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Author’s Note: I ended up taking an impromptu break from writing and posting over the last few days.

I do have, though, put together a piece on Mackenna’s costume to go along with this section, a start of whole series of things I’m calling “From a Character’s Closet.”

A Costume Reveals the Truth

“I have the costumes for you to try on.”

“Give me a second, will you?” Carson said, grabbing his shirt and wincing. He hadn’t heard Mackenna coming, and he was only half-dressed. He’d been hoping to put this off for a bit longer by being dressed before she came to get him, but he’d taken too long getting up—what was it with her? Shouldn’t she be less of a morning person after staying up all the time and having a hangover? He didn’t want to deal with this right now.

“Okay, I bring you clothes, and you’re really going to finish dressing before you turn to face me? What is wrong with this picture?”

“Whatever was bothering you before you came in the room,” he told her, shaking his head. “I thought the costume thing was for the parade, and I never said I was doing it all day. You’re nuts. That’s not happening. Even if I have a hard time saying no to you, it’s just not happening.”

“How did you know something was bothering me?”

“The sound of your voice when you came in.” He pulled the shirt over his head and turned to face her. The rest of his explanation went right out of his head. He couldn’t think. He could only stare. He’d always known that Mackenna was a woman—other than that first moment when she was under the car—and it wasn’t like she was hideous or deformed or anything like that—but her dress seemed to take all the things that made her a woman and emphasize them, hugging her waist and pushing up her chest. That was the corset part of it, he supposed, but hell. He didn’t—he couldn’t—all those lines that he wasn’t supposed to cross and all those thoughts that he wasn’t supposed to have about her, they all hit him at once.

He wanted her. He’d never wanted any woman as much as he did her, not even his first crush or his first girlfriend, not when he’d had all those stupid teenage hormones. He couldn’t do this, though.

He had to find a way back to being unaware of how good she looked and the way he’d like to touch her. He had to. Her friendship and support through this whole crisis with his memories resurfacing meant too much to him to let her go. He couldn’t afford to ruin this.

“Carson? You okay? You zoning out on me again?”

“I… Yeah, I guess I did. Sorry.”

She forced a smile. “It’s all right. I’m not expecting you to control it or anything like that. Those memories come when they want to, not when we want them to. Mostly, I think, because we don’t want them to come.”

“Exactly,” he said, feeling a bit sick to his stomach for a different reason this time.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look… off.”

“I feel a little… strange,” he admitted, sitting down on the bed and trying to sort out his emotions. He had to find a way to go back to when he wasn’t as aware of every part of her as he was right now. “Um… Just leave the clothes. I’ll deal with them in a bit.”

“I don’t think I should go,” she told him, sitting down next to him. He tried not to look at her. That would only start him thinking again, and he didn’t think it was good to have her next to him. Not here. Not now. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s bothering you?”

“Oh, just… the past. Got started thinking about my aunt and that old apartment and…” She let her head rest against her shoulder. “You want to know why I really get you? Why it’s so easy to understand the not knowing?”

“Honestly? Probably not,” he said, feeling like a heel. He didn’t want to say no, but he’d be lying if he said he wanted all the details. “I don’t want to think about you being hurt and there being nothing I can do about it because it happened years ago.”

She smiled, wrapping her arm around his waist. “That is why I like having you around. No false pity, no lies, just understanding.”

“Yeah, same here.” He had to get her off of him, though, and he hated himself for it. He’d put on the costume if that was what it took. If he did that, said he wanted to change, she’d go, and that was what he needed. “I like your outfit.”

What the hell was that? That wasn’t what he meant to say.

She laughed. “Oh, I cheat a bit—this is more steampunk than authentic run attire, but I have to balance what I wear with the whole fixing cars aspect of it. No Gibson girl look for me. I couldn’t do it. I’ve got another that’s got a detachable skirt that I use on the run itself just in case something happens. This one is nice, though. I like the long coat.”

“Coat is nice,” he said, but he’d been staring at the corset part, and he didn’t think he’d even noticed the coat. So much for honesty. “Um… If I’m going to try on the clothes, you’re going to need to move.”

“Okay. Meet us upstairs when you’re done.”

“I will.”

Author’s Note: Touching a bit more on why Mackenna is the way she is… and just enjoying a moment with her and her grandfather.

Mac and Mackenna Have a Moment

“We’re going to have a full car.”

“Is that a problem? I figured a bit of extra company might be nice,” Mackenna said, braiding up her hair. With the driver’s brunch starting at ten, she had time to dress up for a change, and she was going to do it today. She felt a bit self-conscious doing it in front of all of Carson’s family, but she didn’t want to let the boys intimidate her. That wasn’t how it worked. She had to intimidate them.

Mac leaned against the doorway. “You gonna be as close to the rest of his family as you are to him? Is that it?”

She frowned. “Are you trying to tell me who I should be friends with now?”

He shook his head. “No. Just trying to see where you stand.”

She sighed. “Is another one of those—”

“You have to decide if he’s a project or not. If this is about fixing him or the car, that’s one thing. If it’s not… You need to be sure you make it clear. If it’s what you want, then you need to say so.”

