Too restless to sit, he stood at the windows, looking out, and calling himself a number of colorful names. When he realized he and Liona were only going through the motions, that no matter how possessive she was, she had no real love in her heart, he'd broken it off. And had lived like a monk for well over a year now, devoting himself to the rebellion . . . until a certain small Psyclid was foolish enough to kill one of her guards. Arrogant, ungrateful brat that she was.
Not that he wanted her if gratitude was all she had to give.
Well, fyd! Perhaps he did. Too long since he'd held a woman in his arms, felt the softness of her, lost himself in that special place where he could simply feel, his responsibilities suspended for a few finite moments in time.
The problem was . . .
The problem was, the rebellion absorbed his life. He schemed, planned, charged ahead with single-minded determination, leaving Kass to think . . . what?
He hadn't exactly sat her down and asked if she was interested, had he? He'd assumed he could treat her like a toy he kept in the closet, a nice amenable plaything he could take out and use when the mood struck him, returning her to the obscurity of officers' quarters and bridge duty until the next time.
That disagreeable thought hit him like a blow to his privates. When he heard the bedroom door open, he swung around fully prepared for stubborn recalcitrance and already forming his apologies.
But he hadn't expected to see her delicate fey features unadorned, like a child's. Mallik! She looked younger than K'kadi. And yet the arrogance was still there, though layered beneath an aura of . . . resignation? Clearly, his little Psyclid wasn't happy.
Once again, Kass sat on the gold sofa, but this time she simply stared at him until he crossed the room and sat in an armchair across from her. Tal lifted a hand, palm out. "You don't have to say it," he told her. "Captains tend to be single-minded, and I'm worse than most. We're good at giving orders, not asking questions. And because everyone jumps to our orders, we become arrogant, overbearing, and thoughtless. Does that about cover it?
"No." When her stern expression didn't change, Tal answered his own question. "It's more personal, isn't it? I had no right to assume you wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with you. I didn't ask if you wanted to be here with me tonight. Is that it?"
Kass waved his flow of words to a halt. "Captain-"
"Tal." An almost imperceptible nod of agreement.
"I need you to listen to me, Tal. It's not easy to find the right words, but please hear me out."
And each word would add to the death knell of his plans for the evening, of that Tal had no doubt. His little Psyclid was going to talk romance right out the door. "Go ahead, I'm listening."
"When we were aboard Orion," Kass began, "you must know that I hero-worshipped you, as did most of the females on board. We were dazzled-by your being captain, by your being Admiral Rigel's son, by your family having enough credits to buy its own planet if it wanted. You were the stuff of dreams. And became much more so during all those years I spent in the Archives. When they said you were dead, it was the worst moment of my life. But I resurrected you, kept you alive, always my hero-though you had to move over and share my dream space when S'sorrokan came along. But he was a faceless, bodyless hero. I assure you, it was more satisfying to lavish love on my fantasy Tal Rigel.
Omni! How she loved him. Had loved him . . . the fantasy "him." "Basically, you were what kept me going all those years. My phantom hero, my rock. And then . . ."
A shudder wracked her body. Tal half rose, wanting to hold her, protect her, but he subsided into his chair, recognizing the moment wasn't right. Kass had more to say.
"When I found out you were alive," she continued, "I was angry. How dare you make me suffer so? Despite your fine intellectual explanation, I hurt. And what hurt the most was realizing that my Tal Rigel was a dream, a fantasy man who had never, ever existed. Our relationship, if we had one, was back to the very beginning, starting over. We were two strangers who knew each other in another lifetime. A captain and a not-quite ensign, the military gap as wide as the cultural."
"But in the tower-"
"I'd just come home. I was vulnerable, and hadn't yet come to terms with reality."
Tal groaned. Talk about star-crossed . . .
"In your mind," Kass said, "you may have decided I was Liona Dann's replacement, "but you didn't bother telling me, did you? And you most surely never asked. You assumed."
"Guilty. But, Kass," he added quickly, grasping for the obvious, "it's not easy to conduct a romance under hundreds of watchful eyes."
She snorted. There wasn't any nicer word for the sound she made. "One lustful glance in four years is scarcely an indication of intent." Tal, captain's face firmly in place, stared at a spot over her head. "S'sorrokan, defeated so easily?" she taunted. "Mallik, but Regulons are strange. A Psyclid would not be so bashful." With an abrupt wave of both hands, Kass cut off that line of discussion. "There's another matter I must bring up." She drew a deep breath. Head bent, she steepled her hands in front of her face, long strands of blue-black hair tumbling down to her waist. Finally, she looked up, but carefully avoided looking into his eyes.
"Arranged alliances have been practiced on Psyclid for a thousand years or more. It's one of the ways we have enhanced our skills so effectively. It is even customary to arrange alliances outside of marriage. That," she continued in a rush, "is how K'kadi was born. His father was already married, but a man of such high talent that the Council of Elders wished to see the result of a mating between him and a woman of high illusion talent. Not his wife.
"You've seen the result. K'kadi is a darling, but the pairing was flawed, the Council seriously disturbed by the results of their meddling. Such flaws have occurred before, our historians admitted, though not quite like K'kadi. Some were . . . less benign. But there are no others in this generation. He is unique. I love him dearly, but his situation has given me pause."
"You cannot think a pairing between us would result-" Tal broke off, began again. "We are both protected, are we not? There would be no child, if-"
"Be quiet and listen! I'm sorry," she added so softly he almost didn't her. "That is not the problem I'm talking about."
"Continue." Tal could feel it coming. Really bad news.
"K'kadi and I share a father-"
Tal almost missed the rest of Kass's confession. Kass and K'kadi, brother and sister. A relief, though he hated to admit his vulnerability. The amount of time Kass spent with the fey young Psyclid had not gone unnoticed.
"I was born in marriage," Kass was saying. "K'kadi, by arrangement. So I have ample reason to be cautious about arranged union s." Kass leaned back into the gold-tasseled sofa cushions and ran a hand through her hair. "From the time I was a child I wanted to go to the Space Academy. The fight to do so was tremendous, most particularly because my marriage had been arranged by the time I was fourteen."
And there it was. He hadn't realized how firm a picture he had of a future with Kass at his side until that moment. "But you left, you went to the Academy. Presumably, if there hadn't been a war, you intended to become part of Fleet."
"I did." Kass sat silent. Choosing her words? How much worse was it going to get?
"Like most girls that age," she said, "I had rosy tunnel-vision. I would go to the Academy, and after that, everything would straighten itself out." She shook her head. "A classic young fool, that's what I was. Starry-eyed about the Academy, about space, eventually about a captain named Tal Rigel."
"Who cared enough to risk everything to save you."
"I didn't say I had no reason to idolize you."
Tal's sigh matched hers. "So that leaves us where?"
"My talents were strong, strong enough to attract the Council's attention at an early age. Strong enough to be chosen as bride to the next Sorcerer Prime."
"And what in the nine hells does that mean?"
"To outsiders," Kass said, "sorcery is bad. On Psyclid, we revere those with magical powers, which usually means they are gifted with multiple talents, as I am. And at that time there was a young man who had already demonstrated he was a true heir to the current Sorcerer Prime, his uncle. So we were matched."
"But you had reservations."
"Frightening ones. We both had talents far above the Psyclid norm. Would we produce genius, or would we produce a monster?"