Chapter Seven

Lord Dominiko

It was difficult to process in my mind that I was actually sitting next to Itaka and holding her tiny hand in mine, with Prince Mikol, a Tygerian royal and Colonel Tariq, of the much boasted about Imperials across from us, along with some other Tygerian officials.

This ship was so large, that when I first saw it from the viewing screens on the bridge of my ship, it had reminded me of a small space station in some ways, though of course this vessel was mobile and fully armored.

I had been brought here directly from my ship, and so far, my treatment and that of my crew had been good. So good, in fact, that I suspected a trap of some kind until I was taken into this room and saw that it actually was my grandmother, against all odds, sitting there with others of her entourage at a large conference table. I think up until that point, I still suspected some kind of trick.

It was in my nature to be suspicious—not of Itaka, though she could have been fooled into thinking she was helping me, when the opposite, in fact, might be true. But I was willing to wait and find out for sure exactly what was going on and try to reserve judgement.

Next to my grandmother sat a large, gruff man, speaking to the prince in Tygerian, though he was decidedly not one of that species. He had iron gray hair, was around middle age and had reddish colored eyes. I tuned them all out and gave my attention to my Itaka, still finding it hard to believe she was actually here, and I wasn’t dreaming. I had thought her to be a galaxy away, not gallivanting around in spaceships with a strange man who was twice her size and at least ten years her junior.

She seemed to be in excellent health, however, and very glad to see me.

“Niko,” she was saying, leaning heavily against me. Or as heavy as her slight, tiny frame permitted. “I have news and I’ve been so worried about you that I had to come find you.” She had slipped easily into speaking Touzian, her native language, and though it had been years since I’d heard it, I still understood most of what she was saying. She had spoken to me in that language when I was a child. I squeezed her hand as the big man beside her stopped talking to Prince Mikol and the others and leaned over to her.

“Speak in Tygerian, my love, so Prince Mikol can understand and not think you and your grandson are sharing secrets.”

The man spoke more softly and deferentially now that he was addressing Itaka. He was a big man, tall and heavy-set, though he seemed to be in prime physical condition. He wore expensive clothing and rich looking jewels around his throat. Power lay across him like a mantle, and the fact that he was used to being listened to whenever he spoke was apparent with his every word.

Itaka had told me he was her husband, though I still couldn’t fathom the idea. I’d thought my grandmother was still safely at her home in Touzia, in what amounted to exile, but she’d just whispered to me that she’d been living with this man—this King Anton—for some time now. The distance between Touzia and the Pton Confederacy was vast, but I had been remiss in not contacting her before this. How had so much been happening in her life and I knew nothing about any of it?

“Why have you never mentioned a word of this to me?”

“But I have, Niko. Someone must have been intercepting my messages to you,” she said, this time switching to the Pton language. “And I believe it was the emperor himself. He’s always been jealous of you.”

This prompted “the husband” to lean over again, putting his arm around her shoulders and admonishing her for a second time. “My love, you must speak in Tygerian. Prince Mikol doesn’t speak Pton.”

She turned on him so suddenly that he recoiled and fell back, quickly removing his arm from her shoulders.

“And I might remind you, Anton, that I barely speak Tygerian, so what do you propose I do?” she replied in a snappy tone that I well remembered. I was just glad she wasn’t using it on me. “Should I make hand signs to him? Use interpretive dance to speak to my grandson? Get yourself a translator in here if you need my words explained! In the meantime, do me the supreme favor of not interrupting every other word I say. It’s quite tedious. And while you’re at it, stop reclining all over me. If you’re tired, then go somewhere and rest.”

Anton, his face red with embarrassment, glanced over at Prince Mikol to gauge his reaction. He’d probably never been spoken to in such a way in his life. Or at least not since he’d met my grandmother. He should get used to it if he had plans to stay with her.

“Y-yes, of course, Itaka, my love,” he said. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. My consort is excited to see her grandson, and she’s just explained to me that she doesn’t speak your language all that well. Might we get a translator in here so she can speak to him freely and you can still understand they’re not passing secrets?”

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” Mikol said. “Would a Pton interpreter be acceptable? I don’t believe we have one that speaks Touzian.”

“Yes, thank you, Your Highness. And I apologize for my consort.”

“I beg your pardon,” Itaka said suddenly, her voice cold and implacable, and proving that she spoke Tygerian well enough to understand what was being said. “Do not apologize for me, Anton.”

I realized, judging from the way he was being addressed by Prince Mikol, Anton was a king, and no one spoke to him in such a way on a normal basis. Welcome to Itaka’s world. His face turned bright red, but Prince Mikol appeared not to have noticed their little argument and sat calmly waiting for the interpreter, gazing placidly down at the table.