“So you think I don’t know what I want?” She shook her head. She didn’t know that she’d say that. She knew enough about Carson to know she wanted to keep him around, and that was all she needed to know. Everyone else seemed to have a problem with that, but she was not in the mood to argue about it. She was still a bit hungover, and when she thought about how much she’d drank, all she could do was wince. She didn’t want to drink that much. Ever. That put her in a bad place that she had told herself she wouldn’t go. “I do. I think Carson should move in with us. At least until he has another job. We’re going to fix the car and then we’ll see.”

Mac nodded. He didn’t say anything, and she got the feeling that he didn’t approve, but she didn’t know what he expected her to say, either. “Is him staying with us a problem?”

“No.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’ll have to get them to agree to a schedule on who rides when. There’s one too many with me around.”

She almost smiled. “It’s your car. That means you call the shots. Not us. We’re all along for the ride. Well, I help fix it and navigate, so I’m a bit more essential, but still, you know you’re the man in charge.”

Mac grunted. “I haven’t been the man in charge in years. Never was with you.”

That was true. She let out a breath, leaning over the sink. “You know I wish you were. It’s not that she didn’t try, I guess, but the things I saw, the things I did… The way her parents treated me… I suppose I was self-medicating when I decided to keep drinking, but what I did… That could have ruined me for life, and I just… If she couldn’t do it, if I was such a burden, why didn’t she just give me to you and Grandma instead?”

“Some people are stubborn.”

“True, but she had to know that it wasn’t working. That I was getting more and more screwed up, and I hate how when I close my eyes I can still hear the floorboards creak the way they did when that neighbor of ours was in our place. If I hadn’t been so good at hiding by then… Not that he needed to find me to terrify me. He did. Every time he looked at me…”

Mac touched her arm. “You are a long way from there, and whoever he is, he’s not here.”

She cursed, hating herself for talking about it again. That bastard had given her so many sleepless nights, forcing her to stay up trying to make sure nothing happened until the days stretched on too many times and she couldn’t tell what was up or down and swore he had gotten to her even if he hadn’t. She hated that part the most. She didn’t know if she’d made it real or if it was real, and every time she started to convince herself that it wasn’t, the doubts started in again.

“If you’re going to get your friend into a costume, you probably need to do it now. Likely won’t be time between now and the parade, not with the lake tour and the root beer floats.”

She nodded, wondering if Mac was just giving her an excuse to go bother Carson, since he seemed to help her in a way her grandfather had never quite learned to do as standoffish as he was. She didn’t really care. She wanted to see Carson.

The Twenty Minute Rule

So, at that point, all I really cared about, all that mattered, was that she got away. She would argue against that, try and say that I was that important or more, but she kind of had me outnumbered at the moment.

Besides, we were relatively certain that I could handle whatever they did to me.

Well… I did say relatively…

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Clayton looked at his hands and sighed. He’d been small enough when the random shift ended that Kilbourne had been able to pick Clay up himself, carrying him inside the lab and setting him down. Clay had been unable to stop him from using the restraints, so there he was, the size of a five year old, desperately hoping that April had managed to get away.

Kilbourne was busy with Clayton, leaving his goons to search for April, and they weren’t good enough to find her. No, he had to believe she was getting out of here. Then she’d round up a cavalry and make them come back for Clay and everything would be fine.

“I am curious about this twenty minutes business. Such a waste of time, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but then your little experiment didn’t actually make the perfect… whatever I am, so you know, kind of your own fault, right? Exactly what was it you wanted me to be, anyway? Not what I am, I’m sure. What kind of a use is there for a power like mine?”

Kilbourne smiled cruelly. “Oh, I can think of plenty of uses for you, Moore, and we will most likely get to all of them since you’re rather resistant to death.”

“Gee, that sounds like so much fun.”

“Sarcasm is very unbecoming, especially from such a small mouth.”

“Larabee said the same thing, but you know, while I might—to a limited degree—pick up a few habits of the physical age that I happen to be, I’m not actually different. My mind is the same regardless of the size or age of my body.”

“Curious.”

Clay shrugged a little, trying to squirm in the bonds. Kilbourne went to one of the refrigerators, took out a vial, and put a syringe in it, filling it. That couldn’t be good, whatever it was. “What is that?”
“I have been looking at the formula that your… friend created that he calls a stabilizer. It is crude, but with some work, I managed to improve it to where I do believe that it can induce one of your random transitions.”

“And why would you want to do that? And if you do, you know you’ll knock me out cold for like a day, don’t you? The only time that doesn’t happen is if the shift is a healing shift—and admittedly, I don’t know all that the healing shifts can do because they didn’t come along until you tried to kill me but I—Don’t give that to me. No. Please.”

“I thought you said you’d cooperate if I let your wife go.”

“But you didn’t. And you won’t because you have this idea that you’re going to perfect whatever went wrong with me with our child, so… Um, yeah, no. Not cooperating with you,” Clay said, but it wasn’t like he could do much, strapped down to the table like he was. If he could shift, he might break some of the restraints, but he wasn’t the Hulk so there was no guarantee there and beyond that, there was also the fact that if he shifted now, he was going to end up unconscious and still in the same trouble as he was before.

