Consort (Beyond Ontariese 6) Page 8

  A ridiculously long list of messages waited for his attention, and this was after his assistants had prescreened them. He’d been hopelessly distracted ever since he declared his feelings for Cinarra, and his inability to concentrate was only going to worsen now that she resided beneath his roof.

  Several hours passed as he sorted through, and responded to, the messages. Then someone knocked on the door, drawing his attention away from the holotab. “Come in.”

  Mores pushed open the door and said, “Lady dar Aune has arrived.”

  “Wonderful. Show her in.” He powered down his holotab and set it on the table beside his chair. Mores pushed the door wider, revealing Indric’s visitor.

  Indric stood and motioned to Krysta. “Join me, Lady dar Aune. I’m glad you could make it.”

  Krysta moved into the room and Mores departed, leaving the door ajar. Though Indric had attended the same social events as Krysta in the past, he’d never paid much attention to her. Now her not-yet-defined connection to Cinarra had him curious about the woman. She appeared approximately the same age as Cinarra, but appearances could be deceiving. Krysta was tall and statuesque, but her features were delicately balanced. High cheek bones and arching brows drew attention to her extraordinary eyes. A unique combination of turquoise and purple, the colors within her eyes gently rotated, revealing her Ontarian heritage. Her golden-blonde hair swept away from her face in a twisting coil of tiny braids.

  She was dressed in an elegant suit dress that brought out the purple in her eyes. She bowed respectfully then offered him her hand. “It’s been several cycles, Your Majesty.”

  “Three, if I’m not mistaken.” He kissed her hand then indicated the group of chairs where he’d been sitting moments before. “Would you like something to drink before we begin?”

  “No thank you.” Her voice was a bit clipped though the subtle tone was the only evidence of irritation.

  “How was your flight, or did one of the Mystics open a portal for you?”

  She sat in the nearest chair and smoothed her purple skirt down over her knees. “The only Mystic my life mate trusts enough to Summon the Storm for me is his brother, and Head Master Tal wasn’t available this morning.” She looked around the office then asked, “Are Cinarra and Betaul here at the palace? Your massage was woefully lacking in details.”

  “I apologize for my reticence. I want to keep this private as long as possible.” He returned to his favorite chair and angled it toward her. “There was an incident yesterday that required their relocation. Everyone is fine, but I’m not willing to take any chances with their safety.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” She scooted to the edge of her chair as she asked, “What sort of incident?”

  She seemed unusually concerned if her acquaintance with Cinarra were casual. How curious. “Are you familiar with Prince Dravon of Hautell?”

  “Hautell is the province ruled by Lord Drakkin’s family.”

  He nodded. “Correct. Dravon is the king’s second son, which makes him Lord Drakkin’s grandson.”

  “It’s hard to picture Lord Drakkin as anyone’s grandfather, but I’m aware that he’s older than he looks.” She relaxed enough to smile. “If you Bilarrians insist on living forever, you can at least have the decency to age.”

  “I’d apologize, but the phenomenon is entirely beyond my control.”

  “’Beyond your control’? Are you as old as Lord Drakkin?” She sounded almost playful now. What an interesting female.

  “Not quite, though I am considerably older than I look.”

  Her smile turned secretive as she said, “It seems to be a common theme on Bilarri.”

  The comment confused him. He’d only mentioned Drakkin and himself. “Actually, regeneration is a rare ability even on Bilarri.”

  She scooted back in the chair, appearing more at ease. “Sorry. I’ve taken us off course. What does Prince Dravon have to do with Cinarra and Betaul’s relocation?”

  “It’s Bilarrian custom for princes to spend time in all four regions as well as visit the planets with which Bilarri has regular trade relations. So Dravon has been my guest for the past few weeks. The boys are roughly the same age and each has been isolated by their circumstances, so I introduced them yesterday. They appear to be getting along well.”

  “Cinarra is visiting the palace so Betaul can spend time with Prince Dravon? That’s not much of an incident. You mentioned their safety? Surely there’s more to the story.”

