“What about the scars?”
“They can be greatly reduced, but not completely erased. Still, I feel certain you will be pleased with the results. With the bone structure repaired, the scars will not be so noticeable. Another benefit will be that you will feel less pain after you heal. Obviously it is also possible to laser down the burn scars elsewhere on your body, but if they don’t concern you, I wouldn’t recommend you do it. The recovery time would be long and painful, and the procedures on your body would serve no purpose other than to improve your appearance in places ordinarily covered by clothing.”
The surgeon shook his head. “It’s a wonder you survived at all, burned as badly as you were. I promise you I’ll do my best to give you the improvement you want.”
Arik heard Emerald’s sharp intake of breath, knew she’d meant it when she said she didn’t want him hurt. He met the surgeon’s gaze. “As I said, the scars on my body don’t particularly trouble me, as my princess and my body servant are the only ones likely to see them. How my face looks is more important, as one day I will be Obsidion’s king. I can hardly go around swathed head to toe in leather and still command my people’s respect.”
“As you will, your highness. When will you want us to attend you?” Pak Song bowed, while the surgeon merely inclined his head.
Now that he’d made his decision, Arik saw no need to delay. “At your earliest convenience. Thank you for coming so quickly when you were summoned.”
Pak Song’s wrinkled face lit up with a smile. “It is our pleasure, sire. With your permission, we will leave, but I wish to speak a word to her highness first.”
“You have news?” she asked the cyborg maker, her face lighting with obvious anticipation. Arik vowed he’d do whatever he had to, so she wouldn’t be isolated much longer.
The wizened old man grinned. “Your highness, we will soon be relatives. Meredith has matched my son, Pak Lin, with your youngest sister.”
“Pearl?”
“Yes, highness. Mating to be in two years. Your honored father says Garnet must go first.”
Emerald bent and gave the old man a hug. “Do you know who she will marry?”
“The Aurelonian, Romulus, has been chosen for her.”
Arik smiled. From what Emerald had said, he gathered that her sister, Garnet, lusted for wealth. She’d get it in huge measure from Romulus, the slave emporium owner who had settled on Obsidion and made a huge fortune. “When will that mating take place?” he asked, hoping there would be enough time before it for the two men to finish restoring his face.
“Next year, sire. Eli say can only afford one daughter’s mating per year.”
“Father has always complained that we pauper him,” Emerald said, her green eyes sparkling. “It is he who insists on weighing us down with precious jewels, though—a matter of pride in his work, I’m sure.”
Arik didn’t doubt it. He’d seen the exquisitely crafted gold boxes Emerald had given Hikaru and his brothers as attendants, encrusted with sparkling tanzanites and the smooth, mottled lavender and cream stones from Earth that were said to restore virility. She’d also gifted his father with a new, elaborate diamond coronet set in platinum. His own gifts, thousands of carats of loose, beautifully faceted emeralds and diamonds, filled a solid gold trunk so heavy it had taken two strong slaves to carry it upstairs to his tower. Emerald’s father had sent her to him with a king’s ransom in dowry, though he chuckled when he recalled his father’s admission that no dowry would have been necessary to arrange their match.
“I’m glad,” he told her. “The time it takes your father to amass huge dowries will let me make myself presentable before I must escort you to your sisters’ mating ceremonies.”
* * * * *
Since it would have been unthinkable for Obsidion’s crown prince to be treated outside the palace, Arik’s tower room had become a hospital room, and Emerald’s former chamber had become a well-equipped surgery.
It had only been two weeks since Pak Song and a team of restorative surgeons had moved in, along with skilled nurses and technicians. Already Emerald could see changes in her prince, though she grieved that he was enduring terrible pain.
“It’s not so bad, my love,” he told her when she lay beside him carefully so as not to jostle his arm, bandaged where Pak Song had peeled back the skin and implanted dozens of bionics a week earlier. “The drugs help. Not as much as you do, though.”
She looked into his eye and smiled. “I love you, Master. I loved you as you were, but I’m glad, for your sake, that you decided to let the surgeons restore your face. Not because of how it looked but because it caused you so much pain.”