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  It took an hour of maneuvering, ramping speed, cutting back, dodging here, and ducking there, before he hit the outer beacon. The automated navigational buoy pinged his com.

  He opened a line.

  “Final tracking information, Major,” Janka said. “Get those bastards and do it now.”

  Damen fired his interstellar drive in answer. The shrill of the warming engine drowned out anything more Janka might have said.

  Damen forced himself to double-check his navigational data. The nav system chimed. Course laid and locked.

  He engaged the drive.

  He was free.

  Because of Jayleia.

  Because of her foolish gesture with a vial of blood and because of her warrior’s heart that wouldn’t let her leave his family behind.

  Except for Vala. Whose fault was it that she was dead? His? Vala’s? Certainly not Jayleia’s.

  Damen engaged the autopilot, surged to his feet, and stumbled to his cabin.

  He should be searching for and eliminating the listening devices the guild had planted aboard his ship. He needed to report in and warn his commanders that per the guild mistress’s own words, he might be compromised.

  Instead, queasy with emotions he couldn’t name digging their jagged hooks into his flesh and pulling, he went straight to the shower, turned on the unit, and slumped as the cleansers sluiced over him.

  CHAPTER 24

  JAYLEIA strode into the Temple’s official audience hall, kicking the diaphanous layers of her gem-encrusted, silver skirt out of her way. Ceremonial robes had always been her least favorite Temple attire.

  Early morning sunlight washed the rough stone and polished wood of the room in gold.

  “You’re late,” the high priestess of the Temple noted in a sharp voice.

  “I had good reason,” Jay said, slinging a bag strap from her shoulder. She set the bag at the foot of the dais where Tiassale, the high priestess, sat wrapped in the silver blue robes of her office, her long brown hair twisted into intricate braids piled high atop her head.

  The contents of the pack clanked.

  The woman lifted an eyebrow. “Good reason? So you’ve always said, yet your excuses have always been found wanting.”

  “Only by you,” Jay shot.

  “Given that I speak with the voice of the Temple in all things,” Tiassale said, a hint of a sneer in her tone, “my opinion is the only one that matters. Give me one good reason not to have you executed.”

  Jayleia pulled her lips back into the smile that wasn’t a smile, the one Damen had taught her. “You’d break my mother’s heart and destroy her legacy.”

  Tiassale smirked. “You’ve never been slow to cash in on your mother’s good name and hard work.”

  “And you’ve never hesitated to flat-out lie in your quest to rob my mother of her rightful place as high priestess of this Temple,” Jayleia retorted, fists clenched.

  Biting back a curse, she rubbed her forehead. A single day on Temple grounds and she’d reverted to acting like an angry, wronged teenager. After six years away, couldn’t she at least pretend she could identify a lost cause when she had her nose rubbed in it?

  “Enough,” she grumbled. Was there an opposite of homesickness? What should she call the pinching sensation telling her she simply didn’t fit into her mother’s world anymore? Had she ever? “You have the position you wanted so badly. Say whether the Temple will give refuge to the people I brought.”

  Tiassale sat back in her chair, her rage-twisted expression smoothing out a piece at time. “This Temple exiled you for your crimes six years ago.”

  Jayleia snorted in derision, but did it softly. She had nothing to gain by pointing out she hadn’t been the only guilty one six years ago. “Yes, it did.”

  “What possessed you to return clad in the uniform you were forbidden to wear?”

  Jayleia threw her arms wide. The bells tied to the ends of her hair chimed. “Two governments and a network of traitors seem to think I’m the key to finding my father. In the midst of their agents and mercenaries trying to capture or kill me, I ended up with a ship full of abused men, women, and children. Where else could I take them where they would be accepted, welcomed, and nurtured?”

  “It didn’t matter to you that by our laws you could be executed for returning?” Tiassale pressed.

  “Of course it mattered,” she retorted. “The UMOPG intended to use those people as leverage in the interrogation of a spy. I didn’t have the luxury of saving my skin at the expense of their lives.”

