Hell and damnation. Chad wasn’t a friend friend. He was a “friend” of the type Eldrinson had tried very hard not to think of when it came to Althor. Eldrinson stepped back and banged into the sofa. He stumbled to the side and bumped his shin on the end table. Jerking back, he straightened up, crossed his arms, and stared at Chad.
The actor hesitated. “Eldrinson—”
“Your Majesty,” he said sharply.
Chad flushed. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”
Eldrinson didn’t know what to do. He had managed to forget his son might have a “friend.” The harder he tried to block the thought, the more he thought about it. Did they hold hands? Did they—no, he couldn’t think about that.
“Father?” A perplexed voice came from the entrance. “What’s wrong?”
Eldrinson almost jumped. Denric was standing in the doorway holding a large mug patterned with holos of the Red Mountains. Steam curled up from it and around his face. He glanced at Chad, then at his father, his forehead furrowed.
“Deni, come on. Move.” Soz’s grouchy voice came from behind him. “I’m so tired I’m going to fall over if I don’t sit down.”
Denric looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. “Gods forbid.” But he did come into the room. Soz stalked in behind him, holding two mugs. She hesitated when she saw Chad, but then she said, “My greetings, Chad,” as if he were the most natural sight in the world.
Eldrinson recrossed his arms and remained by the end table.
Soz glanced at him. “You can relax, Father. We aren’t under attack, you know.”
“What’s going on?” Denric continued to look confused, standing in the middle of the room with his steaming kava. Chad glanced from Denric to Soz to Eldrinson as if he didn’t know what to do.
Eldrinson spoke stiffly to his daughter. “You have the acquaintance of this man?”
“Oh, Father.” She sounded exasperated. “‘This man’ is Chad. And yes, I have his acquaintance.”
Denric scowled at them. “Well, I don’t.”
Soz motioned at Denric with one of her mugs. “Chad, this is my brother Denric. Please don’t call him ‘Your Highness.’ It makes him terribly cocky. Denric, this is Chad. He’s an actor.”
“My greetings, Chad,” Denric said. Then he glared at Soz. “‘Terribly cocky?’ You’re in a mood.”
Soz set one of her mugs on the table in front of where Eldrinson had been sitting. “This is for you,” she told her father. She went to an armchair at the other end of the couch, dropped into it, and put her booted feet up on the table. She took a swallow of her kava, then lowered the mug and let out a satisfied breath. “I needed that.”
Chad had turned red. “Perhaps I should leave.”
Eldrinson thought it an excellent idea, but before he could agree, Soz spoke firmly. “Absolutely not, Chad.” She motioned at the sofa. “Here. Sit. Stay with us.”
Eldrinson scowled at her. “If the boy wants to leave, you shouldn’t push him around.”
“Oh, for flaming sakes.” She glared at him, then spoke more quietly to Chad. “Stay. Please.”
When Chad continued to hesitate, Eldrinson decided it would behoove him to quit acting as if this harmless actor were threatening him. He didn’t want to deal with Chad, but if he had tried earlier to deal with all this, perhaps he wouldn’t be estranged from his son. Lowering his arms, he said, “You needn’t leave.”
Soz looked relieved. “Yes.”
Chad nodded awkwardly. With his eyes downcast, he sat on the couch near Soz’s chair, which was the farthest he could get from Eldrinson.
Soz fixed Denric with a stare. “You, too.”
Denric cleared his throat. “Well. Sure.” He sat in his armchair, his hands folded around his mug. He glanced at his father and sent a mental knock, but Eldrinson kept his barriers up. Although he had no idea how much Denric knew about Althor, it was hard to keep secrets in a family of empaths. Denric had probably guessed about Chad. It wouldn’t surprise Eldrinson if everyone had known except him; he seemed slower than his children in picking up these things. Sensing moods didn’t mean he understood the reasons for them.
The tension in the room was so heavy, Eldrinson wondered that no one creaked under its weight. Surely Chad felt it; Althor wouldn’t have liked someone who wasn’t an empath. Or maybe he would have, if his interest had been purely physical. Eldrinson couldn’t handle that thought, so he decided to stop thinking. He pushed back his spectacles. His head throbbed.
