Consort (Beyond Ontariese 6) (3 page)

“
I could have done that
myself,” Betaul grumbled, “if you’d let me.”

She opened her eyes and looked at
Betaul. Three months ago, much to her surprise, he’d detected the
barriers meticulously encasing his power source. She hadn’t
constructed the barriers, but she maintained them, preventing him
from accessing his abilities. Betaul was one of a kind, a volatile
combination of ancient Mystic and genetic manipulation. There was
no way of predicting which abilities he would manifest or how
powerful he would become. Which was why so many in the NRS had
feared him.

“
When you’re stronger,
you’ll be taught how to control your power,” she reminded him, even
though it was unlikely he’d forgotten because the last time she’d
told him was yesterday.

“
I’m strong enough
now.”

“
I think we should let him
try.”

She looked up and found Lord Drakkin
standing a short distance back from the action. She wasn’t sure
when he’d arrived or how he’d known about the crisis, but he’d
obviously heard Betaul’s complaint. Drakkin was one of the most
powerful Bilarrians alive. Indric might have signaled him
telepathically, but it was just as likely that Drakkin had simply
sensed the disruption. Drakkin’s abilities were legendary. He was
the one who had constructed the barriers around Betaul’s power
source.

“
Are the perimeter shields
intact?” She motioned toward the hedgerow. “How did this
happen?”

Drakkin moved closer, his stride
light, as if his feet didn’t quite touch the ground. His dark hair
just brushed his shoulders and the rings separating his irises from
his pupils were red rather than gold. Even so, there was a striking
similarity between his appearance and Indric’s. They each had
inherent nobility in their features, as well as a good deal of
arrogance.

“
You’ll have to ask the
guards how. I wasn’t here when the weapon was fired.” He paused as
his intense gaze swept their surroundings. Unlike the men of San
Adrin, Drakkin was clean-shaven, and his intricately tooled leather
pants and long-sleeved shirt indicated that he was used to a far
cooler climate. “I sense a small tear in the shields over there.”
He pointed to the back corner of the yard where the hedgerow ended.
“But it should have set off an alarm.”

“
Then I think it’s unwise
to indulge him.”

“
I disagree. Indric will
scan while I repair the shield. Let the boy feel his power.”
Drakkin was one of the few people who could give Indric orders
without starting an argument. And Cinarra had learned a long time
ago that it was a waste of time to argue with Drakkin.

Someone had torn back Betaul’s pant
leg, exposing the wound in his calf. The plasma ball had burned a
deep furrow across his flesh rather than drilling straight through.
She wasn’t sure which was worse. Both wounds seemed gruesome to
her.

“
I’ll release my hold
slowly,” she told Betaul. “As soon as you feel the energy start to
flow, guide it into your leg.”

He licked his lips then closed his
eyes. “I’m ready.”

He is not,
Drakkin told her
, but he
needs to learn this for himself
.

I understand. I’ll just
give him a taste.
She created a tiny
puncture in the barrier and let energy trickle out. Betaul gasped
and his muscles twitched. She placed her hand on his leg, well
above the injury. “Feel the warmth of my fingers. Use it to direct
the flow.”

“
This is harder…” He gasped
again and his thigh tensed beneath her hand. “It hurts.” He
shuddered violently. “Does it always hurt like this?”

“
You will learn to minimize
the pain, but there is always discomfort.” Drakkin spoke to the boy
then continued telepathically with her.
It
must be his decision to return control to you. Expand the
flow.

The last thing she wanted was to cause
Betaul more pain, but Drakkin’s strategy made sense. It was hard
for a student to learn if he resented his teacher. Still, Betaul
was so much more than a student to her. He was blood of her blood.
Though most believed she was his mother, she was actually his
grandmother. Betaul was all that remained of her precious daughter
Belle.

