Ghost in Her Heart (17 page)

Eyes widening at the idea of Kynan in a
temper, Vana could only be glad he’d left to cool down. Smart man.
Knowing it would incite her friend and figuring it would be better
if she took her temper out on the safer target, Vana pointed out,
“You could’ve said no. It sounded like you two had a heck of a
first day.”

With a scream of outrage, Kelsa launched
herself at Vana.

Vana stepped neatly out of the way, then
winced as Kelsa crashed to the floor. “Careful, you’ll hurt
yourself.”

With a blood chilling war cry, Kelsa grabbed
for Vana’s feet. Stepping out of the way was easy, but the
cushion-strewn floor was traitorous footing. Vana went down and was
forced to launch Kelsa into the air as she went for her throat. The
impact left Kelsa stunned. Afraid she’d hurt her, Vana climbed
carefully to her feet. “Are you okay?” This time she wasn’t dumb
enough to get within grabbing distance.

Glowering, Kelsa just sat there and panted.
“Stupid chink acrobatics.”

Knowing Kelsa only used the slur to provoke
her, Vana snorted and started tossing pillows back onto the couch.
“Maybe if you’d joined me for some workouts you wouldn’t be sitting
there now, only wishing you could plant one in my backside.” She
took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Kelsa. I didn’t mean for it to work
out like this.”

“You were trying to get us together,” Kelsa
said with conviction.

“Yes, but I didn’t know you were so hot for
him that you’d jump him first chance you got.”

Kelsa blushed and protested hotly, “I didn’t!
He started it.”

Vana stared pointedly at the love bite on
Kelsa’s neck.

Shifting guiltily, Kelsa muttered, “He played
guitar.”

Vana raised a brow.

“He was good, all right? I let my guard
down.”

Sensing progress, Vana joined her on the
floor. “He’s pretty good looking.”

“Yes, and it’s not fair. I’m not ready to be
a mother. What would I do with a daughter? After yesterday….” She
sighed. “Mind if we move to the couch? I’m a little sore,” she
mumbled.

Laughing at that telling admission, Vana
helped her up, then got a couple of drinks and joined her on the
couch. Time for a little girl talk.

***

Hours later, Dagon found Vana in the lab. He
frowned as he watched her work, a distant, abstracted look on her
face. “You missed diner again. Care to join me?”

The distance in her eyes didn’t fade as she
looked at him. “I’ve got a hot lead here. If you don’t mind, maybe
you could bring me something? I might be hours yet, and you could
spend the time with Kynan. He’s in hot water right now.”

He opened his mouth.

Her hand shot up. “Not one word about this
not being critical, all right? This is important to me, I’m close
to nailing down an idea, and I don’t want to leave. Give me some
space.”

Drawing in a deep breath to quell his
instinctive temper, he looked at her, then moved closer to look at
her computer screen. “What have you found?”

Surprised by his interest, she eyed him. “I
took the holistic approach. I think maybe your women have been
missing out on a protective element not currently supplied by their
diet. This virus is engineered, but the original strain has been
around for years. It’s nastier, but still vulnerable to certain
factors. I need to run a few tests to support my theory, but it’s
solid. I just need some time.”

Her words had two meanings. He canted his
head as he considered. This was important to her and their marriage
was important to him. “Take your time, then, but I will wait for
you before retiring. We’ll share diner here before I go.”

A softer expression replaced her cool mask.
“Sounds fair.”

He turned so she couldn’t see his rolling
eyes. Women.

***

Vana spent long hours in the lab that week.
Oddly enough, now that she wasn’t so easy to access, distractions
sought her out. Her boys constantly peeked in on her, devising the
flimsiest excuses to check on her doings. It finally dawned on her
that they missed her, and though they made no effort to hide their
disapproval of her “weird occupation”, she learned to tolerate
their peering over her shoulder and their endless, distracting
questions.

It was Dagon who gave her the first clue why
they were so concerned.

“They wonder how you can become pregnant when
you’re not constantly by my side. They’re anxious for their
sister.” He’d propped his head on one hand and smirked at her.

