Urden, God of Desire
Anastasia Rabiyah
Published by Purple Sword Publications, LLC at Smashwords
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
URDEN, GOD OF DESIRE
Copyright © 2012 ANASTASIA RABIYAH
ISBN 978-1-61292-027-6
Cover Art Designed By Anastasia Rabiyah
For rivals who might see themselves in the eyes of their enemy and find love instead of hatred.
Prologue
“We’ve found something in the palace storage room near the landing bay. A monstrous crate, unmarked.”
Enrue lifted his eyes from his computer and glared at the young man who stood in the doorway. Like most of his aides, the retainer wore a gray uniform and bore the same short haircut they all did. Enrue hated interruptions when he worked. His jaw tightened for a moment, a muscle in his cheek twitching. “What is it?” He stood, intrigued.
“It hasn’t been opened, but, we’ve broken the locks already. I thought we should wait for you.” The retainer bounced from one foot to the next, his youthful face alight with angst.
Enrue signed out of his program, smoothed out his silk belt and soft, beige pants, a comfortable style reserved for men of high rank. It had been a tiring day of meetings and broadcasts. I need time to clear my head, he thought. A break from the touchscreen sounded good at that moment. Curiosity soon had him following his retainer to the lower rooms in order to discover what strange thing his corrupt predecessor had hidden away.
Solar lights lit the wide, gray storage room, flickering every so often. The collection panels high on the rooftops had suffered when Enrue’s fleet attacked the palace months before. The leader paused, his eyes narrowing on the thing his servants had unpacked. An air crane droned, its belt taut as it hauled up the item within the crate. His servants righted the packed item, tore away its protective coverings of long strips of bubbled plastic and removed the strap that held it to the crane. They shut off the machine, stepped back and surveyed the piece of art they’d unveiled.
Enrue hissed through his teeth, disappointed. He studied the black stone statue of some sort of Unangi God. The carving stood a head taller than him, with no pedestal to support it. Its dark feet rested atop the marble floor as if it had been human at one time. Behind the statue, the metal crate it had been in lay to one side, fluffed packaging fluttering in the breeze from the air vents.
“Another relic to collect dust.” Enrue said, narrowing his eyes on the statue.
“We thought it could have been a weapon,” his retainer grumbled. “Something useful.” He cleared his throat and stifled a laugh. “It’s the Unangi God of Desire. I doubt he will aid us in the war.”
The relic meant nothing to Enrue, just another purloined piece of his former rival’s hoard of ostentatious treasures. The statue’s erect phallus pointed toward the heavens, and its upraised arms with fisted hands and enraptured face expressed a mysterious spiritual need, a beckoning the new leader of Irnia had little interest in. He waved away the servants and his retainer. “I want to be alone.” They scurried out like rats, leaving him to his thoughts and the dust shrouding the loading bay.
He liked solitude. Years ago, after his wife passed, he’d sent his daughter away to boarding school to be raised by others. He recalled those days and nights. Silence and time were plentiful, and it was then that he plotted to take over Irnia. The port city with its decadence and high concentration of Hemec fuel in the nearby mountains was a staging point to begin the war against the Kyleena Empire.
Enrue let out a tired sigh. He fingered the sash he wore, and shot a glance at the Unangi God. He strode to it and reached out to trace its hip. The single piece of dark stone felt smooth, the carved muscles defined. It was a wonder the relic had survived the attack on Leuj’s palace. In fact, it amazed him how much of the palace was salvageable. The bombs had missed large sections of the building, but destroyed much of the gardens. He intended to use the estate as a base to launch one-man fighter pods against the cruiser warships he knew Kyleena would send in time.
Stepping back, he shot the statue a curious look. “God of Desire,” he muttered. “There are no gods.” He sat down on a blue settee and frowned. “But I have desires, grand plans, and I will see them come to fruition.”
