StarSet (The Warrior Prince's Claim - BBW Science Fiction Romance) (6 page)

“I'm on royal errand,” she told him with a return wink. “For the object of the Prince's interest: Shala.”

She turned to look at Shala, and Shala flushed at the curious warmth in their eyes as their gazes fell onto her.

“She's a beauty. We'll have her fitted in something extravagant. What event are we preparing for, Suni?”

“Eiowa.”
Looking slightly taken aback, the fitter quickly composed his expression.

“Extraordinary.”

Turning to Shala, he smiled toothily.

“Pardon my manners. I am Elsben. It's wonderful to have you. If you'll both follow me to the back.”
The rows of garments and materials in the narrow corridor he led them through shone with such luxurious fabrics and jeweled adornments; Shala was afraid to even brush against them. But soon he showed them to the circular room at its middle, where a mirror and curving benches lined the walls.

“If you'll stand here, please.”

Elsben drew out an old-style measuring tape, and wrapped it around Shala's legs, arms, and mid-section with the flair of a pro, taking obvious mental notes as he strained his brows. It was all very quick before he pulled a rack from the back and began to lift gown after gown to her, tilted his head as he assessed her, his eyes glinting with the sure skill of an experienced fitter. Squinting his eyes, he matched the gowns to her dusken skin and the golden rose undertones that highlighted it.

There was no talk throughout this process, only grunts and hmms as he did his work. But when he finally gasped and a brilliant smile rose to lift the corners of his wide mouth, she knew he'd found the one: a gown of artful shreds and tatters in subtly matched, sea tones, tight enough to hug her voluptuous curves without making her look shamefully wanton.

Even she approved.

Stealing a glance at Suni, Shala saw that the emissary was quite impressed, as well.

“We have our gown,” Elsben told her, exchanging a meaningful look.

“That's a gown meant to precede a wedding.”

“And one to ensure such a grand account for my humble shop.”

Shala suppressed a giggle at what equated to a mental dap or high-five shared between the old friends who seemed to have forgotten she was even there for a moment.

“Send over the image quickly will you ? I'll need to make the jeweler's by first light.”

“I... have duty at first light,” Shala interrupted, immediately shrinking back from their abrupt shift of perspective to take her in. Their expressions told her she'd spoken out of turn; she'd make a mental note of it.

“The jeweler will only see an emissary or one of the royals, themselves, dear. No worries over that. We'll match the image to the jewels, along with your imprint,” Suni assured kindly.

Shala didn't ask what
imprint
she might be referring to.

“Of course, I apologize for interjec-”

“Do stop apologizing, child! You're far too polite. The other royals will have you for dinner if you plan to go around with no social armor.”

~

The “imprint” the jeweler would need as it turned out was an energetic read that would match Shala to the Teleran ancestors whose signatures were most like her own. Shala half-expected it was also a sort of test the royals would record for their archives to ensure what kind of spirit she was in case the prince
did
deign to take things further than just one night with her by his side.

It was painless, a slight buzzing from an odd plant that read her energies and announced its findings in its petals with an assortments of colors, textures and patterns. Suni told her the flower would replicate, and several would be woven into her hair the night of Eiowa. The bloom was an identifier, apparently, and wearing it would signal everyone to just “what kind” of halfling she was.

By the looks of things, her warrior blood, slight Kalion seership, and the inner dancer she never let anyone know was in her had come fully to the forefront. A strange mix, if Suni's expression was any indication, but it seemed to please the emissary well enough.

“That 'ought to do it, dear. I'll handle the rest. We'll send for you the morning of Eiowa. Please be ready to go upon the emissary's arrival.”

“Won't it be you?”

“That can't be guaranteed. The prince himself oversees your protection detail the day of the event.”

Shala bristled a little at the word “protection.” She doubted any Telerans would actually attack her, but she couldn't help but feel that the prince wasn't entirely sure of that. There were purists among them, who didn't appreciate the potential mixing of blood, and the fact that she was
already
quite mixed wouldn't fly well with their sort.

Pretty, identifying flowers in her hair ensuring she possessed a high percentage of warrior blood or no.

She'd been escorted back to her room after that, her second offer of tea politely refused, and before she could gather her wits, she was passed out on her bunk, not having even bothered to disrobe or shower.

Shala slept just like that, with her sheets entangling her legs wildly, well into the deep hours of star set. It wasn't until the intercoms announced some sort of trade arrival that she woke, heavy lidded and still in the sway of half-sleep.

Fighting it off, she peeled herself from the bunk and took a seat by the visi-panels awhile, drinking in the shining, licorice black of the ether they sailed through, like she was taking a gulp from a gigantic, dark ocean. She'd dreamed of taking to the stars for years on Kalion, as much for the escape such a trip afforded as for the beloved purpose of it. Never in a million years would she have dreamed a prince might be interested in her beyond whatever service she could provide him.

Of course, the prince's invitation might only be a thing of diplomacy, so there was certainly no cause to jump the gun and assume he was actually smitten with her. For all she knew, he might prefer the biddy things who squeezed into dresses that might otherwise fit a pre-teen.

Shala was as voluptuous and full-figured as they came, her waist a teensy slope compared to the swelled billow of her hips, and the generously rounded globes of her backside.

