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  BOOKS IN THE SERIES

  CHRONICLES OF ALSEA

  Chronicles of Alsea:

  The Caphenon

  Without a Front: The Producer’s Challenge

  Without a Front: The Warrior’s Challenge

  Catalyst

  Vellmar the Blade

  Other Books:

  Mac vs. PC

  For anyone who has ever taken a leap of faith.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Writers often vanish into their own little worlds (or in my case, an invented universe) for hours and days and weeks at a time. If they’re lucky, someone is waiting for them when they emerge for a cup of tea and a reminder that another world exists.

  I’m lucky. So my first thanks always go to the woman who waits for me and who understands why I vanish: my own tyree, Maria João Valente. I also have to thank her for spending a romantic vacation brainstorming over a plot point that had stopped me cold. We managed to be romantic and solve the problem, which is kind of like winning the lottery.

  Because I was out of my depth in several areas with this book, I am grateful to four experts in their fields who fact-checked my ideas and gave me different ones if mine didn’t quite pass muster. They are Dr. Ana Mozo, who made sure that the many medical references, devices, and procedures made sense; retired Deputy Sheriff Ally House, whose tactical background helped me through an armed incursion; Saskia Goedhart, whose expertise in hand-to-hand combat was a gift I poured into Ekatya; and Maj. Chris Butler, USAF, Retired, who helped make my flight scene comply with physics and reality. (He also taught me what flight helmets are really for, so I could come up with alternatives.) Any factual errors remaining in this manuscript are in spite of their efforts.

  Rebecca Cheek and Rick Taylor were indispensable for their willingness to spend hours upon hours reading my work, finding the weak spots, and helping me hone my craft. My writing has grown and changed in part because of their input.

  Sandra Gerth is the best editor I could ask for at Ylva Publishing and has finally, by dint of many discussions in the margins, altered my comma habits with compound predicates. Cheri Fuller is our copy editor extraordinaire; Sandra and I consider it our goal to leave nothing for her to find. (She still tries hard.)

  I had some help thinking up alien names for this book, so credit goes to Alison White, Shay, Kelly Parker, Cheryl Hanson, and Lisa Lub, all of whom lent me their creative brains. I modified a few of their suggestions, but it sure was nice to have so much to work with.

  And finally, many thanks go to Karyn Aho, my Prime Beta. I have had so many discussions with her about plot arcs, character motivations, psychological underpinnings, and other details of storytelling—many of which took place at ridiculous hours of her night, thanks to our eight-hour time difference—that I honestly can’t imagine writing these books without her.

  CHAPTER 1:

  Bonding break

  Ekatya Serrado stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of their suite, looking north over the domed roofs of Whitemoon to the sparkling bay beyond. The luxurious inn commanded a spectacular view from its hilltop perch, second only to the view from Whitemoon Temple.

  At the bottom of the hill lay a large park, its central open space a colorful contrast of grassy meadows and immaculately landscaped gardens. A narrow but dense belt of tropical forest surrounded the park on three sides, separating it from the city. The fourth side backed up to the hill, where a stone path meandered up to the front arch of the inn.

  Though normally full of Whitemoon residents, for the past three days the park had been closed to the public due to its current occupant. Crouched in the largest meadow, looking wildly out of place, was Lancer Tal’s state transport. Ekatya and Lhyn would be boarding soon, and even now she could see the tiny figures of Guards and guests milling around.

  She glanced to the left, where the temple shone on its hill in the morning light. It looked so different now, an imposing edifice of black stone that absorbed the sun. Last night that same stonework had glowed, giving back the day’s light and reflecting the moons as all Alsean temples did. Impressive though that light had been, it still came in a distant second to the brilliance of a tree catching fire from the mere touch of two women’s hands.

  That little display was still making her head hurt. She had questions, Lhyn had questions, the Protectorate government would have questions…and she suspected that they would all be unsatisfied. The Alseans simply accepted it as a sign from Fahla. Even Andira, with all her pragmatism, showed no desire to look beyond the surface. “Fahla has legitimized our bond and Salomen’s position in a way I could not have done with a hundred speeches,” she had said. “And you think I should ask why she chose to bless us?”

  Sometimes she envied Andira her beliefs.

  She turned away from the view and crossed the tiled floor to the bed, which sat beneath a skylight and could have slept four. Currently, it held two travel bags and several piles of clothing, most of which were hers. Lhyn had nearly finished packing her bag while Ekatya lingered at the window with her morning shannel. Shippers, but she had missed that brew.

  “It still feels odd,” she said as she rolled up a shirt at the foot of the bed.

  “What, taking a real vacation for the first time in over two years? You’re right, it does.” Lhyn held up a scrap of fabric, wrinkled her nose, and squished it into a corner of her bag. “I don’t think I’ll need this. Andira said most Alseans don’t wear swimsuits in the ocean.”

  “She also said it was optional.”

  “Sure, if we want to look like Protectorate prudes. I’d rather blend in.”

  As if that were possible. “The less clothing you wear, the less likely you are to blend in. You’re missing a few ridges on that lovely body of yours.”

  Lhyn smiled from where she was bent over her bag. “What makes you think anyone will be looking at my body?”

