Empress Hiding Read online

  “You would swear to me then that your animal knows nothing about this?”

  There, in the bright white highlighting, the screen read

  SIRE: Knot Shoor

  CLAN: Utellme Will Boathnoe

  Inside Dalis, Mischief completely lost his calm composure to a fit of laughter, but Dalis was used to holding his own against that. It was the Magistrate’s gaze that had Dalis wondering how well his gambling face was actually working – it was relentless. In fact, that gaze was beginning to quickly quell Mischief’s laughter as well.

  Rafal took a deep, burning pull of his tea and closed his eyes momentarily – the break in their staring gave Dalis a moment to breathe freely. But when the Prime Magistrate re-opened his eyes, they had gained quite a bit of depth in their green coloration. Rafal growled low in his chest again at Dalis’ stalling technique.

  “Da-a-a-alis?” he looked through the old steward, “Do you swear it?”

  Mischief lowered his head and skulked backward leaving Dalis on his own. Yep, they had been caught.

  Dalis took a deep breath.

  “No, my Prince, I do not swear it.”

  Rafal continued staring and growling as he uncharacteristically inhaled to scent of his tea.

  Twice.

  “But we can explain.”

  Rafal almost grinned outwardly at his steward that – no matter the color of the blood that ran through his veins – had not a disloyal bone in his body – both Rafal and his beast were in full agreement on that matter – had been for a very long time now. But this was a somewhat serious matter, and, as Prime Magistrate, he needed an explanation.

  “And we are waiting rather impatiently for such.”

  Rafal inhaled another deep scent of his tea again.

  Dalis took a deep breath also, but for another reason.

  “He is well-qualified, Magistrate, and defeated all but Captain Yulstantis in both hand-to-hand and blade competition, and he is the top marksman of all your guards,” the steward spoke so swiftly that Rafal had trouble following him at first, “And, in my observations of the interactions and sparring matches during your latest competition for a place on your Detail, he was definitely the most solid.”

  Dalis held his breath that the Prime Magistrate would accept his explanation for the small adlib when it came to the male’s bloodline.

  Rafal downed the remainder of his tea and cocked his head at Dalis, those long and wet auburn locks shifting positions from one side to the other as he placed the mug to the side and glared at the old steward.

  “Dalis, there is a pool calling to us,” Rafal was truly getting impatient, “Do not make me switch presence and scare the answer out of you and your animal.”

  Mischief shuddered on the inside as Dalis glanced up into the haunting and almost shining gray eyes of the obsidian-haired male on the screen and began pushing outwardly for Dalis to simply tell the Prime Magistrate what he wanted to know.

  Before that horrid creature appeared.

  Again.

  Dalis exhaled almost defeatedly – his entire body somewhat slumping as he averted his eyes from Rafal’s stare.

  “Because he rose from the streets of Capital City of his own right and neither he nor his beast have ties to your sire’s court or appear to be under the Khedive’s thumb in any way, my lord,” Dalis paused to glance into his Prime Magistrate’s eyes, “But he does not know of the deception, Magistrate, as he simply left the spaces blank on his original application forms. I am the one who deserves –”

  Rafal cut him off.

  “I need a refill, Dalis,” Rafal adamantly placed the nearly-empty mug out from him and toward Dalis as he reached up to the control board. The large screen immediately switched to colorful swirls that kept time with the roaring sounds of wind and waves that began echoing loudly around the room, “And be sure our personal transport will be ready for departure tomorrow – I do not wish any delays in returning home.”

  Dalis spoke as he stepped forward to retrieve the mug.

  “But, Magistrate, I …”

  Rafal turned silently away from him and rose up to dive below the surface – his beast’s tremendous body completing action – that huge multi-pincered tail the last of the monster to roil over the top and disappear.

  Dalis stood for a while wondering if there was something else he needed to say or to do, but the surface of the water calmed, and all that echoed was the wind and an occasional crashing wave through the surrounding speakers. He was not even sure how to feel as he turned from the poolside and headed to the doors.