Stupid twenty minute rule.

“So now, if this does induce a random shift, since I know that you will not cooperate and shift for me, we will see just how soon you can come out of that coma,” Kilbourne said, lifting another vial. Clay grimaced. Two shots. Great. He hated needles.

Something buzzed right in his ear, and he moaned as he tried to roll over and relieve the pressure. It didn’t; he couldn’t. He didn’t know what it was. He didn’t really have time to figure out what it was because Kilbourne had taken hold of his arm, and he tried to pull free even as the needle pushed inside his skin, the plunger forcing the drug into his system. Almost immediately, he got dizzy and felt the twinge in his fingers.

At least he’d be unconscious soon, Clay thought as the pain took over. He just had to hold onto the hope that April had gotten away. If she did, then he’d be fine. He didn’t really care what happened to him as long as she was safe. Her and the baby.

Kilbourne, though, if Clay survived this, he really was going to find a way to make that man pay for all that he had done.

Probably with spandex. Just because. Spandex should be a weapon, and Larabee could make it one. Probably not on purpose, but that didn’t matter as long as Kilbourne got what was coming to him.

Clay managed to see his fingers getting bigger—and blurrier—and then he passed out.

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Author’s Note: Robert had to answer that question. Really, he did.

Trust Leads to a Plan

“I suppose I will have to give you my military records and let you compare every scar, then, since I can offer you no other proof of my identity.”

His words caused her to flush, discomfited, and he should regret that, but he did not. Her words had made him angry. He was not lying. Why would he? Of what possible advantage could it be to steal the identity of a man who had abandoned his wife?

“You could ask my father. I suppose his evidence might be considered biased, but there are people who know him who would confirm his word and mine.”

She nodded. “I don’t—I never had any doubt of your honesty or your identity, not until I spoke just now. In retrospect, it seems foolish. I must be the most trusting fool on the planet.”

He shook his head. “I do not believe that. I want you to be right about trusting me, at least.”

She frowned. “Why would you want that?”

“I do not much like being called a liar. I don’t like being considered untrustworthy. I do, even though I have many faults and can hardly deny them, like to think of myself as an honorable man. I know that it might not seem that way, not with the way that we met or the way that I have reacted to all of these discoveries and the pressure that comes with it. I… I do not think myself ready for or capable of marrying anyone. I… suppose that sounds cowardly.”

She bit her lip. “Robbie, I do think you are rather inclined to call yourself a coward when you have no reason to do so. I do not know what you did in the war or why you think that you must treat yourself that way, but this situation is not… Why should anyone feel they are ready for a marriage that is being forced upon them? Why should we feel that is acceptable and that we are the ones in the wrong for shying away from the prospect? You do not know me, I do not know you, and there is a child involved. Were they in this position, would they be so quick to take action? Perhaps, but I do not think they would do so without considerable regrets.”

He nodded. He could not disagree with that. He thought the only thing rushing into that decision would get them was regret. If there was only obligation and fear motivating the marriage, it was sure to sour quickly. All that would exist was resentment, and that would mean a lifetime of bitterness. No one should want that. A slow, informed decision made by both parties was for the best of all concerned.

“I do not think that we should make any sort of decisions or judgments just yet.”

“Me, either.” She gave him a smile, and he found himself smiling back. He did not know why she always seemed to coax that out of him. She had a sweetness to her, and even with her strength that he admired so much, she had a bit of vulnerability to her that was just as appealing.

He stopped, cursing himself for the thought. He would not and did not think she was appealing. He was not going to let himself start complicating things or give in to the ideas that the others were trying to force upon them. She was not his wife, she did not have to be his wife, and he would not trick himself into caring for her when he shouldn’t. He would not force either of them to act that way, no matter what her family or neighbors might think.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Something from the war?”

He thought about agreeing with her, even though it was a lie, but he had just spoken with her about trust and wanting to be worthy of hers. He did not—could not—lie. “No. I was just thinking, but it was not about the war. Do not worry about it. I am just… I am still very confused by all of this, and sorting out how I feel and what should be done is not easy. I do not know how to find this man, though a part of me thinks that I should be able to, since he is not the stranger I would have thought he was. He did more than pick a name at random. He picked mine on purpose, and he knew enough about me to where he might have fooled people who know of me. That is what bothers me. The connection. There must be one, yet I can think of none.”

She ran a hand over her stomach, and he wondered if the baby was kicking again. He was tempted to touch her again, but he would not. That line would not be crossed a second time. “Is there anyone from the earlier part of the war who was injured and sent home? Or disciplined and expelled from your unit? Someone perhaps not close to you yet aware of enough to give some pretense, someone who might have thought that you had a better life than he did or… Or even was so shell-shocked that he took your name in order to escape who he was? Is that absurd?”

Robert shook his head. “No, it’s not. It’s actually a very intriguing theory. I do not remember anyone, but I can ask for the records on my unit and see. Perhaps if we could distribute that picture to other men in my unit, they might know him when I do not.”

She smiled. “That sounds almost like we have a plan.”

“It does. Thank you for suggesting it.”