  Krysta was quick-witted and perceptive, much like High Queen Charlotte and Cinarra. Krysta and Charlotte were married to brothers but could there be a familial connection between the three women as well? “Actually I took Dravon out to Cinarra’s house yesterday and that’s where the incident happened.”

  “Please stop being coy. I have no sense of humor when it comes to my nephew.”

  Nephew? If Betaul was her nephew, then Cinarra was her…aunt? But Charlotte was not her mother. At least no one of his acquaintance had indicated that it was so. He shook away the speculation before he drove himself mad. He’d simply ask Cinarra to explain the connection the next time they were alone together.

  “Someone shot at the boys while they were playing in the yard. Cinarra was able to repair the damage, but not even Drakkin could explain why the alarm didn’t go off so we—”

  “What damage? You said no one was hurt.”

  “No, I said everyone was fine, and they are. But Betaul was wounded during the attack.”

  She stood up, shoulders back, chin raised. “I would see him now.”

  Trey dar Aune had his hands full with this one. Indric barely suppressed his smile. “I would be glad to take you to him, but I’m not sure if they’re at the pool or riding horses.” The list of activities deflated her indignation as he’d intended. “Betaul is fine. You are here for Cinarra.”

  “Was Cinarra wounded as well?” Now she looked angry.

  “As you can imagine, Cinarra was upset by the attack. I thought she’d be comforted by a familiar face. Drakkin suggested I contact you as High Queen Charlotte is far less available for spur-of-the-moment visits.”

  Krysta finally sat back down, though her cheeks remained flushed. She crossed her legs and placed her hands on the arms of the chair. “Did Cinarra witness the attack or just deal the aftermath?”

  “We all saw it happen. Cinarra, myself and five guards were watching the boys, and none of us could do anything to prevent it. I have no intention of allowing him to try again.”

  “Him? Was the shooter caught? Do you at least have some idea who might have done this?”

  “I have several ideas, but no evidence. I have an army of investigators working to change that.”

  She accepted his assurance with a nod and asked, “May I see my—Cinarra now?”

  He narrowed his gaze at the slip. Why didn’t she want him to know who Cinarra was to her? Drakkin had refused to explain it either. These sorts of evasions only made him more determined to learn the truth.

  But before Indric could question Krysta directly, Mores knocked on the partially open door.

  “Madam Mazodie to see you, Sire.”

  He quickly pushed to his feet, anxious to watch the women react to each other.

  Cinarra entered the room. A tentative smile curved her lips then she spotted Krysta and let out a happy cry. The women flew into each other’s arms, their voices overlapping in an excited chorus of questions and comments. They spoke in rapid-fire Ontarian, so he was only able to catch bits and pieces. After several moments of joyful reunion, Cinarra turned her head and looked at him. Her eyes were tear-bright, her face flushed with emotion.

  “Did you arrange this?” Before he could answer, she turned back to Krysta and asked, “Or did Charlotte give in and com you?”

  “Charlotte knew about this?” Krysta stepped out of Cinarra’s arms and the rotation of her gaze sped. “And you convinced her not to tell me? Anything that involves Betaul involves me,” her voice snapped with a
nger and frustration.

  “Of course I was going to tell you. I just wanted to have something to tell. We don’t know anything yet. We’re not even certain Betaul was the target of the attack. Did Indric explain that Prince Dravon was there as well?”

  “Indric?” Krysta glanced at him before she returned her hostile gaze to Cinarra. “That’s rather informal don’t you think? Are the rumors true? Are you two lovers?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Indric cut in. A bit of spirit in a woman was fine, but Krysta’s attitude at the moment was bordering on disrespect. “While we’re throwing around questions, how can Betaul be your nephew if High Queen Charlotte is not your mother?” He figured Krysta would just ignore him, so he turned to Cinarra. “Do you have another sister back on Earth? What is your relation to Krysta?”

