"Come on, girl." The sandwich touched her lips.
Kass nibbled the edge. Swallowed. Eyes closed, she took a bigger bite, catching the flavor of Tal Rigel as her teeth flicked past a finger, maybe his thumb. She ducked her head, hoping to hide the strength of her reaction, as her pulse rate soared and feminine parts she'd forgotten she had whimpered in joy. She forced herself to chew while her mind raced, the sheltered virgin vying with the rebel warrior.
Kass peeked at the remains of the sandwich, the one small bite held between Tal's thumb and forefinger. Did she open her mouth and let him feed her like mommy bird to her baby, or . . . ?
She leaned forward and scooped the last bit off his fingers, lips rounded in an O, her tongue lingering to taste flesh. Sensation crashed through her, so strong she nearly cried out. Dear goddess, what-
"I don't believe in pressing my luck when a woman is vulnerable"-Tal Rigel's voice cut through her sexual haze-"but do that again and I won't be responsible for what happens next." He bent and scooped the silver plate of finely displayed snacks off the table in front of the couch, holding it out in front of him, like a shield. "Eat, Kiolani. We leave three days from now. I need you fit."
Kass was quite certain she blushed from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Batani Regulon. The man wasn't human. She'd laid bare her soul, and he was ordering her to eat.
She had to find her voice. Act as if this was just another day on Blue Moon, Captain Rigel paying her a visit to be sure she was fit for duty.
"You're free to go where you will, Kiolani, but I'm keeping a guard on you for your own protection. Just until we ship out. Oh-eight-hundred, three days from now. No uniforms. Casual dress, though we've kept our rank designations to maintain chain of command. Congratulations. You just made Ensign."
Inwardly, Kass managed a smile. Tal Rigel wasn't quite as cool as he'd seemed. He was, in fact, close to babbling.
"I'll have supper sent up tonight, but tomorrow I expect you to start eating with the rest of us. We've turned the ballroom into a refectory, cafeteria style. You need to start mixing with the others- "Kiolani, don't look like that. I know you've gone a long time without people, but-"
Kass scooted back into the mound of cushions like a mole scurrying to ground. Head shaking, her lips formed into a frozen "no!" She was free, she wanted to be free, but this was terror. Eat in a roomful of Regulons? After what happened today?
As she'd done for nearly four years at the Academy?
Long, long ago and far away. Since then, everything had changed.
Coward!
Kass straightened her shoulders, looked straight into Tal Rigel's stern blue eyes. "Of course, Captain. I look forward to it."
He set the plate back on the table. "Eat," he commanded. He stood, paused for a long, penetrating look, then headed for the door.
Though more than a little breathless from eyes that said what his lips did not, Kass kept her head enough to call after him. "Captain?"
He paused, turned back. "Yes, Kiolani?"
"May I assume Commander Dann will not be present at mealtime?"
"You may."
And he was gone, leaving her so confused that tears rushed back, obscuring the delicate treats on the sandwich tray and turning the room into a cool rainbow of pale blue, shimmering green, soft white and brilliant silver.
Had she confused him with the Tal Rigel and S'sorrokan of her fantasies, humiliating herself beyond hope of recovery?
Obsessed.
As she had been-was-with him.
So maybe no, and yet . . .
Fyd! She was starting a whole new life, and she had no concept of the rules.
Chapter 10
Guard tranformed to bodyguard. Kass, rather than fuming over discovering Anton Stagg at her heels when she headed down for breakfast the next morning, was glad of the company. Nothing like having an Imperial Marine, two meters tall, standing behind her in the food line, guiding her to a hastily vacated table near the ballroom's floor-to-ceiling windows, and keeping her from having to face a sea of Regulons on her own.
Whispers, sidelong looks. What else could she expect? She was an object of curiosity, even before yesterday's events. A freak show-exactly what she'd hoped to avoid. And she'd brought it on herself. She could have killed the batani snake without so much . . . flamboyance.