“Oh, it is not my plan—”

“You were the one that theorized that he was from my unit. Therefore, we owe this bit of a plan to you. Do not argue with me. You deserve the credit.”

She laughed. “Very well, if you insist, though I hardly want the blame if it is not what we expect it to be in the end.”

“If I promise not to blame you?”

“Then I accept.”

Author’s Note: Another part of the story that I was really looking forward to, so much so that I actually wrote it ahead of time. 😛

More Revelations

“No. Wait. We couldn’t be having this conversation if you were. You… you’re not dead.”

Her words made him laugh, and she thought it was a strange sound, one that suited him somehow despite everything, as did that half-smile of his. “No, I am not.”

She put a hand to her head, feeling foolish, but then at the same time, what about this would make her feel in balance or control? She had not expected to see him, and even before then, she’d been shaken by the sudden appearance of someone in her bedchamber. She had thought it was Malzhi, trying to come take what she had been trying to avoid giving him, and that had her tense long before she’d almost fought with the man in the cloak and confirmed his identity.

“I did not think anyone ever survived the king’s wrath. From all I have heard, you should not have done so,” she said, trying to recover some of her dignity. She let out a breath. “Unless, of course, you are in collusion with him and—”

“I am not,” he said, his words bordering on angry, taking offense to the suggestion. She was glad to hear it. The last thing she wanted to do now was learn that he was, in fact, the king’s spy and had been all along. She could not let him leave the room alive if that were the case, and yet she doubted that she could harm him.

He gestured to the curtain blocking the window. “I will not go into detail about all that happened after my… arrest, but I can tell you some of it, the important part. You see, it has long been believed that if my people stay in the light of the double sun for long enough, we burn with no trace at all. I exploited that myth and made a rather painful escape—it did burn, but I did not die—and I took up a position that was truly mine in the first place.”

“The leader of the resistance?”

He smiled at her, and she thought she’d perhaps impressed him a little by that observation. She sat down across from him. “It was not hard to guess. The activity has increased since your death, and while one could blame that on your martyrdom, your ‘death’ made it possible for you to do what you had not dared before when you were being watched.”

“Yes. You are quite correct. Then again, I had the sense that you had been underestimated when we traveled together. I do believe that I have figured you out at last—you have already confirmed what I suspected.”

“Have you? And did I? How is that?”

“You are esibani, aren’t you? That is your people’s name for the bodyguards of the royal house, isn’t it? You were raised to defend the princesses, even taking their place at times when the risk was too great. That was one of your duties. I do believe the king is indeed your father, but you are not the queen’s daughter.”

She did not know that she could say anything to refute his claim. She could deny it, but what was the point of such a lie? “You learned much when you were in my land.”

“As much as I could, combined with what our people have learned since we starting sending those we could across the border into your land.”

“Your people are in our land? Since—I have heard nothing of this.”

“I doubt you would have. We are quite capable of avoiding notice, even looking the way we do when we are not covered in cloaks. We do not sleep at night as your people do. Do you know why we were all exiled here to this place of terrible sunlight? Because at night, the moonlight and darkness gives us incomparable strength and stamina. We could become like monsters, free to prey upon those we will. The only way to conquer us was to force daylight upon us. Here, in constant daylight, we wither away. If we were not trapped here…”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what would happen then. Still, his people had the right to their freedom as well. “Then you should take all your people far from here.”

“We are not the only subjects of this land. Would you suggest abandoning them to the king and men like Malzhi?”

“No.”

“I believe it is time we worked together. Your position is precarious, and having held something like it in the past, I do not envy you it,” he said, and she grimaced. He would know the sort of discomfort this role was, living one misstep from execution—he’d fallen and suffered for it. “I know why you are here. You are supposed to stop the king. That is, you are supposed to kill him.”

She winced. “I am, but I do not think I can kill him. I was always trained for defense. Being sent in as an assassin—”

“I am not asking you to kill the king. Were it that simple, one of us would have done it a long time ago. Malzhi and others like him would tear this kingdom apart in order to have the power the king had and more. The king is cruel, but he cannot rule the way he does without help. There are those loyal to him or in competition with him or just as cruel as he is. They are all in collusion, whether they know it or not. The king thinks he is all powerful. He isn’t.”

She looked at Agache, studying him. “Then what is it you want from me?”

“I want you to do what you are already doing. Malzhi has already shown himself weak to you, and you can use him.”

She shook her head. “I’m not going to seduce him or let him think he can have me.”

“That would be a foolish thing to ask you to do. The king may not have exercised his rights to you, but you are his. Do not mistake his indifference for permission. If you are unfaithful to him, he will kill you. It is that simple.”

She closed her eyes. “I am not his.”

“I am not surprised to hear you say that, but remember that you must consider how he thinks if you are to survive. You are in a dangerous position. The court is the least safe area there is.”

“You would know.”

“I do,” he said, and she opened her eyes to see him standing close to her. “You are more than I’d hoped for, Esibani.”

“Jis.”

“That is your name? The real one?”

She nodded, uncertain why she had told him that. She had not used it, not even before she became queen. “What about yours?”

