WITH ONE hand on my shoulder, Griffin guided me into the low, long house that had been my home and prison for years now. As I was a slave, the front door was off-limits, so we made a quiet entrance through the back, where the kitchen and my room were located. Almost immediately, we knew that all was not well with U’shma.
The kitchen was dirty and littered; U’shma had probably sated his gambling itch with a food orgy. I smiled because cleaning up after him was no longer my concern.
What did concern me were the dull, rhythmic thuds that carried on the air. Griffin was immediately on the alert. Like me, he recognized the sound of a beating when he heard it.
We moved stealthily through the house, finally peering around a corner into U’shma’s private quarters. The room was torn apart, and my erstwhile master lay in a heap on the floor, his hands and feet tightly bound.
A man I didn’t know was swinging a heavy object in a tube of fabric. I jumped as it struck U’shma about the shoulders and head. The weapon was designed to cause minimum injury with maximum pain. I’d been visited by that sort of weapon at some point in my past. My skin pebbled in gut-twisting fear, and in spite of my antipathy of U’shma, I was compelled to defend my owner.
Griffin held me back, and while my instincts were to stop the beating, U’shma’s life wasn’t in immediate danger. There was much to be learned by waiting.
One more blow, and the man straightened.
He was tall and slender, his head crowned with a crop of rusty-colored hair in a short, bristly cut. I swallowed. He bore more than a passing resemblance to me. His profile was clean, with a slender nose and strong chin.
“Where is the slave? The copper-haired human male?”
He stood poised to swing the weapon again, and U’shma spat greenish-white blood on the floor. His face was hideously swollen, and his blunt fingers were broken and bloody.
“Fuck yourself, human!”
Got to admit, U’shma had class. He also had pretty good tolerance for pain.
The stranger began to swing the weapon, and Griffin drew his sword, cutting through the tube as it arced through the air. With one swift move, he clubbed the man with the hilt of his weapon, and the stranger fell like a stone.
Without a word, the pirate began rifling through U’shma’s clothing, searching for the missing remote. He found it on a loop around my owner’s wrist and quickly activated it.
For the first time in my memory, the cuffs dropped loose. My skin was white and chafed where they’d rested for so very long.
I stood idly rubbing my tender skin as Griffin bent and pulled the clothing from the man’s limp body. He tossed the clothes to me and then locked the cuffs around the other man’s wrists. It took only seconds to strip and don the leather pants and long-sleeved shirt.
It was amazing how well they fit. I stared at the stranger; suspicion ran through me, causing the skin to prickle on the back of my neck. This person was not unknown to me, and his presence was disturbing. Panic welled up in me, and I looked at Griffin in bewilderment. His face was taut and pale. He looked almost sick. His gaze met mine, and I was shocked at the fury I saw there. And the pain.
When Griffin produced the chastity ring and locked it onto the man’s genitals, I didn’t protest, though I felt I should have. Seeing that reflection of myself on the floor nauseated me. But this was Griffin’s game, and I’d play by his rules.
“U’shma. It appears that your slave has gone rogue. I’d suggest that you take him to a clinic for rehabilitation.” Griffin’s smile was grim and ominous.
I stomped my foot into a knee-high boot that fit perfectly. It could have been custom-made for me.
From the floor, U’shma struggled against his bonds. “Pasha, release me. Now!” He glared at me in fury.
“My name isn’t Pasha. I believe that your slave is on the floor next to you.”
He cursed and struggled. “I will notify the authorities! They will track you down!”
Griffin stood back and pushed at the unconscious man with the toe of his heavy boot. He gave U’shma a threatening look and unbuckled a sword from around his hips. I grinned and caught the kilij as he tossed it to me. The scabbard fit comfortably at my hip. I couldn’t resist giving a bit of a flourish with the weapon.
“As my copilot said, your slave is on the floor next to you. If you continue to insist that Markus here”—he swept his hand in my direction—“is your slave, we’ll leave your Pasha unbound before we go. That way he’ll be able to… assist you with those ropes when he wakes up.”
