Page 25 of Hunting the Warlord's Daughter

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

To the protestsand demands of Zorabeta’s space traffic controllers, Aral merged into the arriving space traffic, even as ships came right at them. The picture of calm, Kaz scanned the center nav display, filled with colored symbols denoting other vessels, and hit theCANCELbutton each time the collision-avoidance system wailed over oncoming traffic.

He jerked on the control stick to avoid a headfirst meet-and-greet with a transport cruiser—and sent a fleeting apology to the refugees on board. He hoped they weren’t too shaken up by their own captain’s evasive maneuvers.

Turbulence shook the ship as they punched through the atmosphere. If they weren’t strapped in their seats, they’d have been on the floor. He’d half expected to hear Wren puking. Yet a glance assured him she was fine. Her lips were compressed, and she held her glasses in place with one finger, her other hand fisted in her lap. The little sprite was a natural spacehand.

“Blast my pants. Tri-fighters. A pair of them.” Kaz magnified the images on the display. “Locked on and tracking us. They’re ‘kindly requesting’ to escort us back to Zorabeta.”

“No. I’m not going back.” Wren clutched her armrests. “Cut bait and run. Run, Aral.”

“We’re going to jump.” Aral nodded at Kaz. “Engage.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

As the jumpdrive engaged, chimes and teeth-clattering turbulence increased the chaos. An unpleasant sensation in his skull followed, its contents shifting, bending, like space itself. TheResilience’s drive dampeners were nowhere near as efficient as theBlood Run’s.

Then—as quickly as they’d entered hyperspace—they roared back into normal space. Nebulae and stars filled the viewports, with no blinking targets.

“It seems we’ve lost our two friends.” He injected his voice with more confidence than he felt. “I want to make extra sure they stay gone. Kaz, how’s the drive?”

“Ready. Coordinates set.”

“Excellent. Here we go again. Ready, everyone?”

They blew through light-years in great leaps—until the jumpdrive protested, threatening to implode alongside Aral’s sloshing brains. “That’s all she’s got for now.”

Wren held her head. “Me too.”

“Weaklings.” Kaz sniffed.

“We’ll remain here until the drive recharges.” Aral threw off his harness and got up. “I say we all take a well-deserved hydro-mist shower and meet in the galley. I want a meal in our bellies before we discuss our next steps.”

“I’m famished,” Wren said.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Kaz warned her. “We mean a meal in the loosest terms possible. Reconstituting Nutri-paks in the Re-Gen. We haven’t picked up fresh food supplies in quite a while. I’ll see what the least unappetizing options are and resuscitate them.”

“Wren. Come with me. I’ll show you to your quarters.” Hands behind his back, Aral walked off the bridge. After a few seconds of silence, the tip-tapping of Wren’s boots on the alloy floor told him she’d followed. He sent his thanks to the skies she was here at all.You almost lost her, Mawndarr.After all his careful preparations, he’d very nearly been defeated by third-tier officials on a backwater holding facility!

Irked with himself, he waved her ahead of him into the small room. “I’m afraid it’s not much, but I hope you’ll find your accommodations acceptable.” He flattened himself against the wall, allowing her to explore without him falling over her. Or falling onto the bunk with her.Don’t even think it, Mawndarr.

“It’s more than acceptable, Aral. It’s nice and cozy.”

Nice and cozy? It was a basic stateroom, and plain. He peered around, trying to see what he’d apparently missed.

She turned slowly, taking in the sight of the bunk, the washbasin and hydro-mist shower compartment, her eyes wide and glowing as if he’d given her a room in the palace. “And clean. After three days on Zorabeta, I’ll never again take being clean for granted.” She headed for the washbasin. “And my own sink! In our chalet, three females shared a single bathroom.” She looked a little sad as she traced her finger around the rim. “I’ll need clean clothes…”

“Here’s where you’ll find your personal supplies.” He maneuvered around her and opened the storage locker. “Clean clothing, hygiene items, extra linens.”

She craned her neck to see the shelves, and he breathed in the scent of her hair. Some sort of disinfectant spray had been used on it, but her underlying essence didn’t escape him. Fates, he’d bury his nose in her hair if he could, holding her close, no words, just simple body contact, to let her know how blasted grateful he was that she was here and unharmed.

For years, her wellbeing had been his only goal. Then it expanded to include transporting her to Ara Ana. Both were tasks that were squarely in his skill set. But what about after this quest? Would they then go their separate ways?

He wanted her to staywith him. More than that—to want him.

You’ll need to win her over.

With what? His charm? His gentle nature? The sweet nothings he’d whisper in her ear? Every last one of those ideas fell laughably far outside his skill set. He didn’t know the first thing about wooing a woman. Kaz had blamed his unwillingness to try on some desire to wait until the right time—but it was more than that. Bolivarr and Kaz had gone from friends to lovers before his eyes. It had all seemed so easy.

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