Shamara (8 page)

"I didn't heal you. You were bleeding heavily, unconscious. Your people took you to a healer."

"The wound had already closed itself by the time I saw Chase," Jarek insisted. "And I remember. You knelt by me and put your hands on me, and I felt the energy flow from you. That's how I found you—by following your energy trail."

Oh, Spirit. This man must be a psychic tracker. She should never have helped him, especially since she couldn't control her powers. She had exposed herself and now he knew—or thought he knew. Yet she would
never
admit the truth.

"Everyone has energy. I'm not an Enhancer, and I didn't heal you." She closed her eyes, giving in to the weariness dragging her down. She felt too badly to care anymore. Surely Haven would be better than this world.

"Eirene! Don't let go.
Heal yourself.
I know you can do it."

"No, I can't." She drew a labored breath. "If you won't help me, then let me die in peace."

She didn't speak again, instead drifting on the silence surrounding her, shutting Jarek out.
What could he do to her?
she thought dully. Soon she'd be out of his reach.

After several moments, he asked quietly, "Would you really choose death?"

Over becoming a virtual prisoner again, over being forced to use her powers to harm others—yes. With a great effort, she roused herself to answer. "There is no choice. You've decided for me."

"Blazing hells. The best laid plans," he muttered. She felt the mat lift as he stood and heard his boots clicking across the room. There was a low hum, like a panel opening, and he said, "You can come in now, Healer."

"So you're ready to let me talk to her," said a melodious female voice.

"I doubt you can convince her to do anything," he replied.

Eirene was only halfway listening, with an odd detachment. But the whisper of sound by her and the cool hand against her face drew her attention. She forced her eyes open. An elderly woman, dressed in the royal blue robe of a healer, smiled down at her. "Feeling better, my dear?"

The woman radiated an amazing energy—soothing, yet invigorating, warmth and comfort. Her compassionate green eyes and lined face reminded Eirene very much of Rayna. She roused herself. "I feel terrible."

The woman smiled. "You'll start to notice the effects of the medicine I gave you in about an hour."

Even more confused, Eirene stared at the woman's kindly face. "You gave me medicine?"

The woman nodded and patted her hand. "I did indeed. You have Alberian flu, my dear. Easy enough to treat, although you'll feel like you've been shoved into the Fires for a few days. But I predict a full recovery."

A full recovery? Then she wasn't dying. Eirene looked at Jarek. He shrugged, stiff and grim-lipped. No reason she should be surprised by his treachery. He was a man, not to be trusted, like her uncle. She returned her attention to the elderly woman. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled again. "I'm Darya."

*  *  *

Lani finished her vigorous workout and headed for the shower. Just because she was on vacation was no reason to neglect her routine. A woman should never let herself get out of shape. Besides, being in top physical form came in handy in her line of work. That, and a high level of proficiency in the martial arts. She wished her brother would exercise. Radd met a lot of space scum in his profession and needed to be able to defend himself. Of course, he had his mate, Lionia, to protect him now.

Lani showered and dressed in her newest Saija silk robe. A profusion of midnight-blue feathers covered the entire front of the robe. She always felt better when she dressed her best—no reason to be slouchy just because she was taking some time off. She slipped on her highest, sleekest sandals and went looking for Radd.

She stepped into the empty corridor. It was much quieter now that all visitors but her had departed one cycle earlier. Lani pondered her options. She decided to check the cockpit and see who was there, rather than barge in on Radd in his private quarters.

Celie swiveled around when she entered the cockpit. "Oh, hello, Lani," she said. The rich brown of her flightsuit matched her eyes and complemented her fair hair and skin.

Lani really liked Celie. She'd known the girl for seven seasons, had watched her mature from a child into a poised young woman. Like her older sister Moriah, Celie had class, something sadly lacking in most races and societies, thanks to the Controllers and their brute enforcers, the Anteks. Lani sniffed disdainfully. What was this universe coming to?

"Hello, Celie," she said brightly. "What's going on?"