Vana had rolled to her side and smacked his
bare chest in mock irritation. It was hard to get too angry when
they‘d just spent an hour making sweet love. “Brats! They get this
stuff from you, don’t they?”

A satisfied growl rumbled from his chest as
he caught her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her fingertips. The
kiss turned into a nibble. “Are you certain you mind?” Dark lashes
veiled his eyes as the blue began to heat.

“Um.” Reminded of his many talents, she
decided not to argue the point. Perhaps the boys could find worse
role models.

They weren’t the only ones who treated her
lab as a sort of drawing room, however. Courtiers sought her out
there, too, and women with issues. The would-be escapee, Clarissa,
even thanked her for her new occupation by sending over a pair of
jeans and a comfortable Earth style shirt. Word had it the girl was
being courted by one of her tailors.

Not bad for a first shot at playing chief
justice, Vana thought as she stroked the sleeve of her new t-shirt.
Not bad at all.

In spite of those happy moments, she finally
had to warn the guards at the door not to let anyone in until after
lunch barring fire or flood. At least Dagon was considerate enough
not to bug her until meal times. The man had a thoughtful streak,
and she was learning to appreciate his subtle care.

It was with a great deal of satisfaction that
she wrapped up her research two weeks later. Admiring the neat
stack of printed pages, she reflected that she might not impress a
board with the results, but she’d enjoyed the process. There was
also the thrill of knowing she had better research than the
chauvinistic medic who’d given her the implant.

Speaking of which….

Vana frowned and rubbed her arm, wondering if
Dagon had been counting days. Maybe he was too distracted by the
novelty of intimate pleasure. Maybe not. Either way, he hadn’t said
anything. Surely he would, if he had the slightest clue, wouldn’t
he? It wasn’t the sort of thing he would ignore.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about it yet. A
daughter was a big responsibility in a life suddenly deluged with
accountability. She was slowly beginning to understand just what
being queen meant in political terms—many of Dagon’s people thought
to influence him through her. One day she might even need her own
secretary to deal with appointments and such; it was either that or
allow her life to become a revolving door. How would she shield a
family from that? How would she keep her daughter from feeling
hemmed in by the security that would be a constant presence in her
life? More importantly, would her sons view a sister as someone to
protect and an object of affection, or a commodity?

Shaking her head at her dismal thoughts, Vana
slid her papers into a binder and gathered them up. Nine months was
a long time to work on these things. She’d figure something
out.

She was just about to leave when something
caught her eye. There was a broken vial on the workbench, right
next to her slides of dead virus. Heaven and earth couldn’t have
given her the clearance to work with live virus—she hadn’t even
bothered to ask. More importantly, though, she hadn’t been working
with a tube with that color cap.

Presentiment set in. She took a deep breath,
trying to stay calm. One of the kids might have broken it and been
too afraid to tell her, but why hadn’t she heard it break? She
couldn’t believe it was an accident. Without looking, she reached
for the com link switch on her wrist computer, then hugged the
research folder tight. She might have a test subject sooner than
expected.

***

Dagon paced in the waiting room, Kynan by his
side. His wife, though still healthy, was in quarantine, and he
didn’t dare break the seal yet.

Kynan had joined him in the waiting room,
offering silent support as Vana spoke calmly on the view screen,
ignoring the buzzing medics.

“Dagon, please trust me on this—my research
is sound. We know I’ve got the virus, and thanks to your
technology, we also know it’s having a hard time adapting to my
alien physiology. We’ve got a window here…please go and get me some
of that fruit.”

Dagon glanced at the image of the Mother’s
Tree in the lower left hand side of the screen. Vana claimed it was
an old folk remedy for infertility with scientific roots. He didn’t
have time to read her research, nor the calm to comprehend it. He
knew the strength of his people’s technology and how long their
scientists had been researching a possible cure. They’d claimed to
have promising leads, too.

He paced some more.

Gently, Vana said, “The virus is airborne,
honey. Whoever sabotaged my lab probably has more. We need to
protect the others, too. What have you got to lose by trying my
cure?”

