TICEES (18 page)

Korba turned to Dar in a rage, but Dar spoke before the Overlord could. “I cannot take only part of her, my friend. I will always be her confidant and ally. I will protect her as fiercely in your absences as if she were mine. But I cannot share my bed and my intense feelings without doing damage to your relationship. Someday, my love for her would force me to challenge you, and I will avoid that the only way I know how.”

Dar glanced at Chelan and straightened himself. He knew that the only way he could sever her bond to him was to push her to hate him. His eyes returned to Korba, and he took a deep breath. “I therefore return to my previous life, my Lord, with the Guild and with my ladies, with no reserve and no regrets … and I begin tonight.”

Chelan exhaled sharply as she hugged herself, and her quiet admission to her grief hit Fremma with such force that he lunged to strike Dar. But Korba tackled Fremma, subduing him quickly. Korba’s eyes flew to Dar’s, pleadingly. But Dar turned from them and left immediately for the solitude and sanctuary of RIBUS 8.

Both Korba and Fremma were left standing in the void that was created in the wake of Dar’s departure. It was as though all the air in the Command Center had just been evacuated, both men left dismayed by the unforeseen turn of events. Fremma was the first to stir. He simply signed to Korba. “I will leave now, my Lord. Call me if you require me.”

Korba nodded and watched the warrior leave. Then he looked through weary eyes to Chelan. He moved to her, his hand brushing over her slender back, but she did not respond.

Finally he stepped in front of her and looked down into her quiet eyes. She glanced up at him and shook her head at him in silent resignation. “I want to rest,” she stated flatly. “Alone.”

Korba reached for her hands and held them within his. “I’m so sorry, Chelan,” he whispered.

She looked down momentarily, and then turned from him and began for their chambers. Korba followed and stood quietly as she kicked off her shoes. She didn’t even bother with her gown, sinking into the massive bed and lying inert.

Korba sat on the edge of the bed and watched her for a time. Then he tipped his head back in an attempt to relieve the tension in his neck and spine, his muscles so taut with stress that they felt as though the fibers were tearing. He had been strung so tight with the possibility of battle with Dar that the chasm now before him left him free-falling headlong into another tangle of uncertainty with no relief in sight, physical or mental. He had cast both himself and his Lady into purgatory, both helpless to find the direction that led to a healing of minds and souls. They were adrift.

He looked back at her and stroked an ebony hand down her soft cheek, watching as her eyes closed against him. Then he stood. Both of them needed time to process all of the day’s calamitous events, and he did not want to pressure her in any way with his presence. He would abide by her wish for solitude.

Leaning over her, he kissed her delicately on her forehead and then left his chambers, heading for his private blue room. Once inside, he shrugged off his shroud and weapons and then attempted once again to mitigate the tenacious burn throughout his constricted body. He needed a physical release, but he knew not from whence that would come. As for now, he was too exhausted to tame the adrenalin that surged through him. The cure he required lay in his chambers, forsaking him, and until they could both reconcile all that had just happened, the rift between them could not be bridged. He deserved her scorn; of that he had no doubt. But the solution to the hopeless entanglement of Earth and Iceanean values was elusive at best, the mixing of the two cultures producing a toxic brew almost impossible to consume.

Korba threw himself down on his bed and closed his eyes. He desperately needed sleep and any healing insight that a new dawn could bring.

Korba awoke the next morning feeling an all-encompassing emptiness within him. The night before was to have been the happiest in his life, but instead it had been a dismal failure. His Lady—his mate, his beautiful Chelan—should have been by his side, but instead they were both deeply alone.

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He would manage the ship today from the Command Center just in case Chelan needed him. But he knew that her healing would be a lengthy process, with wounds to be mended far deeper than his own.

Korba rubbed his weary eyes. He was well aware that Dar had done what he had out of love for Chelan and to quell the ache deep in his own heart. But Korba knew that Chelan would not see it that way. Because of what she knew about their culture and their ease with sexual freedom, she would see Dar’s move as pure and simple rejection, an act born out of coldness, an act of disaffection and alienation. Chelan would not know the toll his estrangement from her would take on the man, and Korba felt for Dar deeply. Korba also realized that as far as the relationship between Dar and Chelan went, the torment and agony that each would experience would be borne mostly by Dar. Chelan would eventually bury her grief within his love, but Dar would not have that option, and he would bear his pain alone.

But with the clarity of morning came another dire realization. In a misdirected effort to quell his own rebelling emotions, he had done what he’d prayed he would not. He had restricted her access to Fremma.

Korba flopped back down on his bed. Never in his decades of decision-making had anything been so hard. In fact, all his decisions regarding Chelan and his life with her were difficult at best, callous and cruel at worst. And now, once again, the delicate alien was succumbing to the chaotic and barbarous world that she had been dragged into. Korba recognized that he had to spend more time with her, shielding her if necessary and preserving the demure beauty from his world’s harsh realities. She had the potential to be a vivacious and self-confident woman, but at each turn of events, his culture tore her down, leaving her wounded, exposed, and bleeding.

Korba shook his head in an effort to rid his mind of the fog that threatened to roll in and obscure his clear thinking. Sitting up again, he took a deep breath. He would abolish the unreasonable restriction he had placed on Chelan regarding Fremma. That decision had been a gut reaction born out of the emotional intensity of the whole ordeal, and it needed to be fixed. He could at least allow her free access to the one who kept her spirits so high and her beauty alive with smiles and laughter.

Korba stood and stretched. The morning was still young, and he grabbed his shroud and headed out toward his chambers. He immediately went to Chelan’s bedside and looked down at her, her exquisiteness crying out to him as she lay in the gown undoubtedly made and adorned by her for him. But her embattled spirits still slept uneasily.