  “Because they have eyes, tyrina.”

  “Yes, and those eyes will all be directed at the Lancer and Bondlancer on their bonding break. As long as those two are around, nobody will be looking at us.”

  “I think you’re underestimating the amount of attention a Fleet captain and the famous Doctor Lhyn Rivers will attract.” Ekatya added another rolled-up shirt to her bag. “That’s what feels odd. I can’t get used to the idea of us going along on someone else’s honeymoon. They’re supposed to be off by themselves, having sex twenty hanticks a day. Not entertaining us.”

  “Oh, I think they’ll manage plenty of time for joining and Sharing.” Lhyn sat on the side of the bed next to her bag. “And you have it backward. They’re not entertaining us; it’s our job to entertain them when they want it. Weren’t you listening when Lanaril explained?”

  “Ah…not really. I was talking to Salomen.” Ekatya folded a pair of pants and avoided eye contact. She was not comfortable around Blacksun’s Lead Templar, a woman who lived and breathed religion. But Lhyn adored her, so at some point she would have to work past this.

  “An Alsean bonding break isn’t about the couple being alone,” Lhyn said, and Ekatya could hear that tone of voice. A mini-lecture on Alsean culture was about to begin.

  “I mean, yes, it’s partly about that, but it’s also about the two families getting to know each other. Family is such a foundational part of their culture.” Lhyn’s eyes were wide with interest as she added, “It permeates the rituals of bonding. The words of an Alsean bond proposal are really a request to be taken into the family, and the bonding break is the time when that request is put into action. Everyone
tells stories, so the new members can learn family history and the families can learn more about their new members. We’re going to learn so much on this trip!”

  “It’s not a field study, Lhyn.”

  “I know, but don’t you realize what it means that Andira invited us? She’s made us her family. She wants the Opahs to get to know us. She invited Lanaril for the same reason. Lanaril can hardly keep her head on her shoulders, she’s so honored.”

  “I do know what it means. And I’m just as honored.” But she wasn’t at ease. Her friendship with Andira Tal, hard-earned in the middle of a global crisis, was an anomaly in her life. She didn’t make friends easily or quickly, and she certainly didn’t make friends whose absence never stopped aching. She had known Andira for all of two months before leaving Alsea, yet she had spent nearly two years since then being constantly aware of their separation. Hugging her the day before yesterday had felt like coming home.

  But now she was expected to fit into a family dynamic, with Shippers only knew what kind of ramifications involved. She would rather have negotiated a treaty with the Voloth. At least then she would know how to act and what to say.

  “Lanaril said that Andira and Salomen will spend a lot of time alone with each other,” Lhyn said, blissfully unaffected by such concerns. “But part of our responsibility is to be there whenever they want us. Essentially, we’re on call. Oh, and we’re supposed to make sure they eat properly. I guess newly bonded couples don’t always plan ahead for meals.”

  Ekatya had to laugh at that. “I should hope not. If those two are meal-planning, then I might have to take Andira aside and give her a few pointers.”

  “I see you missed that part of the conversation, too.” Lhyn shot her a smirk.

  “What? What part? Andira did not talk about—” Too late, Ekatya saw the look in her eyes. “You little spark. You had me going.”

  “And it was like netting trayfish in spawning season. No challenge at all.”

  Ekatya strode around the corner of the bed and shoved her onto her back. “I’ll show you a challenge,” she growled, her fingers finding the sensitive places along Lhyn’s ribs.

  Lhyn gasped and squirmed, laughing as she tried to catch Ekatya’s hands. Then her laughter stopped and she went much too still. “No,” she said in a panicked voice. “Get off. Get off me.”

  As her heart dropped into her stomach, Ekatya took two hurried steps back and turned slightly to the side, making herself as nonthreatening as possible. “I’m sorry.”

  Lhyn sat up and wrapped her arms around her torso. “It’s all right. I’m all right. It’s not you.” Her breathing was fast and shallow, and Ekatya stood helpless as she watched her fight a battle all alone. If she saw a panic attack coming, she could often help to head it off, but sometimes Lhyn simply fell in the hole before either of them knew it was there.

  At last Lhyn looked up, her face appearing ten years older. “Come here?”

  Moving slowly, giving her every chance to say no, Ekatya stepped into the space between Lhyn’s legs, slid her arms around her upper back, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

  With a sigh, Lhyn rested her cheek against Ekatya’s chest. “Much better. I can breathe.”

  “Sometimes I wish I’d taken that third strike,” Ekatya said darkly. “He would never have breathed again.”

  “But then Sholokhov would have owned you. It was too high a price to pay.”

  “Sholokhov can never own me. Remember…”

  “It’s not about owning. It’s about who you give yourself to.”

  “And I’ve only ever given myself to one person.” Ekatya kissed the top of her head again.

  “Ask me,” Lhyn whispered.

  It was their ritual, and Ekatya did not hesitate. “What is the first rule of capture?”

  “Survive. Do what I have to, but survive.”

  “What is the second rule?”

  “Delay. Say anything, do anything to delay any act that might debilitate me or make me unable to assist my own rescue.”