At Griffin’s threat, U’shma went quiet. He was afraid of the unconscious man. I didn’t blame him. He’d administered a brutal beating.
“It’s a good trade, U’shma. He’s sound in body. If you aren’t happy with him, you can have him mind-wiped, or you can sell him to another who will appreciate his finer points.” Griffin smoothly returned his sword to its scabbard. He seemed casual. Almost as though anger and pain wasn’t eating him alive. I might have little memory of the past, but I recognized those emotions in the absence of expression in his voice and on his face.
“Perhaps you won’t be allergic to his saliva,” I suggested. When his gaze darted to the other man, I turned away so he couldn’t see my smile. Behind me, Griffin bent to check the cuffs on the unconscious man. Once again, a wave of pity rolled over me. Who was that man to me? Could we really leave him to the existence from which I’d just been liberated? Unable to watch anymore, I wandered the house, looking at it for the last time.
My room was austere and nearly empty, containing few traces of my past life. Spare clothing hung on a peg set into the plastered wall. A mirror that was barely larger than a coin hung above a small shelf that held a pot of kohl and a hairbrush. I felt I should take something with me, something to show that I had lived these past years, some artifact of my existence. I picked up a handful of items and tucked them into my pockets.
“Are you ready, Lio?”
I looked around the barren room and nodded. When I turned away, my gaze fell on a small book that had tumbled to the floor. Griffin paused and retrieved the book, then handed it to me.
Recipes of the Uldmar Guyam. It was mine. Probably the only possession that was really mine. It was a beat-up cookbook that I’d salvaged from a pile of rubbish at the side of the street.
I smoothed my hand over the tattered cover and slipped it into the inner pocket of my vest. In the other room, I heard U’shma moving about. His voice was guttural with anger. I was leaving another to take my place in what would surely be a hellish existence. Guilt washed over me, and I looked to Griffin for reassurance.
“Helios. That man… my copilot. He meant you harm.” His voice was soft. Sympathetic. There was a thread of honesty there I couldn’t deny.
“Why?”
I studied his face, seeking and finding the truth there. The stranger had been beating U’shma, trying to force him to disclose my whereabouts. For now, that answer would suffice. Later, we would talk.
I took a breath and straightened my shoulders.
“I’m ready.”
Griffin nodded, and we walked away.
THE DOCKS were a bustling, noisy place, and as I took my seat in the shuttle that would carry us to the space docks, I realized what a cloistered, limited existence I’d led.
Griffin and I sat together, monopolizing an entire row of seats. He’d placed himself between me and the aisle, once again using his body as a living, breathing shield. After a day in his company, I’d come to realize that the gesture was automatic. He remained on alert, though his body appeared loose and comfortable. Seated next to him, I felt the tension that he hid so well. When I tried to speak, to ask him about what had happened at U’shma’s home, he shook his head. We’d speak of it later.
Humanoids of all sorts filled the sleek shuttle. Some were familiar, some were strange and alien. I watched in fascination, trying to ignore the leering smile of a scruffy blond mercenary. It was ironic that even dressed in the utilitarian clothing of a space jockey, I still drew unwelcome attention. I wondered if this had happened before my fall from grace. Somehow I doubted it. Something fundamental had changed within me, and it must have shown on the outside as well.
I glanced in the direction of the merc. He was handsome, with golden hair that grew back from his forehead, curls tumbling back down his neck. There was something in his bright blue eyes that caused my stomach to tighten. Had he been a client from another time? Or was he just flirting? I shivered and looked away, taking comfort in the warmth of Griffin’s intimidating presence. Was I to be doomed the rest of my life to look at strangers and wonder?
The shuttle was swift, and within an hour, we disembarked into a zero-grav corridor, using heavy straps attached to a conveyer belt to move us to the station. After a brief time in a pressure lock, we stepped into the noise and chaos of the Warlan space docks. I looked around and spotted the blond merc. He was going the other direction. When I could no longer see him, I was able to breathe.
