The Skypirate Part 39

For one startled instant, Califa could have sworn she saw a faint glow, like that she'd seen when he used the flashbow, clinging to him as the beads of sweat clung to his skin. And then she felt it, the rush of liquid warmth, the shudders that racked his body, echoing the pulsing of the flesh buried so deeply inside her. It seared her with unexpected, sudden heat, and to her shock her body convulsed around him once more, catching her unaware with hot, heavy pulses of pleasure that were unlike anything she'd ever felt, as if they were coming to her through the connection of their bodies, as if the incredible sensations had jumped that infinitesimal gap between them, and she was actually feeling what he was feeling.

Dax shook with the intensity of it, crying out at the sweet release as he poured himself into her, the barrier of years broken at last. It went on and on, and Califa found herself weeping at the sight of him rising above her, at the feel of him quivering against her, at the fierce, explosive force of his climax, but most of all at the look of his face, drawn tight with pleasure and joy in equal parts. She didn't know if she had succeeded in driving him to this, or if it was simply because he was home, and she found she didn't care; in some small way, at least, he was healed.

And when he at last collapsed atop her, nearly dizzy from the power of it, she didn't try to hide her tears.

They slept little that night. Again and again they came together, heedless of the guard posted outside the door, Dax still not quite able to believe that barrier was gone, and Califa marveling at the difference it made. The old Califa would never have thought that it mattered so much, as long as she got her own pleasure. This night proved to her more than anything could that the old Califa was no more.

They did not talk, not of what was to come, or of what had pa.s.sed, but only words of the moment, words of need and pleasure and the incredible wonder that had happened between them. And neither spoke of the irony of finding this joy now, when it was too late for either of them.

It was only when the first rays of dawning began to lighten the darkness of the room that, reluctantly, they rose to use the ewer of water to wash. Califa felt a guilty enjoyment as she watched Dax; how could she take so much pleasure in just looking at his naked body when they knew not what awaited them?

They dressed slowly.

But in the end she was glad she had clung to that small luxury, for when the summons came to their little dungeon, it was for her.

Chapter 26.

The same young man who had brought them here had come for her. He was barely more than a boy, but there was nothing childish about the weapon on his belt; he said he was merely to escort her to the royal quarters, but Califa knew he was no less a guard than the man posted outside the door.

She flushed now to think someone had been there all night, no doubt listening to their long hours of pa.s.sion, especially when she heard him mutter "Coalition sc.u.m," as she pa.s.sed. She was glad to be out of his sight as the young man led her down a long corridor. The royal quarters. Was she to face Dare now, alone? Would he exact his vengeance in private, since he was not, in time of war, compelled to give any of the usual Triotian considerations to outworlders?

Would his retribution take the form of like for like, would he order her to submit to him as she had once let him be ordered?

A shudder rippled through her at the thought of mating with any other man, even one as magnificent as Dare. The involuntary reaction made her see the completeness of her transformation; there had been a time, when Dare had been merely the slave Wolf and she had been filled with Coalition arrogance, when she had contemplated sampling his wild, golden beauty. But instead she had saved him for Shaylah...

And had unknowingly set in motion the events that had brought her here, their positions reversed, with she now the prisoner being led to a man who could only wish her dead.

But when the reached the imposingly carved door, and the young man ushered her inside, it was not that man who awaited her.

It was Shaylah.

She was sitting at a table, folding a piece of paper with quick, graceful movements. She looked as she always had to Califa, like the epitome of Arellian grace and beauty; tall, slender, with long legs and a elegant carriage. Her hair, gleaming black and kept long in the Arellian tradition, was swept up off her neck in an intricately entwined style that Califa had never been able to manage and had been a chief reason she had defiantly kept her hair short. Shaylah wore a flowing gown in a vivid blue that matched her eyes, much closer to the typical Arellian sky blue than Califa's own pale blue shade.

She rose instantly, and Califa saw the same progression of emotions flash across the face of this woman who had once been her friend as she had seen cross Dare's when he'd first seen Dax; first joy, then wariness, then a combination of pain and regret.

"Thank you, Gareth."

Her voice sounded the same, Califa thought. Richer, perhaps, with more depth. Older, she supposed wryly. If Shaylah's relationship with Dare had been anywhere near as chaotic as hers with Dax, it was no surprise.

The young man nodded, then, as Shaylah held out the paper she folded, he stepped forward and took it. In that instant, Califa could have easily stripped him of his weapon. She never moved. But when she looked back at Shaylah again, she saw the knowledge of both the opportunity and her refusal to take it in the other woman's eyes; Shaylah might have left the Coalition even farther behind than she had, but the training was still there.

"You wish me to deliver this, my lady?"

Shaylah smiled at the young man. "Yes. To Freylan. I believe he'll be able to find room in his cla.s.s after all."

Joy lit the young man's face, and for the first time he looked as a boy his age should look. War, Califa thought, made even children old before their time.

