StarSet (The Warrior Prince's Claim - BBW Science Fiction Romance) (8 page)

“Oh, I can. The allied forces are bound to the oath of galactic peace. If I ever felt the need to override a command in the name of that oath, I'd have more than a leg to stand on in court.”

Shala's heart beat fast now as she stared into the glassy, violet eyes of the girl, and she could feel in her bones that her message was getting through, because it was the truth. A truth that came from her heart and poured out from her lips before she'd even realized what she was saying.

She wouldn't let anyone bring harm to the prince. It presented an entire other ball of wax to contend with. One that made her very uneasy now on the eve of Eiowa.

11

Having fallen asleep with her hover boots on, snoring well into the night, Shala woke more refreshed than she'd felt in days. A timely piece of luck she utilized throughout the day leading up the evening event, as the new emissary, a sharply tailored, but chilly, Teleran male escorted her from spa, to dresser, to the Teleran version of a hairstylist.

She was well cared for throughout all of it, and that at least had helped to keep her wits about her as her gut continued to tug her with warning at nearly every turn. The lingering effects of her evening visit with a representative of the Teleran faction who
wasn't
impressed with her, or particularly inclined to care about her welfare still lingered, but she had enough to focus on that distracted her from it.

She was able to get it off of her mind mostly, but all in all, she was already using up a fair amount of her reserves attempting to stay on her level. There was a whole lot riding on this, and it didn't help her to realize that she'd actually taken the prince, someone she barely knew, far deeper to heart than was wise for a woman in her position.

If she couldn't trust her own reactions, she might blow this opportunity to clean up the mess the acquisitioners created for good. It was an uneasiness that didn't sit well with her, Shala had always prided herself on the ability to instill trust in her response to pressure.

She barely recognized herself now.

Everything she'd told the Teleran warrior girl was true; she
was
interested in upholding galactic law, but she
wasn't
entirely sure there wasn't far more to her motivations than a desire to carry out her oath to the allied forces.

“Fruit?”

The wide-eyed serving girl asked.

She was adorable. Couldn't be more than ten. She extended a platter of delicious, but alien fruit and flora carefully arranged for her consumption intently, like she'd prepared it herself. Shala found she couldn't deny her sharp, amber eyes.

“I'd love some. Timini.”

Carefully lifting bits of the ambrosia onto a curved, wooden serving utensil, the girl smiled brightly and delivered it to the shell bowl Shala had just relieved of its delicious contents. She'd be close to busting out of her dress in a minute, but she couldn't help but fall in love with the way they were doting on her, and she refused to insult them.

“Timini,” Shala thanked the girl again, and receiving a nod as the biddy server made her way around the table to the emissary, she lifting the first of the fruits to her mouth – a bittersweet, black berry that dripped along the tongue and down the throat like liquor.

It was nothing short of exquisite.

“I'm very glad you're enjoying our food. The prince went to great lengths to have the absolute best rounded up and prepared.”

Shala smiled past her detection of the emissary's odd tone, thinking he might belong to the faction that disapproved of her.

“It's an extraordinary reception. I cannot thank you enough.”

“It is not
my
doing,” the emissary assured cryptically and returned a trained smile.

It wasn't a chilling smile exactly, but it didn't make Shala very comfortable, either. Quieting, she lifted another plump, inky berry to her mouth.

“The festivities will begin soon. Are you ready to greet the prince, so he can escort you in?”

Nodding, Shala swallowed another of the delicious fruit.

“Absolutely.”

“Splendid. I'll send word to the guard to arrange your escort.”

~

The Prince, as it turned out, awaited her alone in a room the guards wouldn't even enter when they gestured her to step in. Hands trembling at the swoosh behind her when she stepped over the threshold, Shala did her best to keep her wits about her.

The scent of him was already weaving ribbons around her senses, beckoning to her, she swore, the moment she laid eyes on him.