He closed his eyes. He imagined his daughter’s face, not the ghastly look she bore when he identified her body at the Tarafian morgue, but the wide, curious, hazel eyes that matched his own. She’d been a beauty in life, though he never told her so. He believed people should not be too sure of themselves or prideful, his daughter especially. For a fleeting moment, he regretted never telling her how much she meant to him, but then his thoughts returned to the Empire he wanted to control. The memory of Sima faded.
Chapter One
Alga
Sima rolled on her side and smiled at Razi. Still asleep, his mouth slightly ajar and his breathing steady, she fought the urge to kiss him awake, to cuddle into his body and spend their morning in bed, making love. He was skilled at pleasuring her, drawing her into a frenzied state, determined to bring her to orgasm time and again until she begged him to stop. On second thought, maybe I better let him rest, she decided. They were to meet with a priest from the local temple at noon, and she wanted to be able to walk straight.
Easing off the bed so as not to disturb him, she pushed her chestnut hair out of her eyes and breathed deep. Life was good now, much simpler than it had been when she resided under her father’s control. Only months before, she’d escaped an arranged marriage to Leuj, the tyrant of Irnia, and found herself in a brothel with Razi, her soon-to-be husband. The unlikelihood of their meeting always made her giggle.
She stretched her arms high and glanced about the small, but comfortable cottage they’d rented in Alga’s north sector. A hand-carved wooden loveseat bordered the window. It was there she’d tossed her clothes the night before. She dressed in a long, blue skirt and matching blouse, braided her hair and poked her feet beneath the side table, seeking her shoes.
Sima left for her morning walk, her sandals slapping at the heels of her feet. She breathed in the cool, fresh air, free of smog or pollution. Alga was a farming community, a naturalist’s paradise, a haven far from Irnia and her home city of Taraf, both on the other side of the planet. She feathered her fingers across the thick seedheads of thigh-high amaranth. This hybrid was bred to grow half the height of the standard plant. The blood-colored grain reminded her of the war they’d left behind. Fleeing to Alga had always been her plan. Never did she think she’d regret it, but lately, she wondered if it was the right decision.
The flat stone path led her to a fountain and near that, a squat woman sat on a porch swing made of scrap metal. She swayed lazily in the early morning light and clutched a small radio. Morning news stuttered into the air, polluting the silence and tranquility. Sima was about to hurry on her way when she heard the mention of her father.
“Shiemir Enrue Alonwei of Taraf has declared Irnia a free nation. Southern Irnians are being searched. Those found in violation of the human trade treaties will be executed. Any cargo ships attempting to dock at the Irnian ports from Hicklan Corporation will be destroyed. The Shiemir has issued this statement…”
Sima seated herself on the edge of the fountain. Her fingers skimmed the cool water’s surface as she listened, perplexed over this development. Her father was wiping Irnia clean of immorality. To be certain, it was a noble move, but she knew her father well. He never did anything for the good of anyone but himself.
“…That the degenerated society of Irnia led to my daughter’s untimely death cannot be questioned. If Leuj Irnia had rid his city of these slavers and whores, Sima would be with me today.”
“Ha.” She closed her eyes, frowning. Her father had been happy enough to trade her for treaties to Leuj a few months prior. This was nothing more than propaganda. She half-listened to the commercials and then stood. Striding along her usual path, she was unwilling to dwell on the past.
A herd of dwarf cattle grazed in the lowland pasture at the end of the path. Sima held to the fence post and watched them, their red-brown fur bright against the dark green. Grass tore and teeth grated. Silence again, the gentle quiet of being far away from real civilization and all its worries. “This can’t last,” she whispered to herself. “Nothing good ever does.”
Behind her, shoes made small soft sounds over the path. She listened to the person’s approach and realized she wasn’t afraid anymore. They’d been in Alga a month and the panic that she’d be discovered, that someone would turn her in and she’d be returned to her old life, had vanished. She smiled and turned.
“Morning.” It was Razi, his dark features alight with mischief. He ran a hand over his short, black hair and flashed a melting grin. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
She shrugged.
