The Moon's Shadow (5 page)

C
orbal Xir was an impostor.

Lying in his opulent bed with its ornate posts and tasseled canopy, Jai brooded. The minds of Aristos were like an immense weight pressing on his mind. It exhausted him to maintain his barriers every moment, never relaxing except at times like this, when he was alone.

Corbal caused no pressure.

Jai didn’t understand how his cousin could be so unlike other Aristos. Didn’t they notice he was different? Maybe only a psion could sense the lack of threat. Corbal acted like an Aristo, owned worlds, had providers, and looked Highton, except for his white hair.

Strange, that. White hair. Aristos were fanatics about their supposed “perfection.” Taken altogether, they were like a huge machine with identical parts, each Aristo icily designed in their unforgiving ideal of beauty. It had no appeal to Jai, but they considered their homogeneity inviolate. He understood why Corbal had chosen to interrupt it; his cousin’s white hair accentuated his authority. But Jai felt what the Aristos would never know: Corbal wasn’t like them. It made Jai wonder.

A rustle came out of the darkness.

Jai sat bolt upright in bed. “Who is that?”

Another rustle. He sensed the mind of a psion. Alarmed, he strengthened his mental barriers. “Lumos on,” he said.

The lights came up, revealing his bedchamber. It made him dizzy. The gold and sapphire furnishings sparkled. Gold hangings adorned the walls, and ivory friezes bordered the horseshoe arches. The room’s antique quality spoke of more than his wealth, it was also a testament to his power that no holo-ads adorned the furniture or trim. He had the authority to prevent the planetary network from marring the privacy of his rooms. But the decor wasn’t what riveted his attention. No, a far more natural beauty caught him. A girl.

She stood across the room, an impossible vision. Jai flushed, suddenly remembering he wore nothing except a dark nightshirt he had found in the bureau. The girl’s negligee drifted around her thighs, barely veiling her spectacular curves. Her breasts strained against the gauze, the enlarged nipples erect. Her hair glimmered like the proverbial spun gold, but soft and pliant, pouring around her body. And her
eyes.
They were huge, bluer than the sky on Earth and framed by gold lashes. A rosy blush touched her cheeks, and she averted her gaze with virginal shyness.

“Who are you?” Jai stuttered.

“My honor at your presence, Your Glorious Highness.” Her voice was a blend of innocence and sultry promise.

Sweat broke out on Jai’s brow. “Why are you here?”

“Lord Xir sent me.” She looked up. “As a present, to welcome you to the palace.”

“You’re his pleasure girl.”

“Tonight, I am yours.”

Oh, Lord.

“Would you like me to come over?” she asked.

“Yes,” he managed, forgetting any reasons he might have had about refusing providers.

She walked forward, her negligee molding to her breasts, her slim waist, her hips, and thighs. Jai couldn’t stop staring. She climbed onto his air-bed and knelt next to him, her hair brushing his arms. He could barely think.

“You’re so pretty.” Jai winced as soon as he spoke the words. He sounded as nervous as he felt.

Her smile warmed her face. “You are kind to say so, especially when you are a man of such magnificent form.”

Even knowing she was supposed to compliment him, Jai wanted to believe every word. Mesmerized, he ran his finger along her lower lip, tracing its curve. She shyly laid her hand on his shoulder, then slid it down his chest. He knew he should hold back, find the hidden thorns on this gift, but he didn’t want to be sensible now.

“So strong,” she murmured, moving closer. “Hold me.”

With a sigh, he pulled her into his arms. Her mouth was so close when she turned up her pretty face that he couldn’t help but bring his lips to hers. It wasn’t his first kiss; there had been a few times during his two years on Earth, though he had never gone any further. But it had never been like this. The provider melted against him, warm and pliant, her mouth opening under his.

With care, Jai laid her on her back, pulling down the covers so she sank into the downy sheets. Then he stretched out on top of her, and filled his hands with her breasts. Being emperor of Eube suddenly seemed less daunting. It had a lot more going for it than he had thought.

Then he saw the images in her mind.

Her telepath’s mind magnified their violent impact. She had lain this way with a select few of Corbal’s guests, and had suffered at their hands. Their brutality went beyond Jai’s ability to comprehend. She pretended to want him, but fear saturated her thoughts. She expected the same agony from him—no, worse, because he was the emperor.