"Thank you!" The boy barely managed to retain his dignity as he went out the door, but Califa knew from the sound of his steps that he'd broken into a run the moment the door had closed behind him.

At last they stood there alone, a.s.sessing each other, two women who had once flown and fought together, who had once been tied by the powerful bond of a mutual debt beyond repaying, that of each other's lives. It was a bond that had been lacerated by her own arrogance and ignorance, Califa thought, and she could only hope that it hadn't been severed altogether.

Then Shaylah started toward her, the flowing cloth of her gown clinging to the slender lines of her body. Slender except for the rounding of her belly. Califa's breath caught.

"You're with child," she exclaimed.

Shaylah smiled as her hand smoothed over the small mound. "Yes. A son."

"A son? So certain?"

"Yes. Alcaron, who serves as our physician, has said so. She has her own methods, and is rarely wrong."

Califa smiled then; she couldn't help herself. "A baby. It is hard to picture the woman who wanted nothing more than to fly free with a baby."

Shaylah's expression cooled, the momentary warmth vanished. "The price of my flying was far too high." Then, proudly, "And my son will be the Prince of Trios."

Califa tensed. "It is... all true, then? What we've heard of you and..."

Shaylah drew herself up straight. "I know not what you have heard, but my child's father is King Darian of Trios. My bonded mate."

Califa's eyes widened. "You are bonded?"

"We are."

Shaylah's eyes were glittering now, almost angrily. Califa understood; they'd argued so often about this in the past, she could hardly blame Shaylah for her reaction. She drew herself up straight, much as Shaylah had, and braced herself to pay a long-owed debt. She spoke formally.

"You may think this merely an effort at begging for mercy, now that I am in your power, but it is not. I owe you a great apology, Shaylah Graymist. I know that it will make no difference now, that words now cannot atone for the things I said when we...were friends. I plagued you mercilessly about your beliefs about life and slavery and mating. I called you foolish, naive, and backward. Worse, when you refused to follow the Coalition rule of annihilation of a target, I thought you fainthearted or a coward."

Shaylah said nothing, but Califa saw the shadow of remembered hurt in those eyes so much deeper blue than her own. So Shaylah had known, all that time ago, the insulting thoughts her supposed friend had been harboring. She had known, and had remained her friend anyway. Shame flooded Califa anew, but she made herself go on.

"These words should have been spoken long ago. I was horribly wrong and blindly arrogant. You saw the truth, where I saw only what I wished to see. That the Coalition was the only kind of family I'd ever known was no excuse. You...you were my closest, my only true friend, but I was too much the conceited fool to realize it until it was too late."

Califa saw Shaylah's eyes widen, heard her breath catch, but didn't pause in her self-castigation.

"It was I who was the coward, not you. It was you who possessed the true courage, not to deny what you felt. It was you who saw the truth, and acted upon it, long before the scales fell from my blind eyes."

"My G.o.d, Califa," Shaylah said in quiet awe, "what has happened to you?"

The emotion in Shaylah's words nearly broke Califa's determination. She swallowed tightly; she must get this said now; she might never have another chance.

"I have seen the truth, but it has not set me free. It has only shown me the ugliness of the life I have lived." Califa's mouth twisted into a painfully remorseful smile. "I did not treasure you when you were my friend, as I should have. But that you chose to be, in spite of my blindness, is one of the few things left in my life that I value."

There was nothing more she could say, Califa thought. It was up to Shaylah now. All she could do was refuse to flinch under the steady perusal of the woman who had been a better friend than she ever had realized.

"I'll not deny I was sometimes hurt by your words," Shaylah said after a long silence. "And that there were times when I wondered if I had ever really known you at all. But I also know I was the one out of step, the one who was seen as different. I didn't expect understanding."

"You had the right to expect it from one who was supposed to be your friend."

Shaylah lifted one perfectly arched brow. "Youhave changed, if you believe that."

"I've learned much of friendship lately, from a...very unlikely group," Califa admitted. "I'm only sorry I didn't see it then."

"I didn't expect you to. I know my beliefs were, according to the Coalition, deviant. Slavery was the law, and bonding a myth."

Califa winced inwardly. In those few words, Shaylah had opened the two most painful subjects, but Califa knew they had to be dealt with if she were to truly atone for her unthinking cruelty.

"Shaylah, I..." She hesitated, then grimaced. "The difficulty of this for me convinces me even more that it has always been you who has had more courage."

"I think," Shaylah said slowly, "that perhaps I just traveled the road first."

"Perhaps. But you always seemed to know what was wrong. I didn't see it, even when it was in front of me." Califa took a deep breath. "I swear to you, I never knew who...Wolf was. If I had, I think that even the woman I was then would have had...reservations about what had been done to the royal Prince of Trios. But now..."

"Now?"

"Now I see that it didn't matter who he was. No one has the right to do that to another, be he prince or beggar."

Shaylah's brows went up. "Those are," she said in thinly disguised amus.e.m.e.nt, "almost Dare's exact words."

