Rebel Princess(47)

Dimi! She scowled at the offending carving and gently replaced it on the shelf.

Why would Tal not expect Kass Kiolani to stay with him? She was his  woman now, her place by his side. In the royal suite. Dear goddess, in  her father's chambers! In front of people who had known her since birth.  Yet how could he possibly understand her refusal unless she told him  the truth? That he was bedding the Princess Royal of the Psyclid ruling  family.

How could she not tell him?

But the words simply wouldn't come. Returning to the Round Tower had  been her only alternative. Temporary, surely. She could cajole Tal out  of his sulk. Yet admitting she was Psyclid's Princess Royal could cut  their relationship off as if it had never been. Tal was so very . . .  honorable. Kass Kiolani was fair game. Princesses were not. And worse  yet, everyone would assume he was using her to enhance his position in  the Hierarchy, that he was planning ahead, making certain he came out on  top of the political maneuvering when the Hierarchy replaced the  Emperor and the Council of Twelve.

If that day ever came.

So on their last night out, they'd quarreled. Bitterly.

Kass crossed the room and sank onto the sofa. Tears welled as she  recalled the first hot surge of romance that had swept over them right  here, in this very place. Here, he had almost kissed her . . .

Kass sighed, her insides cringing at the new reality. She'd tried to  tell Tal why the Round Tower was always assigned to guests with the most  roving eye, tried to explain about the secret passages, but he'd simply  lost it. Tal Rigel, unshakeable starship captain, caught in a maelstrom  of hurt and fury, enough to overwhelm her with guilt and send her  running down Astarte's corridors, pounding on Zee-Zee's door at three in  the morning.

She was such an idiot. A disgrace to her name. Her real name. To the House of Orlondami.

If Admiral Vander Rigel had not brought his family with him on that special mission to Psyclid . . .

If she had accepted the life her parents planned for her . . .

If she had married Jagan all those years ago . . . they might have a whole family of little freaks by now.

Dear goddess, she'd managed things badly.

Did she truly love Tal? Or was she still rebelling, running from Psyclid expectations, running from Jagan?

That was guilt talking. Whipping her because she'd hurt him. For if what  she felt for Tal wasn't love, then love didn't exist, millennia of  songs and stories had it wrong. There was no way what she felt for Tal  wasn't love, the true and lasting kind, not the lust that burned too  hot, consuming itself until nothing was left. Her love for Tal had  already withstood the test of time, grown stronger under the challenge  of reality. He was hers, and somehow she must find a way to mend  matters. Without her final secret creating a split that could not be  mended. Forcing him to shut her away behind a protective wall from which  there was no escape.

A knock on the door. Not B'ram Biryani, but very likely the majordomo  had sent a maid with food and drink. Bless him. "Enter," she called.

"Honored Dama."

Shocked, Kass stared at Torvik Vaden, Chairman of the Hierarchy.  "Forgive the intrusion, Highness," he said, head and shoulders inclined  in the respectful bow of a seasoned diplomat, "but I have come to  inquire how much longer you intend to continue this masquerade?"

She had been Kass Kiolani for so long, she'd jumped to her feet the  moment she saw who it was. Now, guilt augmented by a flash of royal  temper, kept her from returning Vaden's penetrating gaze. Kass strode  back to the window. The swirling shadows were lengthening, growing  darker . . . turning Blue Moon's shimmering, iridescent haze to sinister  black.

"I beg your pardon, Highness," Vaden said. "I should not have blurted it  out like that. In my anxiety, my diplomatic training eluded me."         

     



 

"I do not recall," Kass returned stiffly, "that Regulons were ever noted for their diplomatic skills."

"Touché, Highness. I am well served."

Kass drew a deep breath and returned to the white and silver brocade  sofa, arranging herself, head high, back straight, feet on the floor,  exactly as a princess should. "You may be seated." She waved her hand to  a well-upholstered chair directly across from her. "How long have you  known?" she demanded, going on the attack. "When the krall slithered  toward me? Did you know then?"

"Indeed not!"

