The Tigrens' Glory (47 page)

“Yes, it is,” Glory said.  “He raised me, guarded and protected me for half my life.  I cannot leave him in Bashir’s hands.”

“Of course you can’t,” Lariah said, placing a gentle hand on Glory’s shoulder.  “You must go to Ramouri at once.”

“You will take the
Ugaztun
,” Garen said.  “It will be ready for your departure in two hours.  We are glad to accompany you, if you wish, or we can send escorts with you.”

“You’re generosity is appreciated, Highness,” Kyerion said.  “If you give us permission to do battle in the name of Jasan if necessary, there is no need for you to accompany us.  We will accept the offer of escorts, however.”

“You have our permission to take whatever measures you deem necessary in order to free Pusan-Lo,” Garen said.  “He is Tigren, and therefore one of our people, no matter what planet he resides on.”

Glory turned to look at Rollo who still sat on the pavement, attempting, for once, to avoid attention.  “Where is he being held?”

“I don’t know,” Rollo said.  “I left Ramouri the next day to follow you here, to Jasan.  However, if you will take me with you, I will aid you in your attempt to recover him.”  With each word he spoke, his arrogance seemed to grow stronger.

“You attacked our women,” Garen said, glaring at Rollo, “several of whom are pregnant.  I personally warned you of the penalties such actions would bring on Jasan, so you cannot even claim ignorance.  And, you were heard to personally order your men to kill Princess Lariah.  Why would you think for a single moment that we’d allow you to leave Jasan a free man?  Or a living one?”

Rollo’s eyes slid to Glory, then back to High Prince Garen.  “She swore that I would not be killed,” he said stridently. 

All eyes shifted to Glory in surprise, but it was Kyerion who spoke.  “That is not exactly true, is it?” he asked Rollo.  “I believe her exact words were,
if what you tell me is of value, I will not kill you.
”  

“What I said is of value,” Rollo said.

“Yes, it was,” Glory agreed.  “Therefore,
I
will not kill you.”  Glory turned to Kyerion, who offered her his hand.  She took it, allowing him to guide her away from Rollo, and whatever High Prince Garen was about to do with him.  There was a tiny part of her that almost felt sorry for the man, but there was nothing she could do to help him.  His fate was of his own making.  

Chapter Thirty Seven

19 days later, Royal Palace of Ramouri, The Thousand Worlds

Glory entered the palace with Kyerion at her side, and Kirk and Cade flanking them.  They all wore black battle leathers, and Glory was armed with her sword, a belt full of
sai
, and ten partially extended claws that had been sharpened to lethal points.  Everyone who’d seen them from the moment they’d landed on Ramouri had shrunk back in fear.  Glory was almost happy to enter the palace because it was such a relief to leave the weight of so many eyes behind them.  She’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to be stared at. 

A young boy dressed in palace livery bowed, then gestured for them to follow, surprising Glory.

“What is it?” Kyerion asked softly.

“This is just…odd,” Glory said.  “There are so few people here, and no pomp.  We’re met by a child instead of the usual phalanx of guards and formally attired advisors and escorts.  King Bashir lives to show off.”

“Yes, something feels wrong to me as well,” Kirk agreed.  They fell silent as they continued to follow the page toward the throne room.  When he opened the door for them and stood back, Kyerion stepped in front of Glory and entered first.  Glory nearly smiled, but resisted the temptation as she followed him with Kirk and Cade behind her.  Somehow, she wasn’t altogether surprised to find the throne room empty.

“Princess Gloriani.”  Glory turned to see an unfamiliar man approach.  He was soft, round, and wearing a long fussy robe in an obnoxious green, heavily embroidered, satin.  His eyes were small and constantly shifting while never quite meeting her own, which put her on edge.

“I am Gloriani Tigren, Jasani Special Ambassador to the Kingdom of Ramouri,” Glory corrected, claiming the
Tigren
name on the spur of the moment.  The office of ambassador was real, bestowed upon her by High Prince Garen himself.  Even though she was still technically a princess of Ramouri, she preferred the false name of
Tigren
over her true title of
princess
.  “Where is your King?”

“I’m afraid he is unwell, Ambassador,” the man replied.  “He has requested that you meet with him in his private chambers.”

“Very well,” Glory said.  “Lead on.”