Griffin led me past rows of sleek fighters and sturdy, heavily armed freighters. My gaze was caught by ships that looked like pleasure craft and others that looked like patched-together barges. We approached a disreputable-looking cruiser, and my heart dropped. Surely the crate had something magnificent in the engine room?
To my relief, we passed it and arrived at a common-looking cruiser. It was nothing special; nothing about the ship would catch the eye or draw suspicion. At our approach, a ramp slowly lowered, and without pause, we boarded the Aida. I stifled a smirk. It felt like I was boarding a sedate, boring family vessel. The trash heap docked next to us was more interesting!
As the ramp closed behind us, Griffin must have caught my skepticism.
“If you were a port agent, which cruiser would you inspect for contraband?”
His point was clear; the anonymous appearance of the Aida would draw much less attention. I shrugged and looked around at the clean, utilitarian interior of the vessel. Clearly some modifications had been made inside. This cruiser had been stripped down to the basics. This was obviously not a passenger ship. The common area had been converted to a space designated for training and exercise, with mirrored walls and padded floors. It could store plenty of cargo. I suspected there were also false walls and removable floors.
He skipped any sort of tour, heading straight for the bridge. I quietly slipped into the copilot’s seat, feeling rather useless as Griffin began a preflight check. The expression on his face was grim; I could see that he was in a hurry to leave the planet behind. There was no telling if the authorities were seeking us. I chewed on my lip, suddenly realizing what a big fucking deal this was: I was a missing king and had been hidden away as a slave on a planet notorious for criminal activity.
Someone on Warlan knew about me. Someone would quickly realize I’d escaped and left another man in my stead. If we were caught, I’d probably be mind-wiped. And Griffin? That dominant temperament of his wouldn’t be modified, even with a mind-wash. I doubted they’d bother to keep him alive.
For all I knew, the chip in my brain might activate a tracking signal. My heart fluttered in panic. And U’shma… what of him? Would he suffer from my actions?
I caught myself at that thought. Why would I care about U’shma’s fate? My hands flexed, and I dug my fingers into my knees, hoping the pain would shake me from that misplaced sympathy.
As the engines powered up, Griffin activated a holographic display over the instrument panel. It was a map with a course plotted.
“We’ll keep to the original flight plan. Our next stop is here.” He pointed to a tiny dot on the map. “It’s an agricultural planet. We’ll purchase grain and farming implements. But after we take on our cargo, we’ll be taking a slight unscheduled detour… to this little rock.”
It all meant nothing to me. I didn’t know how to read the map and didn’t recognize the system. Feeling that it was expected, I nodded in agreement.
“What’s at the planet we’re detouring to?” I gazed at the glittering display in front of me. It was nothing like the night sky of Warlan.
“Your memories.” He gave me a brief smile. “I know a few people here and there. This one won’t appreciate the visit, but he owes me.”
I rubbed the back of my head, almost imagining I could feel the microscopic implant that had taken so much from me. There was odd comfort in not knowing. It was freedom from the harsh reality to which I’d be returning. Memories held only the promise of pain and grief, of mourning the loss of so many. In all honesty, I’d rather remain safe in my forgetfulness.
For the next several hours, Griffin worked in grim silence, taking us out of the port and safely into the stars, while I simply tried to stay out of his way.
TIME DRAGGED.
I tried to sleep, but to no avail. The room was strange to me, the bed uncomfortable. I smelled a stranger in the air. We still hadn’t discussed the man we’d left behind on Warlan—the man who looked so much like me. His room said little about him beyond the fact that his body was the same size as mine. There were no mementos, no decorations or images of family or friends. Simply basic clothing and a hygiene kit. Being in his room disturbed me.
