The Empress' New Clothes Read online

  “Why do I ask?” Kil repeated in an incredulous tone. Stunned, he shook his head. “’Twill no doubt be hard on the man, knowing he will never sire any hatchlings of his own.”

  “What’s this? Has he some sort of rare malady no one informed me of?”

  Kil’s eyes widened as his jaw went slack. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?” Zor grunted, scowling at his brother. “Mayhap if you would quit speaking in riddles I could find out.”

  “Mayhap Rem does not want you or Dak awares.” Kil sighed, thinking back on the moon-rising he’d discovered their youngest brother’s secret. “I found out by sheer fortune of having overhead him and Jera arguing.”

  “Kil,” Zor bit out, his teeth clenching, “as your High King, I command for you to tell me of what it is you speak.”

  Kil peered into Zor’s eyes, not wanting to miss his reaction. “Rem and Jera,” he said in distinct tones, “are not true mates.”

  “What?”

  “’Tis true.” Kil waved a hand, shaking his head. He had never had a care for Rem’s nee’ka. “Jera got Rem sotted with matpow to the point of barely being able to stand, then did lure him to the vesha hides, tricking him into clasping his bride’s necklace about her cunning neck.”

  “By the goddess,” Zor murmured, dazed. “Whatever would she do this for? By cheating Rem of his true Sacred Mate, she has cheated herself of her own as well.”

  Kil laughed without humor. “Think you Jera has a care for love of the hearts and bonds of the flesh? Nay. She wanted naught but to advance her own riches.”

  “By the goddess,” Zor murmured. He was too stunned to say more.

  “I am willing to bet fifty of my most lusty Kefas that she had lured you to the vesha hides with much the same intent.” Kil scowled, his lips curling into a snarl. “When trickery didn’t work with you, she turned her sights to our youngest brother, who, although he may be a warrior to be reckoned with now, was a gullible green lad at the time, lusty for the bed sport.”

  “Poor Rem.” Zor drew in a deep breath, his eyes steadily trained on his brother. “To be sentenced to a lifetime with no hope for a true mate. By the sands, I could not want for a life without Kyra and my panis.”

  “Aye, ‘tis sad for a certainty. His only hope would be Jera’s death, but Rem is far too noble to wish for something like that, even on her.”

  “Not even then, Kil. A bridal necklace does not unclasp in death.”

  “It remains bound on a true mate,” Kil amended, “but it will unclasp on mates that are false.”

  “For a certainty?”

  “Aye.” Kil shrugged. “When first I heard this disgusting tale, I went to the priestesses for guidance. They informed me that I could do naught but pray to Aparna, saying Rem would only be released by Jera’s death.” He went on to explain. “So you see, ‘tis why I asked whether or not he had yet seen the little fire-berry-headed imps.”

  Zor scratched his chin. “Think you I should keep Zora and Zara from his sights?”

  “I cannot say.” Kil drew in a deep breath. “I do not know.”

  Whatever Zor had been about to say on the subject of his hatchlings came to a sudden halt as Kyra and her breasts came bouncing into the bedchamber, her face red with fury. Zor frowned. “Ah, here comes my nee’ka and her wicked henchmen now.”

  Kil smiled at Zor’s term for his wife’s breasts. “You look out of sorts, sister. Whatever is it that ails you?” he called out in mock innocence.

  Kyra frowned as her and her breasts came to a halt in front of the two warriors. “Kil, you’re naked.” Glancing over to the raised bed where Leha and another servant lay in wait, she rolled her eyes, pinching her lips with disapproval.

  “As you should be whilst alone in our presence, with naught but bound servants as witness. Remove your qi’ka.”

  Kyra thought to argue with Kil, but didn’t waste her breath. Where Trystonni custom was concerned, these warriors weren’t malleable. Especially when said custom involved seeing naked women.

  She did as she was bade, throwing her qi’ka to the ground with a huff. That accomplished, she got back to the point of her visit. “Zor!” she screeched, turning to glare up at her husband. “I want that woman gone from my palace and I want her gone now!”

  “But she is Rem’s nee’ka, my hearts. How can I make Jera leave without forcing my brother to go as well?”