  “What is the third rule?”

  Lhyn looked up. “Find the piece of you inside me.”

  “It’s always there.” Ekatya held her gaze. “Always.”

  “And thank Fahla for that.” Lhyn tucked her head against Ekatya’s chest again, a position she had never cared for before but found great comfort in now.

  It was an odd physical reversal, given the height difference between them. Ekatya always looked up to her taller partner, but in these moments she looked down, providing shelter, and she would do it until her legs fell asleep beneath her.

  After several silent minutes, Lhyn gave her a final squeeze and pulled back to rest her hands behind her on the bed. “You know that I’m never leaving Alsea again.”

  “I know.”

  She inhaled deeply, a smile returning to her face. “I can breathe here. It’s so safe.”

  “It is. And we could hardly be safer than where we’re going. Between Andira’s and Salomen’s units, we’ll have forty Guards patrolling the place.”

  “Not to mention Andira. She would have made short work of him, just like you did. I still wish I could have seen it.”

  Ekatya ran gentle fingers through Lhyn’s long hair, the silver strands shining against the mass of dark brown. “Are you going to tell them?”

  “I already promised Lanaril that I would. That’s what a bonding break is about, telling stories and getting to know the family. I want this family, Ekatya. This is my home now. They have to know.” Lhyn’s eyes closed, as they always did when Ekatya touched her this way. “Will you tell them your story?”

  “Yes. Though I might have to hide the shuttle, or Andira will want to jump in and fly back to the Protectorate to teach a few lessons. She’s not going to be happy.”

  Lhyn’s chuckle was music to her ears. “Wouldn’t you love to see her in Sholokhov’s office?”

  “Are you kidding? It’s one of my daytime fantasies.”

  Now Lhyn laughed outright. “And here I thought those revolved around me.”

  “No, those are my nighttime fantasies.” Ekatya hid her relief at seeing Lhyn return to normal. These moments happened less and less often, but it still tore a hole in her heart every time.

  To this day, she had no idea how she had held herself in check. It would have been so easy to kill him.

  CHAPTER 2:

  Well met

  “Well met, Lead Templar Satran.” The little boy held up both hands solemnly.

  “Well met, Jaros.” Lanaril touched his palms and smiled at the unguarded innocence of his emotions. Jaros Opah was thrilled to be here and quite proud of his maturity in introducing himself.

  “I’ve heard so much about you from your sister and bondsister,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to see you outside of the ceremony. But you mustn’t concern yourself with titles now; we’re all family here. Call me Lanaril.”

  He shook his head, his freshly cut brown hair showing red highlights in the sun. “I like titles. They mean something.”

  Andira stepped up next to him and rested a hand on his thin shoulder. “I still can’t get him to call me by my first name.”

  “I think I understand,” Lanaril said. “I’m not certain I can call Colonel Micah by his first name, either. He doesn’t look like a Corozen, does he?”

  “Oh, no. He’s the colonel.” Jaros turned toward the enormous state transport, which took up most of the park’s central meadow. In the crowd of Guards gathered near the ramp, Colonel Micah stood out for his lack of uniform and the fact that he was the only Guard with a full head of silver hair. He kept it in a short, bristly cut, a style common for younger warriors but not often seen on warriors his age.

  “Do you know the other Guards, Lead Templar?” Jaros asked. When Lanaril said she did not—which was mostly true; she knew only a few o
f them by sight—he proceeded to point to each and give their rank, name, and a short description of their accomplishments.

  After spouting more names than Lanaril would ever remember, Jaros indicated one of the few Guards taller than Colonel Micah. “That’s Head Guardian Gehrain. Lancer Tal promoted him two moons ago, right after her challenge moon on our holding. And the warrior next to him is Lead Guard Vellmar, but I don’t know her very well. She took Gehrain’s place as Lancer Tal’s Lead Guard.”

  “You might get to know her this moon,” Andira said. “She’s been working very hard since taking over my unit, so I’ve promised her some leave time. That’s why she’s not in uniform today.” She leaned closer, her bright blonde hair looking even lighter next to his dark head, and spoke more quietly. “She’s better than me with a sword.”

  “Really? Speedy! Will you spar with her?”

  “Oh, most definitely. If Salomen leaves me with any energy.”

  His brow furrowed, bunching the skin along his forehead ridges in an endearing manner. “I thought this was a bonding break.”

  “It is.”

  “Then why is Salomen making you work?”

  Lanaril pressed her lips together as tightly as she could.

  “Because your sister cannot bear seeing me idle,” Andira said, smiling at someone coming down the stone path behind Lanaril.

  “Don’t believe her, Jaros. I wish she would be idle more often.” Salomen joined them with her father and older brother in tow. “I thought you two were out for a stroll around the inn property?”

  “We were, but Jaros saw the Guards here and was afraid the transport might leave without us.” Andira ruffled his hair as he rolled his eyes.

  “I was not. I just wanted to see it.”

  “And he has already introduced himself to Lanaril.”

  “Very nicely, I should add. I’m most impressed with Jaros’s manners.” Lanaril watched the boy light up and thought she could happily spend a day absorbing such uncomplicated emotions.