“Gods, no.” Jai sat up, his desire transformed into horror. “I could never—” Too late, he stopped, realizing his words would give him away.

If she understood what he had just revealed, she gave no hint. “Have I displeased you?” She sat up quickly and laid her hands against his chest, toying with the fastenings on his nightshirt. Her delicate fragrance drew him.

Jai caught her hands. Her fear intensified, and he longed to say
I won’t hurt you.
Her fear made him want to hit someone. Even having known what it meant to be an Aristo, he had never really understood. It was beyond his ability to comprehend how they could consider themselves exalted when they committed such violence against people they were supposed to love.

She had no mental defenses. None. No one had taught her to protect herself. It sickened him to realize why; it made her more vulnerable to the link that formed between an Aristo and a provider. Aristos had a cavity where their capacity for compassion should have been, a void in their souls.

Alarm sparked in the girl’s mind. “Please forgive me if I have disappointed you.”

“No! You haven’t. You’re perfect.” He took her hands in his. “I just—uh—took a vow.”

“A vow?”

He tried to think of an intelligent follow-up to that panicked remark. Given Aristo culture, she was hardly going to believe a vow of celibacy.

Then her mind prodded his.

Ah, hell.
She was trying to probe his thoughts. Corbal had sent her to
spy
on him. Pah. Maybe Corbal was the one he should sock.

“A vow?” she repeated.

“That’s right. To protect myself.” Jai raised his voice. “You hear, Corbal?” He had no doubt his cousin could monitor this room. “Sending pretty spies won’t work. I’m not that stupid.” He hoped Corbal really was listening; otherwise he would look like an idiot, telling the room he wasn’t stupid.

The girl tensed, gripping his fingers. He spoke to her in a gentler voice. “Don’t be afraid of me. Lord Xir made a mistake, that’s all.”

Doubt leaked from her mind. Then he felt another of her emotions—and it scared the hell out of him. Recognition. Just as he could feel her psion’s mind, so she could do the same with him. She didn’t understand yet, but she might soon. His parents had given him extensive training in using his abilities, and he had a greater mental strength than the provider, so it was easier for him to detect her than the reverse. But a faint suspicion glimmered in her thoughts.

Jai exhaled. “The hour is late.”

“Do you wish me to go?”

“I think so.” He had to force out the words.

She slid off the bed and padded across the room, her shift clinging to her body. He so wished she could stay. What a bizarre life this was, that he had to worry about being discovered as a kindhearted man.

After she left, he lay down, even more aware of his loneliness. It wasn’t only sensual; he missed his family, too. For the first fourteen years of his life, they had been the only people he knew. Now they were gone. He had lost a part of himself.

Lisi, his sister, was almost fifteen, bright and quick, with her teasing humor. Ten-year-old Vitar had always shouted with delight when Jai swung him around. Del-Kelric wasn’t even five. Their mother had left them in the care of Admiral Seth Rockworth on Earth, trusting him because he had once been married to her aunt.

Jai had searched the nets for news about his siblings, but found nothing. He knew they would go into hiding when they learned he had become emperor. He dared investigate no further, lest he draw attention to them, risking their freedom and raising questions about his own parentage.

Jai grieved, knowing he could never see them again.

Corbal sat in his dimly lit study, relaxed in his smartchair, his hands folded around a crystal tumbler. He took a swallow of brandy and let it warm his throat.

A door opened across the room. His bodyguards had let him know who was coming, but he said nothing, just stared into space, sipping his drink.

Bare feet padded on the floor. Then she came into view, Sunrise, his favorite provider. She dropped to her knees in front of his chair, between his thighs, and bowed her head. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “Please forgive me.”

Corbal took another swallow. “All right.” He wasn’t displeased; she had done her best. He could never be angry with her anyway.

Her relief at his response showed in the relaxing of her shoulders. He set his tumbler on the arm of his chair, which adjusted to secure the glass. He ruffled Sunrise’s hair, enjoying its glossy texture. Pressing his legs against her body, he savored the flex of his muscles against her curves. One-hundred-thirty-two years old and he had a better physique than men in their thirties.

