The Star Prince (30 page)

His expression sharpened. "I've… changed," she said and glanced away. She felt an echoing twinge in the part of her anatomy in question.

He slammed his hand down. "Who was it? Who were you with? Ian Hamilton? I thought he was a man of honor! If he thinks this is the way to become the— "

Hastily, she lowered the volume on the view-screen. "He is a man of honor." More than anyone imagined.

"You were with him for weeks without chaperones."

"I was with a number of his crewmembers."

He sputtered in shock.

"Not in that way, father," she put in before he choked to death.

He exhaled. "I am relieved to hear it."

Clearly, he thought she meant that she hadn't been with Ian in "that way," either. She didn't cor-rect him. More than any other prince, Ian needed an unsullied reputation. He'd admit to sleeping with her if he thought it would protect her, but she wouldn't give him that chance. She loved him; she would not ruin him.

"Everything's at stake, Tee'ah. I have no choice but to publicly state that you've undergone the test of purity."

The blood drained from her head. The rite was an ancient, rarely used determination of virginity. Appalled, she stared at her father. If she refused to go through with the test, it would cast doubt on Ian.

"I won't actually have you checked," her father assured her. "That would be too barbaric. But we must go through the motions to appease the Great Council. And the Vedlas."

"Yes, father." Sweet heaven. The Vedla family knew. What would stop Che— or Klark— from demanding that their physicians perform the actual examination?

She touched trembling fingers to the viewscreen.

"Your mother and I miss you," he said finally.

Her throat constricted. "Me, too."

Then the viewscreen went blank. Her mind raced through all the choices spread before her. They were fewer now, but crucial all: Return home for the test and save everyone from scandal? But, in doing so, she'd risk having to take the test itself and have the news of her impure state announced through the Vash Empire. Could she avoid it alto-gether by accepting Ian's promise of marriage? Unfortunately, both of those choices required that she return to the life she'd fled. What she needed was a safe haven away from everyone who had her "best interests" at heart. Earth came to mind, but she'd be so easy to find there.

Exhaustion, both mental and physical, overtook her. Unsteadily, she stood. Ian was waiting as the rest of the two crews pretended to go about their duties. No one had missed their first impassioned, whispered argument, and they were no doubt expecting another.

Ian searched her face, and his own fell. "He wants you to go home," he said.

"Yes."

"Are you?"

"I think it's best right now."

"But it's not what you want."

"Life's that way, it seems," she said crisply.

"Wait there for me. Wait until I'm finished on Earth. We'll put our heads together and figure something out. The way we always do."

"No. I have my duty. And you, sir, have yours."

Her soul wrenched with the look of disbelief that crossed his face. She took a step backward, as if putting distance between them physically would help her do so emotionally.

"You're right," he said after a moment, coldly. "I do."

Her chest was so tight that it hurt. She hurried off before she did something irreparable, like throw herself into his arms.

In the main area of the cockpit she addressed the cold-eyed woman named Lara. "Would you please show me where I might bathe?"

The woman nodded curtly and led her into the corridor. Part of her expected Ian to come after her, to fight for her, to rail at her, refusing to listen to her reasoning why they couldn't be together. But he didn't. Nor did she look back.

It was done.

Chapter Nineteen

"You sure don't look like a princess." Seemingly unaware of the skinny ketta-cat sleeping in her lap, Lara slouched in a chair in her quarters on the Quil-lie as she waited for Tee'ah to finish dressing.

Tee'ah didn't bristle at Lara's brusque, derisive manner. In fact, she preferred it to the careful courtesy and sympathy now displayed by the rest of the crew. She put on a fresh flightsuit and took a quick peek at her reflection in the mirror as she combed her wet hair off her forehead. In the overhead illumination, red-gold roots glinted. The person she once was, she thought, trying to push free. "To be honest, I don't feel much like a princess anymore." "The men trying to save you don't seem to mind." Tee'ah made a face. "I've never asked anyone to coddle me. But everyone does." She thought of Ian. "As soon as they find out I'm a princess."

"So many heroes willing to help. They'll have you back in your sumptuous palace before you know it. All your beautiful gowns will be waiting, cleaned and pressed."

