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  He supposed Ariafella was not trying to be Zeus’s friend just so she could go tell stories about the blind prince. He still did not like how friendly Zeus was with her, but if she made him happy… He barely kept from grumbling aloud, but something of his discontent must have seeped through the twin bond since Mestor raised his brow ridge in a silent question that Azaes could not answer in present company.

  They reached a long table where Meme stood speaking to one of her attendants. When she saw them, she clapped her hands and food was brought out. She sat at the head with Zeus to her left. Before Azaes could slide into the seat next to him, Ariafella took it. He smacked her chair with his tail on his way by and took the stool across from Zeus. Mestor gave him a warning look, which he ignored. He waited for Ambassador Tymon to take a seat next to Ariafella before he spread his napkin on his lap.

  Ariafella primly nibbled some finger food as she stared at him. He tried to ignore her, he did, but her red eyes watched his every movement and it annoyed him.

  “What?” he finally asked, barely refraining from snapping at her.

  “I can teach you some exercises to help you have better control of your tail.” She blinked demurely, not quite hiding a smirk. Meme coughed into her napkin.

  “I am nine summers old. What are you? Eight?” She nodded. “I do not know what you could teach me about my tail. I have fine control.” He had already worked his way through the kitchens and the laundry. He would not have been able to even start working those jobs if he had poor tail control.

  “Well,” she squeaked. “If you have such fine control of your tail, then hitting my chair a minute ago was a purposeful and rude outburst. If I had acted like that while at one of Father’s meetings with a dignitary, I would be doing extra tail exercises to make sure it did not happen again.” She paused and looked at Meme, who watched him with a raised brow ridge. He gulped. “But I do not think you did it on purpose, so I have offered to help you instead of raising a complaint.”

  “That is an excellent idea, Ariafella,” Meme said. “If you have time, dear, you can show both Azaes and Mestor these exercises. I will attend as well to ensure I know how it is done so that we can continue the exercises after you leave. I am sure that on your next visit, you will find Azaes much improved. We cannot have them accidentally giving offense to our guests.”

  He glared at Ariafella, but quickly covered it up by taking a long drink from his cup. Pah! Tail control, he thought sourly.

  “Aww! Meme, why must I be included? My tail has not done anything spontaneous today.” Mestor whined, kicking Azaes hard under the table.

  “It is good for both of you to learn the same thing. It keeps me from needing to repeat myself,” she replied.

  Eating as if nothing was going on, Zeus bit into his food and grimaced.

  “What is wrong?” Ariafella immediately asked.

  Azaes was getting tired of her squeaky voice. “He is losing a tooth,” he replied haughtily.

  “May I see?” Ariafella gushed and Zeus grinned showing her his square front tooth. He used his finger to wiggle it around.

  Mar’Sani did not lose teeth, only grew more as they aged. Zeus’s loose tooth was quite fascinating, Azaes had to admit, if only to himself.

  “Will your new tooth be pointed and sharp like ours?” she asked.

  “This one will come in square but,” Zeus pointed out four other teeth. Two on his upper jaw and two on his lower. “Those four may come in sharper but not like Mar’Sani sharp.”

  Not intending to, Azaes vocalized his main worry. “How is he going to tear meat from the bone if he does not have sharp teeth?”

  He had noticed the cook made sure to cut the food apart before presenting Zeus’s plate. Azaes had tried a piece, finding it dry and not as flavorful as when first pulled from the bone.

  He sat back at Ariafella’s scathing look. “He can eat meat off the bone with the teeth he has already. The Tuesa people have huge squared teeth. After their young eat their fill, the adults take bones as big as my arm, place them in their mouth, and snap them in two…” She made a terrible noise, speaking in a language he did not know. “That is Tuesa for, ‘that is cracking good’ and then they use their foot-long tongues to scoop out the bone marrow.”

  Ambassador Tymon coughed into his napkin, eyes crinkling. “To be fair, the Tuesa adults are three times my size.”

  “Yes, but their teeth are boring, square blocks,” Ariafella replied.

  Zeus kept wiggling his tooth and then scrunched his nose. “I wonder if I can crunch bones?”

