She glowered. "You stole a ship and made an illegal launch? It's bad enough you do that yourself, Coop. But Ryder too?"
"He said I couldn't come." Ryder moved out of the chamber. "I told him that if he didn't let me, I would steal another ship and follow."
"What if you had been hurt?" Vazar growled at her son. "I ought to ground you— for the rest of your life."
I cleared my throat. "Perhaps we should take our guests to more comfortable quarters."
Vazar glanced around with a start, as if just remembering their sentimental reunion was taking place in public. It disconcerted me to see her so unsettled. I had watched her face Trader commandos without a flinch, but seeing her family undefended shook her in a way she never showed in battle.
So we headed back, with Coop and Ryder. Vazar now had an even worse conflict; if our fleet ended up in combat, her husband and son could die.
* * *
Coop and Ryder entered Vazar's quarters as if they were visiting a stranger. Given the way Vazar was seething, it didn't surprise me. She motioned curtly at the aide who had brought their belongings from the ship, and he sent a robot carrier to unload their bags. As it trundled off, Vazar crossed her arms and glared at Coop.
"I'll help the robot unload my bags," Ryder said, his glance darting between his parents. Then he made a fast retreat, headed for the safety of his guest room.
Coop stood self-consciously in the center of the living room, watching Vazar with those large blue eyes that could melt steel. He resembled a concubine more than a husband. And indeed, when Althor had first set up Coop in an apartment and given him an art studio, everyone assumed Coop was little more than a male courtesan. That he turned out to be a remarkably gifted artist had caused surprise; few people had actually believed Althor had any interest in becoming a patron of the arts.
Coop obviously wished to please his patron, though, and did whatever Althor wanted, like turning his hair from gold to red and then back to gold again on Althor's whim. He spent his days working on his holo sculptures and his nights doing who-knew-what with Althor and Vazar, and no one of the noble Houses said a word, just smiled with glee at the beautiful if rather kinky toy Althor and Vazar had acquired.
Then Althor and Vazar married him.
The irony never stopped amazing me, that the Houses accepted with salacious delight the idea that the Imperial Heir and a Majda Primary would share a male concubine, but exploded with outrage when Althor did the honorable thing and offered a legal contract that gave Coop the full rights of a spouse.
I understood why Vazar and Althor loved Coop. Not only was he a strong empath, but his mind also shone like an idyllic harbor filled with light. He gave off a golden aura.
A prickle went up my spine. Puzzled, I glanced around and saw Ragnar by the wall. He was watching Coop with unabashed fascination. I recognized that look, the hunter studying his prey. Damn. Given Ragnar's hunger for power, it made too much sense. Amazing how his distaste for unconventional marriages could evaporate if it involved gain for him. Not only was Vazar a high-ranking member of the House of Majda, she had a similarly high status within ISC. Add to that her connections to the Ruby Dynasty, and she wielded great power. And here she was, a blazingly sensual widow desired by many men, with a bereaved husband who loved her more as a sister than a wife, leaving a gaping hole in their marriage.
Enter Ragnar.
Vazar stalked over to Coop, her arms crossed, her hair disheveled about her face. "I ought to take you over my knee and thrash you."
His lips curved upward with an unconscious seductive appeal that I had long ago realized he had no idea he projected. "Such promises."
"It's not funny." She waved her hand at the room, but the gesture seemed to encompass the entire fleet. "If we send you back with a full escort, it will deplete our forces. We can't afford that right now."
"We could go back alone." He didn't sound worried; everyone knew Vazar would battle a Trader squadron single-handedly before she would let Coop put himself or Ryder in more danger.
"What if we go to war with the Allieds?" Vazar demanded. "This fleet is the front line of defense now. How can I shake sense into your beautiful head? You and Ryder shouldn't
be
here."
"Well, we are," he said mildly. "Vazar, being safe means nothing if we never see you again."
I moved away quietly, not wanting to intrude. Security would monitor Vazar's quarters as long as she remained in custody, but we could at least give her and Coop the privacy of being alone.
I paused by Ragnar and spoke in a low voice. "We can talk to her later."
He was still watching them with that hungry look. "I should stay. In case they need help."
"You will leave."
He glanced at me. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I murmured. "As long as you stay away from my sister-in-law and brother-in-law."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm glad." I motioned toward the entrance. "Shall we go?"
He paused as if to say more. Then he gave me a sour look. "Of course."
So we left. I tried not to dwell on the fact that I now had even less reason to trust Ragnar.
24
Dawn
Thunder rolled in the night. I bolted upright in bed, jerked awake by the noise. Although the air-mattress next to me was still warm, Eldrin had gone. A pounding came from somewhere in the suite. I scrambled out of bed, pulling on my robe, and ran into the living room.
Eldrin had gone mad. I had heard tales of his bloodlust in battle, when he was sixteen, but it had never sounded real. Now I better understood. He threw himself against the walls, his face twisted with fury, his fist pounding the unyielding surface, as if he would tear down the panels and crush the bulkheads beneath them. His rage flooded my mind.
"Eldrin!" I started forward, then stopped. In this state, he could kill me without realizing it. With alarm, I remembered my Security-busting programs. I had set them up earlier to make the monitors see Eldrin and me sleeping when we had been otherwise occupied.
"Laplace," I said. "End 'Welcome' program."
Eldrin whirled to me, his hair swinging around his face, his eyes huge and his gaze wild. He started forward, his fists clenched.