He slipped his hand around her waist and leaned sideways against her body. Warm lips kissed her neck and worked a path of affection up to her ear. “I like it when you wake me up.” He nipped her earlobe, causing her to shiver. “Like yesterday. And the day before that…”
“Mm.” She turned to face him and slid a hand up his shirt. Her fingers found his nipple and the slim ring piercing it. “I can’t wait for you to be my husband.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. The double suns rose above, warming her skin and shedding more light on them as they held each other close.
“Soon,” he said. “Though I see no difference. We’re together now.”
She hugged him and stared at the cattle. “Do you think I could have done more back in Irnia? Do you think I should seek out my father?”
He held his breath for a time before shaking his head. “Why? What makes you think of him?”
She chewed her lower lip. “I overheard the news just now. My father is cleaning out Irnia’s south district. He’s declared Irnia a free nation.”
“Ah.” Razi cupped her cheek. “Then perhaps he is not such a bad man after all.” He glanced around them, his dark eyes narrowing. She recognized his look. He wanted something, and he’d have it too.
“Not here,” she said when he pushed his hips against hers, revealing his arousal. “Someone will see us.”
“Let them see.” He nodded at the little barn on the outskirts of the pasture.
“Ew. It smells like cattle dung in there, and you know it. We can go back home.” She winked and when he frowned, she asked, “What? You can’t wait that long?”
He thrust his body closer. “Does it feel like I can wait?”
“Looks like you’ll have to.” She nodded behind him at an approaching child, one of the messengers from the cottage rental office. The thin boy raced along the path, his bare feet hardly making a sound. “Razi!” he cried. “Folar has a message for you and it’s from Sister Lensi!”
Razi released Sima and placed his hands in his pockets. The child stopped short, panting. He rifled through his pocket for the paper and found it. Grinning, he handed it over.
“Go on then,” Sima scolded. “The less you know, the better.”
The child scowled and stalked off, his shoulders hunching. They waited for the boy to be far enough not to hear before they read over Lensi’s message.
Razi,
Shiemir Alonwei’s troops are infiltrating the Unangi jungle. I’ve gathered the refugees and plan to arrive this evening. Please prepare for them. The rebels will stay behind to fight as they always have.
Lensi
“Do you think she’s still with Leuj?” Sima whispered, curious.
“If so, she’s smart enough not to say it in writing. Should your father find out Leuj’s whereabouts, he’d bomb the whole area to be sure the man is dead.” Razi slipped the note in his pants pocket and took Sima’s hand. He guided her off the path toward the guava orchard.
“It wouldn’t be out of any vengeance for my death.”
He chuckled. “You don’t know that for sure. He is your father after all.”
The grass was overgrown on the edge of the orchard. No one had pruned the trees for a while and they appeared more like bushes. He pulled Sima down into the dew-dampened grass and smiled. “Wake me up now.”
“You’re already awake.” She prodded his chest with her forefinger. “I’ve spoiled you.”
“I think you have that the wrong way around.” He rolled her beneath him and straddled her to sit up. “Spoiled. I’m not spoiled.” Gliding one hand beneath the hem of her blouse, he massaged her stomach, his thumb tickling her navel.
This was a beginning to foreplay she enjoyed. His hand warmed her to the core of her being with simple side-to-side strokes. She relaxed and closed her eyes. Slowing her breathing, she took in the perfume of the wilds, the scent of moist loam and grass, the musky flavor of her lover’s skin and a little farther away, the odor of the cattle. She crinkled her nose.
He continued to rub her skin with his right hand while his left cupped her breast. Fingers curled around her softness, heating her body, calming her thoughts and centering her in the moment. “You’re good at this,” she said in a low voice.
“I better be.” His lips grazed hers. “Do you remember the first night we were together? How I wanted you?” He nibbled her jaw-line. “You turned me on from the moment I saw you on my couch.” He bit at her lower lip. “Are you wet for me?”
“Mm.” She squirmed beneath him. His hand left her stomach. He pressed his body against hers, weighing her down. She embraced him with her legs. “I remember,” she said, breathless.