  “No. I don’t suppose you did,” Tiassale mused, studying her for several seconds, before she gestured at the bag on the floor between them. “What is that?”

  “Silver City’s data store,” Jay replied. “There’s indication that the guild is building a standing military.”

  “What?”

  Jay nodded. “The Claugh nib Dovvyth sent an agent to retrieve the data. I assume they want to understand what a UMOPG mobilization means, as it appears to predate the war with the Chekydran. Their agent was captured. I completed the mission in his stead.”

  “You believe the information you carry impacts the war with the Chekydran as well as detailing the UMOPG’s true motivations?” Tiassale guessed, a troubled light in her eyes. “If you are correct, danger follows your prize.”

  “Agreed. If you will accept the refugees, I will transport the data off planet until I can safely entrust it to my father and the leader of the Murbaasch Tu.”

  Tiassale shot her a sharp look. “You truly have no idea where your father is?”

  “I have ideas,” Jayleia said, “but I’m watched too closely to act on them. I wish I could. I’d have my life back.”

  “I wonder.”

  Jayleia snapped to attention, dismay flooding her at the grim tone of Tiassale’s voice.

  The priestess met her eye. “First, I have no further information regarding your father. Your files are as up to date as my own. This bodes well.”

  “He hasn’t been captured,” Jay concluded, relief easing a fraction of her concern.

  “Precisely. Second, a representative of the Claugh nib Dovvyth government has arrived on planet with clearances granted by someone within TFC. He comes flying an alliance flag.”

  Jay swallowed a curse.

  TFC and the Claugh nib Dovvyth boasted a marginal alliance. But that was for the war against the Chekydran. The concept of working together was too new, too unsettling for the alliance to mean anything more than sharing a few wartime dispatches and enemy positions.

  “They believe they can infiltrate the Temple so easily?” Jayleia growled.

  Tiassale smiled. “Your concern for the sanctity of the Temple is heartening. You’ll be relieved to hear I can’t kill you.”

  Jayleia lifted her brows.

  “You stand relieved of duty to the lives you pledged to protect. The Temple has offered asylum to the refugees you brought to safety,” she said. “We will train them.”

  Relief burned through Jay, weakening her limbs, and setting prickles at the backs of her eyes. She could put down that particular burden. “Thank you. Most of these people are Autken. They don’t define family via bloodlines, like we do. They split along lines of alliance and loyalty.”

  “And they mature sexually far earlier than our species. We will adapt. So will they.”

  “High Priestess?” Jayleia recognized her mother’s voice behind her.

  “Ah. Margol. Come in,” Tiassale commanded, straightening.

  Heart lifting, Jay turned as her mother strode into the hall. The silver-haired woman took her hand in greeting.

  “Mother.” She kissed her mother’s hand, wondering how she’d missed noticing how frail the woman had begun to look.

  Jayleia saw the khaki uniform in the doorway before a tendril of awareness wrapped around her. Her heart and respiration rate increased. She imagined she could detect a hint of green growing things and fresh spring rain. Heat rushed into the center of her bo
dy.

  “High Priestess, Jayleia,” Margol said, “may I present Major Damen Sindrivik?”

  Jubilation fired through Jayleia, head to toe. Dizzy with fierce, ridiculous hope, she spun. He’d said he loved her. She knew, logically, that it was because of her blood. He’d had no choice in the matter, had he?

  Her heart didn’t seem to care. It pounded against the inside of her ribs. Maybe she should be mortified by how desperately she wanted his “I love you” to be true.

  A cool, remote Claugh nib Dovvyth officer stalked the Temple floor. He drew even with her and nodded to Tiassale.

  “High Priestess,” he said. “Her Majesty, Queen Eilod Saoyrse extends her compliments and thanks you for your gracious hospitality in receiving her duly appointed representative. I, personally, thank you for the care you’ve given my family.”

  “You’re the agent TFC tried to plant on Swovjiti?” Jay marveled, swallowing a laugh.

  Damen turned a frankly appraising and appreciative stare her way. He drew a deep breath as if scenting her.