  “I don’t care!” she wailed, stomping a foot—an action that caused her breasts to jiggle wantonly and the two warriors to groan. “Think of something! In the short time that she has been here, she has managed to infuriate the cook, knock an expensive bottle of vintage matpow from its perch, and insult Jik and Tia—two of our very best friends! Friends, by the way, who are being kind enough to watch our girls for me while I came over here to have it out with you because Kil is busy getting it on with the nanny who should be watching them!”

  Her nostrils flaring, Kyra then turned to go another round with Kil. “Kefas and bound servants included, you have over two hundred here to see to your needs and God only knows how many more back at your own palace! Why do you insist on coupling with the one I need?”

  When Kil opened his mouth to speak, Kyra held up a silencing hand. “I want Leha back, end of story. If you and Leha want to get it on, do it after hours, when I’m not in need of her assistance to get your nieces”—she shook an accusing finger up at him—“your nieces situated on my mammoth breasts.” Kyra clapped a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes, ready to lose it totally. “If I try to do it without help, I sometimes lose my balance,” she choked out.

  “Ah, nee’ka,” Zor crooned soothingly, feeling somewhat guilty over not having considered how Kyra must feel lugging her two wicked temptresses around. “I will come help you feed our wee panis. But she is right, Kil, we needs have Leha during the days for I shall be at training most of the time.”

  Kil nodded his ready agreement. His eyes flicked over Kyra’s enchantingly fertile form, lingering overlong on the best parts. “I regret any discomfort I may have unwittingly caused you or your, uh”—he coughed into his hand—“breasts.”

  “I don’t know how much longer I can stand them,” she sobbed, falling down into the chair behind her. “They ache and they’re swollen.” She unconsciously massaged them, seeking to lessen the pain. Her brow shot up when she heard both men groan. “What’s the matter? Are you two all right?”

  “Do you see now of what I speak?” Zor muttered to Kil. “See you how her moosoos sing the song of the sand siren, luring me to my doom?”

  “Aye,” Kil croaked out, his erection fast and fierce.

  “Good grief, Kil, put that thing away.” Kyra shook her head, frowning at his erection. “I need to get back to the girls. Somebody help me up and help me get dressed.”

  Both men groaned. When Zor refused to do it, mumbling something about having the ague, that left only Kil to care for her. Kyra accepted his aid as she dictated her needs to him. “Be careful placing the qi’ka top over my nipples. They feel especially tender this morning.”

  “Of course,” Kil bit out, wanting to get this session in torture over and done with so he could work out his lust on a servant. When all was said and done and Kyra took her leave of his bedchamber, Kil turned on his heel and headed straight for the raised bed without detour. “Tell Rem I will see him at the evening meal,” he threw out over his shoulder to Zor. “I needs relieve myself anon.”

  Zor grunted. He glanced up at the holo-clock on the wall. “One-hundred-thirty-four Yessat hours, fifty nuba-minutes, and fifteen nuba-seconds,” he mumbled on a dejected sigh.

  Chapter 27

  Bolstered up on one elbow, Kyra lay on the raised bed, crooning down to a smiling Zora and Zara, both getting ready for their feeding. “Hello my sweethearts.” She craned her neck and blew her lips against both of their lightly tanned bellies, inducing giggles to erupt. “Give mani a kiss, Zora. And now you, Zara.”

  It still ama
zed Kyra that at a day shy of two-weeks-old, the girls had the size, motor coordination, and alertness of six-month-old babies back on earth. When Ari had stopped in to see the newly hatched princesses and give them her blessing the day after their birth, she had warned Kyra of this, preparing her for how swiftly the twins would develop throughout their first year.

  Ari had definitely not exaggerated the truth. Zora and Zara were growing by leaps and bounds. The Chief Priestess had informed Kyra that unlike on “primitive” worlds such as earth where babies were at their most vulnerable during their first year, Trystonni hatchlings evolved differently, growing out of their defenseless first year within six fortnights, or three months. After that, they aged like normal earth children until the aging process slowed to almost a complete standstill, right around the time when they reached the height of their physical beauty.

  “Who are the prettiest girls in all of Tryston?” Kyra beamed a huge smile down to her babies, then tickled them again. Zora giggled, clasping her tiny hand around one of Kyra’s fingers. Zara blew out spit bubbles, then made a gummy grin.

