Constant
Constant
The Valespian Pact, 3
Lexi Ander
Constant
The Valespian Pact 3
By Lexi Ander
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.
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Edited by Crystal Marie of Little House of Edits
Edited by Alyson Roy of Royal Editing Services
Proofread by Alicia Nordwell
Cover designed by Aisha Akeju
Formatting: Other Worlds Ink
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This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.
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First Edition March 2020
Copyright © 2020 by Lexi Ander
Printed in the United States of America
Created with Vellum
For Crissy who asked for Mestor’s story. Without her, Mestor would have still been a bachelor at the end of the series. Love you!
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Also,
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For the fans of the Valespian Pact who have waited for this next step in the series. Thank you for sticking with me and with the crew of Oethra 7.
Contents
Author's Note
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
A Note from Lexi Ander
About the Author
Other Books by Lexi Ander
Author's Note
Constant wouldn’t be the book it is today without the help many people. I had plans for Mestor and Sohm’lan’s romance to unfold as a side plot throughout the series with the beginning running concurrently with Striker’s timeline. So, in the fall of 2017 I decided to write a couple of flash fictions to jumpstart things. I’d been working on Bespoken at the time, and a few things made me realize that Mestor and Sohm’lan’s journey needed to be told before Bespoken.
Constant took me a long time to write. I was sure it would only be 35k and discovered I was deeply, deeply mistaken. Every time I thought I was finished, the characters kept talking. I admit, this has been the most difficult book I have written to date. I scrapped a lot of chapters and got sick of all the rewrites. Depression played a part in the difficulties since it stole my words, but I stuck with Constant, and I’m glad I did… even if it is my longest book at an epic 250k words. (I had a ton of those, “Are you done yet?” conversations with the characters!)
Constant is not only a story about Prince Mestor and Warlord Sohm’lan, but about the Vondorian family, and the Atlaintician people. It is a story I didn’t know needed to be told until it was almost too late. What an amazing ride.
Acknowledgements
The creation of this book would not have happened without the support and thoughtfulness of many people. I am grateful for the wonderful group of Lexi’s Sandbox. It is because of their encouragement and support that Constant became a reality. Thank you for staying with me through that dark year. I will never forget.
Thanks to Mary Cabrera-Redondo for the title, it fits Mestor and Sohm’lan’s story perfectly. A huge thank you to the awesome team of beta readers: Suhely Pina Brito, Sheena J. Himes, Misti Blue, Wendy Swansby Dishon, Felicia Anderson, Victoria Galyon, Claudia Jardine, Agnese Mandetta, Sarah Neudendorff, Aliss Harrison, and Mary Cabrera-Redondo who read that awful 60k first draft and did not drive to my house to chuck it back at me. I would also like to give a special thank you to Suhely Pina Brito, Sheena J. Himes, Agnese Mandetta, Sarah Neudendorff, and Aliss Harrison for your considerable feedback and taking the time to listen to my questions and worries. Another special thank you to Mary Cabrera-Redondo for, well everything, including putting up with gibberish texts off and on over the last couple of years. Blurb writing! I must say thank you to Lissa Kasey and Sheena Himes for helping with the blurb and keeping me from giving away all the goods before you even cracked open the book! And Alicia Nordwell will ever have my undying gratitude for all her help and insight. All of you are rock stars in my eyes. Love you!!
Prologue
Planet Atlainticia
Timeframe: Prince Zeus and the Oethra 7are being escorted to Valespia by his brothers on The Gorgon.
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Ashari
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Empress Ashari Vondorian thought the arrangements for Azaes’ and Ariafella’s commitment ceremony were coming along well. Her future daughter knew what she wanted but was willing to be flexible when needed. Normally, Ariafella shunned mindless frills, but today Ashari talked her into adding some floral arrangements to the ceremony that she thought were a lovely touch.
As the last attendant left with their to-do list, Ashari smiled contentedly at how much they had accomplished so far. Ariafella sorted through swatches of colored spyder silk, her white scales gleaming in the morning light. If someone had told her twenty summers ago that her eldest son would fall head over heels for Ariafella, she would have laughed them out of the palace. Azaes’ first meeting with his future bride had ended with him demanding Ashari forbid Zeus from claiming Ariafella as a friend. Her eldest youngling had been nine and extremely jealous of the attention Zeus gave to her, his attitude bordering on being unforgivably rude.