He lifted his gaze from a gleaming data sheet, and that dastardly smile rose to lift the corners of his lush mouth. The glint in his eyes told her a similar story, and Shala's cheeks flushed with heat.

“You're a vision.”

Drawing a stilling breath, Shala smiled.

Stars, he was gorgeous.

She couldn't stand being this close to him in a room alone.

“Timini.”

“Your inflection is better. Have you been studying my humble language?”

Shala's smile became a grin.

“It's hardly humble.”

This conversation was hard to have as overwhelmingly gorgeous as he was. Fitted for the festivities, Tarik was a vision, his Eiowa attire draped in strung jewels of glossy, scarlet and amber beads falling over the overcoat of sorts that dropped to his feet, the rippling musculature of the well-sheened chest and abs beneath, and the tight pants that hugged the delicious build of his legs that hung just at his hips.

Shala swore her heart skipped three beats.

Playfully scoffing, the Prince stood and made his way toward her with the grace of a satiated wild cat, the cords of his musculature stretching and rippling with each step. He was a friggin' titan. An insanely gorgeous demigod of a man, and Shala had no idea how she was going to resist him if he meant to consume her sometime this night as his eyes suggested.

Stepping so close into her space that their lips nearly touched, the prince's gaze searched the depths of her eyes before lifting to glance over her hair.

“Have they told you what the flowers mean?”

“On a general level.”

He smiled thoughtfully.

“They make it very clear how special you are to any who might think otherwise.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

Sizing her with his eyes, Tarik's gaze drifted over her curves, drinking her in from head to toe.

“There is more than the Human and Kalion blood in you, Shala Kane. It surprised our historians. They are still looking for the link that explains the warriors in your blood.”

Starting, Shala's brow creased.

“Come again?”

Was he telling her what she thought he was? He was speaking in riddles right now. Perhaps, she'd be wise not to read into them.

Seeming to spot the bloom of discomfort in her gut, the prince stepped back and took her hand.

“Let us not trouble ourselves with the business of historians just yet.”

Just
yet
?

Shala realized her heart was chugging a mile a minute, and as a Teleran, he surely heard it. Fighting to calm herself, she managed to smile around her sense of unease. Following his eyes, Shala found herself hanging on his words as he parted his lips to speak next.

“Do you see that door?”

“Mhmm.”

Shala nipped her lip with anticipation.

“Every eye in my father's kingdom will fall upon us when we exit.”

Craning her ears, Shala realized she'd been so caught up in the moment that she'd missed the muffled, low tom-tom of drums and the reedy dance of flutes. Had Eiowa already begun?

“It's Star set, beauty. Let us greet the ancestors.”

~

Nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared Shala for the fan fare to follow. Every eye in the room beyond that door had certainly set on them, and the officer struggled to maintain a facade of ease at the center of it.

She'd been a service person her entire life, not someone accustomed to being celebrated for simply... existing. At the prince's side, brilliant smiles lit the room, from behind the adornments of ancestral masks, elemental makeup that glittered like the stars depicted on the visi-panels, and the bejeweled elite who sat back with a trained ease, though for them, the smiles did not reach their eyes.

Telerans packed the room of rounded walls, where ancestral jewels touched down from the ceiling like vines, fog mists hovered over groups of meditating seers huddled in groups around bowls of altars with bone statues at their middle that were glossed with oils, herbs, and blooms.

The scent of ambrosia, headily spiced roots, and pungently brewed wines pervaded the ether set in bowls watched over from centerpieces carved in jade to emulate various ancestors.

The rip of divination cards and tossing of symbol-marked spirit sticks accented the heady music filling the air that made Shala's head swim and seem to expand its girth.

Eiowa had its own spirit, and Shala swore it spoke to her now, just like the people who celebrated or bemoaned her presence with their many smiles and glares.

The guard led them to a raised platform toward the back of the festivities, where the prince gestured her to a pair of luxuriously, cushioned chairs. It was clear she was meant to sit like a queen on her throne beside him there.