The man bowed, turned, and walked back out through the doors they’d just entered.  They followed as he led them through several twists and turns until, finally, they reached an unfamiliar set of floor to ceiling doors. 

“What game do you play?” she asked.  He stared steadily at the floor and bowed.

“I beg your pardon, Ambassador?” he asked.

“This is not King Bashir’s private chambers.”

“Ah,” the man said, relaxing slightly.  “As I said, he has not been well of late.  These chambers are more convenient to him.”

Glory nodded, but a cold shiver crawled up her spine.  Their guide reached out and opened one of the heavy doors with some effort.  Glory looked back at her men, finding them as uneasy and alert as she was.  She looked into the room through the open door and saw King Bashir sitting on an enormous red velvet chair.  The room was otherwise empty save for two liveried servants standing behind him. 

She glanced up at Kyerion again, who nodded almost imperceptibly.  She took a slow breath and stepped forward, leading the way into the room.  She was startled to hear the door close behind them, but gave no sign of it.  

Glory studied Bashir’s face as their guide announced them.  She was shocked by the changes in his appearance over the past several weeks.  He looked old, tired, and, as the man had told them, unwell.  He had a blanket over his lap, his hands folded on top of it as he watched her, barely glancing at the Tigren.

“Greetings, daughter,” Bashir said, a half smile on his face.  Glory’s stomach tightened.  As far as she knew, this was the first time Bashir had ever addressed her as
daughter
.  She didn’t like it at all.

“I am Ambassador Gloriani of Jasan,” she said.  “I am here to negotiate reparations to Jasan for the actions of twenty four Ramourian citizens against the royal family of Jasan, and the Jasani High Consuls, as well as other citizens of Jasan, persons under Jasani protection, and various items of royal and private property.”

Bashir frowned and raised one hand a few inches in a negligent wave before lowering it again.  “Since when are governments held responsible for the actions of a few random citizens?”

“Since those
random citizens
admitted that they were paid by King Bashir of Ramouri to commit their crimes,” Glory replied. 

Bashir’s frown deepened.  “You are saying that I paid them to attack the royal family?  That’s ludicrous!  Why would I…ah…Rollo Shorif made this claim, did he not?”

“No, actually, he didn’t,” Glory replied.  “Fifteen of the men working for Rollo claimed that they were secretly paid, by you, to kill Third Princess Gloriani
nee
Aniyah,
tu
Bashir at
any
cost.  Do you deny the charges?”

“Of course I do,” Bashir said.  He sighed deeply and for the first time, Glory began to wonder if he really was ill.  “Gloriani, I give you my word that I will pay whatever reparations are required by Jasan to settle this matter.  I ask one thing in return, however.”

“Jasan is not inclined to grant you favors, Highness.”

“I do not request the favor from Jasan,” Bashir said.  “I request it from you.”

“What is it?”

“I ask that you come here to my side, Daughter, and allow me to apologize to you.”

“You cannot be serious,” Glory said flatly.

Bashir sighed again.  “Much has happened since you left Ramouri, Daughter, too much to go into now.  Suffice it to say that I want to take this opportunity to make peace with you before I die.”

Glory studied the man who had fathered her, then tortured and abused her from the moment she was born until the day she’d gone to live with Pusan-Lo.  Even then, his torments hadn’t ended.  They’d only been curtailed.  She remembered all of it now, in painstaking detail.

She wondered if Lariah Dracon would offer forgiveness in her place.  She smiled to herself.  Lariah was all things sweet and compassionate.  But there was also a ferocity to the Jasani Princess that spoke of a warrior’s heart.  A heart Glory had witnessed firsthand as it leapt forth to protect those she cared about.  No, Lariah would never forgive the things that had been done to Glory, especially those done to the child she’d once been.

“King Bashir, the favor you ask of me is denied,” Glory said.  “Although, I do thank you, sincerely, for banishing me from Ramouri.  It was the only good thing you ever did for me.”

Bashir stared at Glory in blank surprise.  Whether it was because she’d denied his request, or because she’d thanked him, she didn’t know, and didn’t care.  “I’m afraid we’ll have to negotiate reparations the hard way,” she continued when he remained silent.  “Jasan demands that you release Pusan-Lo into my care and custody.  In exchange, High Prince Garen will cease Jasan’s current preparations for war against Ramouri.”