“Are you wet?” he asked again. His fingers slipped beneath the waist of her skirt and delved into her panties. He cupped her cleft and chuckled at the moisture he found there. “That’s how I like you. Always ready for me.”
She bucked when he slipped a finger inside, and he kissed her hard before she could utter any protest, not that she felt like stopping him now. Tomorrow they’d be married. She hoped life would continue like this in all its simplicity. The village they were in was quaint and small. Razi had a job at the mill, and Sima worked for Folar, keeping track of the rents and taxes.
Razi raised his face and narrowed her eyes. “What are you thinking about?” He circled her clit with his thumb. “You’re so tense.”
“Nothing.” She shuddered and caught her breath, returning her attention to him fully. “How can I think with you doing that?”
He smiled and forced a second finger inside her, massaging her pussy in a ticklish rhythm. “Good answer.”
She tried to relax, and he made it easy. His thumb soon had her legs quaking with the circular motions drawn across her center. Her breathing hitched and caught. Razi groaned, his desire mounting in time with hers. She clenched her teeth to avoid screaming when her orgasm gripped his fingers.
“That’s it,” he whispered in her ear. “Good girl, all wet and ready for me.”
She lay still in the grass, unable to form a coherent thought. He pulled his fingers from her body, leaving her empty, but blissfully content. Razi pushed her skirt up, tugged her panties free and pushed his knees beneath her ass, raising her pussy to him for easy access. Unlacing his pants, he pushed them down, freeing his cock. It bobbed above her entrance, thick and ready. Grasping her ankles, he set them on his shoulders. He looked down at her parted center in admiration.
“I’ll never get enough of you.” He grinned sideways and positioned himself to take her.
“I’ll never get enough of you either.” She arched her back, his knees supporting her from beneath and gasped when he pulled her up and thrust deep inside her body. He claimed her as he had time and again, though this delicious position was new.
He swayed and she felt his thickness filling her body. This sensuous dance teased her. His thumbs caressed her inner thighs, tracing her skin, gliding close to their joining only to slide away. The scent of their coupling mingled with the natural, fresh odor of the crushed grass.
After a while, she longed for him to pull out and ram in. She knew this was one of his games. He liked it when she begged for him. “Do it,” she whispered.
He grasped her ass and pulled her back ever so slowly, his length sliding out.
“Razi, do it…”
He pushed in and grunted.
Anxious, she found his wrists and clenched them, tugging so he’d understand. She stared up at his face, his playful but sensual parted lips she so loved to taste. His mouth became a firm line. He crushed into her, a raging beat of bodies slapping and releasing. She couldn’t hold her voice back any longer, nor did she want to.
His release burst in her body, heating her and causing his face to tighten, his jaw to tense. He shoved in and held himself there, rigid in her body and quaking with each afterburst. Sliding his hand in position, he set his free thumb to work her clit until she begged him to stop.
“But I want you to cum again,” he explained. “I like to watch your face.”
“You just want to laugh at me when we go to the temple and I can’t walk a straight line.” She released his wrists and let her hands fall to the ground.
“You know me too well already.” He fingered her gently, grinning. “All right. I’ll let you go this time, but tonight—“
“Lensi will be here tonight.”
“She’s not staying in our room.” Razi splayed his fingers over her pubic mound and rested his palm higher on her stomach. He lowered her body to the ground and pulled out. “I’ll go talk to Folar about a place for the refugees.”
She nodded. “And now that you’re awake, you’d better get off to work. Don’t be late. You have a future wife to support.”
He groaned. “Yes, that’s right. You ruined my simple life of pleasuring women and lazing about in the luxury of south Irnia.” He tugged her skirt down, adjusted his pants and stood. “I must go work now, like a real man.”
“Spoiled,” she reminded him.
Chapter Two
Melia Dargon
With her ship orbiting the fourth planet in the Em-7 solar system, Melia stood before the view-screen staring at the image of Shiemir Alonwei. He was at least ten years her senior and handsome for a man of such power, especially with his fair skin and hazel eyes. A wisp of his brown hair fell across his forehead, and he brushed it away with an impatient swipe. He was also human, and all humans had a weakness. She intended to find his. Tapping her chin, she thought their meeting might be a break from the rigors of her usual missions. She had strict orders to assassinate him if he denied Kyleena’s proposition. Her left eye twitched when the com-tone alerted her that the sound was on.