The poor man looked as if she'd kicked him. Good. Kass didn't give him  time to recover. "You thought it appropriate to risk the life of a Fleet  dropout, a girl who'd spent four years as a prisoner of war, a woman of  no account-how could her life possibly matter? But Omni forfend when  you realized the girl had powers, unusual powers, powers that whispered  of the ParaPrime? Is that how it started, Vaden? Your doubts? You feared  you might have committed a diplomatic faux pas? You might have risked  the life of a Psyclid sorceress, a potential ParaPrime?

"And-aha!-just who is the ParaPrime designate? Is that how your  reasoning went, Mr. Chairman?" Kass continued, mockery in every word.  "And when you discovered the answer was L'ira, daughter of Ryal and  Jalaine, you somehow thought you had the right to play the elder  statesman? To explain to me my duties?"

The miserable man actually smiled. Kass clamped her lips over her teeth and looked down her nose.

"If I had any doubts, Highness, they have just been allayed. And I am  mortified that I did not immediately recognize you. I should have. I'd  seen portraits in the palace-"

"My masquerade, as you call it," Kass declared, cutting him off, "is my  own business. You will honor my choice to leave things as they are. My  people support me in this," she added with emphasis.

"But is it wise, Highness?" Torvik Vaden did not belabor the point. He  didn't need to. And then he added the final blow. "Or does Rigel already  know? Have you considered that? I've done considerable research since I  began to suspect you were a great deal more than a mere cadet. Admiral  Rigel and his son were both on Psyclid for several months. Surely they  recognized Kass Kiolani for who she truly is. After all, young Rigel's  personal interest in you is not enough to explain why he took such risks  to protect you. A princess, yes. A Psyclid of obscure origin, no."

His words made perfect sense, but Kass wouldn't believe it. And,  besides, there was an implication in there she needed to put down.  Emphatically. "I assure you Admiral Rigel had nothing to do with keeping  me alive. That was all Tal. He has a great many credits in his own  right and was careful to transfer them to neutral territory before  launching the rebellion. What do you think keeps our ships in the air  and food in our mouths?"

"Brava, Highness. Your parents would be proud of you," declared the  aggravating gray-haired chairman. "But keep in mind," he added, "that  you may have gone to a good deal of trouble, stretched your household to  the limit of its thespian abilities, for nothing. Talryn Rigel is  ambitious, as shrewd as he is daring. That he's never penetrated your  disguise is highly unlikely." Vaden rose, bowed. "You might want to have  a serious talk with him. It could be enlightening. Love can be-shall we  say?-so . . . deceptive."

Kass stared up at him, cool and composed, even as her insides flinched.  Now was the time for another sharp retort, but words failed her. She  could only cast mental daggers at the center of the diplomat's chest as  he backed away. Vaden offered Kass what she was beginning to think of as  his slimeworm smile, and then he was gone, leaving her shivering,  hugging herself for warmth.

For a few moments after the chairman's departure, mental paralysis  struck. Kass stared at the sofa's white and silver upholstery but saw  nothing, felt nothing. Thoughts, unwelcome thoughts, flicked at the  edges of her mind, but she wouldn't let them in. She would cling to the  void, to safety. To a sterile place where she couldn't be hurt.

She was L'ira Faelle Maedan Orlondami, and it was her duty to face whatever challenges the goddess threw at her.

Kass stopped hugging herself, clasped her hands in her lap, took a deep  breath, and replayed her conversation with the chairman. She had thought  him a reasonable man, a good choice to head the Hierarchy. But now she  had to wonder. Did Vaden see himself as emperor in a new Regulon order  created by Tal Rigel? If so, then Tal was not only the man who put him  on the throne, but Vaden's greatest rival. The chairman's thoughts  weren't difficult to follow. Mustn't let military might get out of  control, form alliances, get too close to princesses with strange,  inexplicable powers.         

     



 

So . . . a competent governor, perhaps, but not a friend.

But what if Vaden was right? What if Tal knew . . . had always known?

Did it matter?

Kass rang the bell, not surprised when B'ram Biryani himself answered. "I shall need a lantern," she told him. "And a broom."