  Chapter Five

  What a mess! Cinarra looked from Indric to Krysta and back. She’d planned on telling him about the Mystic tonight when they were alone and in each other’s arms. But she’d been so excited to see Krysta that she hadn’t stopped to wonder what they’d talked about before her arrival.

  “You’d better have a seat if we’re going to get into all this,” she said with a sigh. “It’s a long story.”

  Rather than do as she suggested, he took her hand and led her to one of the chairs, pausing to kiss her knuckles. “Good afternoon,” he whispered with unexpected tenderness. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for breakfast. It simply wasn’t possible to make time this morning.”

  She blushed and looked at Krysta in time to see her eyebrows arch. Had that been Indric’s intention? Was he publicly staking his claim on her? A shiver raced down her spine, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about his gesture.

  The chairs were arranged more or less in a circle, so they could all see each other. Indric sat on her right and Krysta on her left as she eased herself into one of the chairs. She searched for the words, wanting to fully explain without reliving every horrendous detail.

  “Would you like me to start?” Krysta asked.

  Cinarra’s mouth was so dry she could only nod. Everything had happened more than a decade ago, so how could the memories still be so vivid?

  “How much does he know?”

  “I know Cinarra was held captive on Earth for the better part of her life,” Indric told her. “I know Betaul’s physiology was changed by the scientist who ran the project and that fanatics on Ontariese believe he is an abomination that should have been terminated in the womb.”

  “As you can imagine, there are a lifetime of stories, so I’ll try and hit the highlights.” Krysta paused and looked at Cinarra, compassion suddenly softening her gaze. “Are you sure you’re all right with this? I can just tell him if you’d rather not be here.”

  She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “No. I need to be a part of this.”

  Krysta nodded then looked back at Indric. She appeared nearly as uncomfortable with the tale as Cinarra felt. “Cinarra is my mother. Belle, my twin sister, and I were born during her captivity at Operation Hydra.”

  “I am so sorry. I knew there had been other captives, but I didn’t realize you were one of them.”

  “It was a long time ago and I’ve worked very hard to leave it in the past. So, if you don’t mind I’d like to take you through the rest rather quickly. These events are painful for both of us.”

  “I understand. Please proceed.”

  He doesn’t need to know about Belle. Just tell him she didn’t survive. Cinarra carefully shielded the thought and sent it directly to Krysta’s mind. Krysta acknowledged the request with a barely discernible nod before she continued.

  “Operation Hydra was a living nightmare. There is no other way to describe it. My life mate Trey was searching for Cinarra when he found the Center, but by that time Cinarra was already…” She looked at her mother with a helplessly expression. “How else can I put it? For all intents and purposes, you were dead.”

  Cinarra had recovered enough to speak, so she took up the story. “During an especially heinous experiment, Dr. Hydran pushed me too far and inadvertently destroyed my physical body. I knew I was dying, so I fled to the metaphysical plane. I know that’s an Ontarian expression, but you do understand what I mean, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Bilarrians call it astral projection or soul traveling. But even the most powerful soul traveler can’t exist outside of their body for more than a few hours.”

  “Here’s where it starts getting complicated.”

  Krysta reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t get bogged down with details.” It was Krysta’s way of reminding her that some of the secrets belonged to Charlotte and Tal and they might not want Indric to know.

  Fair enough. “There was an explosion that caused a rip in the veil surrounding our reality. My being was sucked into an incorporeal dimension. Time and space had no meaning there. It’s almost impossible to explain because there were no physical sensations only torturous thoughts and endless isolation.” She took a deep breath, fighting back the memories, the sucking abyss that gripped her so often in her nightmares. “I knew I wasn’t dead, but there were times I wished I had died. In many ways what I experienced was worse than death.” She lapsed into silence and Krysta knelt on the floor beside her, unwilling to release her hand.

  “The rest of us were rescued by Trey and his men, but not before Hydran got his hands on Vee.”