Struggling to keep from reading into the arrangement, Shala gave him her best diplomatic smile and lowered herself to the lush cushions, her eyes lifting next with the displacement of a child.

“They're enraptured by you,” the prince told her when he took his seat beside her, and Shala suddenly felt like a thousand butterflies were housed in her belly. The way his eyes beheld her, like she was the most beautiful woman in the world... It was more than she thought she could take.

Passing the stem of a Brew Wine flute into her fingers, its cup carved to emulate an Azzla bloom, he poured some more of the wine to the stone tiles directly from its bottle.

Offering.

Suni told her days before to expect to step around puddles of drink that would drench the end threads of her skirts by night's end. Offerings would be poured the entire night for the spirits.

It was a very emotional show of reverence for the ancestors.

Shala's heart squeezed when she saw Tarik's eyes glaze with emotion.

"For you, Gingy," he announced speaking to the small, new puddle of wine at his feet before resting the bottle on the carved table at his side.

Noticing her eyes on him, a smile rose to his face.

"Eiowa is the most beautiful and significant of our celebrations. We connect with our loved ones this night, those we have lost, and they come back."

Shala's eyes misted a bit. It was intense, beautiful. She averted her eyes when she thought about Nineh. She was
Shala's
lost one but she couldn't contact her through Eiowa. Nineh wasn't dead. She could feel that in her bones.

"When a mist rises to plume the ether, we know they are here."

He pointed around the room to the mist clouds lingering around the fortune tellers and pools of spilled offerings, and Shala's heart swelled.

A tear spilled down her cheek.

The prince caught it with the tip of his finger, his lips drawing close to hers when the alarms rang out. Shala had found herself leaning into him, too, when she jolted at the sound, but the realization that there was trouble on the ship shook her completely out of the reverie that had wrapped her in the heady sway of Eiowa.

Jumping up, Shala's heart thumped a thousand miles a minute. She knew it! She knew something was wrong, or
would
go wrong. Damn it! Stars, of
all
moments. The bejeweled officer hoped beyond hope it wasn't a worst case scenario. That they weren't under attack.

“I have to go,” she whispered, staring out into the dazed eyes of the crowd.

Her breath caught in her throat when she felt the prince's hand close around her forearm.

“Stay.”

“The alarms could be indicating a breach or worse, Tarik.”

“There are other officers for that. I won't have you coming into harm's way.”

Barely hearing him, Shala cursed herself for not bringing her scanserv. It was a foolish oversight. The tugging in her gut hadn't been for nothing. Gritting her teeth, she turned to meet his eyes.

“I am grateful for this experience, but I'm also duty bound.”

“Then I'll come with you, as will my guard.”

Shala shook her head.

“You can't have
anymore
trouble attached to your name.”

Rising up and drawing close, the prince locked gaze with her, making the seriousness of his message clear.

“I
insist
. I choose my own trouble, Shala.”

Huffing softly, Shala's eyes flit the room. Well, the pig-headed warrior within had spoken. Fine, but he'd better use restraint.

“Well... okay. I guess.”

Turning back to him, she saw he'd already called the attention of his personal guard, and before she could catch her breath, they were all moving toward the door. She swallowed her nerves when the doors burst open, and a thing from the depths of her nightmares stepped in with gusto and a sinister smile, like the cat who ate the proverbial canary.

His red-eyed glare communicated a ruthlessness she'd never seen in any species. His grin deepened reading her detection then he tilted his near-skeletal thin head, pale as death in a garish, bespoke suit, sizing her like he'd seen her face before but couldn't yet place it.

Her heart dropped to her stomach.

He saw Nineh in her because he
knew
her cousin.

“What a fetching beauty you have on your arm, Prince Tarik. The other doll to go with the first of the halfling pair I'll prize nightly in my quarters.”

He wore a cocky grin, the stringy strands of his hair, bone white and trailing down in oiled, gossamer strings that touched his elbows.

The prince's growl made Shala jump, and she protested to no avail when he stepped in front of her.