After wandering the cruiser, I returned to the large room that was clearly a gymnasium. Two walls were lined with mirrored surfaces. Standing racks held swords and poles and other weapons used in hand-to-hand combat. The other walls were padded. That made me grin, imagining the violent sparring that must sometimes take place here. The weapons were secured by a strong magnetic force so they wouldn’t fall loose during rough travel.
I entered the room and began walking a form with the kilij in hand, letting my body guide me. If I thought about what I was doing, it slipped away. When I simply followed the sword, my body followed too. Emptying my mind soothed the panic simmering just under the surface of my thoughts.
I walked the form until my muscles burned and blisters rose on my skin. The pain threw me deeper into a strange meditative state. Words rose unbidden in my mind—nonsensical, meaningless words. Yet those words had meaning when combined with the swordplay. Faces… images wavered in my mind as I moved. Gradually I increased the speed of the set, until the room blurred in front of my weary eyes. I knew nothing but the blade and the form. This was one set, one story. This was the story of the beginning, of darkness and light—Chaos and Logos.
I knew there were others—dozens of others—but for now, I’d perfect this first set. In my imagination, I pictured the golden kilij cleaving a path through nothingness, separating it into night and day.
“Helios.”
My focus shattered, the tip of the blade dropped, and I turned to where Griffin stood leaning against the frame of the entryway. I hadn’t heard the door slide open. Another weakness. No wonder I’d needed a bodyguard.
“It’s time to stop now.” He moved to my side and pulled the hilt of the sword from my aching fingers. He examined my hands critically, cradling them in his own.
“You’ve caused yourself harm, Lio. I know this is all difficult, but you must rest. I’ll begin training you tomorrow.”
“Training me?” I looked around in confusion.
“I had to learn to fly. I didn’t expect you to walk onto a cruiser and know how to operate it. You need to train just like I did.”
That left me feeling just a bit foolish.
“Truth is that I’m fine when we’re flying by the computer, but there’ll be times I’ll need your vision.” He tapped the patch over his left eye. “This affects my depth perception. You’ve always had better hand-eye coordination than me. I expect you’ll become a skilled pilot.”
“So I was actually better at something than you were?”
He cocked a brow at me in humor. He was doing something with my hands, but I didn’t look. Moving caused the room to tilt.
“Let’s see…. You consistently bested me with short blades and hand-to-hand, while I excelled in wrestling and long blades. You also bested me with pistols, though not the longer-range weapons. You’ve always been better on the skimmers, while I fought better on horseback.”
“Horseback?”
“Yes, Lio. We managed to bring many of our horses away when we fled. We captured your old stallion, Pax. He’s put several foals on the ground these past few years.”
My arms were nearly too weary to lift the sword, but I hefted it up, tip to the ceiling.
“This? Are you better with this weapon?”
“No. The kilij is a weapon of the Sun Priests. You are one of the few among us who knows the kilij forms. I’ve never trained on it.”
“Yet you’ve had it with you all this time.”
He gave a curt nod and turned to leave the practice room. I followed him into the curving hallway.
“You knew you’d find me.”
He paused and then turned to face me fully.
“I have reason to believe that Markus was a spy and a conspirator against our people. When I partnered with him at the beginning, I knew it was a risk, but I expected he’d eventually lead me to you. I was right.” He leaned back against the smooth wall of the tidy cruiser, weariness etched on his face. “He obviously knew you were on Warlan, living with U’shma. This planet wasn’t on our flight plan. Markus coaxed me into stopping there. He insisted that the ship needed maintenance.”
“While in reality, he was looking for me.”
“You weren’t where he expected you to be. We’d been planetside for three days, and Markus had vanished on me. He damned himself by knowing you’d be with U’shma.” Fortunately Griffin was a better gambler than U’shma; otherwise I’d have been at home, exactly where Markus expected me to be.
Wearily, I leaned against the wall opposite him. “Did you suspect I’d be on Warlan?”
