Fallen Star (33 page)

Fallon stared at Sobehk. Her heart ached for him. Khan had to have done something. She turned to Khan and leveled a glare at him. She focused on their telepathic link and projected as clearly as she could.
What did you do to him?

Khan looked over at Sobehk, and sighed very softly.
I made him face a truth he didn’t want to see.
He walked to Fallon’s side and dropped a quick kiss on her brow.
You’re a good pet.

Fallon blinked.
Huh?

Khan approached Sobehk. He leaned back against the wall, his gaze focused on the water swirling down the center drain. “Do I need to ask?”

“I ...” Sobehk released a breath and his hands slid down the wall. “No.” He groaned. “Bloody Chaos, Khan, I’m not a fucking submissive!”

Fallon stiffened.
What in fury ...?

Khan rolled his eyes. “Sobehk, did you never think that perhaps I wasn’t asking you to be one?”

Sobehk turned his head to face Khan. “What?”

Khan snorted and crossed his arms. “Do you remember that time we came back from class early and we found our fathers ... in their compromising situation?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sobehk winced then smiled. “That was a little ... unexpected.”

Khan raised his brow. “You did notice who
wasn’t
on top?”

Sobehk froze. He frowned. “Now that you mention it ...”

Khan chuckled softly. “Apparently it runs in the bloodline, though from what I’ve seen, it’s actually pretty common between blooded lords and their
Dhe’syah
.”

Sobehk’s brows shot up. “You’re joking.”

Khan walked over to the door and hit the wall, starting the water collector. “You’ll get to see it yourself at the next
Ehnyad
conference.”

Sobehk groaned. “I’d rather not.”

Khan grinned. “I would be a fool to go anywhere without my
Dhe’syah
.”

Sobehk rolled his eyes. “Oh, this is going to be loads of fun. I can tell.”

Fallon stared from one male to the other. What in fury was a
Dhe’syah?
Some kind of bodyguard?

Khan opened the sliding glass door. “Look at it this way: you get to keep your pet.” He stepped out of the shower.

Fallon looked at Khan in shock.
What?

Sobehk turned to look at Fallon. His blue eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. His mouth snapped closed, and his jaw clenched, as did his fists. “That manipulative little shit!” He lifted his chin and closed his eyes, then suddenly dropped his head. His breath left him in a rush. He pressed a hand to his brow and a chuckle rumbled from him. “I am definitely going to ream his royal rump for that one.” He raised his head and smiled tiredly at Fallon. “You going to stand there all night?” He held out his hand. “Come on, it’s bedtime.”

Fallon moved cautiously toward Sobehk. “Is somebody going to tell me what’s going on?”

Sobehk winced. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Fallon raised her brow at him. “You better.”

Sobehk snorted and snatched her hand. “Or what?”

“Oh, I don’t know ...” Fallon closed her fingers tight around his warm hand and smiled. “But I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

Sobehk rolled his eyes as he led her from the shower. “Knowing you, yes, you will.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

A small chime sounded.

Fallon’s eyes snapped open. She was on her side in the bed, nearly buried in pillows with Khan spooned hot and solid against her back. She frowned. She’d actually slept through the night cycle rather than awakening to climb out.
Huh.

Sobehk groaned, on the far side of Khan.

Fallon turned to look over her shoulder just in time to see Sobehk stretch out across the sheets, catching all that heavy muscle moving and shifting. He really was a handsome brute.

Sobehk sat up, yawned, scratched and turned to grin over Khan’s back. “Come on, kitten, time to get dressed.”

Fallon’s mouth fell open. “Me?”

Sobehk climbed up onto his knees. “You want to learn the sword, right?”

“Hot damn!” Fallon twisted out of Khan’s hold and lunged out of the bed.

Sobehk smiled and rolled out far more sedately.

Khan chuckled and rolled onto his back. “Have fun. Don’t kill each other.” He snagged a few pillows, grabbed the comforter, and pulled it up to his chin.

Fallon frowned at him. “Don’t you have to get up, too?”

Khan set his arm behind his head and grinned. “Not for another hour.”

Fallon checked her internal chrono.
Oh, for the Maker’s sake ...
It was a full hour and a half before full ship morning. She glared at Sobehk.

