TICEES (15 page)

All three of them managed weak smiles, and Dar and Fremma were considerably relieved by her comment. They both knew the strain on security and the risk to life and limb such an announcement would make. And nobody knew the laws of their world better than they. A great Warlord such as Korba would definitely overstep the bounds of the Empire and all the Imperial laws should he choose foolishly to make such a decision.

“Okay,” said Fremma, disturbing everyone’s personal thoughts. “The Koll has already begun, and Korba will be speaking right now. Let’s get you dressed and ready to go.”

Chelan smiled at Fremma and then turned toward Korba’s chambers. Fremma nodded to Dar and followed her in. Chelan quickly slipped from her gown as Fremma removed the special one from under his shroud. They smiled at one another as Chelan raised her arms. Fremma draped it over her head, pulling it carefully down over her silky body. Then he sealed the fine back opening by sliding his finger along the material, closing the seam in the same manner as their uniforms.

Fremma stepped back and feasted his eyes on her extreme beauty. The placement of the sequins accentuated her voluptuous breasts and curvaceous hips, and his heart nearly stopped beating. “Oh, my Lady. I predict that there will be no security problems. The masses will be too stunned to move.”

Chelan smiled broadly and then pressed her fingers to her lips in surprise as Fremma reached within his shroud again and drew out her new shoes. “Oh, my,” she whispered as she took them from him. They were beautiful open-toed sandals with a delicate ankle strap, gold in color with a long, tapered heel that would add ten centimeters to her height.

“They are simply perfect,” she whispered.

Fremma shrugged at her. “I have never seen shoes such as those. I don’t know how you are ever going to walk anywhere in them without breaking an ankle.”

Chelan smiled and pecked at his cheek in appreciation. “Don’t you worry, my gentle warrior. This is what we Earth females learn to walk in from an early age.”

Fremma frowned. “Whatever for?”

Chelan sneered at him mischievously. “Someday I will show you, but for now, my hair,” she reminded exuberantly.

Fremma moved behind her and set about his task; soon the sides were drawn up elegantly, the long tendrils cascading down over the rest of her hair.

Then she reached under the bed for a box of sequins that she had hidden. Fremma watched her as she sat in front of a mirror and produced from the box long strands of the gems bound together. Chelan wove them in and out of her hair, starting along the drawn-up sides, and taking the strings all the way down to the ends of her locks. When she had finished, she took out a small, flower-like arrangement of the jeweled objects and placed it on the top of her head where Fremma had bound her hair. Standing, she turned to him, and his jaw dropped in unabashed awe.

“Oh, come on now,” Chelan chided. She watched him carefully, deciding to see if Dredon’s words were accurate. “In all the worlds you have visited, you cannot tell me that you have never seen beautiful women adorned thus.”

Fremma’s eyes met hers, his face serious. “I can honestly say I have not, my Lady. The worlds we visit, we destroy. We have no time to feast our eyes on such feminine beauty.”

Chelan sobered at the grim reality portrayed through his words, but as quickly as she faltered, she regained her spirit, knowing full well the effect she would have on Korba. Then she moved to the bed and sat down. She raised the hem of her gown and slipped her delicate feet into the shoes. She felt like Cinderella placing her feet into her glass slippers. Once the ankle straps were fastened, she stood. She raised the gown higher and looked to Fremma. “Well?”

The warrior could only stare at her long, shapely legs accentuated by the high heels, and his loins heated. All he wanted to do was push her back onto the bed, hike her gown up further yet, and take her again and again.

Smiling with satisfaction, Chelan reached forward and pinched him out of his stunned silence. “Shall we go?” she whispered.

Fremma shook himself from her bewitching spell and smoothed his shroud, offering his arm to her. Together they walked into the Command Center, where Dar casually turned to them. But his reaction was not so casual, for his azure eyes flared at the sight he beheld.

Chelan released Fremma’s arm and demurely raised the front of the dress, beginning her graceful descent down the stairs toward the staggered Warlord. Then she stood before him and looked up at him expectantly.

But Dar did not speak. Instead, he surprised Chelan and shocked Fremma as he dropped to one knee before her in genuine reverence. He looked up into her calm face. “You are a picture of true regal elegance, my Lady, a woman definitely worthy of a great Warlord.” And he bowed his head.