  “Jayleia, Twelve Gods, you are beautiful,” he murmured.

  The assault on her senses redoubled. She stiffened her spine and tamped down on the powerful impulse to throw herself into his arms.

  Tiassale’s gaze moved between them, her eyes narrowed. “I am interested in knowing which branch of our government dared offer you a diplomatic clearance, Major.”

  Damen returned his attention to the priestess. “My commanders wondered the same thing, madam. Our people are at work untangling the encrypted file origination tracers.”

  “My money is on Gerriny Eudal,” Jayleia muttered.

  Tiassale shifted, drawing Jay’s gaze. “Do not make the mistake of believing the lieutenant director of Intelligence Command is your sole, or even your worst, enemy.”

  “Too many empire-building games are being played by too many people, too highly placed within the government,” Jayleia’s mother agreed. “Gerriny Eudal is a psychopath, but he may simply be the most visible of our worries.”

  “Major Damen Sindrivik,” Tiassale said, “what is your purpose on Swovjiti?”

  “A twofold recovery mission, madam,” he replied. “Her Majesty requests Jayleia Durante’s presence, along with the data store taken from Silver City.”

  “Am I under arrest?” Jayleia inquired. Her blood ran hot at the avid smile Damen turned upon her.

  “Are you fond of neural cuffs, then?” he asked.

  “I recall that ended badly for you,” she said, grinning.

  “I learn from my mistakes.”

  “I perceive that the Temple need not extend an offer of sanctuary to Jayleia,” Tiassale noted, her tone sour. “However, three matters of interest to the Temple remain.”

  Alarms fired off in Jayleia’s head, yanking her attention back to the woman on the dais.

  “The accolade of the Temple is yours by right of battle,” the high priestess said, her expression stony and her gaze focused over Jayleia’s head.

  Her mother gasped.

  Jayleia gaped. She’d have rank in the Temple, a voice among her mother’s people once more. She’d have the right to wear the uniform she’d put on to save Damen’s life. Why would the priestess even consider. . . “Tiassale, I thought you hated me.”

  “I do. You are a thief, a harlot, a half-breed . . .”

  “That didn’t take long.”

  “. . . and a disgrace to this Temple. But your mother is a much valued elder whose worth to the people is beyond measure. Nor can I overlook the fact that you have single-handedly brought over fifty abused and malnourished men, women, and mostly children to sanctuary,” Tiassale said.

  “It was hardly single-handed. Their rescue was an intricate plan with many pieces,” Jayleia countered.

  Tiassale awarded her a hard stare. “Do you deny that the plans had been in place for months prior to your arrival? Or that you took it upon yourself to alter those plans because of the immediate threat?”

  “No.” Jay blinked, taken aback both by Tiassale’s knowledge of circumstances and by her judgment. She gathered that Damen’s people had been talking her up.

  She also noted that Damen watched her, pride glowing in his face. His admiration reached something deep inside her. She’d spent so many years refusing to strive for anyone’s approval, yet she’d won his esteem merely by acting on her convictions.

  The priestess looked away. “Perhaps, then, you have learned something of worth in exile.”

  Fortified by Damen’s regard, Jayleia studied the woman. “More than you believe. Tiassale Gorn, I pledge my service as one of the trained to the precepts of the Temple and to the directives of their appointed guardian.”

  Her mother laughed in pleased surprise and squeezed her hand.

  “Well played,” Damen murmured for her ears only.

  The stunned light in Tiassale’s eye heartened Jay. One should always endeavor to surprise the enemy and regardless of the civility of the conversation, she knew full well Tiassale would rather knife her in the back than offer up the accolades of the Temple. That she had done the latter led Jayleia to believe they could at least work together.

  “Three things you said, High Priestess?” Jayleia prompted, feeling more at ease in the Temple than she could ever remember.

  “The woman Vala,” Tiassale said, looking uncertain.

  Sorrow bumped Jayleia out of her euphoria.

  “She died while under your command.”

  “Yes.”