Unable to bear her steady gaze, he took a
deep, shuddering breath. She didn’t know that sometimes the virus
was fatal to mother and child. They weren’t going to tell her,
either, and risk her giving up hope.

“Please, Dagon.” Dignified, quietly hopeful,
she watched him, unwilling to nag even now.

She didn’t know what she asked.

Kynan looked at him and straightened. “I’ll
go. I’ll find some volunteers. No!” He raised his hand,
forestalling Dagon’s words. “She needs you here, and someone has to
direct the hunt for the virus. You can’t do that if you’re charging
through the swamplands, hunting for something that might not even
be in season.” He shot a quick look at Vana, as if sorry he’d said
that.

She canted her head. “The bark and small
twigs should have the same compounds in them as the fruit. Just be
careful not to over harvest—we’ll probably need to go back for
more.”

Dagon swore. The swamps were deadly, full of
huge snakes and predatory flora and fauna. It was the reason their
people had left its borders generations ago—the cost in human life
had been too high, and that was when they’d still had their swamp
lore. In the present generation, it had all but died out.

“I will bring back the medicine,” Kynan said
briskly, already on his feet. There was no fear in his continence,
only determination. If anyone could survive the mission, he
could.

“Ten men,” Dagon said briskly. “There’ll be
more who wish to go, but forbid it. Too many and you’ll stir the
swamps too much, alerting Nikon in the bargain. We don’t need him
slowing the mission. We’ll expect you in three days.”

Kynan saluted and left. Dagon turned back to
the view screen, the closest he could get to his wife without
risking contaminating anyone else—assuming the virus had not
already spread. “We’ll find who did this,” he said quietly, still
seething with anger and so much more. The death of a dream was
painful…the death of his wife would kill him.

The news of the queen’s illness sent a
shockwave rippling through the city. Word of Kynan’s mission acted
like counter attack missiles, fragmenting the deadly fear into
action men could take. So overwhelming was the volunteer response,
Kynan had to resort to casting lots to avoid quarrels. Those left
behind were in danger of despair, so Dagon organized fasts and
prayer vigils for the queen and their women, placing every man with
the training on a sweep for any signs of the virus, organizing a
quarantine for those unaffected. A hyper-alert guard rotation was
stationed outside the women’s quarters, and no one without specific
authorization was allowed access to them.

To Kelsa’s dismay, the quarantine included
her.

“Kynan….” she tried to argue as he escorted
her to the harem

“No. I’ve made sure you have a view screen
directly hooked up to our Tzara, but you aren’t getting close to
her room and you will be staying with the harem. I’m not taking
chances.” He met her worried, stubborn gaze with implacable calm.
“I’m not losing you.”

Her face softened. “I know. What about you?
These swamps are supposed to be dangerous.”

He stopped and faced her, ignoring their
protective escort as he took her hands in his. “I will come back.
I’ll send messages when I can. Have faith in me.” Solemn, calm, he
kissed the backs of her hands, then dropped a light kiss on her
lips. Almost he spoke, then he seemed to change his mind. “Go.
Cheer your friend.” His mind already moving to his mission, he
squeezed her hands and strode rapidly away.

Kelsa sighed as a piece of her heart broke
off and traveled with him.

***

“Checkmate.”

Kelsa scowled at the holographic chessboard,
glowering at Vana’s smug face. “Is not. It’s check, and you’re a
brat.” She hobbled her king around her pawn, the only thing still
protecting his precious hide.

Vana raised her brows in mock haughtiness.
“Might as well be. What are you going to do with a measly pawn? Let
your king have some dignity—the poor guy’s been chased around by a
knight and a bishop for ten minutes.”

Eyes narrowed, Kelsa shifted her king to
counter Vana’s move. “I don’t hear any bonbon-challenged women
singing yet.” She studied the board and blinked in surprise. A
smirk of dazzling proportions curved her lips.

“What?” Vana eyed the board uneasily, then
saw it. Against all odds, Kelsa’s little duet had danced her into a
checkmate. “Huh.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Kelsa leaned back
and draped her arms over the back of her chair. “You may now kiss
the ground I walk on.”