Chelan blushed and looked to the floor as he rose. Fremma still couldn’t believe his eyes. He had never before witnessed a Warlord kneel before anyone, not even the Emperor, and he was thunderstruck.

Slowly, Dar circled her, studying her, his fingers brushing her jeweled hair. Finally, he stopped in front of her, his hands on his hips. He looked up at Fremma. “She renders me breathless,” he admitted candidly. “I don’t think we should let her out of our sight, much less turn her over to Korba.”

Fremma grinned. “My thoughts exactly, my Lord.”

“Cut it out, you two. You’re teasing me,” Chelan interjected.

“Well,” said Dar, drawing a deep breath. “Let’s get Lazen’s men in here, and we’ll see how many of them are left standing after they see her.”

“Dar!” she shouted. “You’re not helping my nerves at all.”

Dar chuckled at her. “My Lady,” he emphasized, “in that gown, you are not helping my equanimity, my control, or my work one bit. I shall be forthright. I would rather bend you over that command chair and have my way with you than deal with any aspect of the bloody Koll. And I would gladly share your delicious swelling feminine curves with Fremma, even though I am well aware that he has already had his fill. If you think my words are metaphorical in nature, I will remove my shroud and show you that they are indeed not. In truth, you may be about to unravel the senses of all the men on board these two great ships. So I’m afraid that your frayed nerves are the least of my problems.”

Chelan instantly turned a bright shade of crimson, the thought of the desires he had just expressed pooling in her core. She wanted to endure the Koll for Korba, but Dar was right: the Koll overall was a nightmare, and if offering herself up on a platter to the blonde Warlord was actually a viable alternative, she would partake. Heat rose through her like a flame, and she laid a palm against her heaving breasts. “Hell …” she whispered.

Fremma and Dar both grinned at her, and finally Chelan smiled back at them, some of her tension surrounding the Koll easing, but only marginally. Corralling her other thoughts was another matter.

Without further ado, Dar contained himself and then pressed the security switch, and the main doors parted. Chelan involuntarily sought cover by stepping behind Dar, remaining concealed by his shroud.

“My Lord,” acknowledged Lazen.

Chelan peeked out from behind her refuge and watched as about thirty guards filtered in through the door and flanked Lazen. She groaned. “I don’t need this,” she croaked quietly, her comment causing Dar to lose his composure temporarily.

“You’ll live,” he breathed as he simultaneously nodded to Lazen. “Report,” he ordered.

“All is ready, my Lord. It is time to escort you and the Lady Chelan to the main assembly hall.”

Chelan shuddered just as Dar spoke. “Good,” he acknowledged as he reached behind him, grabbing her arm and pulling her forcibly out from her hiding place.

Fremma knew each and every man in the room personally, and he watched with amusement as not one of them remained immune to Chelan’s effect. Despite all their training in control, every one of their bodies betrayed normal male reactions in response to Chelan’s stunning beauty, her body, and her face highlighted by the spectacular pink gown. The combination was simply devastating.

Fremma looked to Dar and exhaled sharply. Dar nodded to him, observing the same reaction in the men. He rolled his eyes and took in a deep breath. “Let’s go,” he muttered. “Let’s get this over with before someone passes out, or worse yet, combusts.”

Dar took Chelan by the arm and escorted her up the stairs and then stood before Lazen.

Lazen removed his hood and smiled warmly at her. “It is indeed a privilege and an honor, my Lady, as always. And I assure you, there will be no problems. I will always be to your right and slightly behind you, even when you are seated. Don’t hesitate to ask for anything at any time.”

Chelan smiled. “Thank you, Lazen,” she said quietly. Chelan’s attention was then caught as another of the shrouded figures stepped forward and removed his hood. “Yanis,” she gasped. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

“My Lady,” he acknowledged warmly. “I wouldn’t miss this for all of Iceanea. I will always be on your left, also available for your needs.” Then Yanis’ lip quirked. “And may I say, my Lady, you are much taller than when we first met.”

Chelan laughed and then reached down and raised her gown slightly. She looked up to see all eyes on her in wonderment. Chelan cleared her throat. “An Earth fashion,” she said.