“So,” Soz said. Then she ran out of words. She took another swallow of kava.
“So.” Denric said, his tone a perfect replica of hers. He smirked and she glowered at him.
Eldrinson limped to the couch and sat on the other end, as far from Chad as he could manage. Everyone tried not to stare at anyone—except Soz, of course, who fixed her father with her indomitable gaze.
“Chad comes to see Althor every day,” Soz said. “Even when he gets off work late.”
“Oh.” Eldrinson wished he could have done the same for his son. He nodded stiffly to Chad. “We appreciate your loyalty to Prince Althor.”
“You better not call us princes,” Denric said. “Soz thinks it gives us swelled heads.”
Soz laughed, her strain easing. “You never call me Princess Soz.”
Denric stared at her in horror. “That’s because I value my life.”
Hearing their banter, Eldrinson began to relax. He picked up his mug of kava and took a swallow. Even knowing their bodyguards would have tested it in the canteen, he felt strange drinking kava after the assassination attempt against Kurj.
“Well.” Soz spoke to Chad. “How is Harvest of Light?”
“Better.” He shifted his weight. The cushions kept adjusting under him, trying to ease his tension, their motion almost invisible, but Eldrinson could tell because his side of the couch was doing the same thing.
“Are the performances pulling in more people?” Soz asked.
Chad’s expression warmed. “Yes, actually. We had a full house tonight for both shows.”
“Good.” Soz looked as if she wanted to say more, but she had apparently run out of words. It made Eldrinson smile; she had never known how to make small talk.
Obviously, though, she knew this fellow, who apparently came often, even thinking Althor would never recover. It was a notable loyalty on Chad’s part. More than loyalty, but that edged into the areas Eldrinson was trying not to think about. He didn’t want to like Chad. He wanted to believe that if Althor would just find the right girl, he would settle down, marry, and make babies. The Assembly wanted him to wed Corey Majda, the Majda Matriarch. They hadn’t pushed the union, though. Eldrinson had assumed it was because their attempt to marry Vyrl to Devon Majda had been such a disaster, but now he wondered if they had other reasons. They had dossiers on all his children, which undoubtedly included whatever they knew about Althor’s private life. Not that a lack of sexual compatibility had ever stopped the powers of Skolia from trying to force a politically advantageous marriage.
Eldrinson frowned. People didn’t respect arranged marriages anymore. In his day, you married who your parents told you to marry. Well, in theory, anyway. He and Roca had married against everyone’s wishes. But that was different. His parents had been dead, and regardless of how the Assembly viewed the Ruby Dynasty, that governing body had no right to control their lives.
“We’re certainly a talkative group,” Soz said.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Ah, Soshoni. You are ever the soul of graceful converse.”
She glared at him, but behind her frown he sensed gratitude that he hadn’t outright rejected Althor’s friend. She seemed to like the fellow.
Denric slid down in his chair, his eyelids drooping. His head nodded to his chest and he jerked it up again, shaking his mug. He swore as hot kava splashed his arm. Then he set the mug on a table and closed his eyes. The cloth of his shirt began cleaning itself.
Soz yawned and squinted at her
kava. “This isn’t helping.”
“Why don’t you sleep?” Chad said. “We’ll wake you if any news comes.”
Eldrinson wished the young man would quit being so kind. Chad was making it difficult to dislike him.
“I suppose.” Soz set her drink on the table.
With no warning, the door next to the opaque window opened. Soz was facing away from it, but Eldrinson saw clearly from his seat. A woman stood in the opening, Callie Irzon, one of Althor’s doctors.
She said, simply, “It’s done.”
Soz jumped, twisting around, and Denric’s eyes snapped open. Eldrinson slowly rose to his feet, suddenly aware of his breathing, of his heartbeat, of the muted silence in a hospital late at night. It all seemed acutely detailed, with a clarity that hurt.
“Did anything happen?” he asked. His voice was too quiet.