"It's pretty quiet. I think Radd is in the engineering bay, doing some repai—"

A beep came from one of the consoles, cutting Celie off. "That's my subspace transceiver," she said. "Do you mind if I take this incoming hail? Then we'll find Radd."

"Oh, no. Go right ahead," Lani said. She loved learning new things, and hoped she could watch Celie negotiate a deal with a client. Most people thought Lani was simpleminded, but she believed a woman should exercise her brain as well as her body, and tried to keep up with current events.

Celie swung around and engaged the video transmitter. "Captain Cameron here."

An image formed and sharpened. A male face came into focus, a commanding face with high cheekbones and fathomless ebony eyes. A Leor, bald and bare-chested—a massive, well-muscled chest, Lani noticed with feminine appreciation. Celie sat up straighter.

"Captain," the man rumbled, his voice deep and guttural. "Greetings."

"Commander Gunnar. May a thousand suns shine favorably upon your Lordship," Celie responded, the deference in her voice unmistakable. "What can do I for you?"

Lani was excited to witness a business transaction with a Leor. She'd never had personal dealings with one, as they didn't visit Pleasure Domes, but she had heard many stories about the fierce barbaric race. She eagerly moved to the seat next to Celie, where she could watch everything. Gunnar appeared oblivious to her presence.

"You were on Travan eight cycles ago, delivering cargo," he barked at Celie.

"Yes, I was."

"Did you carry any passengers away from there?"

Celie's brows drew together in confusion. "Passengers?"

"A female with black hair and blue eyes."

Black hair, blue eyes?
Lani had just made a recent acquaintance of a woman with that coloring. 

"No, Commander," Celie answered. "I didn't pick up any—"

"Yours was the only ship to leave Travan during the two cycles after she disappeared," Gunnar interrupted relentlessly. "Think very carefully before you answer, Captain."

Lani bristled at his arrogant, accusing tone. How dare he imply that Celie would lie?

"Your Lordship," Celie said evenly, her calm admirable, "I did not pick up any passengers on Travan."

Gunnar's mesmerizing scrutiny seemed to bore right through her, as if searching her very soul. "That woman was my bride, exchanged for a trade route. I am very displeased over her disappearance. Again, I warn you to carefully consider your answer."

His threat was implicit. No one with any sense crossed the Leors. They had ways of discerning the truth and dispensing swift and terrible justice. Lani noticed Celie gripping the console, her knuckles white. How dare this overgrown testosterone factory upset such a sweet, decent young woman?

"I believe she's already answered you,
your Lordship
,'' Lani snapped. "Why don't you go pick on someone your own size, you big bully?"

Celie gasped, as the Leor's midnight eyes pivoted to Lani, narrowing and sparking with fury. "Who are you, to presume to speak to me in this way?" he growled.

"Commander, she is my guest and not aware of your ways," Celie broke in quickly. "I apologize for her behav—"

"I'm a citizen, with the same rights as you," Lani interjected. "And I know Captain Cameron doesn't lie. Why, the nerve of you, to accuse her of such a thing!"

"Lani, please!" Celie said. "Don't concern yourself any further. Commander Gunnar and I understand each other quite clearly." She turned back to the screen. "I did not receive a passenger on my ship. I'm sorry I can't help you."

Gunnar's narrowed eyes remained locked on Lani for a long moment before he returned his attention to Celie. "Since I have done business with your sister for over seven seasons, I will accept your word. You know the consequences of lying. I believe the woman left Travan on your ship, but perhaps she was a stowaway. Where did you go after you left Travan?"

As if sensing Lani's accelerating urge to dress the man down, Celie held out a restraining hand. "To Saron, where I stayed a little over one cycle."

"Where have you traveled since then?"

"I haven't been planetside since I left Saron."

Gunnar considered this. "And has every section of your ship been checked?"

"Yes. I only have three private cabins, and those are currently occupied. My storage bays have been restocked and we do daily walkthroughs. There are no stowaways on my ship, Commander."

He inclined his bald head, acknowledging his acceptance of her answer. "Very well. Then Vaden and I will direct our search to Saron."

The screen flashed off abruptly. Celie leaned back in her chair. "I've never had an experience quite like that with the commander before."