  As he reached them and was trepidatiously keying the passcode to exit, Mischief clearly noted the sound of the beast surfacing in the pool and tried to hurry Dalis’ finger movements accordingly. And, as the door clicked open and Dalis took a step to pass through it, a very rough yet very low voice echoed clearly above the nature sounds to Dalis’ sensitive hearing.

  “Teşekkür ederim, Dalis.”

  The old steward warmed inwardly at Rafal’s use of the Royal ancestral tongue in appreciation, but did not turn around – although he did lift his head in answered respect in the language of his Blood-borne ancestors.

  “Denka, I am your servant, my lord. Always.”

  Dalis let the door close behind him as a large swath of water sheeted the wall and the blissful – although Mischief had other words for them – sounds of the Prime Magistrate’s playful beast were quickly quieted by its re-latching.

  Dalis’ entire body rested against the door as he wiped some of the splashed water from his face and angled his head upward – sending up a silent prayer of thanks to the Makers.

  That had been too close.

  Runa purred in sated bliss as Chiyoto downed the last of their cocktail, and Chiyoto found herself humming with satisfaction as well. And although Runa would say it was simply the duty of the donor to avail himself or herself in such a fashion, Chiyoto gently closed her eyes to concentrate on make-up of the blood and to mentally find the donor. She silently breathed a word of healing along the mental thread she had traced and felt the magic find its mark.

  They had sat in solitude as the crowds thinned in the open areas below – many of the remaining patrons having seated themselves at the tables surrounding Chiyoto. It gave Chiyoto yet another opportunity to touch the pulse of her people – Harnon had been but one individual with a very sad tale, but many of the citizens – Crimson and Blood-borne alike – on her exercise pathways today had seemed quite settled. There were no over-arching vibes of hatred directed at her from the Crimsons nor had there been any strong animus emanating from the Blood-bornes to the Crimsons mixed into the crowds with them. Of course, there had been the one or two exceptions to that rule – to include the sick-minded Blood-borne whose sadistic and lecherous thoughts toward Chiyoto had Runa sending out a lethal bolt of energy to the male’s hearts before Chiyoto could stop her. Chiyoto felt Runa growl again with satisfaction as the dragoness also conveyed the images of two other young, well-built females being sexually tortured by the male (in an extremely bright room while he wore dark glasses) – but, as a whole, the atmosphere was rather peaceful compared to what she remembered from back in Capital City.

  When Maltina had arrived with their food much earlier, Runa turned her attitude to one of ambivalence – her needs were satisfied for now; however, Chiyoto had spent the last hurs stuffing herself with the loaded platter of food for two reasons: first, that to do otherwise might hurt Togo’s feelings as he had been so generous to them already, and, second, that they did not have to pay for the meal, and she was not sure when next they would be able to afford another one so nutritious.

  Runa was chastising her with a joke as to whether or not the last bite remaining on the platter would officially make Chiyoto pop open from too full a stomach when a visage on the large screens throughout the low-lit establishment stole her atten
tion from any other happenings in the area.

  It was him – the handsome Crimson clothed in midnight vestments with the irresistible aura.

  And, once again, Chiyoto’s focus was transfixed.

  She heard nothing of what the frantic citizens talking on the obviously amateur vid had to say – nothing of the mostly negative comments which Runa continuously tried to point out – nothing of the antagonistic or even disparaging critique that poured through the vidview speakers from the mouths of the surrounding citizens.

  All Chiyoto saw was a gentle giant with what began as compassion for a young one in his emerald eyes only to be replaced by a deep forest green of anger at one of his own soldiers – the same soldier that seemed to unnerve him when Chiyoto had ogled him on the Commons earlier. And, just as he set the tiny, young female beside her hysterical mother who had thrown herself on the ground – Chiyoto hated that her people had been reduced to such groveling, and she could never envision herself groveling for any reason – he then coolly exited the scene.

