The Bonding Page 22

  “How will you judge?”

  “A group of judges, a mixture of people. Old, young, male, female. And of course, the combatants will compete in the traditional style.”

  Nissa stared back at Pinoton. “Traditional?” What did that mean?

  The man coughed delicately. “Forgive me, Lady. The tradition for these competitions goes back hundreds of years. Covered in mud and wearing helmets, to hide their identity.”

  Her father straightened his shoulders. Looked grim at the unspoken meaning behind his words.

  “Before we left, you mean,” her father said, nose pinched. “We came back. We will make it right.”

  Nissa spoke quietly. “We thought we’d be back in a matter of years. Not centuries.”

  She turned away from them all. As she walked through the ranks of Trianni who supported her father, and the Argenti who offered assistance, Nissa glanced at Tycho, the only true link that remained of her time with the Argenti. He’d accompanied her group on their return journey. The closest thing she had in the universe to a friend.

  She squeezed the vial so tightly she feared the glass would burst. She forced her fingers to uncurl one by one from her only lifeline.

  She approached Tycho, eyes locked on him, a burning question flaring out of her soul. Her head tilted back as she looked up at him and it reminded her of all the times she had stood before Tam, craning her neck to meet those gray eyes.

  He lowered his brows in silent question.

  “Can you contact Sierra-Six?”

  He nodded.

  She chewed her lips, formulating a plan in her mind. He must have read something on her face, because he rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. He was big and his touch reminded her of Tam.

  She stepped away.

  “Nissa, no one has heard from Tam. He is gone. I spoke with Ajax yesterday. No one can find him.”

  Her heart cracked and for a moment, her face crumpled. She stalled the wail that rose in her throat. Her molars clenched so tightly her ears rang. She dug her fingers into her arm hard enough to draw blood. “Put me in touch with Childers.”

  She didn’t know the reporter who’d been stationed on Triannon. She didn’t trust him. She knew Childers and as Tam had said, he was a ratings whore. Childers would have the audience she needed.

  Tycho cocked his head at that, considering. A smile spread across his mouth, wrinkles spreading from his eyes, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Finally.”

  33

  Live for all the universe to hear.

  “YOU KNOW,” said Childers, with pursed lips. “I really wish you had agreed to give me an exclusive a few weeks ago. This was much bigger news then.” Through the HolCom in the OpTent outside Trian, the reporter’s blue eyes brimmed with disapproval as he gazed back at Nissa.

  “It was a difficult time for me, Childers. I’m sure you can imagine.”

  He pursed his lips. “Not really.” He shrugged with something akin to distaste. “You’ll need some blush and your lips are too pale. And your hair is a mess.” He leaned forward as though that would help him see her better. “You don’t look good.”

  That was no surprise. She barely ate. She spent as much time asleep as she possibly could. With dream-Tam, with whom she still couldn’t communicate beyond grunts, moans and sometimes fuck, yeah. She’d tried a few times to ask him to find her but he only smiled and groaned.

  “What is it you hope to gain by this?” He meant the interview that she’d asked him to conduct with her. How much could she trust him?

  “We need to find Tam.”

  Childers’s eyebrows rose high in his forehead, a slow smile spreading across his face. “He’s missing? And you want him back?”

  She shook her head. “No one knows where he is. He left Sierra-Six and he hasn’t been answering comms.”

  He cocked his head to the side and spoke slowly. “I might be able to do some digging.”

  “Your reports are played all over the universe, right?”

  He waggled his shoulders. “All the universe? No.” He smirked. “But anywhere the Argenti live, there am I. Now, how far could that man of yours have gotten?”

  Pretty far. That was what scared her.

  “So you’ll let me interview you?”

  “I want you to interview me. But I get twenty seconds. To say whatever I want.”

  He raised a brow at that. “You’ve got a deal.”

  It didn’t take long to get things set up. A few hours, and a bath in the river, then back to her little cell to change.

  “We found some malims,” said Teanna, rounding the doorway into Nissa’s room.

  “Perfect.” Trianni women had been using the berries since time immemorial to stain their cheeks.

  Teanna smiled. “And I found a mirror.”

  Nissa gave an exaggerated sigh, making the other girl smile.