“So.” He reclined in his chair. “Our prudish emperor talks to the air.”

“He is intelligent.”

“Is he now?”

“Not as intelligent as you,” she added quickly. “Your wisdom is matchless.”

“Hardly,” Corbal said. She would tell him he was the greatest genius alive if she thought he wanted to hear it. She might even believe what she said. Such traits had been bred into her; she came from a line of providers designed for devotion, submission, and affection. It was why he liked her so much.

Jaibriol was a fool to send her away. Not that Corbal minded. It meant he had Sunrise tonight. And he did like her. Although she was his best spy, it had become harder and harder to offer her to other Hightons. He wanted her for himself, only for himself—and he hated that they hurt her.

Careful.
Love made a person vulnerable, which was, of course, unacceptable. He had enough to worry about, like the new emperor. He had suspected the boy’s intelligence from the start. Jaibriol had contacted him with what looked, at first glance, like a crude claim of Xir heredity. His true message had been cleverly hidden within the message.

After watching the boy these past days, Corbal thought Jaibriol would comport himself as emperor better than his father. That wasn’t saying much; the father had lived in seclusion during the two years of his reign. The previous emperor would have been better suited to domestic life than to ruling Eube. The son clearly had more to work with. Maybe too much; the boy was proving unpredictable.

Corbal knew he had to watch himself with Jaibriol, lest the boy discover his Xir cousin no longer transcended. Corbal had no intention of changing any other aspect of his life; being one of the most powerful and wealthy men alive suited him just fine. But he had no wish to hurt Sunrise. Providers were pleasure slaves in every sense of the word; that he had stopped transcending didn’t alter his enjoyment of her sensual charms.

To change his brain, Corbal had needed to learn why he transcended, including how his genetics related to those of psions. It gave him knowledge possessed by few others—and so he had recognized the anomalies in Jaibriol’s DNA.

The emperor was a psion.

Jaibriol had hidden the evidence well; Corbal would never have noticed if he hadn’t already conducted forbidden research when he investigated his own genetics. Jaibriol III was without doubt the son of Jaibriol II, yet he was also a telepath and empath. It was impossible.

Compelled to understand, Corbal had tried ever more obscure tests on Jai’s DNA, going far beyond those necessary to verify the boy’s paternity. Then he had cracked open the records of past emperors. It had taken an immense amount of work, and he couldn’t have managed without the intelligence networks he had been developing for over a century, but he had finally uncovered the truth.

Eube Qox had been full Highton.

Jaibriol I had been full Highton.

Ur Qox had been half Highton.

Jaibriol II had been one-fourth.

Jaibriol III was one-eighth.

The Qox dynasty had bred itself a Ruby psion. Corbal even understood why. Centuries ago the Skolians had found three Locks, ancient machines that had survived for five millennia after the fall of the Ruby Empire. Modern science couldn’t replicate the Locks. However, Ruby psions could use them to create a computer web in Kyle space, a universe outside of spacetime. The physical laws of spacetime had no meaning in Kyle space, making it possible to bypass the limitations of light speed—which allowed instantaneous communication across interstellar distances.

Skolians often called the network the “psiberweb.” The name annoyed Corbal. Psions were providers. It was like saying “providerweb.” He preferred the designation “Kyle web.” Regardless of what they called it, the web gave Skolians a great advantage over Eube. Their communications sailed; Eube’s trudged.

To operate, a Lock needed a Key—a Ruby psion. During the Radiance War, ESComm had stolen a Lock and captured Eldrin Valdoria, a Ruby prince. With both a Lock and Key, they could have built their own Kyle web. Corbal knew many Hightons condemned him for giving up Eldrin, even though they gained an emperor in return. Only Corbal knew that Jaibriol offered an even better solution. The pieces fit together, like a jigsaw puzzle.

The Kyle webs protected the Skolians.

A Triad of Ruby Keys powered the webs.

The Radiance War had decimated the Ruby Dynasty.

Soz Valdoria, the Imperator, had died. A Key.

Dyhianna Selei, the Ruby Pharaoh, had died. A Key.

Two vacancies now existed in the Triad.

A new Ruby Key could join the Triad using a Lock.