  And Chiyoto breathed in satisfaction – he was simply magnificent.

  His presence was so strong and so positive – the only thing that could have made the whole incident better would have been if he had laid waste to that meddling Black Guard whose hostile intentions had to be evident to anyone with eyes.

  Runa scoffed at Chiyoto’s entire internal assessment of the situation with her comments as to how any one of Crimson Royalty could ever have good intentions toward any Blood-borne … and other such thoughts. It was when Chiyoto reached inward to admonish her Runa for her speciatically-biased thoughts that Chiyoto realized something.

  The tables surrounding them were crowded with citizens echoing the same sentiments as her Runa – with quite vocal accusations regarding the “abominable” Prime Magistrate and the “disgusting Crimson Raksasa” and the “scary pich that attacked innocents for fun” – and she felt her blood pressure rise as it had not done in many years.

  Chiyoto stood to face the tables that surrounded her, and, taking a deep breath to touch each of their spirits deep inside, she cocked her head in question as a quiet hush fell over the area.

  She let the true magenta glow of her power slowly seep into her eyes.

  “Gergan? You and Helo,” The strapping youth nearly dropped his drink with her call of both his and his altare’s name.

  Chiyoto turned her focus to the most beautiful and obviously most influential female in the group before her.

  “Shylel? You and Divine,” the attractive young lady trailed off in her heated conversation – the rest of the group began to quiet with her personal addresses to all of them and their privately named altares, “Canton and Victory; Nerita and Starlight,” Chiyoto cut her gaze to a very rebellious looking male with multiple body piercings, “And you, Frinja and Gogan.”

  Some nodded. Others were simply too shocked at her address of both parts of who they were.

  Chiyoto’s nails dug into her palms as she purposefully let Runa’s deep, melodic and, yes, uncivilized voice creep into her own. Runa reached out magically and lowered the volume on the two vidvisions that faced their area.

  “To be true to yourself and to your Blood-borne heritage, my children,” she purposefully kept her voice low and steady and took a moment to look into each one’s eyes, “You need to stop hearing with your ears and listen with your heart.”

  She stopped and let all of Runa be once again hidden inside of her.

  “Otherwise you will have become that which you profess to despise.”

  Chiyoto gracefully bowed her head and moved to a more isolated table across the noshery near the empty paunchbib tables and the deserted dranlien boards – most of the patrons that had been using them having departed for the evening. The ebony-haired auger – now the lone patron remaining at the service island – simply raised his glass in acknowledgement of her statement as Togo bowed his head respectfully when she passed.

  Chiyoto sat there, deep in thought and staring into the simulated fire, for a very long time – the handsome and alluring Prime Magistrate the focal point of her wandering thoughts. Runa was right – he did probably have multiple consorts, not to mention the countless females that would literally throw themselves at him simply because of who he was.

  And how beautifully – for lack of a better term – he was built.

  And, most important of all, how those females had the correct blood color for the Crowned Prince of the Bohrean Empire.

  Sigh.

  And that same Runa sat and pouted – either because of the statement her beautiful Treasure had just made to the young ones or because it had been necessary for her to make it.

  Or maybe it was simply because the words had hit the uncivilized dragoness – the Empress-Heir to that same empire – way too close to home.

  Chiyoto held Runa to her heart deep inside as they both pondered issues that were best considered with your closest and dearest friend as near as you could hold her.

  Rafal’s host and cousin to Dalis had made all of the necessary accommodations to make him feel welcome to include the lining of the walls and the floor with material processed solely for a Crimson olfactory – it masked anything Blood-borne with its strong oils and pungent cerate which prevented the material’s absorption of any unwanted scents.