He grinned, lifting up the hood and covering his face. He turned toward the balcony, and she could only watch as the cloak disappeared from view. She could not help the smile that twisted her lips as she leaned over the edge. He was gone, but for the first time since she’d come here, she had hope.

Author’s Note: Fair warning… Don’t drink a mixed drink at the Legion in question. It’s always stronger than you expect. Of course, if you don’t drink beer, you don’t have much choice, but I’d say keep it to one rum and Coke and ask for extra Coke. Just trust me on that one. 😛

A Few Too Many

“Carrie’ll make sure we get to the hotel okay. Don’t worry about us. We’re not driving back tonight,” Larry said, and Carson gave him a look. While his sister-in-law hadn’t had as much as either of the others—Mackenna couldn’t seem to resist a drinking contest, which was not a good thing—and was more or less clear-headed, he didn’t like the idea of sending them off on their own. Then again, he wasn’t sure he could leave Mackenna on her own for more than a few minutes, as tipsy as she was. Even Carson had drank more than his usual, not comfortable discussing what he’d learned with his brothers, and he knew it was a mistake, but he didn’t know how else to keep himself calm just then.

“He’s going to worry no matter what,” Mackenna said, leaning against him. “He does that. Carson worries. A lot.”

He looked at her. “You might have a problem, you know.”

She shook her head. “Not a drunk. I swear. It’s only Sundays at the Legion, and I’m not like this most of the time. I promise. Not an alcoholic. Tried hard not to be. It’s just that it all hits at once, and I sound like a drunk. I’m sorry.”

He put an arm around her waist to keep her upright. “You have the keys to the Woodsman? Mac went back with Natalie and Jim, I think.”

“Yes. I have keys. I think I’ll sleep in Shadow, though. That way you don’t have to worry about driving. See? Perfect solution.”

He rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not, but we’ll make sure you stop before it hits you next time.”

“Are you still mad that I invited everyone?”

“No, I’m not mad.” He didn’t know that he could stay mad at her. He hadn’t wanted to try or anything, but so far anything she’d done that had upset him had passed, the anger or frustration or horror—that was when they discussed theories about what happened to his father—that all seemed to fade almost as fast as it came.

“Good.” Mackenna tried to straighten herself up, didn’t quite manage it, and let out a sigh. “So… In the morning there’s a brunch, and I don’t know if the tickets are all sold out or not, but the cafe has good food, too. You can try that or eat before you leave Wilmar. If you find us before ten, you can ride along for the lake tour, after which we get root beer floats. It’s a tradition.”

“Sounds good,” Larry said, smiling. Carrie gave him a look. “Come on. It’s not every day you get to ride around in antique car and get a bonus root beer float. Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“I’m going to get Carson to dress up in costume for the parade. You have to stick around for that, at least. Mac would say it was imposing, but Natalie did tell me to tell you she had room for all of you. So there’s that if you’re worried about money for the motel.”

“I don’t remember that,” Carson said, frowning. “Are you sure she said that? You didn’t just come up with that after all that drinking because they didn’t say they had that many spare rooms.”

“No, but they have a couch or two and people can share rooms. We talked about it in the bathroom, if you must know.”

“They did,” Carrie said. She let out a breath. “I’m surprised that you didn’t argue with her about the costume thing.”

“Oh, I basically lost that battle last week, but there’s still no guarantee that what she brought is going to fit me. I might not be in costume.”

“You’re really getting into all of this, aren’t you?” Nick asked, and Carson shrugged. He didn’t know how much of it he was into, but he did know that he couldn’t seem to argue with Mackenna, and she was into this stuff. That meant that it was going to be important to him, too, as long as he was spending time with her.

“Carson is involved, after all. He owns the car,” Mackenna said, and then she frowned. He watched her, hoping she wasn’t about to puke on him. “Well, maybe.”

“Yeah, if Dad got it through some kind of criminal activity, I’m not sure Carson can keep it, but we’ll see about that when we know all the facts.”

“If it was a crime that happened that long ago, I’m not sure they can do anything about the funds, but we’ll have to see. Who knows?”

“Lynda might.”

“Shut up, Nick. I’m not calling my ex-wife.”

“We should find Larry a girlfriend, right?”

“Come on, Mackenna. Let’s get you back to Jim and Natalie’s before you start a fight.”

No Cavalry, but Maybe…

I would like to say that’s what they did, that the cavalry came and saved the day.

Unfortunately, I’d be lying if I did.

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“April, promise me you’ll run,” Clayton began, leaning down to whisper in her ear. He didn’t have much of a plan, but he knew they’d move against them again soon, taking them off to some other room or something, and that meant that he had to convince her to go along with his half-formed plan. It was really their only chance.

“What?”

“If anything happens, promise me you’ll run,” he repeated. Whatever they did, he figured he’d survive it, and if he distracted them, she could get away. Her and the baby.

“Clayton, do not do anything stupid,” she ordered, shaking her head. “Not now. We just have to… Have to hope that they show up soon and rescue us.”