  “And who is the prettiest mani in all of Tryston?”

  Kyra smiled, cocking her head to study Zor. “I didn’t know you were here. When did you get in from training?”

  Zor plopped down onto the raised bed next to Kyra. He craned his neck to kiss her lips, then turned to look down at his daughters. “Papa just got back,” he crooned in the voice he used only for his panis. Picking them both up, he cradled each one in a Herculean arm.

  Zor placed sweet kisses atop both their fluffy heads, then, his voice returning to normal, his gaze flicked to Kyra. “Leastways, I wasn’t at training today. Kil and I spent our time with Rem.” He inclined his head. “He is aware now that I know of his secret.”

  “You’re kidding?” Kyra’s eyebrows shot up. Zor had told her the story of how Jera had tricked Rem into mating with her the very day he had found out about it from Kil. “What did he say?”

  He shrugged. “What could be said? He admitted to it, but asked that the story never be repeated to outsiders for fear of looking the fool.”

  “I can’t blame him for that.” Kyra sighed, shaking her head. “It’s really a shame, Zor. Rem’s a very good-looking, not to mention genuinely nice man. He deserves better than Jera. The woman gives me the creeps.”

  Zor grunted. “You think him handsome?”

  Kyra rolled her eyes. “Out of all that I just said, that is what you choose to comment on?” She grinned. “You’ll never change, will you?”

  Zor took a moment to place more kisses atop wee Zora and Zara’s fire-berry tufts. “’Tis unlikely.” He narrowed his gaze at Kyra. “You have changed the subject, wench, and well you know it. You think my brother handsome, aye?”

  “Yes, I do. He’s the image of Dak, just as Kil is the image of you.”

  “Who is most winsome of the brothers, I ask you?”

  Kyra ran her fingers over Zor’s upper lip. “Fishing for compliments?”

  “Aye.”

  She giggled. “At least you’re honest.” Sitting up on her knees, she leaned into him and ran her tongue along the outline of his mouth. He growled low in his throat. “You are the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and that’s a vow between Sacred Mates.”

  He grunted. ‘Tis good eyesight you have, mani.”

  Kyra shook her head at his egotism. “Speaking of mani, it’s time for this one to feed her panis. Can you help me?”

  “For a certainty, my hearts.”

  Zor watched as Kyra settled herself in comfortably for the last feeding of the moon-rising, propping a few pillows behind her back in the process. He sucked in his breath when she removed her qi’ka top. “We’ve but thirty hours left,” he whispered thickly, his eyes feasting on her fertile chest. “Will you invite me to sample of your charms whilst gorging on your sweet juice?”

  “Zor,” Kyra whispered back throatily, her eyes glazing over, “let’s discuss this after you tuck the girls in and I can better appreciate the conversation.”

  His eyes flicked over Kyra, taking in everything. “Aye.”

  Clearing his brain of its lusty thoughts, he settled Zora at one of his nee’ka’s nipples. When his hatchling latched on and started drinking of her mommy’s sweet juice, he then settled Zara at the other one, helping his other hatchling latch her tiny rosebud mouth around it.

  And then Zor simply watched his panis feed. ‘Twas the most beautiful sight in the goddess’ creation.

  * * * * *

  By the next morning, word had spread throughout all of Sand City, as well as within the perimeters of the Palace of the Dunes, that insurrectionists on Tron had managed to breach Trystonni airspace. Zor had sent word to Dak, and after the King of Ti Q’won had arrogantly informed him that Geris had begun her belly flutters, Zor had commanded him to return to Tryston immediately with his queen, fearing for the safety of any babes she was to hatch. He would take no chances with any of the Q’an Tal bloodline until the insurrectionists had either surrendered or been annihilated.

  Over breakfast with Zor, Kil, and Rem, plus her sister-in-law Jera—a woman she couldn’t stand even after many attempts to warm up to her—Kyra was to learn that Tron was a planet on the outskirts of Trek Mi Q’an galaxy. For over twenty Yessat years, the insurrectionists there had been staging terrorist activities, sometimes going so far as to incinerate entire sectors to make a point.