Her father and mother had had to beat her suitors off with a stick when they'd come calling before university, but Shala hadn't given herself to any of them, even in secret. And she wasn't a pinch ashamed of that. It was normal for a Kalion woman to wait for marriage to enter into the more sensuous rites of womanhood, and her father had never pressed the human cultural customs of casual intimacy upon her as an option. She half-suspected it was his way of saving himself the need to seriously damage the wrong sort of guy who might be tempted to offend his daughter.

There were all sorts of species touristing Kalion, and if Shala hadn't been a smart girl, she may have well wound up in one of their sensual nets.

She couldn't help but smile thinking of her father. He himself had been a mix of human cultures, his dusken skin and the sharp sliver cut of his eyes making his Asiatic heritage obvious to any who looked at him. She missed him and ma, more than her heart could take sometimes, but there was little to be done about it.

She'd been meant for the stars, and aside from the occasional visit home, in the stars she would remain. It'd become more a welcoming home than her own planet was, even visiting Earth had been a sore disappointment. Since the greening, it'd quickly spun into chaos with feyish creatures of the wood denouncing the barest hint of electronic technology.

Most people who weren't naturally enamored of the ways of the wood protectors were trying to get off of the planet through various galactic dating services, posts with the allied forces, and other trade-related reasons they hoped would allow them access to the star ships that would carry them far from a home they no longer recognized.

Stretching and rising up to order a tea from the butler-unit built into the wall of her closet-like kitchenette, Shala wondered how well she would mesh with Teleran culture, especially at a time of reverence for mythic frights, personification of elements, the spirits of Teleran folklore, and ancestors who enjoyed substantial honor among the culture's people.

Kalion had its own systems of ancestral reverence, but Telera one wasn't Kalion, and she wasn't entirely confident that she wouldn't mess something up at Eiowa. Suni had been an excellent advisor, and Shala soaked every bit of information up like a sponge.

Still, she thought as she gathered up her cup of tea when the nano-butler dinged, it was all a bit much to cram into her head on such short notice.

9

Shala was in good spirits the following day, and she woke finding much of the overwhelm had passed out of her while her subconscious worked on the new information she'd been given. She was feeling confident when she considered the coming event, and eyes sweeping the corridors of the commons, she couldn't help but greet the Telerans she encountered with more cheer than usual. Oddly enough, they seemed to return it, like she'd already been vetted and included into their fold during closed-door talks privy only to them. It helped to take any of the lingering edge off of her focus, though she had a faint dredge of doom tugging at her gut throughout the day's duties. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on but also couldn't have ignored if she tried.

All seemed well, though, despite the muted alarm in her solar plexus. No staff hails or alarms had struck the air, the scanner didn't detect anything untoward on any of the decks. Not even one fight broke out amongst the warrior classes on the commoner's deck.

It had the makings of an unusually smooth day on Telera one, and perhaps that was all there was to her mild, pang of internal alarm. After all, when one is accustomed to chaos, a calm day is bound to be treated with suspicion.

When Shala finally sat down at her station, she did it with a forced ease borne of her repeatedly telling herself all was well. Within an hour or two she began to believe it, to accept the calm of the day and focus her attentions more wholeheartedly on her work.

This could all play out perfectly. Sometimes good things happened to good people. How could she expect to receive anything that set her soul at ease if she wasn't willing to even believe it was possible?

Cheerfully, she told herself she could do better than that. She could let potential problems rest until they revealed themselves for what they were.

For all she knew, they were just phantoms leeching any energy they were offered, and with the memotic contained, a diplomatic solution offered up on a silver platter, and a possible commendation if she played her part it in all effectively, Shala was beginning to believe that she was just at the edge of the dark tunnel she'd been walking since birth.
Right there at the edge of a less than joyous beginning, waiting to be delivered into a starlit middle, and nebulaic happy ending.

“Officer Kane, can you deliver the afternoon's data reports to Lex before you sign off?”

“Yes, Sir,” she told the captain with a cheer that wasn't at all forced.

"
I appreciate that. Glad to hear you in good spirits.”

“Glad to be in them, Sir.”

“Well, things do look like they might wind up taking a higher track than they did at first, don't they?”

“That, they do, Sir.”

“Alright. Take a load off tonight. We're checking the engine systems tomorrow and installing a temporary security measure until all of the allied ships are retrofitted to account for memotic breeches. We'll need you on your A-game.”

“I will be, Sir.”

“I have no doubt.”

Practically humming along the processing of the day's reports, Shala drank in the good vibes raining down on her from the universe. With any luck, they'd get through most of this transport in peace. And if they were really lucky, the Tavalar enforcer wouldn't seek to rain vengeance on the Telerans until well after they were transported planetside on their shiny, newish orb.

Well out of easy reach.

~

“Good work, Officer Kane. Maybe you should take the rest of the day and gather, 'aye? Tomorrow's got a pretty tall order waiting for you.”

The captain gave her a fatherly smile, and Shala couldn't help but warm reactively to it.

“Thanks. I think that would help me focus all the more.”

“It will. Swing by the archives and do a little reading on Eiowa, too. I know the emissary told you the essentials, but additional information never hurts.”

“Good idea, Captain.”

Well, he was awfully helpful today...

She'd half-expected him to treat her with suspicion for the invite she'd received, but he was acting like he couldn't be prouder. It struck her as a little odd. Fraternization was explicitly against the rules, and this event was right there on the line of things. An unthinking step in the wrong direction could mess it all up for everyone.

Surely, he'd considered that?

Ah, well. She'd take the gift and do some of that reading he'd recommended. It was a smart approach, and she fully intended to wind up on the wiser side of the fence than on the wrong