  “That is something we do not need to find out,” Meme quickly replied.

  “I bet I could break bones with my teeth,” Mestor murmured, too low for anyone other than Azaes to hear.

  The sharp tang of blood filled the air and Zeus whooped. “It is out!”

  Azaes raised up and leaned on the table to get a closer look. Zeus bled from where his tooth used to be. A white line of a new tooth was clearly visible.

  Meme, on the other hand, called for a medic, scooped Zeus up, and raced out of the room. He glanced at Mestor, unsure why Meme looked horrified.

  “I do not get it,” Mestor said to the quiet table.

  Ambassador Tymon rose to his feet. “The scent of blood or seeing our youngling injured sometimes brings out our primal protective side.” He stared in the direction Meme had gone. “We are a warrior race and we can be proud of wounds we receive in battle, but we are also protective of young below training age. She will be fine once the bleeding stops.”

  Azaes glanced at Ariafella. She was eating but watching her father. He had seen his Meme wear the same expression sometimes when she was worried.

  “Do you really sit in on your father’s meetings with other diplomats?” He had to know. He did not want to believe her since she was a summer younger than him. Father did not let him sit in on any of his meetings and he was heir apparent.

  “Ariafella goes where I do, and she often assists me.” Ambassador Tymon smiled down at her.

  He frowned. He was pretty sure he did not like her. Mestor kicked him under the table again and he bit back a snarl. Meme returned with Zeus a short while later. The rest of lunch was uneventful. Zeus and Ariafella talked about everything. Azaes just sat and watched, growing more disgruntled. Was Zeus going to replace him and Mestor with Ariafella? He tried to ignore the sharp stab of anxiety.

  Afterward, when Ambassador Tymon took Mestor, Zeus, and Ariafella to play outside, Azaes stayed behind with Meme. He looked up at her and put his hands on his hips. “You need to tell Ariafella she cannot play with Zeus anymore.” Both Meme’s brow ridges rose high. Azaes ignored the warning signs. “She is already talking about other cultures’ matings to him, and now she has Zeus believing he can bite through anything. She is not good friend material. You need to tell her to go away.”

  “What did you just say to me?”

  Azaes knew that tone, but he forged on. “Mestor and I are all that he needs for friends.”

  “Son, I know you are jealous of—”

  Azaes’ temper erupted and he yelled, “I do not want her here! She cannot have him!”

  Azaes chuckled, remembering Meme’s reaction. “I worked my tail off for three weeks straight for yelling at her and trying to tell her what to do.”

  “I wish I had been there to see you raise your voice to her.” Zeus was laughing so hard his eyes watered.

  “And when I got back to my rooms, you and Mestor were hiding with a bucket of roasted gull bones.”

  Zeus lost it again. “Oh, those were so brittle they broke into jagged edges and tore up my mouth. Mestor was worse off because the pieces got caught between his needle-like teeth and he spent days picking the pieces out, not willing to ask for help from the medtech just in case Meme found out.”

  He watched Zeus sit up and wipe his eyes. He cherished the soft smile Zeus gave him. “I wondered if my poor behavior with Ariafella was the reason you never told me you were in love with
Rathmar.”

  Incredibly, Zeus’s smile softened more. “No, brother. You accepted Rathmar into our circle well enough. Your jealousy when we were small was caused by the worries of a youngling’s heart. Me and Rathmar… it was complicated. We knew our relationship would not survive the five summers I would be gone abroad. Plus, I did not want the family to make a big ado about us. And you know as well as I, a couple of the noble houses would have made his life hell. He asked that we keep us a secret, and in the beginning, I agreed for all the wrong reasons. I thought I was doing the right thing when I should have cut him loose before he began to hate me. If I had, I could have at least saved our friendship. I guess I did not want to tell you because I was scared, and perhaps because I had something that was exclusively mine, and I was being the selfish one who did not want to share.” Zeus reached for him. “I did not imagine my secret would hurt you.”

  Keeping what he knew about Rathmar to himself was even harder hearing how Zeus spoke about his former friend. His heart squeezed as he took Zeus’s hand. “Perhaps I am a bit possessive of the people in my family.”