“
Concentrate, Betaul.” She
made sure her knees weren’t digging into his side and moved her
hands to her thighs. The fewer distractions he had, the faster this
lesson would progress. “The energy stream is still scattering
before it reaches the wound. You must try harder.”

The boy stilled in the grass and his
breathing deepened. Fighting back her own misgivings, she stretched
the opening and allowed a stronger stream to escape. Betaul moaned
and then shuddered. She instinctively reached for the puncture,
meaning to stem the flow, but the stream concentrated and
coalesced. She felt Betaul’s determination, his untutored skill
working to connect the center of his chest with the wound in his
calf.

Betaul’s control came and went,
creating a clumsy ebb and flow, but the energy stream gradually
reached the wound. The boy anchored the steam and proceeded with
more confidence.

He’s doing
it
. They’d expected him to fail, but Betaul
was healing himself. It was extraordinary.

Drakkin moved to the boy’s other side
and knelt. “Your body knows what to do. Just keep feeding energy
into the gash.”

Betaul nodded without opening his eyes
and Cinarra watched in amazement as the deep furrow in his flesh
gradually disappeared.

“
Well done, young man.”
Drakkin helped Betaul sit, and when he appeared steady, he asked,
“Can you stand?”

Betaul maneuvered his legs beneath him
and stood. He flexed his repaired hand and gingerly put weight on
his healed leg. “It doesn’t hurt or anything.”

“
I suspect Indric’s command
still has you good and numb. Both areas will likely be tender for a
couple of days. You should rest. Healing requires a great deal of
energy.”

“
But I’m not even
tired.”

“
You
are
tired,” Indric told him. “Now go
lie down.”

Cinarra only felt a hint of heat, so
the compulsion must have been mild this time. Still, Betaul fell
into step beside one of the guards and headed for the
house.

Indric helped her up and she brushed
the grass off her knees, feeling a bit shaky. Now that the crisis
was over, the cause of the danger came back into focus. She blew
out a ragged breath, refusing to think about how much worse this
situation could have been. “Did your men catch whoever shot at
Betaul?”

“
We don’t know that Betaul
was the target,” Indric pointed out. “It could just as easily have
been Dravon or someone trying to upset me.”

Motivation would be a whole lot easier
to determine if they’d apprehended the assailant. “That didn’t
answer my question.”

“
They found tracks, but no
shooter.”

That was the answer she’d expected,
but it didn’t lessen her frustration. “A drone wouldn’t leave
tracks, so we’re dealing with a person or persons.”

He nodded, his expression tense,
clearly as frustrated as she was. “I’ve sent for my best trackers.
We’ll figure out who did this and why.”

“
The alarm should have gone
off as soon as they tampered with the perimeter shield,” Drakkin
mused. “For that matter, why did no one sense the intruder? Aren’t
all of your guards Sensitive?”

“
You know they are. Any
applicant must demonstrate Class Eight abilities to be accepted as
a member of my personal guard.”

Drakkin motioned toward the house.
“Can we move inside? I don’t know how you tolerate this infernal
heat.”

“
A lifetime of
practice.”

Indric took her hand as they started
for the back door. His fingers were long and warm, his grasp firm
without being hurtful. The simple gesture sent her heart racing and
she averted her face, afraid he’d see her burning cheeks. He was
just being kind, comforting a traumatized friend. It was the same
role he’d filled for the last nine years. Why should today be any
different?

“
I’ll make sure Betaul is
resting.” She tried to pull away as soon as they entered the
house.

Indric tightened his grip on her hand
and pulled her toward the living room. “Ametto is with him.
Relax.”

Ametto was the only one of Indric’s
guards that Cinarra knew well. The others came and went depending
on the situation, but Ametto’s exclusive assignment was to protect
Betaul and her. “All right.” She sat on the sofa and Indric sat
beside her.

Apparently too anxious to sit, Drakkin
paced in front of them, hands locked behind his back. “I only saw
the aftermath. How did the attack occur?”