Sobehk moved toward his wardrobe, scratching the small of his back and refusing to look her way. “I think I have something you can wear ...”

Khan rolled onto his side. “If you will wait about five more minutes, the staff will be here with practice garb for both of you and a small rising meal.”

Sobehk frowned. “What, did you take care of everything?”

Khan yawned. “Rank has its responsibilities.”

Fallon tilted her head. What in fury was that supposed to mean?

A double-chime sounded.

“There.” Khan lifted a hand. The door appeared in the blank far wall and cycled open.

Two youthful attendants in dark gray robes came in with a floating tray. They placed a pair of small, steaming bowls on the table, along with a pair of dull, plain steel practice swords. They turned to Sobehk.

Fallon’s gaze focused on the black chain leash coiled in the center of the table.

Sobehk nodded and held out his arms.

The attendants dressed him in a short but heavily padded sleeveless red robe. The robe was tucked into very full, pleated black trousers that were gathered tight at the waist. A red and black sash was wound around his waist.

Sobehk bowed to his attendants and grabbed for one of the small bowls on the table and a rolled napkin. He tilted his head toward Fallon. “Get over here and get dressed.”

Fallon swallowed. She took several deep breaths and walked over. She bowed politely and held her arms out from her body. She exhaled very slowly and took tiny breaths to keep their scent from sending her into a panic.

Sobehk frowned slightly, watching Fallon while forking meat slivers into his mouth.

The attendants were swift. In a very short time, Fallon was dressed in a smaller version of what Sobehk wore.

Fallon bowed again and thanked all those years spent in the sewers that taught her to breathe so shallowly. She walked over to the table, picked up one of the small bowls, and snapped open a napkin. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious. She scooped a piece of barely cooked meat into her mouth, trying not to drip on her nice clean robe. It was wonderfully tangy.

Sobehk frowned at her. “Is there a problem with being dressed?”

Fallon shook her head and swallowed what was in her mouth. “They smell wrong.”

Sobehk’s brows rose, and he rolled his eyes. “Oh.” He shrugged. “I’d heard that some Primes are nose sensitive.”

Fallon swallowed. “Nose sensitive?”

Sobehk sucked in a piece of meat and nodded. He swallowed. “Some Primes can differentiate between people by scent alone.”

Some
Primes? Fallon froze with a piece of meat halfway to her mouth. She set it back in her bowl. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope.” Sobehk upended the small bowl into his mouth. He swallowed and applied his napkin. “Some Primes can actually track by scent, though it’s not common.”

Apparently her sense of smell wasn’t exactly “normal.” Fallon focused on eating, unsure whether she should say anything.

Khan groaned in the bed and turned face up. “Sobehk, could you come here please?”

Sobehk rolled his eyes at Fallon and walked over to the bed. “Yeah, what?”

Khan chuckled. “I thought you might find this useful.”

Sobehk sighed. “Oh, thanks.”

Khan shifted among the pillows. “I suggest keeping the telepathic link open. She has some rather interesting thoughts going through her head on occasion.”

Fallon frowned.
What the ...?

Sobehk turned around and grinned, showing his long teeth. “Oh, yes! I have you now!”

Fallon frowned in suspicion. “What?”

Sobehk’s stride positively bounced as he approached her. He leaned in close. “I suggest you be a very good pet.” He waggled his brows as he leaned past her to pick up the leash on the table. “Khan just gave me your collar codes.”

Fallon winced. “Great.”

Sobehk chuckled and handed her a gray-sheathed practice blade. A black cord had been wrapped around the sheath only two fingers from the hilt.

Fallon held the blade with both hands for an entire breathless moment.

The sword was a weapon from a more romantic time when ships sailed the seas rather than the stars. However, instead of archaic tempered steel, the modern blade was made of live-steel and practically hummed with nanites. Live-steel would return to shape from a forty-five degree bend, would never lose its edge, and could withstand extremes in temperature, such as the absolute cold of space, without shattering. It would hold the perfect shape of its making for as long as it existed. Live-steel was said to be born, not made.

The practice blade in her hands was very likely made of ordinary steel and dull, but still ... a sword.