Califa studied Shaylah for a moment. The depth of devotion and pride in her eyes was unmistakable.

"You truly love him, don't you?" she asked.

"More than my life. He is everything I could ever wish, ever did wish for, in a man." Her mouth quirked. "Sometimes, he is more than is comfortable. A king is not an easy man to live with."

"A king," Califa murmured, "and you his queen." The truth of what she had done, what she had been, struck home yet again. And the truth of something else struck home as well. She said sadly, "I know you can never forgive me, for what I did to him."

"It would be...very hard," Shaylah agreed. Even now, Califa thought, Shaylah's innate kindness kept her from declaring the truth, that it would be impossible.

"There was no end to my arrogance," she said.

"It was more the Coalition's arrogance," Shaylah said. "And but one of the many things they were wrong about."

"Including bonding?"

Shaylah colored, a delicate shade of pink. "Yes. Before, I had only what I had witnessed with my parents, what they had taught me, to support my views. Now, Iknow every word of it is truth."

Califa sighed, a tiny, wistful sound she couldn't help. "I believe you," she said softly.

Shaylah looked startled, then speculative. "It's odd," she said, her tone sounding a bit too casual, "that I had never heard of Dax Silverbrake until last night. Oh, I had heard the mysterious legends of the flashbow warriors, and of the Silverbrake familya few of their works survived the attack, and are enshrined now in the Sanctuarybut Dare had never mentioned Dax to me. I had heard of the notorious skypirate, of course. And now I find he is not only the same man, that skypirate and that legendary warrior, but he is Dare's oldest and closest friend."

"Was," Califa corrected tightly. "And not likely to be again. I heard your Dare, and he does not seem in a forgiving mood. And Dax...Dax feels he has done the unforgivable."

"And you do not?"

"He has done," she ground out, "what he had to do. He is the most brilliant, courageousidiot I have ever known."

Shaylah's eyes widened at the emphasis. Then a knowing smile curved one corner of her mouth. "You love him, don't you."

It wasn't a question, and Califa didn't answer. She wasn't sure she knew the answer. Then Shaylah's expression turned grave.

"G.o.d, Califa, do you have any idea how much trouble he's in? How many laws he's broken? In this time of war. Dare could order his death, even on Trios! Or the council could vote to banish him, branded forever an exile."

Califa shuddered. "I thought Trios too...enlightened for such punishments."

"In time of war," Shaylah said dryly, "enlightenment is often the first casualty."

"But Dax never"

"You will not speak of him."

The order, sharply uttered, came from behind Califa. She spun around, caught unusually off guard.

And came face to face with the king of Trios.

He looked every inch the king, but the man she'd known as Wolf, the man so determined to regain his freedom that he'd nearly severed his own hand in his efforts to escape his chains, was still visible in the fierce gaze he turned on her as he came to a halt a bare two feet away. It took every bit of nerve she had, but Califa met his stare unflinchingly. Acknowledgment of that nerve flickered briefly, reluctantly, in his eyes. It gave her the courage to try to deflect some of the anger he obviously held against Dax.

"Do not blame him," she said, her voice none too steady. "He did not wish to deal with me." That had been true enough, in the beginning. "It was the cost of bringing the prisoners home. I bargained with him, the location of the labor camps for a price."

"That does not excuse or explain his defense of you. Nor does it explain why he allowed your presence on Trios. And the words of an outworlder about a Triotian of blood mean nothing here."

He didn't say "especially you," but Califa heard the implication as clearly as if he had. He had quickly seen through her attempt to protect Dax, and she lapsed into silence before she provoked his anger again; this was the man who could ultimately order Dax's death.

"My mate," he said gruffly after a moment, "has convinced me you should have the chance to defend yourself before the council. She seems to think we owe you that favor, for not giving away our escape."

Califa's gaze flicked to Shaylah, who said nothing.I wonder what kind of a battle thatwas, Califa thought.I should not like to try to convince this man of anything, not through this anger.

"Shaylah is certain that you must have guessed that she had...rescued me."

It wasn't a question, but if he was willing to listen, she would start here.

"As soon as I heard you had escaped Ossuary," she said, "I knew. I remembered her face when she found I had...sent you there."

Remembered fury darkened his vivid green eyes for an instant. Then, controlling it, he went on. "I am...curious. Why did you not give us away?"

"I..." Califa hesitated, floundering a little. "She saved my life once, and I" She broke off suddenly. "No. No, that is not why. When they came to me, I could not betray the woman who was the sister I had never had."

It came out vehemently, and Shaylah stared at her as if she'd never seen her before. In a sense, it was true; this emotional creature bore little resemblance to the cool, controlled Major Claxton Shaylah had known. But denying her feelings for Shaylah any longer would somehow be like denying Dax, and that she could not do.

Even Dare seemed surprised. But he said only, "They came to you?"

Califa's mouth twisted into a wry, humorless smile.