  “I don’t understand why you simply don’t give the rebels what they’re after and be done with it.” Jera aired herself with an ornate hand-held fan. Why she did this when the great hall was kept at such a comfortable temperature, Kyra couldn’t say. But it annoyed her. Everything about the blonde, voluptuous woman annoyed her. She might have been beautiful, but Jera was also mean. The haughty woman seemed to have a malicious gleam in her eyes all the time.

  “Jera,” Rem murmured, “that is enough. You know not of what you speak.”

  Rem was golden-haired and possessed the same glowing blue eyes as his brothers. He was as big and formidable looking as his brothers as well, but harbored a sternness about him that Zor and Dak didn’t.

  Not even Kil was so serious and stern-looking. Of course, Kyra had come to realize that as harsh and merciless as Kil could be, it was mostly bluster, at least where family was concerned. The man had scars, physical as well as emotional—scars that Zor had refused to speak of to her.

  But whereas Kil had proven he was more bark than bite, especially where his two adored nieces were concerned, Rem looked to be more bite than bark. He had a sadness to him, a deep melancholy that had been channeled into an implacable grimness. It was something Kyra hadn’t noticed the first few times she’d spoken with him, but it was getting harder and harder not to observe it.

  At first, Kyra had thought her brother-in-law’s roughness had come as a result of being a warrior and a formidable lesser king. But as she spent more time with him, and saw firsthand how he reacted to the closeness between Zor and herself, Kyra realized Rem was the way he was simply because he had given up all hope for a future with happiness in it. Never would Rem experience the kind of intense emotional and physical bonds that Kyra and Zor shared. And because of that, he would never know what it was to hold his own babies in his arms.

  “I know perfectly well of what I speak!” Jera fumed, slapping her fan down onto the raised table. “I think all of you need to open your eyes. The rebels have breached Trystonni airspace. Think you they will stop at that?” She waved her hand in a gesture of regal disdain. “Give them what they seek and be done with it.”

  Kyra noticed the flush on Zor’s cheeks. He was trying to hold on to his temper. “The insurrectionists are naught but high-born lords wishing to reclaim sectors that were forcibly taken from them after they abused the people living within them.” He spoke in a low voice as he picked up his goblet, turning it round and round between his fingers. “I cannot turn over the lives of innocents to monsters.”

  “
They tortured women and their panis,” Kil bit out, his tone deadly. He was visibly fighting for control, as if trying to extinguish a memory that ate at him relentlessly. “Including the Empress who was our mother.”

  And suddenly Kyra knew. At last she comprehended the anguish that had consumed Kil, driving him off to walk alone for what Zor had said would sometimes equate to years at a time. Kil had been there. He had witnessed his mother’s murder. And he hadn’t been able to protect her. She wondered if that was where he had earned his scar—on Tron, trying to aid his mother.

  Kyra didn’t know if Zor was letting his emotions spill over without realizing it, transferring them through to her bridal necklace, or how it was that she knew what she knew. But she was certain. Kil had suffered much. And worse yet, he blamed himself for it.

  Kyra reached out and placed her hand over Kil’s and squeezed gently, letting him know she was there for him. Kil closed his eyes as if warding off pain, then when he was steadied, looked up to her and nodded his thanks. She lifted her hand and patted him on the back, a token of affection amongst two people who had grown into friends.

  The action hadn’t gone unnoticed by Rem. He turned to Jera, fixing her with his grim gaze. “I said that’s enough. Hold your tongue or be sent to your rooms.”

  “Well,” Jera fumed, shooting up to her feet. “Mayhap I was feeling fatigued anyway. The goddess knows my sleep was much disturbed last moon-rising by the cries of her”—she threw a hand toward Kyra—“recently hatched little brats!”

  Before he could react, Kyra clutched Zor’s fist with her other hand and squeezed. “Don’t,” she murmured, “she isn’t worth it.”

  Kyra didn’t know whether or not she had helped matters, but one thing was for certain—her husband was furious. Nobody but nobody could speak of his daughters that way and get away with it, she was soon to find out. Even Kil’s eyes had widened, waiting to see how this scene would play out.

  “Remove yourself from my presence anon,” Zor bit out, each word distinct and precise as his gaze blazed into Jera. “You will keep to your rooms whilst you are here, barred as you now are from my sight.”