Sobehk lifted the other practice sword. “Shove this through your sash, like so ...” He demonstrated by shoving the sword though the broad folds of his sash and angling it at his hip.

Fallon shoved the sword into her sash, and very nearly straight into her pants. She got it on the second try.

“Here, like this ...” Sobehk leaned forward and set the sword at her left hip, angled just a bit toward the center. He tugged at the dangling black cord and showed her the wrapping knot that kept the sheath from sliding from her sash.

He lectured a bit on the proper hand positions to carry the blade in a public area, then tucked the black chain leash through his sash and turned for the door.

Fallon stared after him. No leash?

At the door, Sobehk turned back to her. “Are you coming, or what?”

Fallon’s brows shot up. No leash.
Hot damn!
She grinned and strode toward him and the door. “Let’s go!”

* * * * *

Fallon discovered very quickly that walking through the ship’s somewhat narrow hallways with a sword jammed in her sash was more complicated than it looked. The long end kept getting caught in her long full pants and the grip kept getting tangled with her robe. She was constantly shifting it away from her clothes and out of other peoples’ way. For some odd reason, people kept trying to walk into it, as though there were a magnet at the end designed to draw knees.

Sobehk tossed the occasional smile her way, but other than that, he strode through the early cycle halls ignoring her presence at his heels.

Fallon followed Sobehk into a lift and then out into a huge and somewhat empty shadowed room. The distant steel walls and the very distant ceiling were supported by immense girders. Massive crates were stacked and secured in seemingly random areas, and the plate steel deck was painted with gridlines. Lighting was focused straight down on the piled crates and nowhere else.

Fallon followed Sobehk past several stacks of boxes. “This looks like a warehouse.”

“It’s cargo storage and the designated practice area.” He stopped, turned to the right, and pointed. “That’s our spot over there.”

Fallon took another look around. “I don’t see anyone else practicing.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, everyone else is still asleep.”

Sobehk smiled as he led the way toward a blank area between two rows of cargo. “Do you really want people watching you stabbing yourself?”

Fallon scowled. “I am very good with blades.”

“I’m sure you are.” Sobehk stepped into the cleared area. Light snapped on overhead and poured down into the empty space. “But a sword is not a knife.”

Fallon set her hands on her hips. “A sword is a really long knife. How hard can it be?”

Sobehk raised his brows. “Draw.”

Fallon pulled the sword from its sheath -- and got stuck, with half the blade still in the sheath.

Sobehk did not laugh; he didn’t even smile. He tilted his grip down, angling the sheath. “Try it this way.”

It took more than one try just to get the stupid thing free of her sheath. Finally free and in her hand, Fallon found that the practice blade was actually balanced, but it was awkwardly lengthy.

Sobehk nodded. “Good. Sheath it.”

Fallon swallowed. “Okay.” Getting that big long piece of steel back into its sheath in her sash was even more problematic. Her arms were just too short.

Sobehk nodded. “Hold your grip like so, and return like this.” He tilted the sheath down and to the side.

Fallon nibbled on her bottom lip and repeated his motions. The blade slid home.

Sobehk nodded. “Good. Draw and return.”

Drawing the sword and returning it without striking the floor or her shins or, oddly, jamming her elbow into her side, turned out to be far more of a challenge than it had looked. Eventually she got it right. Of course, her memorization program didn’t hurt.

A sword was nothing like a knife.

“Draw.”

Fallon drew the blade and held it extended before her in the one-handed position he had shown her, one foot slightly forward in a balanced stance.

Sobehk nodded. “Good. Now ...” He drew his blade with disgusting ease and stood at her right side in the same exact position. “All you have to do is copy what I do. When I say ‘hold,’ freeze in place, so I can adjust your stance. Got it?”

Fallon took a small breath. “Yes,
‘Syr
.”

He moved, slowly and gracefully, lifting the sword above his head while his right foot slid back, taking nearly all his weight, and his left hand rose to the level of his heart.

Fallon followed.

“Hold.”

Fallon froze.

Sobehk stepped behind her and adjusted her head, her shoulders, her arms, and her feet. He caught her by the hips and moved her back just a bit. “Weight, back here. Balance here.” He returned to place and then changed positions.