Yanis was struck dumb, but Dar kept the conversation moving. “So, as you can see,” he interjected firmly, “you will be constantly surrounded by friends and familiar faces. There is absolutely nothing to worry about … unless, of course, you do manage to break an ankle.”

Everyone burst out laughing, and Chelan was at ease for the first time since the day had begun. With that, all the men donned their hoods, and Chelan was escorted out into the corridor to begin her journey to Korba’s side.

*****

In the main assembly hall, Korba had just finished his speech regarding the dead, and all heads were hung in a moment of mourning and remembrance. But Korba’s mind was elsewhere, for he knew Chelan would now be outside the main doors. He scanned the broad throngs of security, noting each man and his position. Satisfied, his eyes moved to the thousands of warriors before him, his icy gaze picking out potential trouble spots. But his most wary eye was riveted to Marri, not far away. She had been granted permission to leave her quarters for the Koll, as she had still been confined there, her answer to his ultimatum still unknown.

The warrior seemed to be having difficulty accepting her place with regard to Chelan, and Korba had given Marri the choice of continuing to work under his command with the understanding that their nonprofessional life was and would always be platonic. But if she could not accept that or acknowledge Chelan’s new position, then Korba would have her reassigned. Until that decision was made, Marri was relieved of all duties.

Korba took a deep breath, his stomach in knots the likes of which he had never experienced, his concern lying solely with his lady. He had already overheard many stirrings and theories as to who would occupy the third chair, and he knew that his choice was going to cause quite a fuss, to say the least.

Finally, a tone sounded to indicate the beginning of the meal period and the time of Chelan’s entrance. Korba moved uneasily beneath his shroud as he glanced at Marri. She held her head high, her eyes intent upon him. Many others looked upon the two, witnessing the unease between them while speculating quietly on its source.

Then the crowd drew silent as Korba stood, the masses following his lead. Finally, after a brief hesitation he nodded to the guards at the far door. “Men and women of RIBUS 8 and 7, may I present Commander Dar,” his voice boomed, “and the Lady Chelan.”

Chelan did not hear the introduction but registered panic once again as the doors to the cavernous room opened. Dar and Fremma both pulled off their hoods, the action comforting her ever so little. But her knees felt weak, and she quivered uncontrollably as her peripheral vision caught the awaiting multitudes.

With the doors fully opened, Dar set into motion. But Chelan remained still with fear. She felt Fremma’s hand on her shoulder as he spoke to her in English. “There is nothing to worry about, my Lady. Keep your eyes on Dar’s back and that damnable blonde hair, and all will be well.”

Chelan grinned as Dar signed that he had heard that malicious statement. Then she took her first step toward the masses. Yanis and Lazen immediately presented arms, and the flood of guards moved out to her sides.

As she stepped into view, there was an uneasy hush followed by gasps, and then the hall erupted in loud conjecture. Chelan focused straight ahead at Dar, forcing herself to ignore the cacophony. Then she heard Fremma’s soothing voice once again.

“Three quarters of the gasps, Chelan, are from the men taken aback by your beauty. The other one quarter is from the women who know they have met their match.”

Chelan almost giggled, and she turned her head slightly, catching his exuberant face in her peripheral vision. Finally, Chelan looked past Dar to her destination, and her heart skipped beats at the sight of her handsome man, his face registering unequaled awe.

Chelan carried herself proudly, her feminine pink gown shimmering in the lights, her steps exuding self-assurance and grace. Her hair appeared to be rivers of jewels, and at the sight of her, Korba found himself unable to move, let alone think. Her beauty consumed him, and his heart swelled with adoration and a deep, unfettered love.

As she neared him she smiled, and he finally shook himself from her bewitching spell. She was surrounded by an aura of sensuality and dignified refinement, a true goddess worthy of worship, a breathtaking temptress to those who knew her, an alluring mystery to those who did not.

Korba swallowed, his dry throat catching as Dar stopped in front of him. Then Dar nodded to Korba. “My Lord,” he acknowledged.

Korba returned the formal nod and then looked to Chelan, spellbound. “My Lady,” he whispered, oblivious to the din around the hall.

Chelan was not sure how to respond, but she curtsied demurely. “My Lord,” she answered quietly.