  Indric remained silent and attentive, but his shock was obvious. Vee had been the most powerful Mystic Ontariese had ever produced. Anyone who had known him would have been surprised that a mere human had been able to best him. But then Dr. Hydran had been no ordinary human.

  “Hydran impregnated Belle with what he’d taken from Vee and then manipulated the baby’s DNA,” Krysta continued.

  “You’re talking about Betaul,” Indric said. “I had no idea Vee was Betaul’s father. Vee had Rodyte blood. That means it’s possible that Betaul could develop Bilarrian abilities as well as Ontarian.” Krysta looked confused, so he clarified. “Rodytes are an offshoot of Bilarri. Our planets have been at war for so long, people tend to forget that it’s technically a civil war.” Krysta started to ask a question, but Indric held up his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to distract you.”

  Cinarra smiled at him, but sadness filled her heart. Thoughts of Belle were always bittersweet. She had been so sweet, so gentle, so innocent even after everything Hydran did to her. “Belle survived long enough to give Betaul life. But she lives on in her son and in our memories.” She looked at Krysta and they shared a knowing smile. Belle hadn’t died in the conventional sense, but exactly what had become of her wasn’t relevant to this part of the story.

  “It was about a year after Trey liberated the Center when things flared up again,” Krysta picked up the explanation as Cinarra lapsed into silence. “Vee was still alive and I’d been helping him with Seth, excuse me Betaul, when one of the refugees from Operation Hydra sold herself to the Rodytes.”

  The description made Cinarra smile. The “refugee” in question had been a traitor from the start, so Krysta’s bitterness was understandable. “The traitor knew how unique Betaul was and convinced the Rodytes he was essential to their research.”

  Indric stroked his beard thoughtfully. “The Rodytes have been attempting to use technology to mimic our abilities for generations. I can see why they would be interested in Betaul.”

  Did Indric know about Saebin? Lord Drakkin did, but Cinarra couldn’t think of a specific reason he would have mentioned her to Indric. Rather than bringing her up unnecessarily, she tried to keep things generalized. “With the Rodytes’ help, the traitor managed to kidnap Betaul, and when the rescue party found Betaul, they were able to bring me back from the incorporeal dimension.” There. Now he knew everything. Well, almost everything.

  Indric stared at her in silence for a moment, apparently sorting through all the information they’d thrust upon him. “But your physical body had been destroyed. H
ow…?”

  He didn’t need to finish the question. It was obvious she’d need to delve deeper. But the deeper she dug the more painful the details became. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her emotions, determined to gain control over her racing heart and her whirring mind.

  “If you’d allow me, I can help,” Indric offered.

  Fear, anger and loss were racing toward the surface, threatening to abolish what little remained of her composure. Without opening her eyes, she whispered, “Yes. Please.”

  “You are calm, Krystabel.” The events were part of her old life, so it sounded right to hear her birth name. “These events have no power over you.”

  Her skin tingled and heat sank into her flesh, relaxing her muscles and slowing her fluttering pulse. Emotions dissolved, popping like harmless soap bubbles, until she was so relaxed she was almost sleepy. “Thank you.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “That’s some trick you’ve got there.”

  “Anytime.”

  She blew out a shaky breath and resumed in a much calmer tone. “I could sense Betaul or he could sense me. I’m honestly not sure how it worked. That was before Drakkin had separated him from his power source, but his abilities were just starting to develop.”

  “This explains why a child his age was able to heal himself. He is more miraculous than I ever imagined.”

  “And more dangerous,” she pointed out. “Obviously I don’t agree with the NRS’s radical positions, but in this instance their fear is justified, at least to some extent.”

  “When did Betaul heal himself?” Krysta got up off the floor and moved back to her chair, obviously annoyed. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

  “One story at a time,” Cinarra stressed. Her hotheaded daughter never failed to react whenever Betaul was involved. “I used Betaul’s signal to locate the tear in the veil, but it required so much energy to communicate. I was able to interact with Saebin because her implants made her easier to reach, but—”