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“I have this for you,” she says. “It’s from Frankie. I hope you don’t consider it an invasion of privacy that I dictated it to Kalla so he could write it in Kar’Kali.”
“Privacy is not a luxury that Ka’lakkas enjoy,” I say, accepting the folded piece of paper.
Dear Makiva,
I apologize for scaring you when I woke up. I understand you were very worried for me and stayed with me while I was unconscious. I appreciate your concern and the time you spent caring for me, but despite what I’ve been told about the ‘mating bond,’ I’m unable to give you anything more than my sincere thanks. I do not plan on pursuing a relationship with you. I return home to continue healing in peace. Thank you for respecting my wishes.
Best regards,
Francesca
Coldly polite. My mate would bid me a stranger’s goodbye.
“I expect she’ll be well cared for as long as you’re on EC-12 with her,” I tell Kaye, placing the creased letter on the empty bed behind me. “I can sleep at night knowing Kalla is nearby, and her closest friend is looking after her.”
The Alliance has boosted their colony security, and the Azza are on the defensive. Between that and my best assassin monitoring her safety, there’s no logical excuse to bar her from leaving our hidden oasis here on The Rightful Heir.
“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” Kaye sighs. “But I think it’s good of you to give her space.”
“Don’t praise me for accepting her choice,” I say bitterly. “This is what I must do.”
“Just like that?” Kalla’s incredulous, because he obviously can’t understand reasonable decision-making at work. “You’re going to let her leave without even demanding an audience? Or anything?”
“And your approach to romance would be what?” I tap a finger to my chin. “A short leash and a lock on the door?”
None of us will let him live it down anytime soon since he kidnapped his own mate in the middle of a war campaign simply because she wouldn’t go where he bid her to.
He scoffs. “It wasn’t that serious. It worked out for me, didn’t it?”
Kaye glares at him. “You never learned a single thing, did you?”
“What a great excuse to make unethical decisions!” I reply with wooden enthusiasm. “You go on acting as reckless as a pack of kaia let loose at market, and I will keep playing the long game.”
“That makes it sound as if you have a plan,” Kalla says.
“I have many plans.” I glance pointedly at my comm device. “I have plans right now, in fact. A meeting, so you’ll excuse me.”
Kalla and Kaye watch me leave with barely disguised pity.
For once in my life, I’d like nothing more than to be alone for a while. My busy schedule will not allow that.
I could easily walk the shortest avenue to the council room that cuts through the back end of the royal quarters. Instead, I take the long way to clear my head. I choose the hallway that runs the perimeter of the top floor of the palace.
The windows here have the best view of the ship. The gardens immediately below give way to the zig-zagging streets of the village. It’s early enough that all is calm aside from a few skimmers traveling from the village out toward the empty market. Beyond that lies the landing deck that was so recently packed full of ships of every make and size. Now it’s nearly empty.
When the Azza retreated, every captain in the fleet returned to home base for a cycle-long celebration. For once, the ancient ship deck looked more like a city of its own filled with joyous crowds, flags waving, singing, and dancing all day and night. The many bulky pillars that support our old-fashioned light simulation system were festooned with wreathes of dried flowers and coins of sliced fruit. At least four mating ceremonies were carried out over the course of the wild festivities.
I tried my best to enjoy it but spent more time wearing a tight smile for the crowd with my mate’s pale face looming in my mind.
Some of the decorations remain hanging on the tiled roofs and strung over pathways, but it’s quieted down considerably. Most of the ships in the fleet are captained by workaholics, lunatics, and other such addicts of the black seas of sky we call space. So they were off, some absconding with the family they’d left behind, others heading back to the frontlines, not ready to quit the war just because we gained ground and won our sector back.
The false sunlight above flickers with that familiar buzz of an unsteady energy system that was constructed centuries ago and sustained by generations of improvising engineers.
We deserve a real sun blazing in the sky and a moon at night, fresh winds, and a real forest. We’ll have all of that and more on Kar’Kal, but that doesn’t mean I won’t miss this monstrosity.
The Rightful Heir is a complication with no simple solution. The ancient cruiser has protected our people for generations. But as we consider moving into the reestablished Kar’Kali territory, there are a couple main problems. It’s slower than a snail and incapable of forking.
Even if we could drag the rusty bolt pile galaxies away, revealing its existence to the public would immediately draw the eye of the Zaledians. This grand ship was built by a long dead monarch that wished to escape the coup that led to their current ruler’s ancestral line. According to the official records, The Rightful Heir is lost to dead space, a mysterious relic that many a pirate and curious explorer have tried to discover. The Zaledians could claim that the shipwreck is a piece of their history, and I wouldn’t have many reasonable defenses for keeping it. That it is our home wouldn’t matter, not when we’re set to land on Kar’Kal, a planet with more room than we need.