“And you think that’s going to happen? Come on. You know better than that. I know better than that. There’s no rescue coming. If you get out, then you could get help, but they’re not just going to show up. They had another equipment failure or something, but no matter what the excuse is, they won’t be here in time. Please. Go. I don’t want you to… I can’t let anything happen to you.”

She grabbed hold of him. “And I can just accept something happening to you? Clayton, I am not doing this without you.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, kissing her gently on the forehead. “I can survive it. We’re mostly certain of that. You can’t. And that baby’s even more fragile than you are.”

“I am so going to hit you for that one—”

“April, damn it, I can shift out of whatever he does to me. You can’t. That’s fact. And this isn’t just about you. It’s about more than you.”

She sighed, nodding reluctantly, biting her lip. Clay knew that even if the others hadn’t heard their whispers—and honestly, they probably weren’t much in the way of whispers—they probably had a good idea what he and April were talking about. They knew he was getting ready for to make a move.

“Oh, hell, not now,” Clay muttered, shaking his hand as it started twitching.

“Are you kidding me? I know that acts up when you’re stressed, but this is a really bad time for a random shift, Clay!”

He grabbed his hand, trying to stop it. “What, you think I want to do this? This feels bad. Really bad. I haven’t had one this bad in a while…”

He moaned, dropping to the floor as the rest of it started taking over, briefly managing to catch April’s eye. She gave him a reluctant nod, and he forced himself to move through the spasms toward Kilbourne, who was in the middle of ordering everyone to contain Clay. “Get him up and into the lab.”

Clay knocked into himself into Kilbourne’s legs, making the man fire the gun wildly. About the same time, April made a move, slamming the nearest goon into one of his friends so that they both fell into the wall. Then she started running, and Clay hoped that was enough to get her out. If she was safe, then… Then he didn’t really care what happened to him.

Kilbourne looked down at Clay. “She won’t get away. My men will find her.”

Clayton shook his head. “You don’t know my wife.”

“Impressive act there.”

“Um, hello, I’m five. You honestly think I did this on purpose?”

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Author’s Note: So I’m just going to cave and keep both serials. It’s not fair otherwise. I should have known better. And since the site’s overhaul isn’t done (and won’t be for a while at this rate with all the interference) I will just continue posting as I have been. I’m going to move this and the other story into their own category and get them organized as a serial should be, but I’ll have more fic in the meantime.

Since this is Three Word Wednesday, I found a way to slip in endure, destruction, and trust.

Perhaps a Turnabout

“After yesterday, I am surprised to find you willing to endure my company.”

Violet placed her hands on her stomach. She would have put them in her lap if she didn’t have the distended belly to contend with, and she had found that one of the many little nuisances about being pregnant that made her regret every having come in contact with the fake Robert Winston. Of course, she had far more than a few minor aches and discomforts to give her regrets about meeting that man. She hoped that she did not reach a point where she regretted meeting the real Robert Winston.

Robbie—for she had decided, after debating all night in her room, to use that name to keep him apart from the imposter—had been, for the most part, very kind and polite, a true gentleman, though there were times that things became quite awkward between them because of the situation they found themselves in and the assumptions that everyone made—assumptions that she had worsened by her own actions yesterday. She should never have had him touch her stomach when the baby kicked. That was more than inappropriate or improper. She could not believe she’d done that, and she did not know why she had.

Was a part of her desperate enough to hope that he’d want to marry her if he became attached to the child? Was that why she’d done it? She hoped not, but she had no reason to give in place of that one.

“It is not such a hardship to speak to you. I think it is much easier than it should be,” she said, trying to smile with the words. “I am sorry that I was not more helpful yesterday. It was a much longer morning than I anticipated, and while I do not agree that I must spend all my time in bed, I had been up and moving a bit too much for my current condition. I have heard of women who work horrible hours while carrying a child and yet they both survive the pregnancy, but I fear if you ask me to do more than walk up and down the stairs I am almost utterly useless.”

“Then I suppose I should not have asked you to come downstairs at all.”

She closed her eyes. “How could you not ask me? We have yet to discuss the man I knew, the one who stole your name and… Well, we have not discussed him, and if you are to have any hope of locating him, I suppose we must.”

“I know this is a painful subject for you. I do not want to—you shouldn’t have to suffer for my curiosity or even the remote chance that I might find him.”

She almost laughed. “I think that no amount of discomfort now could discourage me from even the slightest chance that you will succeed in your search. That man seems not to care about anyone or anything, pays no mind to the destruction he leaves behind, and while we may not be able to have him locked away in jail, I should very much like to slap him. It is the least I can do after what he did to me, and I do not want to be denied that opportunity.”

Robbie reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I will do what I can to ensure that you have that moment. He deserves that and so much more. So very much more.”

She nodded. She had directed thoughts toward her “husband” that no lady should have, but after what he’d done, she could not help it. She would gladly see the bastard dead, and that was not something she would ever have thought she’d think, especially not about a man that she’d been hopelessly in love with only seven months before.

That was, she’d thought she was in love with him, but since what she’d loved was all an act, she hadn’t loved him at all. She’d had to accept that as well.