I wondered if perhaps this Prince Mikol had some person like Itaka in his own family, as he seemed to understand that people like my grandmother can never be rushed or hurried along but live their lives at their own pace and have grown to expect others to not only do the same but to pander to their eccentricities and egocentric temper tantrums and fully accommodate them—which they almost always did.

Itaka waited, tapping her foot impatiently until an interpreter arrived. The she finally turned back to me and began telling me how worried she’d been about me. She had learned through her sources, which were admittedly vast and mysterious, that I was in some kind of danger.

“What danger?” I asked.

“Mortal, I’m afraid. It’s why I came to find you.”

“But what’s the source of this danger?”

“Linnius, dear. I’m sure I explained that.”

“Excuse me, but who is this Linnius?” Prince Mikol asked.

“He is the emperor of the Pton people,” Anton replied.

“Yes,” Itaka agreed. “An ugly little toad of a man, eldest son of the emperor’s principal wife, who was also most unfortunate in her looks. It’s why the emperor loved me far better.”

“Are we still speaking of Linnius?” Mikol asked.

“No, of course not,” Itaka said, “do try to keep up. I’m speaking of my emperor, my late husband, Emperor Kitannos. Linnius is his eldest spawn, and he was always jealous of my own beautiful child. After my son’s treacherous murder, Linnius shifted his terrible envy to my beautiful grandson, Lord Dominiko. He tries to keep his feelings hidden, but I know his true nature, and I know how full of treachery and malice he can be. I’ve been keeping watch.” She turned back toward me then and took my hand in hers.

“My sources brought word to me that he was sending you on this mission, expecting you to fail. Sabotaging you in your efforts any way he could. If you somehow managed to pull it off and escape the trap he set for you, he was planning an ‘accident’ to befall you once you returned home.”

“But what kind of trap did he set?”

“He put an assassin onboard as a member of your crew, willing to sacrifice his own life if need be to destroy yours. Plans to kill you had already been laid for you when you entered the wormhole. You would never have come out alive.”

“Who is this assassin?”

“He is a soldier on your ship named Major Aelius.”

“I see. And these sources?” I asked, sharply interrupting her.

“I can’t divulge them here and now, but they’re unimpeachable. It’s why I had to try and intercept you before you went into the rift. Anton said the ruler here on Loros was the grandson of King Davos, and the heir apparent after his father. I had hoped to not get the Tygerians and the other Axis planets involved, but I felt there was no help for it. My only choice was to approach Prince Mikol and enlist his help in catching up to the Tygerian ship you were chasing. We knew you’d attack it. We struck a deal in exchange for my information.”

“A deal? What kind of deal?” I asked, turning to look at Prince Mikol.

“Your life, for one thing,” Mikol said. “I’ll discuss the rest with you as soon as I’ve cleared it with my grandfather, King Davos. He’s on his way to us now, in fact.”

“Davos is coming here?”

“Yes. He wants to speak to you.”

Before I could reply, small sounds began coming from a side door in the back of the room, like small thumps and bangs. The closest guards swarmed over to it, yanking it open—and both Prince Rakkur and Prince Jago literally spilled out into the room, along with an Imperial guard they seemed to have been struggling with. Everyone exclaimed in shock, and the Imperials released their grip on their weapons but still looked a little outraged to find out who it was who had been eavesdropping so shamelessly.

The Imperial who had fallen scrambled back up to his feet, his face bright red. “Your Highness, forgive me for this intrusion,” he said, trying to bow and salute at the same time. “I heard a noise back here and came to investigate and found the princes. But when I tried to get them to move away, they resisted and there was a-a small tussle and unfortunately…”

“Yes, I saw what happened. Thank you, Major Rahlos. I’ll take it from here.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” he said, snapping off a salute.

Personally, I wasn’t surprised in the least to see Prince Jago involved in all of this. I knew from the first that he was nothing but trouble. The most beautiful ones often were.

I still watched carefully to make sure he wasn’t punished.

Tariq had gone charging back to the door to take hold of Prince Rakkur and help him to his feet, his face red with embarrassment. King Anton, who had no idea who they were, was still brandishing his weapon.

“You can stand down, Your Majesty,” I told him. “These young men are related to Prince Mikol.”

Mikol sent me a decidedly unfriendly look as I serenely sat back down beside my grandmother.

It took a little time for the shock of the sudden entrance of the two princes and all the resulting commotion and uproar to die down, but everyone soon realized there was no real threat to anyone in the large conference room. Poor Rakkur was being lectured to by his husband at the back of the room and Jago was still straightening his robe and trying to regain some of his dignity, though I think we all knew it was far too late for that.

Mikol was furious and went to the back of the room to speak to both of them, and to say he looked displeased would be understating the situation. I noticed Itaka watching the little scene with great interest and amusement. To be fair, it had been nothing more than a silly diversion, and no real harm had been done except to the young princes’ dignity. There was nothing Itaka liked better than an embarrassing scene, though, so she was quite content to sit back and watch it all unfold.