  Zeus snorted. “Sure, possibly.”

  Azaes shoved him lightly with his free hand. He was not going to let go of Zeus until he absolutely had to.

  “Brother, have you ever thought that perhaps you are so protective of me because you feel guilty about Canry?”

  He scoffed and turned his head away from Zeus, the sudden shame welling up.

  Zeus rolled over and leaned on his elbow to look down at Azaes, making him feel caged. Those silvery-white eyes held his gaze, and Zeus’s expression was one of determination. “Poseidon said Canry was not supposed to be kept from us, but Nethus did it anyway. I would bet that Nethus can do things, has abilities that we can only imagine. The fanciful lore the bards recite about things like youngling-stealers had to have come from somewhere, even if it might be exaggerated. One day we will have an explanation about what happened the day Canry disappeared and hopefully it answers our many questions, but you need to get one thing through that thick head of yours, you are not responsible for Canry’s disappearance. You were only five.”

  The old anger Azaes had carried around since the day Canry disappeared bubbled under the surface. “I knew something was going to happen. I knew and I said nothing.”

  Zeus raised an eyebrow in that infuriating way of his. “You knew, did you? What exactly did you know?”

  “That I should stick close to Canry,” Azaes replied reluctantly.

  “I did not know you had the sight that young.” Zeus rarely spoke of the family’s abilities, none of them did.

  “It was not exactly farseeing,” he relented. “It was a… sense of knowing.” He clearly remembered how it felt, being compelled to stay near Canry from the moment he woke that fateful day. He had convinced Mestor—well, that had not been hard at all—to escape their nannies to go to the nursery.

  “Azaes,” Zeus said with exasperation… and love. “That does not mean you knew he would be taken or that you were responsible for saving him.” He sighed. “He had to go, but how it was done, and the length of time he was gone, was a wrong committed not only against us, but against him.”

  Zeus spoke sense, but he remembered how Sohm’lan and his father had bellowed. He could still hear the heart-wrenching sound of Meme’s screams. He recalled sneaking into her room and hiding in the dark corners as she cried and cried. Each sob was engraved into his heart and he did not know how to change that. The back of his eyes burned, but he refused to allow the tears to spill.

  “Here, allow me.” Zeus pulled, pressing Azaes’ face into his soft, pale neck. For once, instead of being the one who gave reassurance, he allowed himself to take solace in Zeus’s care. His brother’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, and the strength there was as surprising as it was comforting.

  “I have you, brother,” Zeus murmured over and over while rubbing his chin over Azaes’ scales.

  Chapter Ten

  Sohm’lan

  * * *

  Sohm’lan buried his face in his pillow. Insomnia had nipped at his heels all night. The revelations of the prior day kept running through his mind. His watersons had seen… had spoken to Canry. The Ancient and Father of all Mar’Sani, Poseidon, had shown himself. There were so many ways that both reveals would change the lives of the people Sohm’lan loved.

  Then there was Prince Mestor and his pursuit of Sohm’lan for his amor. He should be able to banish his waterson from his thoughts, but it seemed it would not be that easy. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the glow of Mestor’s scales under his hand and the smell of his arousal filled his nose. He tasted Mestor on his tongue, and the sounds… how Mestor called his name, he wanted to search out Mestor and… and…

  He rolled over and sat on the edge of the sleeping platform. His scales were pulled tight and his sex was free from its sheath. How could he desire someone he had helped raise from a newborn youngling? He glanced to the modest memory table he kept for Niobe. He should be content with his lot in life. How could he yearn to love someone when he had already been blessed with a mate and love? The guilt he expected to wash over him was there, but not as strong as it had been in the past. Niobe would not want him to be miserable for the rest of his days, and he had not been. He had been content with how things were. He had a job he loved, protecting the family who claimed him as one of their own. What more could he ask for?