“It’s almost funny,” Robbie said, and she looked over at him, blinking, not sure if he’d been speaking for a while without her paying attention or not. “When I was younger, my father used to give me endless lectures on how I would learn to appreciate my name someday. I’d be proud of the fact that I was Robert Winston the third, and I’d feel that name was not only a blessing but the most important thing in the world to me. I used to say I’d never be proud to be his son or share his name, but I have learned the value of my name now.”

She stared at him. “Was… Was anyone else present for these lectures? Did they happen often and in public?”

He frowned. “Why are you asking me that?”

She put a hand on her back, wincing. “It’s… When he was here, he… He told me a story almost exactly like that. Of course, he had not had his name stolen to learn to appreciate it—he said he still hadn’t, but he said what you did about your father’s words. I remember the part about the blessing. It was not easy to forget, nor was the part about never being proud to be his son or share his name.”

Robbie’s brow creased, his frown deepening, and he shook his head. “I do not understand. This… It is like this man must have known me, but he is a stranger to me. I do not recognize him at all, not from that photograph you sent. Do you have any others? Perhaps a different angle would give me a better sense of who he might be.”

“I am afraid I don’t. He didn’t want any others taken—he only had that one done at Aunt Beatrice’s insistence.”

He rose, starting to pace the parlor. “This is absurd. For a man to say these things and know so much as well as imitate my handwriting so as to forge my signature, I must know him. There seems to be no way that I could not know him.”

She studied her hands, not wanting to voice the terrible thought that had come to her, and yet the words spilled from her mouth. She did not know why she wanted to trust him, since she knew so much less of him and more of Winston, but then, the other man had abandoned her. “Unless, of course, he was not the one lying and you are.”

Author’s Note: So… I decided not to prolong the pick-a-serial thing as the website’s overhaul might not be done for a while due to recent upheaval in both my life and the programmer/artist’s. So… I’ll get organized by the weekend and give both serials their own categories and pages with summaries and all that fun.

In the meantime, it is time for Three Word Wednesday and a twist I mentioned before.

The words today were: endure, destruction, and trust. They worked rather seamlessly into this one. 🙂

Rest Brings Revelation

If she could endure being queen, she could endure a bit of pain in her ankle. She forced herself from her bed, testing her ability to walk unassisted, first doing nothing more than a short circuit from her bed to the balcony and back again, then a wider circle until she had made several laps around the room without faltering. She did not imagine that the herbs Anokii had given her had undone all the damage that Omamhi had done, but she did feel much better—not only in the physical state of her ankle but also in her mood.

That might also have something to do with the fact that the second sun had set, and she preferred the times before it rose or after it set, without the oppressive heat. She had never thought about how much influence the night had upon her—in her moods and her sleep and more—but having no night here made her exile that much worse.

“I miss the night,” she said, stopping in the middle of her room. She could pull down the curtain, but she wasn’t about to sleep after so long in bed after Omamhi’s body was removed. She closed her eyes, and somehow she found herself wanting to drift into the steps of her footwork, that old comforting ritual. She shook her head. That was a foolish thing to do after that fight with Omamhi—and yet her trainers would have said it was what she should do, even what she must do.

She could ignore it. The trainers were not here, some of them had already passed on and would never know that she had failed to follow their instructions, not just now but also with Omamhi.

She let out a breath. She should not let that happen again, not a fight that sloppy. She had no desire to kill, and she needed to know that no one else bent on her destruction—and perhaps that of both lands and the king—would be able to get close to her as Omamhi had done. Her ankle was a weakness that she could not allow to hinder her.

She crossed over to curtain, pulling the cord to drop it down, and after it had fallen, she closed her eyes again, drawing in a breath. She let it out and took a step to the left first. Double back, side to side, one careful placement after another, feeling her way through the steps. The motion was soothing, though her ankle started to protest after she started in to the more complicated part. She stopped, cursing as she did.

“Do you always dance alone?”

Her head jerked up, and she whirled to face the voice, shaking her head in disbelief. She would have said it was Malzhi, back from the north to torture her again, but she did not think Malzhi would ever wear a cloak like one of those he called worms. Nor would the king. Omamhi was dead. This should not be happening. “What did Anokii give me?”

The man under the hood shook his head, pushing himself away from the wall. She watched him come closer, her throat dry. She could not be seeing him. She had to be confused again. It must have been the herbs Anokii gave her. They were making her see things—hear things.

“To my knowledge, nothing. I do find it curious that you never do these exercises with a partner. Oh, it is, in some sense more beautiful to watch that way, but I think it does not accomplish what it is supposed to do without an opponent.”

“I think I’m dreaming,” she said, though her ankle was trying to say otherwise. “This isn’t possible. You are not here. I’m going to wake up in my bed cursing my maid and myself because I got tricked again.”

“Being so suspicious all the time must be a great burden,” the cloaked man said, now standing facing her. “You didn’t seem so startled the last time we spoke, though you were injured at the time. Perhaps that accounts for this sudden fear. You trusted me then. Is now so different?”

“Now I am supposedly lucid, and yet I cannot be,” she whispered, backing away. She knew that voice, but no, it could not be the man she thought she heard. She was either dreaming or drugged or perhaps even both.