He sighed. “Actually, no, I didn’t. I thought Markus just wanted some planet time. I sometimes planted a tracker on him when we landed on a suspicious planet, but this one slipped past me. I was just happy to get away from him for a few days. You and I being in the same bar at the same time was strictly serendipity.”
If Markus was indeed a spy, Griffin had to have lived with his guard up every minute. No wonder he’d needed some downtime. The pity was that he’d had to take it on Warlan.
“He looks like me.”
“Markus is your cousin. I’d suspected that he was involved in the invasion of our planet. He was probably hoping to be elevated to some position of leadership. Under your uncle, he was simply another member of the extended family. With their deaths, and then yours, he’d have been within striking range of the throne. Following your death, only your sister and your son would stand in his way.”
Any sympathy I might have had for the man we’d left in U’shma’s house suddenly evaporated. In fact, I rather wished we’d killed him. Anger curled in my chest, tight and hot. Though I had racked my brain for an alternative explanation, I could only conclude that Markus had nothing but ill intentions toward me. He was my cousin, and his betrayal left me feeling sick and frightened.
“Why did you have my sword with you?”
His gaze dropped to the golden blade in my hand. He then looked at me.
“It’s all that I had left of you. And I’d lost so much already.”
“I’m sorry, Griffin.”
His face was gaunt with old pain, years of suffering.
“It killed me to be with him, day in and day out. Seeing your face in his and yet knowing that he could have been involved in the deaths of so many of our people. Knowing he might have been involved in your disappearance.”
“Why do you suppose he was looking for me?”
He shrugged one shoulder, leaning his head back against the bulkhead. “Perhaps they’d lost track of you. Perhaps he’d decided enough time had passed that he could safely assassinate you. I doubt he had your well-being in mind.”
And this was a member of my family.
“If this is what I’m returning to….”
“What you are returning to is not an easy life. We’re still struggling just to eat and keep ourselves warm in the winter. We are finally settling into a method of governance that most are comfortable with.”
“My return will upset that as well.”
“Your return will give us hope. You will bring the stability that we haven’t had in years.”
I clenched my fists, feeling the sting of raw flesh. My arms hurt, and my body was weary. But thoughts raced one after the other. A future that had been bleak and amorphous yesterday was suddenly full of promise as it loomed before me, yet it was also full of fear. My body sagged. Panic gripped my chest. Something was happening to me. For a moment, I thought perhaps I was dying. I rubbed a hand over my heart and noticed that it was bloody, but I didn’t care. I needed… I needed to go back. Back to Warlan…. I gasped, my knees buckled, and I fought to stay on my feet.
“Lio. Right now. What are you feeling?” His voice was low and urgent.
I shook my head in frustration.
“One word, Lio. What are you thinking?”
“U’shma.”
The word broke from my lips painfully. Cold sweat trickled all over my skin, and nausea carried bile into my throat. I hadn’t eaten in hours, but my stomach cramped and roiled. The need to crawl away and hide battled with the desire to go back, to return to the safety of my life.
Griffin crossed the corridor with dizzying speed, lifted me off my feet, and slammed me hard into the wall.
“He is no longer your master.” He shook me, his harsh face contorted into a snarl of anger. “Do you understand, Pasha? You no longer belong to U’shma. You’re with me now!” He spun me, forcing me face-first into the smooth wall. My arm was wrenched back in a vicious hold. “Mine, Pasha! Do you understand?”
Pain seared through my arms and up into my shoulders. Anger rose, cutting through the haze of panic and loss. The use of my slave name infuriated me… and filled a void.
“Fuck. You!”
I shook with confusion and quaked with fear. I was hot with fury. I struggled against his hold, and he pushed me harder, wrapping a fist into my braid, dragging my head back to look into his face. I kicked backward, connecting with his knee. He had the advantage; his heavy bulk kept me trapped and helpless. My free hand tried to clasp the wall, searching for a grip. Long streaks of blood marred the white surface. I twisted to look at this fearsome man; his face was cold and hard. It was the face of a stranger.