  He glared down at his erection, refusing to take himself in hand. He was afraid that if he did, then he would fantasize about someone he should not. Mentally, Sohm’lan took out the well-worn list of reasons why Mestor was not meant for him. He was much too old for Mestor, seventy-five to Mestor’s thirty-two summers. They were in different places in their lives. Mestor would soon be Azaes’ Chief Warlord since Sohm’lan planned to step down shortly after Valdor did. Mestor’s days and nights would be consumed with responsibilities, and lovers would be few and far between, and keeping a family almost an impossibility. That was one lesson Sohm’lan had learned the hard way. He had not been home enough for his mate.

  Then there was the obvious: he was Mestor’s waterfather. Valdor had placed his trust in Sohm’lan all those summers ago when he put the twins in his arms. He would never forget that day or how he had felt. It was like getting a second chance to be a father after his youngling had died with Niobe. They had injected a spark back into his life and gave him a reason to rise every morning. What would his best friend say if he returned home as Mestor’s amor?

  A small niggle of suspicion rose in him, the ludicrous idea making him sit up straight. What had Valdor said when he handed the young to him? He searched his memory, attempting to dredge up the exact words and could not. But he did recall Valdor’s expression of smug pride, as if he knew something that Sohm’lan did not. Had Valdor foreseen Mestor’s relentless pursuit of him? Had his best friend known what he would one day face? Or was he overreaching? The Vondorian farseeing was not exact. The further out the sight, the less one could see accurately because every moment something changed. Farseeing into the distant future was more like seeing possibilities, not probabilities. Besides, as far as he knew, Valdor never attempted to look summers ahead simply because the consequence would land him in bed and ill for days. He frowned, trying to recall if Valdor had been sick prior to the twins being born, and knew the answer—yes.

  Well, that line of thought did help with his arousal, dousing it well enough that his sex returned to its sheath. He washed and dressed in his uniform. Thinking about the young made him remember what he wanted to do for Zeus.

  Gathering the box he had taken from inventory, he went in search of the youngest prince, not surprised to find him on the dock looking over the shuttles that had been brought aboard by the pirates. He stopped just inside the shuttle dock, stepping aside and out of the way of the flow of traffic. Zeus directed the mechanics as if they were his own personal army. Less than a meter tall, a L’Eema followed him, closely watching everything
Zeus did and said, his long black tail curling over his head as he recorded everything on the data pad.

  For many summers, Sohm’lan had questioned Zeus’s supposed human ancestry. Anyone with a discerning eye could see signs that he was not quite Terren. Zeus did things that biologically he should not have been able to—if he were human. The first time Sohm’lan had questioned Zeus’s biology, Zeus was barely four moons old.

  Sohm’lan reclined in the shadows of the nursery, resting in the corner swing with Zeus lying on his chest. Shaneva slept soundly in her small sleeping platform. Zeus, on the other hand, was wide awake, his attention unerringly focused on Sohm’lan even though his eyes stared blankly.

  “Your brothers were a handful today,” he said softly, intrigued by the smile Zeus gave in response. “They spent the morning hiding from the nannies, digging tunnels in the main atrium.” Zeus pushed against Sohm’lan’s chest with unsteady arms. Sohm’lan quickly placed his hand behind Zeus’s head to support his neck.

  Since Zeus had been taken into the Vondorian family, Sohm’lan had read everything he could find on Terren young. Zeus had recently been trying to get on his hands and knees, something, according to the reading material, that he should not be capable of until he was a little older. Sohm’lan might have chalked it up to being a quick learner if not for how Zeus paid attention and reacted to conversation as if he understood every word spoken. Which was not possible, but Sohm’lan reminded himself that Zeus was found on a Terren science vessel. The planets in the Valespian Pact knew about the dark origins of the Erdaians as well as the Terrens’ hand in their creation.

  Erdaians were once Terren colonists who were sent to terraformed planets before they were safe for occupation. The resulting metamorphoses of those who had not died caught the government’s attention, and they absconded with the colonists’ transformed young, placing them in a government-sanctioned school where many of them died terribly as the Terren government attempted to form them into super soldiers. Several thousand more young were brought in waves. The handful of adolescent survivors from the first culling brought all the mutated young together, forming their own underground society separate from the Terrens’. Eventually the super soldiers rebelled against their masters and escaped.