She forced a smile. “Shiemir Alonwei, I am Cossia Melia Dargon from Kyleena headquarters in C-9. I have news from—”
“Cossia?” Alonwei grimaced. “Such a low rank. I see how little the Empire regards me. Good.” He reached forward to disconnect, his expression confident.
“One moment more, Shiemir. I have orders to meet with you.” She took a step closer, her gaze intent as if he were standing in front of her and not on the planet’s surface. As most men’s did, his eyes flickered over her shape, but he did not smile or seem the least bit entranced. His non-reaction intrigued her.
“What is the purpose of this meeting?” His hand withdrew, and he tucked it in his silver sash belt.
The sash of an Irnian ruler, Melia realized. He had not seized power more than a few months ago and already he claimed it. Leuj’s body was never recovered. This proved how sure of himself the Shiemir was. “Kyleena has a proposal for you. Terms, if you will. It is not uncommon for rulers in the outer reaches of the Empire to usurp each other’s power. Kyleena merely wishes to acknowledge your new territories and to—”
“To verify my loyalty?” He sneered and reached once more to disconnect. “I’ve no use for a Cossia. Tell the Kyleena Emperor to send me someone of higher rank. Someone worthy!” The com clicked and his image vanished.
“What a bastard,” she muttered. Melia swept a hand through her hair, drawing the fallen blue-black locks from her face. She frowned and wondered how difficult it would be to get close enough to assassinate Alonwei, and if it would be necessary to do so. “Set a course for Alga,” she ordered. “I will have my meeting with the Shiemeir, whether he likes it or not.”
Her navigator turned. Half human and half machine, he always startled her when he stared. His left eye, a red light, twinkled while his right appeared blind. A metal hand with wires strung through its joints saluted. “On your orders,” he droned before spinning around and entering the coordinates.
Annoyed, Melia stormed out of the command chamber and hurried through the silver-walled tunnel. A shower sounded inviting, and maybe a little time alone with her vibrator. She swallowed and punched in the keycode. The door swished open sideways allowing her to enter a minimal chamber. She glanced over her single cot-like bed and the study desk. She shunned personal effects. The more her crew knew about her, the more they could become close to her, and that was the last thing she needed or wanted. She was a loner, an assassin under High Daschia Thoman. The title of Cossia was merely a front.
She stripped off her gray uniform, peeling away its tight spandex grip and stood nude before the long wall mirror. The only physical trait she’d inherited from her mother was her unusual eyes. Cat-like with a golden hue, they mesmerized most men. When her boss needed her to appear human, she wore contact lenses to hide the hint of her lineage. She traced her breast with a tender touch, her mind wandering to Alonwei. He was a large man, formidable in appearance. The thought of getting closer to him excited her.
Her nipples awakened when she imagined what the rebellious leader might look like naked. She ran the pad of her thumb over one hard, nub and frowned. “He’s as good as dead with an attitude like that.” Her fingers swept lower, brushing the thin patch of curly hairs above her pussy. She stared at herself, her eyes, the pupils narrowing to vertical slits. Temperature-controlled air spilled from the vent, chilling her. Goose bumps prickled her skin.
Sauntering away from her reflection, she went into the bathing room to key in the program for her lavender scented shower. A perk of her rank was the pink flashing holograms of Em-4’s first planet’s flower scenery. She stepped inside the stall, deciding not to bring the vibrator this time.
Seating herself on the side bench, she leaned back, closed her eyes and tried to relax. Alga is the perfect place to start. Far enough away from Taraf and Irnia, so as not to draw suspicion and peaceful. Holy Mother knows I could use some peace right now. She reached for the soap and a sponge-cloth, scrubbed her body clean and sighed when the face of her last hit flashed through her memory.