  Not that the scents of the Blood-bornes ever really bothered Rafal or his beast – although the Prime Magistrate certainly knew that some of his sire’s courtiers were bothered by such – it was simply noteworthy that his Blood-borne host had gone out of his way to make the not-so-popular Crimson ruler feel welcome.

  Or at least comfortable.

  Even though Rafal reasonably concluded that such also kept his scent confined to the small room.

  Such was simply the way of things in this reality.

  Yet, even with all of the special accommodations and Togo’s diligently kept promise that the door would be opened as little as possible by service personnel, it happened. As Rafal began the main course of the fine meal he was enjoying in peace and solitude – even without the opening of the door – a new yet all-too-familiar scent drifted ever so faintly into the closed-off room in which he dined.

  Thick, rich creamy peppermint mixed with a faint alluring musk that immediately set his beast on alert. But before either of them had the time to fully react, a female voice filtered through the closed door that immediately made his insides tingle as his outer skin joined the chorus.

  “Here it is, Togo,” the unique tone sang to all that he was, “It must have gotten misplaced somehow. Thank you for everything, my fai …”

  The heavenly melodic voice trailed off in movement away from his position before the female finished speaking, and her scent began to fade.

  Rafal leapt to his feet, knocking over his fermenti in hurriedly trying to get to the closed door that led to the main room of the establishment. But, just before he flung open the door to pursue her, his sensibilities caught hold of him, and he halted.

  What if there were other citizens in the main room? That would not be fair to Togo as Rafal’s revelation would certainly frighten away any and all Blood-borne customers that may still yet be out at this late hur.

  Instead, Rafal barely cracked open the door to peer out at a mostly darkened dining area with a large, still somewhat lit service island on one end.

  And, once again, he caught a full breath of her scent.

  At the island, Togo seemed to busy himself with cleaning while a large, black-haired male – his face hidden by the preponderance of said hair that hung like a veil around his neck and shoulders – sat quietly at the far end. Both males turned in unison to bid farewell to a petit female – Rafal making that size-estimate based on her immediate surroundings – as she tied a colorful scarf around her hair. The black-haired customer turned back to face Togo – both males nodding in unison to each othe
r – as the long-hair quickly downed the remainder of the fermenti in his hands and hurried out the door after the female.

  And Rafal felt his beast protest in unison with an unknown part of himself that another would pursue the female that had – albeit unknown to that female – called to them both.

  But even as he gently closed the door and started for the back door, he found himself wondering why such an alluring and desirably-scented Crimson female would spend time in a mostly Blood-borne establishment. Was she so petit that she felt intimidated by the majority of the others of their kind? Was she one of the females from the religious orders that felt compelled to minister to the lesser of the beings in the empire?

  Rafal did not even have time to form other questions in his mind as his beast’s loud and howling admonishments that they hurry lest they lose the female in the maddening crowds that were out in this part of the ICT in the late hurs drowned out all coherent thought. He put a handful of teluridium coins on the table to generously cover the meal and the service as he raced out the back door.

  Rafal had to reach her before that other male did – a sly grin pulled across his determined face as a not-so-subtle chuckle surprisingly sprang from deep within him.

  Otherwise, the Prime Magistrate would have to dispense of the other male.

  Permanently.

  Runa was almost as exhausted as Chiyoto at this point which was rare, to say the least. Between the extreme amounts of physical exercise Chiyoto had put them through earlier and the emotional roller coaster the evening had been, the powerful altare was actually looking forward to the extremely small bed that awaited them back in the designated Green boarding areas.

  Chiyoto hugged herself tightly as they stepped into the crowds – the size and content of which had changed markedly since they entered the small noshery. As she tried to settle into a comfortable walking rhythm, she found herself bombarded by so many more of the hostile emotions between the species that she had feared upon arrival – it seemed a different breed of beings inhabited the by-ways during the simulated nighttime hurs than during the day. So, the young Heiress chose to walk closely to the buildings so as not to be completely awash in the strong emotions that assaulted her empathic senses.