“
The boys were playing in
the yard. Cinarra and I decided to go back inside the house when a
volley of plasma blasts erupted from somewhere beyond the hedge.
They were not random shots; they were directed at the
boys.”

“
I don’t care if it was the
NRS, Eagin, or an enemy of Hautell, anyone who would intentionally
harm a child is beneath contempt,” Drakkin sneered then smoothed
his expression. “Most plasma weapons have nonlethal settings. Was
this a sloppy assassination attempt or some sort of
warning?”

Indric extended his arm along the back
of the couch. It wasn’t really an embrace, but Cinarra was
inescapably aware of his nearness.

“
Your guess is as good as
mine,” Indric said. “There have been no recent threats, no
indication that trouble was brewing.”

“
And the NRS hasn’t caused
trouble in years, even on Ontariese,” Cinarra told them. “Most
think they’ll eventually disband.”

“
I’m not taking chances
with either of you,” Indric objected.

“
Security at your palace is
far more sophisticated than what we’ve arranged here,” Drakkin
pointed out. “It might be best to move Cinarra and Betaul there
until we can figure out who was responsible for what just
happened.”

“
I agree.”

“
And if I don’t?” She
looked up at him, hoping her expression reflected how little she
liked it when people made decisions for her.

“
Then I’ll camp out on this
sofa.” The stubborn glint in his eyes assured her that he meant
every word.

“
Did you receive your
invitation to Charlotte’s celebration?” Drakkin finally sat in the
chair facing them and crossed his legs, looking remarkably at home
despite the modest surroundings.

The sudden subject change wrinkled her
brow. What did her sister’s gala have to do with anything? “I did,
but I hadn’t planned on going.”

Drakkin’s expression nearly mirrored
hers. “Why would you hesitate? Charlotte is your sister. Of course
you should go.”

“
We understand the
connection, but the rest of the sector doesn’t. To outsiders I’m a
common Bilarrian widow, doing her best to raise her son alone. Why
would the High Queen of Ontariese invite such a person?”

“
Because you’re King
Indric’s favorite mistress. It is no longer taboo for pleasure
givers to be invited to such celebrations.” One of Drakkin’s brows
arched, daring her to challenge the conclusion.

“
Indric is discreet
whenever he comes here. I doubt people even know—” Indric’s
laughter preempted the rest of her thought and she shot him an
annoyed look.

“
Everyone thinks we’re
lovers, and you know it. What else would keep me coming back year
after year?”

“
Honor and obligation.” She
was well aware of the rumors, but this was the first time they’d
spoken of the misconception. They knew the truth and that was all
that mattered, so they simply ignored the idle chatter. “You
promised Lord Drakkin that you’d protect me and Betaul, that you’d
provide us a home and security.”

Indric looked at Drakkin and shook his
head. “Is she really this naïve?”

“
I am not naïve,” she
snapped. “I know many believe you’re visiting your mistress every
time you come here and some even whisper that Betaul is your son.
I’m not completely ignorant of what goes on around me.”

“
Ignorance is different
than naïveté,” Drakkin drew her attention. “You have moved from one
cage to another throughout your entire life. It was not always by
choice, but each of your environments has been extremely
compartmentalized.”

“
What does any of this have
to do with what happened to Betaul?” She was uncomfortable with
their observations, even if they were mostly true. After she’d
escaped her prison on Earth, each stage of her life had been
strictly ordered and insulated from most outside influences. This
house was the perfect example. She knew none of her neighbors and,
except for an occasional family member, Indric was her only
visitor.

“
No one will be surprised
if Indric moves you into the palace. We can use the public’s
misconception to protect Betaul’s anonymity.” Drakkin looked deep
into her eyes as he went on, “You will not be able to correct the
misconception without compromising your cover. In fact, it would be
wise to display affection in public, leave others no reason to
doubt the conclusion they’ve drawn. Do you have a problem with
people believing you’re sleeping with a king?”