Tee'ah shuddered at an image of the bedchamber. "My gilded cage. No, thank you."

"I will never understand how people who have luxuries don't appreciate them."

Tee'ah gave her left sleeve a too-sharp yank. "That's because people like you only see what I had, not what I didn't."

"Poor princess. What didn't you have?"

"Freedom." Her voice thickened with bitterness. "All the personal decisions you take for granted were made for me. Everything; relentlessly, every day, since the day I was born and likely before that. I was told how to style my hair, how to walk, how to talk. When my parents found out I was learning to fly— my only true act of rebellion in twenty-three standard years— they forbid me to continue. Even the selection of the man I was to marry was out of my hands." She sighed. "Have you any idea what it's like to have no say in any aspect of your life?"

Clearly taken aback, Lara stared at her and said nothing.

"I don't care how many glittering gowns hang in my closet, I'm not going back to that life. I'm going to Earth, actually." Her safe haven. "They have a non-extradition policy for all races, human and Vashr.

Lara gave her a funny look. "How do you know?"

"I looked it up a short while ago. I wanted to make sure it wouldn't cause any political fallout when I ask for asylum and my family demands my return."

"You're really serious about this."

She gazed out the viewscreen at a panorama of deep, cold, space. "It's not only for me. I can aid Ian in his efforts. I want to. I believe in his cause."

And if she had to see Ian from time to time in so doing, so be it, she thought desolately. They were both adults. In time, the hurt feelings and awkwardness between them would pass.

She turned to Lara. "I'll become involved in politics on Earth. The more people learn about the Vash, those of us who are progressive and who care about the frontier, the less uneasy they'll be about staying part of the Federation. I'll study the languages, so I can become a bridge of sorts between their politicians and ours." She tapped her chin. "I'll stay with Ian's twin sister, Ilana, if she'll have me. Ian told me quite clearly that she doesn't care for rules." Tee'ah hoped that meant propriety wasn't important to her, either, and that she wouldn't mind harboring a soiled, odd-looking, runaway princess. "It will be a start, at least, until I'm settled enough to move on." Her skin tingled. "Earth is my destiny, Lara. I truly believe that."

Frozen in place, Lara looked like she'd swallowed an oster egg.

Tee'ah wondered if she'd done the right thing by trusting this woman with her plans. "What is it?"

"Blast it all to hell. Those damned Vash." The pilot glanced up sharply. "No offense, but I thought I was helping retrieve a spoiled, impetuous royal— Not forcing a woman back to a life she doesn't want." A look of profound pain constricted Lara's features, as if she were fighting a tremendous inner battle. "No," she said. "I won't do it. I won't steal your choices… the way mine were stolen, long ago."

Tee'ah placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You understand?"

Lara's lips thinned. "Too well." She thought for a moment. "If I offered you a way to get to Earth, would you take it?"

Tee'ah's heart sped up. "Yes. Yes, I would."

Lara stood, spilling the ketta-cat out of her lap. "Let's go, princess." She took her by the arm and dragged her into the corridor. "I'm flying you to Earth. But if you want half a chance at succeeding, we'll have to do it before the men get back."

Ian strode through the Sun Devil in one last inspection of the repaired spacecraft. Gann followed, his hands clasped behind his back. Muffin brought up the rear, while Quin wrapped up last-minute details in the cockpit and Gredda and Push secured the air-depleted maintenance pod in the cargo bay. Ian forcibly dragged his mind away from what had happened in it. He'd chosen galactic peace over his own personal desires. It was the responsible thing to do, so why did he feel like such a jerk? You slept with her. And then you let her go. Part of him wished she had been willing to fight harder to keep what they had. But she hadn't, and she was right.

The good of the many outweighs the needs of the few.

The passage that had always guided his actions now left a bitter taste in his mouth. But it would get him through the next few days.

It had to.

"Captain!" Quin caught up to them. "There's a call for you. It's the king."

"Ah, good." He'd been trying to contact his stepfather all day, but Rom hadn't replied. Unusual for him not to do so, but then the man had his other responsibilities.