I backed into the bedroom. "Dryni, it's Dehya. Don't you recognize me?" I tried to reach his mind, but his thoughts flared like wild-fire.
He kept coming. As I stumbled, he strode into the bedroom. I regained my balance, but I had nowhere to run. He caught my upper arm and flung me against the wall. I put up my hands to cushion the impact and barely managed to turn my head in time to keep from breaking my nose when I hit. I couldn't believe this. Not Eldrin—
"Father, don't."
The voice came from behind us. Eldrin's grip on my arm jerked and dropped away. I looked over my shoulder to see him facing me, his hand raised, the fingers spasmed into a claw. Then he lowered his arm and turned around.
Taquinil stood in the doorway to the living room. He wasn't as tall as Eldrin, nor did he have his father's broad shoulders or muscular frame. But he showed no fear. Eldrin started toward him, making what sounded like a snarl.
Taquinil faded into mist.
Eldrin faltered, raising his fists as if to defend against an unseen foe. Then he swung around, his gaze raking the room. I didn't feel his rage as much now; it was fading into confusion.
"Dehya?" He dropped his arms and slowly opened his fists, looking at his hands as if he didn't recognize them.
"Are you all right?" I asked. Now that he was rational, the reaction set in and I began to shake. I gulped and sat down hard on the floor.
"What happened?" He came over, then stopped when I flinched. "I won't hurt you."
I took a ragged breath. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." Moving more slowly, he sat next to me. "What did I do?"
I tried not to shake, wishing I could be more hardened, a warrior like Vazar. But with Eldrin, I had no defenses. A tear ran down my cheek.
"Ah, love." He pulled me closer, drawing me sideways against him, between his legs, his muscular arms around my body. I should have felt threatened, being held so close by a former warrior who had just gone berserk, but I couldn't fear Eldrin. Logic told me to run; intuition said stay.
I laid my head against his chest and closed my eyes. Eldrin had been the only one I could trust. I needed him. Without the sanctuary of the man I loved, I didn't know if I could keep going. Somehow I had to rebuild the psiberweb out of nothing. And I knew too many secrets. Soz. Jaibriol. Eldrinson. Seth. The children. I understood why Taquinil wanted to stay in Kyle space; I wished I could retreat myself.
Laplace suddenly spoke. "I have Jagernauts outside. Shall I let them in?"
"No." My voice caught, trembling. "Not now."
"Dehya, don't cry." Eldrin brushed his hand down my hair.
I swallowed. "I've no right to cry. You're the one they did this to."
"No. Gods, no." He laid his head against mine. "Don't tell me the Traders did something to me. I couldn't bear it if I hurt you. I would rather die."
"You didn't recognize me."
Bitterness darkened his voice. "On Lyshriol, my going berserk was considered bravery, especially after I crushed a man in combat with my bare hands." He shook his head. "When I went to the Orbiter, the doctors said my brain had a problem, that in the midst of battle I had experienced a convulsion caused by a neural overload."
The memory trickled into my mind. The extra neural structures that made Eldrin such a powerful empath also made his mind susceptible to overloads, sending him into a convulsion. It wasn't epilepsy; during an episode he could continue what he was doing but he lost control of himself. At Eldrin's request, the doctors had treated him so he no longer had seizures.
"Your mind was always that way," I said. "This may have nothing to do with the Traders."
"Unless whatever they did to me triggered it."
"But why tonight?"
"I had another dream." His voice quieted. "About my father. That he died several months ago."
"I'm so sorry, love." I had felt it too, a drifting apart of the Triad.
"Before now, I was certain he went peacefully, surrounded by family." The tensed muscles in his arms felt like steel cords. "Tonight I dreamed ISC buried him alive in space. I was him, trapped in orbit, inside a coffin."
No wonder he had lost control. "Could the Traders have planted the image?"
"Perhaps." He spoke softly. "I only know you aren't safe with me."
"No." I didn't want to lose the haven of his presence. "If your father's death triggered that, why did it happen now instead of when he died?
"Something about our debate today with Chad and Jon stirred it up." He bent his head over mine, his voice strained. "Until we know more, you can't risk being alone with me. Taquinil might not stop me next time."
A tear slid down my face. "We've lost so much, Dryni. I can't lose you, too."
His voice caught. "We have no choice."
* * *
The residential parks of
Havyrl's Valor
had a serenity at odds with the cruiser's purpose. The ship was so large, it could maintain a self-sufficient biosphere. Security chief Jinn Opsister and several of our bodyguards led the way along a graveled path between several gardens. Other guards accompanied us, but they stayed far enough away to give the illusion of privacy.
Eldrin and I walked on either side of Tania Merzon, one of the cruiser's doctors. She continued in a subdued voice. "I can't find any tampering to your mind, Prince Eldrin, but that doesn't mean nothing was done. Are you certain the nightmare set it off?"
"Yes." New lines furrowed Eldrin's forehead. "It felt like I had been buried alive. No sight, touch, sound, smell. Not even taste, because a med-line was cycling nutrients into my body." He shuddered. "Nor could I reach anyone with my mind. I was in space, not underground."
It sounds like sensory deprivation,
I thought.
Yes.
His thought had a hollow feel.
Tania considered. "It could be a subconscious reaction to your captivity with the Traders."
He didn't look convinced. "Yes, I hated being Corbal's slave. But this nightmare felt like an echo of someone else's memory."
"If someone imprinted it on your mind," Tania said, "it would probably feel as if it didn't belong to you."
I pushed aside a curling tendril that had escaped the hair piled on my head. "But what triggered it?"