“Pusan-Lo?” Bashir asked, his jaw tightening.  “Why would Jasan want that old man?”

“Do you agree, or will it be war?” Glory asked.

Glory saw Bashir’s eyes narrow and she tensed, every instinct alert as his hands fumbled and clenched at the blanket covering his lap.  At the same moment, sounds of yelling and running feet reached her from the corridor beyond the closed doors behind them.  She started to turn around, her feet already moving, when her throat burst into searing, white hot flames.  Her hands flew up, her mouth open in a silent scream as the doors burst open and a white tigrenca with light blue eyes leapt over their heads.  Darkness began to close in on her even as she turned to follow the tigrenca’s progress.  She thought she saw it land on top of Bashir with a bone jarring roar, but the darkness fully enveloped her mind before she could be sure.

***

The flesh on the back of Kyerion’s neck began to crawl just before the sounds of fighting reached them through the closed door.  He spun around as the enormous doors flew open, then froze at the sight of a pure white tigrenca.  Never had he seen a white tigrenca before, nor one without stripes.  If asked, he’d have sworn such a creature didn’t exist.  Even so, he had no doubt that it was a tigrenca that burst through the doors and leapt over their heads, aiming straight for King Bashir.  He followed the tigrenca’s progress as it passed overhead, turning to see it land in front of Bashir, its enormous jaws wrapped around the king’s head before, with a sharp twist, it tore the head off and tossed it aside. 

Kyerion barely caught that last part because he’d suddenly realized that something was wrong with Glory. She fell to the floor at the same time the scent of her blood hit him.  He stared down at her in confusion, his mind having difficulty processing the sight before him.  There was blood pouring from a wound in her throat.  How had that happened? 
When
had that happened? 

“Kyerion!” Kirk shouted, breaking him out of the shock that had momentarily frozen him in place.

He hit the floor on his knees alongside Kirk and Cade, already reaching for healing magic.  He sent Water into Glory’s motionless body to assess the damage, sealing off blood vessels as he went.

“Can you heal her?”

Kirk looked up into the icy blue eyes of the white haired man standing over them.  “We will not allow her to die,” he said.  “Pusan-Lo?”

“Yes, I am Pusan-Lo,” the man said.  “Glory is as my daughter.  Tell me what you need and it is yours.”

“If you can discover how this injury was inflicted, and with what, that would help,” Cade said. 

“With pleasure,” came a deep voice they hadn’t yet heard.  Kirk looked up at the speaker who joined Pusan-Lo, noting that he looked remarkably familiar.  “You are related to Glory?”

“I’m her elder brother, Lorence,” the man said.  “I, too, offer whatever you require to aid my sister.”

“Thank you, but we should get her back to the
Ugaztun
and into a healing tank,” Cade said.  “Unless you have a healing tank here?”

“No, we do not,” Lorence said.  “Healing tanks do not work on the royal family, so Bashir banned them.  Can you not transport her to your ship from here?”

“Not with her injuries,” Kirk replied, surprising Cade. 

“Why not?” he asked, just as Kyerion withdrew from Glory’s body. 

“Because the process of transportation handles severe injuries unpredictably,” Kirk explained.  “My studies of modern technology are incomplete, and I don’t want to experiment with Glory’s life.”

“We need a private room, with a bed,” Kyerion said, slipping his arms beneath Glory’s limp body and standing up with her.  “I’ve stopped the worst of the bleeding, but she will not live long without a great deal of healing.  Quickly.  We have little time.”

***

Glory opened her eyes and looked around her dream valley, frowning in confusion.  It was the first time she’d seen this place since the Tigren had destroyed the door in her mind weeks earlier.  So why was she here now?

“Glory,” Kyerion said.  She turned around and smiled to see all three of her beautiful men walking toward her. 

“What’s going on?” she asked as they surrounded her, their arms wrapping around her so that she was held close between them.

“We’re on Ramouri,” Cade said.  “Do you remember?”

Glory’s frown returned as Cade’s reminder tickled a few memories free.  “We were talking with Bashir and something happened.  I can’t remember what.”

“Bashir had a projectile weapon beneath the blanket on his lap,” Kirk said.  “He shot you with a small bit of metal called a
bullet
.”