When the uproar was over and the young men had been firmly escorted from the room, Prince Mikol began his apologies. Itaka laughed and waved them away. “No, no, it was most amusing. Please don’t trouble yourself about it.”

Colonel Tariq returned and took his place again at the table, and he gave Anton and Itaka a quick bow. “Excuse the interruption, Your Majesties. My mate sends his abject apologies. He and his nephew were overly curious about this meeting. Unfortunately, rather than wait to talk to me about it, they took it on themselves to eavesdrop by the door and were surprised by one of the guards.”

“They’re beautiful young men, though. I don’t suppose either of them are for sale, by any chance?” Itaka asked.

Tariq just blinked at her a few times, as Mikol shook his head. “Uh…no. No, madam, they’re not. They’re both royal princes.”

“Too bad. Ah, well… one of them was one of those Tygerian male child bearers, wasn’t he? I’ve heard about them, and he was so pretty. He must be in high demand. The one with the dark blue hair was absolutely lovely as well. I liked him very much. I could offer a good price for that one.”

“Madam,” Prince Mikol said, more firmly this time. “Despite their strange conduct, both of them are royal princes, as I said. They’re not courtesans or love slaves.”

“Oh, I see. You mean it’s not your custom then. Well, I thought I’d just ask. It never hurts to check. You see, in my country, it is. A custom, that is. I was a royal princess of Touzia once—a younger daughter, to be sure—but that didn’t stop my father, the king, from selling me to the Pton emperor when I was ten years old. I became the youngest of his wives.”

“But I thought you were captured by the emperor,” I interrupted.

“I told you so, dear, so you wouldn’t be upset, but no, I’m afraid not. Sold to the highest bidder.”

“My grandmother has led an interesting life,” I said, “but a sheltered one in many aspects. She’s not familiar with the customs of your country. Please excuse her confusion. There was no offense intended.”

“Not at all,” the well-mannered prince replied. “None taken. But perhaps we can get back to what we were discussing before we were interrupted.”

“Oh, I think we’ll still have to wait, sir,” Itaka said.

Mikol looked confused. “I don’t understand. Why is that?”

“That young man with the yellow hair has just …I don’t know your word for it. But he’s having his babies.” Itaka glanced over at Tariq, her normally green eyes now a shining, glassy silver color. “You should probably go to him.”

Tariq looked confused. He looked over at Mikol.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Mikol said. “Go and check on him.”

Tariq took off out of the room, leaving silence in his wake. My grandmother decided to fill it. “It was the fall, of course. He began to get pains as soon as it happened, but allowed himself to be taken out because he was so embarrassed. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

Everyone was staring at her, so I put my arm protectively around her. “Itaka ‘sees’ things sometimes. It’s nothing to be alarmed about. She’s always been this way. I’m sure what she has told you is probably true.”

Mikol got to his feet and glanced over at me. “Perhaps I-I should go and check on the situation. If you’ll excuse me. Lord Dominiko, you’ll have to go back to your cell, I’m afraid. But your grandmother is welcome to visit whenever she likes.”

I nodded and stood for the Imperial guards to take me back into custody.

“I’ll be down later to have dinner with you, Niko. We still have much to talk about. The babies won’t be born much before daylight tomorrow.”

“The…babies?” Mikol asked, looking startled as he turned to stare at Itaka. “Do you mean more than one?”

“Yes, the twins. One of them is ready to come out soon, but the other one wants to stay a bit longer. That pretty boy is in for a long night, I’m afraid.”

“No, Itaka, you must be mistaken,” King Anton said to her. “There’s only one baby. I’m sure there have been scans.”

She laughed. “If the scans didn’t show twins, then they were wrong. There are two boys. You’ll see.”

Unfortunately, Itaka wasn’t done yet. She turned to me, her eyes still that odd, shiny silver color. “The other one—the lovely, blue-haired one…who is he?”

“His name is Prince Jago,” I told her.

“Oh. Well, he belongs to you, dear. He’s going to give you a child one day. But you already knew he was yours, didn’t you?”

Mikol gave me a sudden, sharp look.

“Itaka. You’re very mistaken. I barely know the boy.”

She cocked her head and gave me an enigmatic smile. Then she closed her eyes and laid her head against her husband’s broad shoulder.

I left peacefully with the guards and went down to my isolated cell on a lower deck. Unaccountably, I found myself wondering what Jago was doing and whether or not he’d hurt himself when he fell into the room. It would serve him right if he had. I could hear Itaka’s words echoing in my mind, “He belongs to you.” She’d also said—much more alarmingly—that he’d give me a child one day.

I wondered if I was pleased or horrified. Or maybe a little of both.