When Callie didn’t answer, Eldrinson knew his heart would break. He had tried not to hope, but despite his efforts, he had let himself imagine the impossible. Seeing Irzon’s face, he felt as if he were dying inside.
“You must not be angry,” Irzon said.
“Angry?” Eldrinson felt only grief. The anger would come later, at himself for hoping, at the universe for taking his son.
“Please,” she said. “It is important. This is a time to let go of the past.”
He wasn’t certain what she meant. “I’m not angry at you.”
She spoke gently. “I didn’t refer to myself.”
“Then who?”
“Prince Althor.” And then she said, “He is asking to see you.”
23
Sunrise Eyes
Eldrinson had never tried to avoid the highs and lows of his life, but neither had he sought emotional swings. They simply came. He tried never to dwell on the lows. Instead he remembered the highs: the day he met Roca; that afternoon he saw Eldrin, his son, for the first time; the births of his other children—
And today.
Althor was sitting up in the hospital bed. His shirt hung on his emaciated body, and his bones made sharp angles under the cloth. Nutrient lines fed his arms. His face was gaunt, his eyes hollowed. He looked terrible—and he was a sight to treasure, for his expression crackled with intelligence.
Eldrinson wanted to shed tears, and he might have if the medics hadn’t been present. Holos of Althor’s body and brain floated above panels arrayed on either side of the bed, and Doctor Loriez and two medtechs were studying them. Statistics flowed across their screens too fast to follow. Maybe they had augmentation that allowed them to process data faster. Lately it seemed to Eldrinson that he was always grateful to the unfeeling technology that made humans into partial machines.
This time, it had given him back his son.
He walked to the bed with Callie Irzon. Loriez and the medtechs kept working, but Eldrinson knew they were discreetly watching him. Let the past go. Could he?
Somehow he found his voice. “My greetings, son.”
Althor’s response was barely more than a whisper. “My greetings, Father.”
“I am glad to see you.” That barely touched what he felt.
Althor tried to smile. “And I, you.”
“How do you feel?”
“Tired.” After a pause, Althor said, “Confused.”
Callie spoke quietly. “Your node is doing neurological repairs and reestablishing firing patterns. It will take some time for you to reintegrate any memories it recovers.”
Eldrinson wondered if Althor recalled how he had left home. Perhaps he no longer—
I remember. Althor’s thought came unevenly, but without hesitation.
Eldrinson hadn’t realized he had relaxed his mental defenses. Over the past year, he had often imagined what he would say to Althor if he were ever given this chance. He had never expected it to happen, yet now it had come and all his carefully considered apologies fled from his mind.
So he simply said, I’m sorry for what I said to you.
Althor became very still. Does that mean I can come home?
Always. Anytime. Awkwardly Eldrinson added, Even if you don’t want to bring a wife.
“Thank you,” Althor whispered.
Callie answered, apparently assuming he was responding to her comments. “The thanks go to your node. Ever since a conversation it had with you over a year ago, it’s been backing up your mind.”
“Conversation?” Althor asked.
“With your sister, when you and Colonel Tahota took her to Diesha in your Jag. Apparently it told you it was going to do backups.”
“I thought it was joking,” Althor said.
Loriez glanced up. “You remember the conversation?”
Althor nodded, but he didn’t try to speak.
“Can all nodes do this?” Eldrinson asked Callie.
“The newer models, yes,” she said. “Including yours.”
He wasn’t certain how he felt about that, but he could live with it. He knew what he had to do next, though every part of him resisted. But it had to be done. Although he doubted he could ever speak the words his son wanted to hear, he could at least try to accept Althor’s life choices.
“Your friend is here,” Eldrinson said. “Waiting to see you.”
“You mean Grell?” Althor asked.
“Who?” Eldrinson asked.
“Grell. She was one of Soz’s roommates last year.”
She? Eldrinson’s hope surged. “Is Grell your girlfriend?”
“She’s … a friend.”
Unfortunately, Eldrinson could tell that “friend” this time meant just that. So he made himself say, “Not Grell. It’s Chad. He’s come every day.”