He was a good-looking general from Em-6. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin. Melia clucked her tongue and shook her head. “What a fool he was.” He’d fallen fast for her charms and found himself stuck like a Mercer hybrid hog in the computer-controlled slaughter room. His eyes had widened. Determined, he’d slipped his hand down the back of her pants just before his last gurgling breath escaped his parted lips. His kisses were not as good as she’d hoped.
Standing, Melia forced the memory from her mind. She stared at the pink images of meadows and trees, flowers growing wild along hills. “There’s paradise,” she grumbled. “And here I am hovering near another of Kyleena’s outskirt planets, plotting to kill someone who wants more than he needs.” Her favorite hologram flashed before her, a brook beset on both sides by high grass and bulbous flowers. “I should be there.”
Fingers found her cleft and teased from side to side. It was not an erotic image, but the idea turned her on nonetheless. Melia’s one desire was to find the peace in those mirages, the emptiness and grace of nature that Kyleena and its massive corporations that backed it with dirty money and trade agreements were so anxious to plunder and rape.
She massaged her clit, awakening it from its soft hood. The flesh within hardened and swelled to meet her finger’s coaxing. She reached with her other hand and twisted first one nipple and then the next until her body quivered. Faster and faster she rubbed, ingraining the feel of touch over her most sensitive part. She wished she could find a man who knew how to please her, one who could be both rough and gentle, one she was not assigned to kill.
She held her breath and bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming. Her body quaked. The orgasm began slowly, a teasing tickle just beyond reach. She concentrated on keeping up the rhythm, afraid she’d miss the certain spot that flared her passion and lose the moment. Her pussy contracted once. Hard. She massaged and whimpered.
Enrue Alonwei’s face invaded her mind, filling her, startling her and bringing her shivering body to the height of release. She cried out in a hoarse voice and plunged two fingers deep within her body. As she stood there, hunched over, her fingers being crushed by her body’s longing, Melia realized she desired something other than the tranquility of Em-4’s first planet.
“Shiemer,” she whispered. “I’ll toy with you before you die.”
Chapter Three
Leaving Irnia
Enrue set his glass atop the lacquered table and peered out over Leuj’s ruined gardens. The man whose city he’d taken over was an odd mix of eccentricity, selfishness and pomp. He only wished he could have seen Oemir Irnia’s body lain out. The notion that the cocky young man might still be alive angered Enrue. He pushed his plate away. Food no longer pleased him as it used to. In fact, he’d lost weight since Sima’s death.
“Sima,” he said, hoping her spirit would acknowledge him. “Why do you trouble me? Pass on to the next realm. This life was not meant for you.” He stood and walked around the large meeting table to stare through the replacement glass overlooking the gardens. Another Unangi statue lay across the grounds, knocked down when Enrue’s fleet attacked. This one was female, its black shape alluring and curved in all the right womanly ways.
“Deitre?” Enrue turned to regard his silver-haired retainer. “Have that statue removed from the gardens, cleaned and set next to the other one. They may possess some innate value to the Unangi people. Perhaps I can use them as a bargaining tool.”
His retainer squinted above spectacles at the goddess statue and nodded. “Your will is mine, my Shiemir.” He pressed the com at his desk and muttered out the request to the groundskeepers.
Enrue nodded his approval, adjusted his sleeves, pulling them back down to cover his wrists and decided it was a good moment to go for a stroll through the ruins outside. He sidestepped the painters and the men repairing a large hole in the wall outside the office and crossed into what must have been a fine parlor at one time. The furniture had been removed and the floor bore scars from the attack, but the marbled columns stood to support the high ceiling, gleaming and strong as ever.
Shaking his head at his old rival’s excess, Enrue left the palace and followed the stone path into the nearly barren gardens. Weeds vined across the crumbled brick planters. Trees suffered blackened fire scars, but some sported new leaves, and one in particular had flowers clinging to its delicate branches, white flowers that fluttered their petals in the slight breeze.
