Page 3 of Star Prince

His yielding to her persistence was not lost on the king, and that was the point she had hoped to make. At times, though only over small issues, even her father fell victim to her cajoling. “If anyone is to blame for my presence here,” she said, her voice pleading and low, “it’s me.”

Joren scrutinized the beleaguered captain. Aras lifted his eyes. Strangely, an understanding of sorts flickered between the men. “I will see you in my chambers tomorrow, Captain.”

Then he gently but firmly took Tee’ah by the elbow. “And you, daughter, I will see in my chambersnow.”

The shuttle ride back to the surface was excruciatingly long. On her lap, Tee’ah clutched the satchel containing the handmaiden’s dress and cloak she hadused to disguise herself when traveling back and forth to the spaceport while her family slept. Her father’s hands were spread on his knees, his muscular arms braced, his eyes downcast. His expression was guarded, making it difficult to tell what he was thinking, although she had her suspicions as to what occupied his thoughts.

Within a few weeks, her marriage contract would be signed and she would be officially promised to Prince Ché Vedla, a man she met only once, when they were both children. One standard year from the day the promise took effect, they would marry, a union arranged with good intentions but little regard for her personal wishes. Marriages amongVash Nadahroyalty were part of a complicated, ongoing stabilizing of power shared by the eight ruling clans. They were political alliances, not love matches, although theVashculture emphasized the importance of good relations between a husband and wife. Eventually her union with Prince Ché could be a pleasant one, if he had matured from the overconfident royal brat she remembered.

But the extraordinary events of the past few years—her uncle Rom’s stunningly unconventional marriage to an equally unconventional Earth woman, and then, more recently, Tee’ah’s own daring spaceflights—revealed choices she had never imagined, much less contemplated. She was less certain than ever that the path so carefully prepared for her was the one she should take.

Upon their arrival at the palace, Tee’ah walked with her father to his private chambers. The ancient polished white stone walls and floor she normally admired now struck her as featureless and cold.

Her mother met them. Her eyes were swollen, as if she had been crying. Tee’ah embraced her, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

But was she? After all, it wasn’t as if she had run off to a lover, knowing she was about to become engaged—thatwould have been unforgivable and symptomatic of a weak character. She had only learned to fly. What was so terribly wrong with that?

Joren regarded her for long moments. Tightening his features was a loving father’s complicated mix of emotions. “You have responsibilities, Tee’ah. Maintaining a trade, like flying, drains time and energy away from those obligations. And then, of course, there is the issue of propriety to consider.”

Stiffly, she stepped out of the circle of her mother’s familiar warmth and sweet scent. “But after I marry, if Prince Ché agrees—”

“Don’t pursue this. The Vedlas will not approve. You cannot fly.”

You cannot fly.

There. With three words, he had ended her dream. Apparently, the king’s renowned mercy and open-mindedness didn’t extend to his daughter.

The sensation of suffocation was so real it felt as if a vise squeezed her lungs. Her hand crept to her throat, her fingers trembling.Breathe.

Oblivious to her grief, her father paced in front of her. “‘The welfare of all comes before the desires of an individual,” he quoted from the Treatise of Trade, the holiest document of their people. “Recite the rest of that passage, Tee’ah. Feel the words; feel what it means to beVash Nadah.”

He halted, waiting. She took a breath, her hands fisted at her sides. Then, at the king’s command, she recited the words she had memorized too long ago to have a recollection of doing so— “‘The Dark Years engulfed us. The monarchy was no more. Warlords arose to fill the void. Disease, famine, slavery, and terror hastened a complete collapse of civilization. Weapons of unimaginable destruction were created and perfected by those without conscience and used by those who embraced cruelty and worshiped soulless power. Eight great warriors banded together to vanquish the evil. Peace for all time, they vowed when the Great Mother’s light dawned once more. Praised be the Eight!’” Flatly she finished, “A reading from the Treatise of Trade.”

Her father nodded. “The blood of the Eight flows through your veins, Tee’ah. That brings responsibilities, obligations that others cannot imagine. We, the eight royal clans, must lead through sacrifice and example.”

Sheshifted her gaze to the window. Outside was the endless savanna, a vista she often gazed at with longing—whenever she needed to breathe; whenever she feared she would suffocate in her scrupulously sheltered, relentlessly comfortable life.

The long grasses were completely flattened, meaning aTjhu’namiwas fast approaching. The orbital weather stations predicted that one of the dry windstorms that periodically scoured Mistraal would hit by morning, bringing wind velocities exceeding eight hundred standard galactic knots.

Using all her senses, she concentrated. She could feel, but couldn’t quite hear, a steady rumbling—the receding tide of air before a distant massive wave.

She turned to her father. “To be honest, I’m afraid,” she said.

He shook his head. “Afraid? Of theTjhu’nami?”

Not once in her twenty-three standard years had she waited out the terrifying storms anywhere but ensconced with her family in the noisy communal dining hall. But a greater fear gripped her. “No, Father. Of losingmyself.”She pressed her knotted hands under her chin. “I barely remember meeting the Vedlas. Now I’m to join them on a distant planet I’ve never visited…where custom will keep me rooted for the rest of my life. It frightens me.”

But her confession only bemused her parents. “Ah, child,” her mother said, placing a warm hand on her cheek. “Your husband’s family will love you, as we love you.”

Her mother’s tender maternal caress showed Tee’ah that she believed what she told her. “Before long you will settle in, and you will feel with them what you feel here, with us.”

And that, Tee’ah thought, was exactly what she feared.

With her thumb, her mother wiped a rare tear from Tee’ah’s cheek. “Your father and I will see you in the dining hall this evening,” she said gently. “Change your clothing and join us there. We will tell stories and wait out the storm. Just like always.”

“Yes. Like always, Mother,” she whispered.

Tee’ah bowed her head respectfully and returned to her chamber. A floor-to-ceiling window dominated one wall. She pressed her forehead to the cold surface, her hands spread on the glass-composite pane, and watched the coming storm from the safety of her bedroom, unable to escape the parallels to her situation.

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