Ian took the call in the cockpit. Rom's face was already framed in the main communications view-screen. "Ah, Ian." A small scar on his stepfather's upper lip stretched thin. "Greetings."

Something was off, but Ian couldn't tell what it was. He nodded uneasily. "Greetings, my lord. I need to bring you up to date on what's happened."

"I imagine you do." Rom pressed his splayed fingertips together. "You changed the encryption codes on your comm. I couldn't reach you."

Something was definitely off. "I intended to brief you fully, as I will now. But at the time, I didn't want to risk broadcasting the details of my mission before I had the chance to determine Senator Randall's intentions."

Rom's voice rose. "Your mission is over."

"My lord?"

"I can't have you complicating the matter more so than it is already. My senior trade minister tells me the situation on Earth is near collapse."

"Help's on the way. I'm meeting with Randall and the president of the United States two days after I arrive. I forwarded you the information on the fringe worlds. Randall's ready to work with me on all counts. I believe I'm in a unique position to bring both sides together."

"No," Rom said bluntly. "The problem needs to be addressed in the Great Council first. We will debate the issues, agree on a course of action and proceed."

Ian didn't know how to respond. Rom was telling him one thing, but his gut was telling him another. Calling off the mission now smacked of recklessness and arrogance, not the prudence the Federation was renowned for. "Rom. By the time the Great Council makes a decision, it'll be too late— "

"I have too many fires to put out, Ian. I don't need you lighting any more. The frontier is more in danger of splitting apart than ever before. And on the home front, I have the Dars on one side, demanding to know what their daughter was doing on your ship, and on the other, the Vedlas are in an uproar, and understandably so."

Ian almost brought up Klark and his accusations against the prince. But he sensed that now wasn't the time. Instead he cleared his throat and said, "About the princess… "

"Joren says you stole her away."

"No, sir. She has higher principles than that. Higher than her father or anyone else, it seems, is willing to acknowledge."

"Higher than her own obligations, it appears."

"She didn't want to marry Che. The family tried to force her— and they still might. It's barbaric. I thought we wanted to lose the outdated traditions.'' In your private life you don't observe them, he wanted to argue. But he was already walking the fine line between honesty and disrespect, and so he pulled back. "If they try to force her again, we need to step in."

The muscles in Rom's jaw flexed, as if he was clenching his teeth. "I'm willing to discuss any aspect of your relationship with her, except you continuing it."

"Well, she was a damned good starpilot and an indispensable member of my crew. She'll be missed."

"Just make sure she gets home." Rom regarded him stonily. "I will see you at the palace." The viewscreen went blank.

Ian gripped his armrests. He felt like a ship ripped from its mooring line in a class-five hurricane. In all his dealings with the Vash Nadah, the Great Council, the other royals, one thing he'd always had, and had learned to count on, was Rom's encouragement and support. With the extensive information he'd compiled and had now sent on to Rom, he couldn't fathom his stepfather ordering him to come home. Not now, not when he was so close. But obviously Rom thought he'd screwed up. Worse, the king had summoned him to Sienna to keep him from mucking up anything else.

Wearily, Ian stood. Muffin and Gann were staring at him in shock. He jerked his hands in the air. "What?"

Muffin shook his head. "You've really done it now, Captain."

"I'll say." Gann scratched his fingers through his hair. "In thirty years working with the man, I've never seen him that angry."

Muffin let out a half-nervous, half glad-it-wasn't-me chuckle.

Ian glared at them. "Nothing like a supportive crew in times of trial." He rubbed his hands over his face and walked to the gangway. "We're aborting the mission. Prepare to depart for Sienna," he said bitterly. As he hoisted himself to the first rung, a vibration rumbled through the Sun Devil, then a jolt followed by ominous silence.

Gann, Muffin, and Ian exchanged disbelieving glances. "They wouldn't," Ian said.

Gann swore under his breath. "Normally, I'd agree with you. With her I'm not so sure."

They bolted up the gangway and down the corridor to the portal where the Quillie had been docked. What had been an open passageway leading to Gann's ship was now a closed airlock. In front of the hatch the ketta-cat sat, lonely and forlorn, mewing its heart out.