He knelt to right an overturned bench and seated himself there. The groundskeepers were en route, a band of seven men with a small hovercraft to raise the statue and place it on a loader ship. As he watched the men work, Enrue relaxed. It was nice not to think of the massive war soon to be underway. He pushed aside his plans to meet with his allies later that evening and took a moment to breathe in the clean air.
“Forgive me, Shiemir.” Yet another retainer had appeared from the palace, a data sharer in his hand. “I have the figures on Southern Irnia for you.”
“Ah, yes.” Glancing over the young man dressed in the standard blue uniform, Enrue took the sharer from his aide and sifted through the tallies. Seventy-three closed brothels, nine slaver houses, and three black market body banks. “That’s all of them?”
His retainer nodded.
Enrue turned off the sharer and set it beside him. Watching the groundskeepers raise the black goddess, he frowned, his mind returning to the emissary the Empire had attempted to send. He doubted the Cossia would give up easily. She had her orders. Rubbing his chin, he wondered if he ought to capture her and send word to the Empire, demanding a higher ranked official attend him.
A flower drifted across his field of vision, dancing circles in the air until it came to rest on his lap. He grasped the delicate bloom and drew it to his face to breathe in its perfume. Glancing at his retainer he asked, “Is there something more?”
“Yes, my Shiemir. The Cossia from Kyleena. Her ship has changed course, and we estimate it will arrive in Alga by nightfall.” The retainer’s brow crinkled with worry.
“Good, good.” Enrue waved his retainer away. “Send an envoy of my police to meet with her. I want the Cossia brought to my palace in Taraf.” He clutched the data sharer and rose. “No harm will come to her. Be sure the officers know my will.”
“Yes, my Shiemir.”
* * * *
The boardroom in the Irnian palace had survived well enough to still be useful. Only one wall bore a jagged crack as a result of the bombings. Enrue sat at the head of the long, black table with his three most trusted allies. There was a hint of danger in the meeting, but the Empire had yet to realize Enrue’s intent. Like any overgrown government, they felt safe in their rule, secure due to their vastness. The Empire considered itself untouchable.
He studied his allies, Jorin from Em-3, a balding, elderly man with a quick retort always at the ready. Then there was O’ka, the Empress of Em-19. If not for her dark-nylenth ancestry, Enrue might have found her attractive. She was stunning, but prone to acts of violence. She’d killed her last two mates, and though she hinted she welcomed the idea of him as her lover, he had no desire to become her third victim. Women don’t interest me any longer. My urges passed with my youth.
The representative from the Sovra system, his third ally, continued to scratch notes across his arcane papers. A wonder they manage space travel. In Sovra, people aged slowly and the man scrawling out his notes appeared to be no more than a teen. But Enrue knew better. Hyath was older than him by thirty years. His youthful face gave off an innocence worthy enough to fool most high-ranking officials in Kyleena. He was an excellent spy.
“My friends,” Enrue began. “Ours will be a new light in the universe, an alliance of fellows united for peace and the fair treatment of all the races. This exploitation of newly colonized planets and their people is just like that of Earth so long ago. It’s wrong.”
O’ka raised one eyebrow and half-grinned at him, her expression alluring. Pheromones drifted through the temperature-controlled air. “We are all in agreement. My armies will take this location as base to launch an attack when the Empire comes.”
“They will come sooner than we think,” Jorin interjected. He ran a palm across his sweaty brow, his sparkling eyes narrowing. “And when they do, my fighters will attack from the rear.”
“Right they will.” Hyath glanced up for a brief moment and set back to work.
Enrue stared at O’ka, her full lips and her one revealed fang. She reminded him of a snake from the Unangi jungle, waiting to strike. “Then all is settled for now. We should not meet like this again. It’s too risky. Once the Empire catches wind of my plot, they will want me and anyone allied with me assassinated.” He stood and smoothed his belt. “I’m going back to Taraf for now. To keep you abreast of my plans, be warned that Kyleena has sent a Cossia to meet with me. The ship should have arrived in Alga by now.”
“A Cossia?” Hyath set down his pen. He shook his head. “You be careful, Enrue. It might be a trick.”