She had put a stop to Azaes’ behavior, but every time Ariafella visited he tagged along with Zeus, grumpy but civil. Strangely, when Zeus and Rathmar became friends, Azaes had not acted out, accepting Rathmar readily enough. At the time, Ashari thought it was because he had learned his lesson with Ariafella: Zeus was allowed friends. Only with Ariafella did Azaes continue to hold some barely concealed… at the time Ashari had thought it was animosity. She had been sure of it when Ariafella came to stay at the palace when Azaes was fifteen. He had knocked Ariafella into the water fountain, which he always claimed was an accident, but Ashari had not believed him. During that stay, something changed after Zeus, Rathmar, and Ariafella had been kidnapped while at the market. They had been found quickly since Azaes, Mestor, and Sohm’lan had immediately given chase with the Monticore. But Azaes… he returned with them different, swearing that he would one day marry Ariafella. He worked hard to win her over, and now, they would join their lives together.
Ashari adored her future daughter, always had, and believed she would fill the role of empress well. Her time spent abroad at her father’s side taught Ariafella to negotiate any political situation with
expertise. Her father, Tymon Sagonas, was Atlainticia’s ambassador to the Proxima Heann Coalition. When Zeus had taken to Ariafella so quickly upon their first meeting, Ashari had considered arranging a mating between the two if they were still close when Zeus turned fifteen. Ashari hid a smile. Azaes did not need to know how close he had come to losing Ariafella to his brother.
Ariafella gave a long sigh and slumped elegantly in the high-back chair.
“What troubles you?” Ashari crossed to the table and took the seat next to her. The news that Zeus was kidnapped from the Imperial Space Station Bashker’Qa had distressed them both. A couple days ago, Azaes sent her an update that relayed Zeus had been found and was safe. Not wanting to be overheard by anyone listening in, Azaes told her with the language of the hands about the Fal’Amoric. They were not returning home until after they escorted the royal family to Valespia. As relieved as she was that her sons were safe, she sensed there was more to the situation, and that had been on her mind since their last communication. She assumed that Ariafella’s thoughts were similar, but Ariafella’s concerns were closer to home.
“The head of House Cordyl is vile.” As if realizing what she had said aloud, Ariafella quickly glanced at the door. When she saw it was closed, she slouched even farther in her relief. Anyone who wanted to enter would knock first.
“He is not the most pleasant bull to be around,” Ashari replied, alert to Ariafella’s changing mood. “Has he done or said anything to you?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that. His two youngest recently finished classes at the Academy and did not come home after graduation, nor have they contacted him. Timsah made a scene at market yesterday, insistent that Rathmar knows where they are. I do not understand. Rathmar is almost as large as Sohm’lan, and yet he refuses to defend himself against Timsah.” She hissed her frustration but did not interrupt Ariafella. “Azaes does not approve of our friendship, but Rath and Zeus are the only real friends I have. I do not know what happened between those two, no one will tell me, and as far as I am concerned if Azaes and Mestor cannot say why they revile Zeus’s best friend… well, I am not going to cut Rathmar out of my life just because Azaes says so. And Rathmar!” Ariafella threw the colored blocks of silk into the carved, wooden box. “He is no better than Mestor or Azaes, carrying guilt around and refusing to confide in me. I want to help him get out from under his father’s abuse and away from those vile people who make up House Cordyl. I know he has been waiting for his youngest siblings to leave. And now that it seems that they have… why is he still there? I do not understand why he would stay in that abusive situation.”
Ashari looked away, her own guilt eating at her. It was time for these… secrets around Rathmar to be revealed. The next time she contacted Valdor she would insist that they finally speak to Zeus, Ariafella, Azaes, and Mestor about Zeus’s childhood friend.
Ariafella continued her rant, not noticing Ashari’s remorse. “We were together when I received the message about Zeus being kidnapped by pirates from the space station. I thought he was going to pass out from shock and worry. As soon as Zeus comes home, I am going to make them sit down and resolve this issue between them. It has gone on long enough,” Ariafella vowed emphatically.
Ashari frowned. Did Ariafella pass on the information that Zeus had been found and unharmed to Rathmar?
“The outcome of that confrontation might not be what you want it to be,” Ashari cautioned, wanting to confide in her future daughter but for various reasons she held her tongue. Soon, she promised herself, soon she and Valdor would shed themselves of this Crown secret. Though, she would do what she could to smooth over the rough edges between her son and his friend. She and Valdor were responsible for not squashing Zeus’s perception of that event five summers ago. At the time, they had believed their caution warranted.
