma, I’ve come home.
Roca’s stunned, astonished joy filled her heart. Welcome home, my son. Welcome home, Kelric.
16
Lost Dreams
It was one hell of a job.
Jai’s daily routine alternately riveted him and bored him stiff. When he had lived in exile, his parents had educated him with the help of computers; on Earth, he had spent two years in an American high school. He had mostly enjoyed those studies, but learning to run an empire was nowhere near as easy.
He sat at his desk, inundated with data. Star holomaps rotated to his right. He had rolled out the film of a computer screen, and holographic glyphs scrolled above its surface as the computer taught him about trade revenues. On his left, an aide was stacking memory cubes for him to review. Another aide was speaking into a comm across the room, while two others worked at a table. Jai had chosen these aides for their lack of Aristo traits; their minds didn’t bother him.
Jai rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t absorb all this. As much as he hated the thought, he needed a biocomputer in his brain. It was the only way he could learn everything he had to know and keep up with the information he had to process every day.
Darkness lurked at the edges of his mind. ESComm had Corbal in custody, and Corbal knew Jai wasn’t a full Highton. Every time Jai received a military communication, his heart raced, until it became clear no one had discovered his secret.
His comm buzzed. He jerked, then stabbed the receive button. “Yes?”
Robert answered. “Your Highness, we are receiving a transmission from the Embassy of the Allied Worlds on Delos.”
“Delos? You mean the Allied planet?” He had traded himself for Eldrin there.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Robert said.
“Very well. Relay the communication.”
A starship had carried the message to Glory. It was short and direct, which would have been unpardonable, except that it came from an Allied citizen, which in the uncompromising Aristo view of the universe meant a slave. Direct speech from taskmakers or providers didn’t bother Aristos in the least: it was expected.
What delayed Jai’s response had nothing to do with the brevity of the Allied message. Many protocols had to be observed before he could answer. He had to do this right; it was too important to fumble. His Ministers of Foreign Affairs, Protocol, and Intelligence joined him, along with a protocol officer from the Foreign Affairs Ministry and a foreign affairs officer from the Protocol Ministry. Jai sometimes thought he would need a doctorate just to keep track of who did what on his staff.
His advisers helped him compose a reply. He kept it simple, though he obfuscated enough to make it authentic as a Highton message. Night had fallen by the time he transmitted it to the ship in orbit, which would carry it to Delos. From there, the Allied authorities would send it on to Earth. It could be weeks before it reached its final destination, but when it did, a new era in interstellar relations would begin.
So Jai acknowledged the agreement made by the Allieds to mediate the peace talks between Eube and Skolia.
Jai walked to his rooms, lost in thought, accompanied by his bodyguards and Robert. He had been up for two days now, thirty-two hours. His fatigue made it hard to concentrate, and his thoughts wandered.
“Shall I have your dinner sent up?” Robert asked.
“No, thank you.” Jai rubbed his eyes. “A pot of kava wou
ld be good, though.”
Robert bowed as they stopped outside the anteroom to Jai’s suite. “I will see to it, sir.”
“I appreciate it.”
After Robert left, Jai went through the antechamber into his bedroom. The part of the suite where he entered was four times the size of the room he had shared with his brothers on Prism, and this was only the sitting area. Far across the suite, his canopied bed stood on a dais. The nook to its left had recessed window alcoves, elegant wing chairs, and a love seat. To the right of the dais, an arch led into the bathing room, with its pool and fountains. The suite gleamed, from its gilt and ivory decor to the tiered chandeliers.
Jai sank gratefully into a smartchair, and it adjusted to make him comfortable. His Razers took up posts at the walls with no need for orders. Jai wondered if they would even take his orders if he went beyond simple requests, like that time he had had them wait outside his office while he spoke with Tarquine.
He exhaled. Tarquine. Although it had been two days since he announced his decision to wed her, he had barely even had time to ponder his bride-to-be, let alone speak to her. He had the proverbial tiger by the tail and feared to let go, lest she turn on him and metaphorically rip out his throat.
A voice said, “Your kava, sir.”
Jai looked up to see one of his Razers in the entrance of the suite. With a tired nod, Jai said, “Have Robert bring it in.”
The Razer bowed and departed, taking the pressure of his half-Aristo mind with him. Jai sent the other three guards out, too, though he knew they wouldn’t really leave. One would stay in the antechamber and the others would take up posts around his suite. At least their distance eased the pressure on his mind.
He stretched out his legs and leaned his head against the back of the chair, closing his eyes. The blissful heaviness of sleep settled over him.