  Her mother’s hand tightened on hers to the point of pain.

  “Then, by the law of the Temple,” Tiassale said, “the child, Bellin, is your responsibility, your son-by-right.”

  “What?” Damen snapped.

  “No,” Jayleia said.

  Tiassale’s eyes widened.

  “You refuse . . .” her mother gritted.

  “No!” Jayleia exclaimed, her voice ringing through the room. “Major Sindrivik is Bellin’s father.”

  She turned to face Damen, tugging free of her mother’s grasp. The pain shadowing his eyes wrung her heart dry.

  “It’s our way,” she said. “When a warrior falls in battle, her commander adopts her children, sees to their welfare and their training. I’d be honored to do this for Bellin, for Vala, and for you, but he is your blood kin. I don’t have the right.”

  She heard her mother catch a trembling breath.

  Damen’s gaze darted over her shoulder at her mother. He frowned, the lines of conflicted feeling deepening around his mouth.

  “My heart has ached for a grandchild,” her mother breathed, tears in her voice. She stepped in beside Jayleia to face him. “But not like this, never at the expense of a woman’s life. Bellin is your son, Major. What arrangements would you make for his care?”

  Damen met Jayleia’s gaze, grief and confusion fighting for dominance in his face. As if on impulse, he brushed her cheek.

  Jay tried to steel herself. It didn’t work. She leaned into the stroke and the air rushed from her lungs. One of the ridiculous bells in her hair chimed.

  Damen’s troubled expression eased. “Bellin aspires to a career with the Murbaasch Tu.”

  “Wise child. Intelligence Command is an unhealthy career choice at present,” Margol observed.

  “You would entrust him to Madam Durante’s care?” he asked, offering Jayleia a tremulous smile.

  Her heart started beating again. “Yes.”

  He nodded. “Until my life would no longer endanger his, it would please me to have him sheltered in your family. He should have the opportunity to grow up as strong and as honorable as you have.”

  Honorable? Pleasure twined around her heart.

  “Mother? Will you train Bellin?”

  Her mother froze for a moment, not even breathing. When she spoke, her words were thick with emotion. “It would be my honor. I will guard Bellin with my life.”

  Jay closed her burning eyes and smiled.

  CHAPTER 25


  JAYLEIA’S mother clapped her hands. “It is your birthday, my dear, yet it is you and Major Sindrivik who give me the greatest of gifts. Dare I hope for another?”

  “What?” Jayleia squawked, eyes snapping open. She’d known her birthday was imminent, but with diseased kuorl, healing trances, and plotting an exit off of Silver City, she’d managed to lose track of the exact day of the week.

  “I perceive the Keeping of the Calendar isn’t among your devotions,” Tiassale said. “Remedy that.”

  Her twenty-sixth birthday, the day her oath of celibacy expired and the day her mother’s people expected her to pick a man to father the next generation of warriors. After all these years away, after so much careful planning to be on the opposite side of the galaxy on her birthday, preferably elbow deep in some deadly outbreak somewhere, she’d ended up where she had least wanted to be. And she had no one to blame but herself.

  “This brings us to the third and final matter of interest to the Temple,” Tiassale said. “You are bound, by your duty to the Temple and to your Lady Mother. Is this man your choice?”

  She could admit to herself that she wanted him. Badly. But he deserved the chance to make his own choice.

  “Major Sindrivik doesn’t understand our . . .”

  “My brother then,” she said, her tone arch.

  “Over my dead body,” Jayleia growled.

  Tiassale smiled, the first Jay had ever seen on her face that overtook her entire countenance. “Something that could be so easily arranged. Or did you mean to betray your oath of loyalty so soon after uttering it?”

  Damen’s lazy smile when he looked at her sent a ripple of heat down Jayleia’s spine.

  He traced a hand down her bare arm. “Your oath of celibacy ends today, doesn’t it? Your mother made a point of telling me.”

  “Twelve Gods,” she groaned, recalling his comment aboard the Kawl Fergus about not being safe from him. Could she admit she’d gotten damned tired of safe?