“You no longer belong to the beast. You are mine, Pasha!” One big hand fumbled at the waistband of my pants and brought them down past my hips. He thrust his hard, leather-covered cock against my ass in a brutal show of dominance that left me breathless and afraid.
“I will fuck you if I want to fuck you…. I’ll beat you if that is my will.” He thrust hard, pushing my pelvis into the wall. “Your life is mine, Pasha. If I wish you dead, you’ll die.”
His breath was hot against my face. Blood rushed through my body. My ears rang. My vision began to grow dark. All I could hear was the frantic beat of my heart.
“Say it, Pasha. You do not belong to U’shma.”
Frantically I shook my head in denial. That couldn’t be! He was all I knew… the only safety in my life. I felt Griffin’s hard hand on my flaccid cock, pulling, pumping, forcing me to erection. I opened my mouth to swear, to shout, but instead, I screamed. It was a primal shriek of rage, of pain and denial.
“Say it, Pasha….”
“No… not… no….” My hips bucked and jerked under his rough handling. Behind me, he’d kicked my legs apart and kept one hand buried in my hair, pressing my face into the wall. I sobbed in pain and arousal. I sobbed in denial.
“Say it, Pasha!”
I resisted, fighting to keep my voice sealed. But he would not be denied.
“Say it,” he whispered harshly.
“Not his! Not U’shma’s!”
The words released a torrent of emotion that threatened to drown me. I was lost, blinded, held on my feet by hard hands and an iron personality. Tears mixed with blood and sweat smeared the walls. I panted, gulping deep, searing breaths.
“You aren’t Pasha. You are Helios. Say it.”
I swallowed hard. The words caught in my throat. I forced them out, my voice sounding like glass shattering. Somewhere deep in my brain, something else shattered, something old and fundamentally wrong.
“Not Pasha.”
I still struggled, twisting my hips away from that brutal hand. I was hard, my cock painful and weeping. I wanted to run, to be free of this stranger. I wanted him to take me, to fuck me. The sound that came from me wasn’t the sound of a grown man, but rather a wounded, frightened animal.
“What is your name?” His voice was a threatening whisper in my ear. “What is your name?”
“Pa…. Helios. It’s Helios. Dayspring.”
“Say it all now.” His hand had grown gentler, a reward for right behavior. I trembled, grateful for the respite.
“I’m Helios Dayspring. I don’t belong to U’shma anymore.”
“Who do you belong to?”
I didn’t answer, and was rewarded with a sharp jerk on my braid.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You. I belong to you,” I whispered.
I’d submitted. Slowly my body began to relax; I slid forward into the wall. I might have climaxed, or maybe I didn’t. I don’t really know. I just knew that once the words came from my mouth, I broke, and the image of my former owner began to slip from my mind. The fear of the future became soft and distant. The hard body pinning me against the wall was the only reality in my existence.
I didn’t cry any more. There was no grief, only a painful shift in my mind. I went limp, and he caught me. Before my vision faded, I saw the face of Griffin Hawke looking down at me; a terrible pain had settled over his expression. I wanted to wipe that look away, but my arms were too heavy to lift. He dragged me back into the gym and laid me on the padded floor. I glanced at my reflection, and in distant shock, saw that my tears were blood; my face was white and ashen. Blood trickled from one ear down to the collar of my shirt. Something very bad was happening to me. Pain seared through my head, more powerful and potent than anything I’d ever before experienced.
My eyes slipped closed, and before I passed out, strong arms wrapped around me and held me close.
HELIOS LAY like the dead, blood pooling around his head, seeping from his hands. I fought down nausea, gathering him in my arms, resting my forehead against his. In spite of the sweat beading his skin, he was frighteningly cold. Occasionally he shuddered, a bone-deep convulsion shaking his entire body. I’d watched him for hours, repeating the same forms compulsively. It had frightened me, reminding me of slaves I’d seen in other places, their wills subverted by personality, training, and technology. I’d expected some sort of reaction to the separation from U’shma.