That evoked a reaction. Althor’s mood surged in a confused meld of hope, elation, disbelief, and yes, desire. Eldrinson barricaded his mind, but not before he had no doubt that Grell wouldn’t be replacing Chad.
“He’s come every day?” Althor asked.
“Yes.” Eldrinson squinted at him. “He’s an actor.”
“I know.”
“Ah.” Eldrinson cleared his throat. “Yes, I suppose you do.”
Althor spoke in a careful voice. “Will you bring him in?” He waited for his father’s response with a sense of stillness. Eldrinson wanted to say no, to entreat his son to see this Grell or Corey Majda or anyone female. But it wasn’t going to happen. He had hoped for years Althor would change, and he suspected Althor had tried just to please him. It was time he accepted his son.
Eldrinson spoke some of the most difficult words he had ever given to one of his children. “Yes. I will bring him in.”
Soz had expected her brother to be asleep, but the panels in his hospital room were lit even at this late hour. He sat sprawled in a chair by his bed, dressed in sleep trousers and shirt, his long legs propped up on a cushioned stool, his gauntlets black and silver against his sleeves, lights blinking. He was reading a holoboard. Although his face was paler than normal, his metallic skin had a healthier cast.
Standing in the doorway, Soz put her hands on her hips. “For flaming sake, Kurj. Don’t you ever sleep? It’s the middle of the night.”
The Imperator looked up, his irises large and black from medication. “Heya, Soz.” He grinned, a rare sight. “Don’t you?”
She scowled at him. “Only when my brothers aren’t putting me through an emotional wringer, dead then alive again.”
He laughed, low and rumbling. “Glad to see you, too.”
He was never like this, so relaxed with his emotions. Perhaps almost dying did that to a person. Or maybe it was the drugs. “Can I come in?”
He motioned at a nearby chair. “Be my guest.”
She settled into the chair, and its cushions diligently tried to ease her tension. “All my brothers are up and about tonight.”
Kurj set down his holoboard. “Callie Irzon told me about Althor.” His normally impassive mind held no secrets tonight; he hid neither his astonishment nor his joy. Seeing Kurj genuinely happy was a rare occasion. He even
added, “It’s incredible,” which for him was a remarkable display of emotion.
“It is.” Soz was no better at expressing herself. Perhaps that was why she got along with Kurj. He could be articulate when discussing military strategy, security, or troop movements; but for him, as for Soz, emotions were a far more difficult matter.
“They only let Father and Chad see him this evening,” she said. “The rest of us can go in tomorrow.”
“Chad?”
“His boyfriend.”
Kurj raised an eyebrow. “And your father didn’t have heart failure?”
“Actually, no.”
“That’s a surprise.”
She smiled slightly. “Yes.”
They sat in silence, companionably inarticulate. Soz finally said, “You work too hard. You were practically dead last week. What are you doing up, anyway? You should rest.”
“I am,” Kurj said.
“This is rest?”
“For me.” He handed her the holoboard. “We’re unraveling how those ESComm energy spikes worked.”
She wondered how Kurj concentrated so late at night, especially in his depleted condition. Perhaps the rumors were true, that he had augmented his body so much, he didn’t need sleep. He just recharged. Although he seemed subdued, he was otherwise well into his recovery. Unlike Althor or Roca, he had suffered no brain damage, only a severe form of an antiquated disease called pneumonia, with complications from the invading meds, which had attacked his biomech and internal organs.
Soz studied the report on the holoboard. Although her mind was mush, she took in the gist of it. “The effect of that spike passed from Jagernaut to Jagernaut like a contagion? That makes no sense. Energy fluctuations aren’t viruses.”
“Not the spikes,” Kurj said. “The invading nanomeds spread the virus.”
“What invading nanomeds?”
“The ones that almost killed me.” He cracked his knuckles and his biceps flexed. “The spikes were artifacts of the signal that sabotaged bioelectrodes in the Jagernauts.”
Soz frowned. “How could those little spikes carry enough information to sabotage a Jagernaut’s biomech web?”