Korba crouched soundlessly by the side of the bed and laid his head next to her. He was motionless for a long time, listening to her shallow breaths and inhaling her sweet scent. He dared to softly call her name. But she remained unmoving, her vanquished body forsaking him as she continued to struggle with her conscience and her emotions. Korba rose sluggishly, his body feeling leaden as he left to resume his duties.

*****

The day was long, and as evening approached, Korba was becoming increasingly alarmed at the fact that Chelan had not stirred. He knew that she had eaten little at the Koll, and now she had gone all day without nourishment. When he could stand the situation no more, Korba turned his command over to Tarn and told him to seek relief from those eligible for third-in-command, coming to him only in an emergency.

Korba returned to his chambers and found Chelan unmoved from her morning position, her breathing sporadic. Korba sat on the bed and stroked her sequined hair, but still she did not respond. He ran a glass of water and placed it near the bed, knowing that she would have to drink soon. Then, accepting the inevitable, Korba again left for the comfort of his private room. There, he would rest until morning, and if Chelan had still not stirred, he would call Stose.

*****

Chelan awoke again, this time late at night, her eyes straining against the dark. The past day’s events played over and over in her mind, the impact on her heart and soul diminishing with each run-through.

She took a deep, wavering breath. Everything seemed so unreal. She wanted to go home. She wanted the familiarity and relative calm of her little blue planet. Then she berated herself, fully aware that what she really longed for was a tiny piece of her little stable world, for most of her planet was immersed in unrelenting upheaval. When all was said and done, she had just replaced one brutal reality with another. The only difference was that this one involved her directly.

Then her thoughts turned to Dar. How could he do that to her, or was her wish to have him just more of her selfishness? She had never wanted him to give up all for her, but she had always assumed that his love for her was so great that he would always be there for her if she needed him, both as a friend and as a lover. Had she been so wrong all along? Had she simply been another woman with whom to lie? Or was that the problem despite his words? Was the fact that she had made love to Korba and now Fremma and not him the true reason for his departure? After all, he had intimated as much at the Koll.

Chelan closed her eyes tight as his parting words burned into her head. Then she pictured him returning to RIBUS 8 after the Koll, burying himself in the flesh of multiple willing women. She groaned and clutched at her head, trying to force the images away. But they assaulted her relentlessly: Iceanean hands coursing over the body she knew so well, kissing him, sucking him, fucking him hard and endlessly, and she flipped onto her side and coiled up into a tight ball of anguish.

Her fists dug into her temples as she panted for air and tried to regain control. Images surged unbidden into her tortured psyche. She saw him plunging into woman after woman as they writhed with the pleasure he afforded him, his body gleaming with the moisture born of lust. Then at last, mercifully, her heart solidified to stone, and she forced him to wither and die within her. To her tattered soul, he was gone, dead, only to be resurrected in the arms of passionate prostitutes who would further defile him. Chelan knew that deep down her venomous stance was that of self-preservation. But nonetheless, it made her heart immune to him, if only for a little bit.

She rolled to her back and braced herself for the next round. Fremma was another matter. He was not lost to her, but the sanctions Korba had placed on her in regard to him stabbed at her own self-perception. She felt as though she had been adulterous, the guilt and pain of her infidelity trickling acridly through her veins. How could she ever be with him again and not feel that she was cheating on Korba? Iceanean standards be damned. The men she had ensnared seemed as confused about their morality as she. How could she ever adjust to one world or the next if the rules of engagement were constantly in flux? She had reached the point where she just wanted to be alone with Korba forever, never having to lay sight on either Fremma or Dar again.

Then her mind turned to the Koll. The look on Korba’s face when she walked through the doors came back to her, and the sludge in her veins finally began to dissolve. She needed a constant in her life, and that constant had to be him.

Pushing her stiff body up, she turned and let her slender legs hang off the edge of the bed. Gradually, she stood, and then she noticed the water. Suddenly, she was aware of her intense thirst, and she drank quickly. Then she looked to the bed and realized that Korba had indeed not stayed with her, adhering to her wishes.

She looked down at herself and slipped out of her beautiful gown, wondering if he had actually noticed it at all, or whether he had assumed that someone had given it to her. She shook herself free of such nebulous and unproductive thoughts and tried to focus on the present. She shivered in the cool air as she placed the gown carefully over the back of a chair. Then, slowly, she removed the sequins from her tousled hair and let them drop to the floor.

Shuffling toward the stairs, she entered the Command Center, its lights dim, the room empty. Unconcerned about her nakedness, she moved toward the workout area to have a shower. She assumed Korba was on the Bridge, and with that assumption her heart sank at the thought of her solitude. Dar was forever gone, and she doubted she could ever go to Fremma again. While Korba worked, she was simply on her own.

She stepped into the shower and cringed at the frigid water, its assault causing her to shiver violently. But this time she did not care, nor did she adjust the temperature. Her body was once again numb, her mind still not fully rooted in reality. She remained in the shower stubbornly, allowing the icy fingers of spray to torment her weakened soul, her flesh beginning to lose its feeling and becoming one with her heart. She deserved this for all that she had done to the men she loved. It would serve her right if she stayed here and froze to death. No wonder she was alone.

Suddenly, Chelan shook herself free from the dungeons of her mind. She needed to get a grip. Nothing good was going to come of anything if she didn’t pull herself together. Then her heart skipped as she thought of the little blue room, and she prayed with all her might that Korba was there. Without drying herself, she hustled to the room, and the doors parted silently.