I hadn’t expected this.
Once he’d ceased shaking, I’d found towels and water, basic first aid supplies, and tended him, ordering the temperature in my own cabin up to preserve his body heat. I’d placed him on my bed like a virgin bride, covered him with a single white sheet, and studied him. I stared and stared, unwilling to look away, for if I did, he might vanish. That’s how magical it seemed to have him here with me, here in my bed.
Sun and Moon. How he’d suffered. How I’d crushed him, forcing my body and my will onto him, breaking the tenacious bonds that held him to U’shma. I remembered the blood on his face, the stink of panic and fear. My erection and his unwillingness.
I dashed to the toilet, knelt on the floor, and vomited into the receptacle over and over, till my throat burned with bile and my head ached and my hands shook. I pushed back from the toilet and leaned against the wall, letting my eye drop closed. I wanted to cry but hadn’t earned that right. I’d dominated him, broken him and patched him back together. It’d been crude and ugly. There was nothing else I could have done. Eventually, Helios would have gone mad, perhaps damaging himself far more than he’d done there in the gym.
In time, he might have been driven to taking his own life.
I’d done the right thing. That didn’t mean I had to congratulate myself for doing so. It was the single most brutal, cruel act I’d performed in my life, and in my life, I’d done some very dark things.
From the doorway I looked at him. His sheet-draped form was still, but I saw his chest rising and falling. His shockingly long hair draped to one side of the bed. Struggling to my feet, I walked to him, my steps heavy, as though I dragged granite feet through mud.
His pale face was still, devoid of dreams. At least I hoped he didn’t dream, because there’d been little joy in his life these many years.
If he did dream, did he have memories of me buried deep in his subconscious? Had he ever dreamed of me, only to forget upon awakening? I’d dreamed of him every night for over five years. Every night. I’d known he was alive and waiting. Had he known somewhere deep inside that I’d find him?
I’d probably never know. He’d probably never remember those dreams.
I touched him, his skin so soft and fine. It was so different than the last time I’d embraced him. Without his facial hair, his lips looked fuller and softer, his strong chin gentled by a slight cleft. I lifted a heavy lock of his hair and it slipped through my fingers. I should braid it, keep it out of his way and untangled, but it was so—beautiful.
Helios Dayspring was handsome. Striking. Compelling and charismatic. He was not beautiful.
The hair slipped from my hand, and I stepped backward, stopping at the doorway. I lowered the lights, not wanting him to awaken in the darkness. When I’d looked at him for longer than necessary, I continued to look. My heart shattered and slowly reassembled.
I’d always loved Helios, from the first day I saw him on the practice field, falling from his horse, then rolling to his feet as though he’d intended to do just that. He’d laughed—bold, brash, and with a touch of self-deprecation. I’d loved that boy, and the man he’d become.
But this man? I didn’t know him.
Or maybe I did. And if he was the man I remembered, he’d be horrified and humiliated by what I’d done to him in the practice room. He’d been prideful before, but now he was to be a king. In my experience, that didn’t always bring out the best in men, even the Daysprings, who’d been our hereditary rulers for countless centuries.
But I looked at the man on the bed, the stranger with a beloved face, and I felt a glimmer of hope. This wasn’t the arrogant young soldier I remembered and loved; this was someone else. Someone humble. Someone who could bend. Who could listen and learn. Maybe his experience would mold him into a better man.
He’d remember those things he needed to know. He would.
He must.
I slid the door closed and returned to the cockpit. We could only go so far on preprogrammed flight plans. A ship needed a pilot, just as a country needed its leader.
He wasn’t mine. I could never forget that. No matter what I felt for him, or the submission I’d forced on him, he was not mine. He belonged to our people. Those who’d trusted me to find our missing king.
I took the pilot’s chair and double-checked our headings and engaged the navigation, then sat in the cockpit, staring out into space.