More whispers, more craned necks. Tal Rigel had entered the room. Accompanied by Dorn Jorkan and Mical Turco, his two closest friends on Orion, and undoubtedly his accomplices in both the kidnapping and the rescue of a Psyclid cadet. While Kass worked her way through a bowl of whole grain, undoubtedly grown within ten kilos of the palace, she watched Tal move down the food line, nodding, smiling, never missing eye contact with servers, those in line, or passers-by. He might say that he was military, leaving governing to others, but Kass had to lower her head to hide a smile. Tal Rigel wasn't naturally outgoing, that much she knew. What she was watching was politics, whether he admitted it or not.
He had a lot of rough waters to smooth. And all because of her.
Kass's eyes widened as Tal and his friends walked toward the dais at one end of the ballroom, a space intended for the orchestra. Like the medieval practice on Old Earth of the nobleman and his court sitting at high table . . .
Her table. Her ballroom. Her palace.
Ah, well, she'd never begrudge Tal Rigel the honors he undoubtedly deserved. Kass took a deep breath and signaled a mobile server for more kafi. If she had adjusted to the Regulon Interplanetary Archives, she could adjust to a transformed Veranelle. But just how far did the changes go?
Kass spent the rest of the day exploring her favorite places. In the afternoon, when Lieutenant Stagg was replaced by a sturdy young corporal named Bix, she reveled in Veranelle's gardens, wandering from fragrant herbs to sweetly scented flowers, from rows of vegetables and vining fruit to orchards ripening under the Psyclid sun. Though her body protested the unaccustomed exercise, Kass kept going, driven by the sheer exhilaration of freedom. She walked a wooden fenceline, gazing out over fields of grain approaching harvest time, stopped at a farmhouse for a drink of water, not forgetting to include her trailing marine. From another farm, an offer of bread and rich, homemade cheese.
B'ram Biryani had done his work well. One farmer's wife had stuttered a bit at the unexpected guest, but the responses from other Psyclids she met along the way were no more effusive than respectful nods and shy greetings. Kass allowed herself a small private smile. Pysclids were adept at keeping secrets.
When she finally turned back toward Veranelle, Kass took a trail through the forest, her favorite walk, which she had saved 'til last. Ten meters into the woods, she paused, absorbing some of the things she had missed the most-shade from the thick canopy overhead, a carpet of old leaves beneath her feet, a pungent odor, so different from the scent of golden grain and barnyard animals. Profound silence. The wild animals and birds were waiting, watchful. Was she friend or foe?
Gradually, as she moved farther into the forest, the sounds came back. Rustles in the undergrowth, high-pitched birdsong leaping from tree to tree. A low grunt. Twigs crunched, branches swayed. Her marine unslung his rifle, gripping it tight. A wild pig crashed out of the forest, dashing across the path a scant two meters in front of them, followed by two babies tall enough to come up to her knees.
Kass waved a sharp no! to her bodyguard, even as she laughed out loud. Merveille, but it was good to be out. Perhaps it wasn't a dream. She was really here, on Blue Moon. Home.
One final landmark, and then she'd know.
But even when she was standing at the edge of the small clearing, staring at the ornately carved g'zebo that was once her childhood playhouse and teenage refuge, she couldn't be certain it was real. Six-sided with latticework extending halfway to the roof, it looked as if she had just walked away from it. As if that last summer before she'd run away was but yesterday. But no, the ivy was thicker in some places, reaching up to cover the space above the latticework. Green strands also reached into the open space of the entryway, swaying in the soft breeze as if saying, "Princess L'ira's private space. Do not enter."
So she hadn't gone mad from all those years of no one but Cort Baran to talk to. Eight years had truly passed since she last stood here. The ground beneath her feet was solid. Veranelle was real. The farms and crops. The forest, the small rocky streams, the wild pigs. The people, the g'zebo, her red-coated bodyguard. All real.
Which meant Tal Rigel was real.
Kass put out a hand, steadying herself against a tree trunk.
"Dama?"
"It's all right, Bix. Just too many memories." She would have to have her emotions under better control before she looked inside the g'zebo. With a palace full of young, hot-blooded Regulon rebels, there wasn't much doubt her special space had been violated a thousand times over. If there were signs of midnight orgies inside, Kass didn't want to see. She turned and led the way over an arched wooden bridge that spanned one of Blue Moon's sparkling streams and trudged wearily back to the palace.