He followed her, point and counterpoint, and she realized that she’d started in on a defensive form, ready with all but the blade—only to have him match it step for step. Oh, this must be a dream, but why should she do this to herself?

She feinted right, stepped left instead, and while the move was supposed to be finished with a flourish that ended her opponent’s life, she thought the moment where her hand yanked off his hood was more than enough. She frowned. “I’m not sure what I expected. I don’t think I ever saw your face before.”

He gave her a slight smile, almost bringing some color into his otherwise pale face. “No, I don’t believe you did. You would have, if you’d been at the negotiations, but that wasn’t you, was it?”

She shook her head. “No. Still… How can this be you? You’re Agache. You’re the king’s cousin. You’re… I don’t understand. They said you were… dead.”

Author’s Note: So… I’m posting an extra one today because I’ll do Three Word Wednesday and this one doesn’t fit with the words (I wasn’t going to try and edit them in, that just wasn’t a good idea.)

It’s okay, though, I’ve been enjoying working on this story more than I should.

Tending to the Queen

“How is your ankle?”

“What do you care?” The queen asked, disliking how much like a petulant child she sounded. She was not in a great deal of pain, but the difficulty posed in putting weight on her ankle had confined her to the bed ever since her bath, leaving her alone with nothing to do but think. All of her thoughts soured her mood, and she was not fit to be in anyone’s company.

Anokii stopped at the bottom of the bed. “You are the queen. You were injured. I am your servant. It is my duty to care and to see to your needs.”

The queen put her hands in her lap. Of course. She was an obligation. She was a tool to be manipulated and used by all sides or she was someone’s duty. She was alone here, and that was not about to change. Her people would not send anyone to her, and the most she could hope for here was to find an alliance that she felt would benefit her. She would not go so far as to say it would be one that she could trust. At this point, with one man already dead, she did not think that would be possible.

“I do not need anything at present. My ankle is fine unless I try to walk on it, and the marks on my face and neck do seem to be fading. Earlier, I thought they were worse. Now they seem improved. I no longer know what to think.”

“Perhaps that is due to the changes of the light. The bruises should be worse now than at first, and they will improve later,” Anokii said, sitting down and taking hold of the queen’s foot. She studied it, shaking her hood as she did. “I will get you some herbs to help with the swelling and the pain.”

“This will not effect me like Malzhi’s, will it?”

“No, my lady. I am not trying to influence you, only to help you heal. The longer you withdraw from society, the less likely it is that our ruse with Omamhi will succeed.”

The queen grimaced. She did not know why she had let them take the body. She did not know that she would have survived, even if Malzhi’s obsession with using her might have saved her from repercussion from him or the treaty could keep her alive, but why had she trusted Anokii? The woman had not even wanted to share her name.

“Are you a part of it?”

“A part of what?”

“The resistance.”

Anokii stilled. After a moment, the shoulders of the cloak slumped. “I should tell you that there is no resistance. There is no opposition to the king. No one is that organized or that brave.”

“That is a lie. You have people who are both, don’t you? What about the man who took Omamhi?”

“He is a fool, but that could make him seem quite brave, I suppose,” Anokii said. She rose and walked to the other side of the room, pouring water from the pitcher into the bowl. “There are those who think you could be an ally for the resistance, if there was one.”

The queen almost smiled. The maid was still reluctant to speak, but this was more than what she had gotten from the other woman before. Now would seem to be the time to ask all the questions she’d thought would never get an answer to, but she did not know where to begin. She had too many questions after so long a time spent in silence and ignorance.

“Tell me about your land. Do you know what it was like before the king conquered it and took your people away?”

Anokii carried the bowl over, setting it beside the queen’s foot. “I do not remember it—none of us are that old. It is said we lived longer before the days of the twin suns, but I do not know if that is true or not. Legends say that we came from the ground, but legends are legends because no one can prove their truth.”

“It is said my people could fly. I want it to be true because I want to fly, but I do not think it is.”

Anokii put the cloth to the queen’s ankle, wiping it down. “You must want that even more now.”

“I do. Then again, were I capable of flight, I think I would have flown far from here.” The queen’s eyes went toward the window. She sighed. “They can train you for the role that you must have, they can tell you what your duty is, but no one can tell you what it will be like when you are supposed to fill it. I knew girls when I was younger who thought they wanted to be queen. They thought I was lucky to be the king’s daughter. I never thought I would be the one bartered away for a treaty, and if I had known what this would be like…”

“Yet… You knew your people feared our king. You knew he would be cruel. You must have known these things or your people would not have made a treaty with his.”

“Yes, I knew what I would face at the king’s hands. It was the others I was not prepared for. Malzhi. Omamhi. Even the man who took Omamhi’s body. You are a servant, and you must know what it is like to be used. Does it come with the same fear for you?”

“I doubt it. You have to fear for your body as well as your life. I do not.”

The queen closed her eyes. “I do not understand Malzhi’s actions. Or Omamhi’s. Why would they risk the king’s wrath and war with my people? It seems so foolish, and yet that is what they have done.”

“Perhaps they want war. Perhaps they want a coup. I do not know.”

“What does the resistance want from me?”

“I do not know that, either.”