Ariafella’s large, red eyes blinked several times as if she fought strong emotions. “I know that, but I am hoping for the best. With Rathmar distancing himself and Zeus gone, I have been so lonely. Azaes is taking on more and more responsibility from his father and Mestor is always at his side. How do you do it, Ashari? Do you not thirst for friends or companionship? Do you ever get lonely?”
“Of course,” Ashari agreed, knowing Ariafella’s ache all too well. “All my younglinghood friends are on the other side of the continent and we grew apart over time, but I had my young and their antics. Valdor and I learned how to make quality time for each other. I have every confidence you will have better success. You have traveled extensively with your father and are much more outgoing than I ever was at your age. You will find a balance. I also think you will feel better once Zeus returns home.”
Ariafella nodded, not looking as if she agreed. “I think I am going to go for a swim. Want to come?”
“Let me wrap up a couple things and I will meet you there.” Ashari watched her leave, Ariafella’s gold-trimmed white robes billowing behind her in her haste.
Ashari sighed heavily. Being the empress of Atlainticia was never easy. Throughout the summers, she and Valdor had kept things from their young. Sometimes, it was because they were simply too young. But the secret they’d kept these last five summers had been the hardest. At the time they had made the decision, it seemed the best course of action for all involved. They were wrong. They should have brought Azaes and Mestor into their confidence four summers ago, but her sons were not the best at hiding their emotions. There was the concern that they would give away everything when they lost their temper with certain people. It was best that the twins unknowingly kept up a ruse that Valdor had set into place acting as the Crown and had decided what was best for Atlainticia as a whole. Over the intervening time, the twins had become better at masking their emotions, but Valdor refused to wager the lives and welfare of others on their young’s dubious ability to keep their thoughts to themselves. She would be glad when this nasty business with House Cordyl was complete and she could speak to her sons openly about everything.
Sighing again, Ashari cleaned the room, locking away the samples and design plans. Foregoing the change into her swimming robe, she decided to keep Ariafella company and stay out of the water. She was in no mood to swim.
Walking through the palace, her red-trimmed, golden robes whirled about her. She passed the artisan in the fountain atrium who was carving the tribute to Valdor’s prosperous rule over Atlainticia. As far as her spies had been able to uncover, the people were confident in Azaes and looking forward to Valdor passing the throne to his eldest youngling. Not that Valdor would not be missed, but no one expected an emperor or empress to sit on Atlainticia’s throne their whole life. The step-down was a wise tradition, passing rulership to the next generation as they entered their prime.
When she flicked her tongue out and tasted the air, a sickly-sweet pheromone stuck to her taste buds. She knew that scent and searched the crowd, looking for and finding Timsah Gadrius. He stood across the room amidst the crowd from like-minded houses. His flat u-shaped snout was curved in a mockery of a smile while his bulbous amber eyes revealed his haughty disdain. She signaled the closest Basilisc guard, commanding them to keep their eyes on the group. If Timsah was in the palace, then her informant was as well.
She slowed her pace, waiting for their mole in House Cordyl to come to her. He always did when Timsah lurked on the grounds. And sure enough, before she exited the building to descend to the palace’s private beach, he was there waiting in the shadows. Ashari signaled for the guards to divert people away from the hallway leading to the exit. She did not need anyone witnessing her speaking with the young bull.
“Good day, Empress.”
It pained her to hear that damaged, raspy voice. The wounds he sustained on that long-ago day had healed but he had been left with many scars. She was still upset with herself for not taking him in from the very beginning. But he had insisted on being of service to House Vondorian and the throne. Soon that service would come to an end, and he could rest, free to live the life he wanted for h
imself.
“Rathmar, son, why do I scent fresh blood on you?” she asked quietly.
“The usual. He was displeased that Creon and Damae were not on the transport from the Academy. He believes I know where they are hiding.” Rathmar pushed back the hood of his dark robes, revealing his bruised and battered face. His lips were split all the way to his chin, the skin and azure scales were being held together by medical tape. Surely speaking had to hurt. “It will be the last time he lays his hands on me. I am leaving town, but I wanted to stop and warn you he is looking to acquire passage to Valespia. He is going to take his ‘evidence’ against the throne—” He sneered. They both knew that the so-called evidence was contrived. “—to the Galactic Imperials.”
She frowned. They had not foreseen how Timsah would attempt to subvert Valdor’s authority, but that was no matter. She would see what she could do to delay Timsah’s trip.