"He's too full of himself, and very rude!" Lani fumed. "I'm sorry if I got you into trouble when I jumped in, but he deserved it."

"It's all right. Gunnar can be very irritating. He's also very volatile. I must ask that you don’t do that again."

"I'll try not to," Lani said, thinking about what the Leor had said. A woman with black hair and blue eyes, fleeing him, most probably going to Saron as a stowaway on Celie's ship. Lani had always heard that Leors insisted their brides be virgins. Very interesting.

She knew a woman fitting that description. A woman who had professed to be an experienced courtesan, although she'd been extremely nervous when her first client was announced. A woman who had disappeared immediately after that client left, leaving blood on the bed's satin comforter. It might have come from Eirene's robe, which had been bloodied when Jarek was shot. But, somehow, Lani didn't think so.

Not that she would ever share such information with Gunnar. She wouldn't give that arrogant bastard the time of day.

*  *  * 

"You lied to me." Eirene slapped away Jarek's hand.

"I had to." Ignoring her hand shoving against his, he returned the cloth to her face. "Be still. Darya said this would make you more comfortable. Matter of fact, she said you needed to be sponged all over to keep the fever down."

"That will be a cold day in the Fires," Eirene snapped, protectively grasping the top of the robe she'd discovered herself wearing. "What happened to my clothes, and who put me in this robe?"

"Your clothing was covered with mud, and Darya sent me to get you something clean. She made me leave while she tended you." Jarek replied. "I don't know why you're so concerned with modesty. You were in a Pleasure Dome, offering your body in exchange for money. And it's not as if I haven't seen all of you."

Embarrassed and outraged, she tried to twist away from him. "Go away and leave me alone."

"You cut your hair." He caught a few strands between his fingers. "Changed the color. Why?"

That brought her up short. She needed to consider the possible reasons Jarek had followed her to Elysia. He could be a psychic tracker, working for her uncle or the Leors, but she didn't think so. If that were the case, her uncle would be here by now.

She thought it more likely Jarek had been at the Pleasure Dome by pure chance. When she had foolishly used her powers to heal him, he'd guessed she was an Enhancer and followed her, hoping to use her abilities to his own selfish advantage. He had strong mental powers of his own, making him a dangerous adversary. She could never allow him to know the truth, or let him coerce her.

And she certainly didn't want him to find out her uncle or the Leors were most likely looking for her. That would give him even more power over her. He already posed a serious threat to her freedom. She turned her head away, tugging her hair free.

He grasped her chin, turning her face back toward him. "Why?" he persisted.

She felt awful, achy and weak, her thoughts muddled. If she wasn't careful, she could easily say something that would make her situation even more tenuous. "I was tired of my hair," she murmured. "Now go away and leave me alone." She closed her eyes with a sigh.

"Feeling pretty bad?" he asked, his voice sympathetic.

Probably just an act, she decided. He'd already lied to her about the seriousness of her illness, and he was a male, two strikes against him. She couldn't let her guard down for a millisecond. But, oh, she felt miserable. "I don't think death would feel as bad," she said fretfully.

"I'm sorry." Again, he sounded sincere. He was just too dangerous. Too handsome, with his boyish charm and those dark, charismatic eyes. And obviously intelligent. She must be very cautious until she could get away from him. She heard the sound of liquid being poured.

"This will make you feel better," he said. "Let me help you sit up, so you can drink it."

His hand slid beneath her back and she forced her eyes open. She was feverish, and his touch felt cool. She tried to raise herself, but she was too shaky. He slipped his arm around her and supported her. She stared at the creamy liquid in the glass. "What is this?"

"I have no idea. Darya mixed it and said you need to drink a dose every hour."

Darya. Just thinking of the healer created a painful weight in Eirene's chest. "I missed my audience with her, thanks to you," she muttered, bitterly disappointed.

He held out the glass patiently. "You were in no condition to meet with her. She offered to reschedule your audience."

She took the glass and drank small sips, wincing with each swallow down her burning throat. She looked at Jarek as she handed him the glass. "You're not going to allow me to make that audience, are you?"