  “You don’t look that bad, Lady. You just need to eat more.” She dubbed some of the malim juice onto Nissa’s cheeks and lips. “Your hair looks beautiful.”

  As she’d brushed it out, long and wavy down her back, the way Tam liked it best, in preparation for the interview. She felt him, across the bond. He was upset about something or excited maybe.

  She’d borrowed a dress from one of the Trianni women who’d been awoken from a pod. It wasn’t as vibrant a red as hers had been and it didn’t fit well—the woman had a fuller figure—but a few pins had it fitting almost like it should. The Tribe would expect to see her in a red dress. They’d be confused if she wore the simple linen shifts she had now.

  Teanna handed Nissa the mirror. The berries added a rosy glow to her skin that wouldn’t otherwise have been there but they did nothing to remove the hollows below her eyes, or her sunken skin.

  She hadn’t told her father of her plan. He was too swept up in his plans for the Games, as they were being called, and she hoped that by the time she revealed the truth to the Trianni public, they’d already have their leader. She’d never been selfish in her life. She was about to change that.

  She squeezed Teanna’s hand.

  “I don’t know how you did it,” Teanna whispered, and Nissa didn’t need to ask what she meant.

  Her heart convulsed as she met Teanna’s eyes.

  “I couldn’t ever leave my Caro.”

  Every muscle in her stomach tightened.

  Teanna stroked a hand through her hair and Nissa thought of her mother. Leaden grief piled thick.

  “I thought I had to.” Little more than a whisper. “I saw no choice. I promised my mother.”

  “She’d understand if she were here.” Teanna shook her head. “They didn’t understand how the bond worked. She wouldn’t have asked it of you. I saw your father when you were sick, like he’d sentenced you to hell and couldn’t undo it. I think he regretted.”

  Nissa closed burning eyes. “Kings don’t regret.”

  Teanna spoke softly, her hand still stroking Nissa’s hair. “Maybe not, but fathers do.”

  “Daughters too.” And queens and queen-designates and wives and warriors. Regrets upon doubts upon mistakes.

  As they walked across the housing area where they’d been staying, Nissa overheard snippets of conversation from the people in the newly cleared and cobbled streets. Chingassa.

  She heard the name constantly. Chingassa. The children chattered and whispered about him, lies becoming myth. Chingassa. A Vestige word she didn’t understand. They hailed him as a hero. The man who killed the leaders and united the gangs. It was true, he had certainly calmed the angry populace and instilled peace in the streets but the peace was born of fear. He was nothing more than a murderer but he’d become a savior almost overnight. Chingassa.

  “He’s convinced the gangs to work in the old sector,” said Teanna and Nissa ignored her. “The streets there are already clear, the quartz they dug being used to recobble the streets. The houses are being reclaimed.”

  Rumor also said the man was stronger than the god Teemo, for whom the bombed
moon was named. He would wear his scar in the night sky for eternity. Chingassa, defender of the weak, champion of the poor, punisher of the evil men. A ghost in the night wind.

  Just one more killer who’d seen a power vacuum and moved to fill it. The people’s first choice for future-king. Twenty males had been nominated but none so much as he.

  “What does he look like, Teanna?” Nissa asked, as they passed people whose clothes were untorn, whose bodies were clean, whose bellies were full. Her father had accomplished much. She felt pride in him for the first time since she’d seen him in the Healing Bay on Sierra-Six.

  Teanna shrugged a bony shoulder. “They say he is very strong. Probably heavily of Vestige blood. But I’ve never spoken to anyone who had actually seen him.”

  Nissa snorted. At least the man had provided a focus for the population besides suspicion of the new government.

  Tycho had the tent prepared for the interview. She nodded her thanks and took a seat in the little chair he’d set up for her.

  Childers grinned at her from the HolCom. “Much better. You look like a real female now.”

  Nissa frowned at that. “As opposed to a fake one?”

  Childers laughed. “Don’t ask. Just, trust me, do not ask. You don’t want to know. Anyway, you ready?”

  At her nod, he spoke again. “Now, I’m going to interview you via HolCom, so you look at the light that will take my place when I move. You won’t see me anymore. But the viewers will see HolCom-you seated beside me.”

  “I understand.”

  “Same rules as before. Don’t look anywhere but the blue light.”

  She nodded.

  The image of Childers wobbled. He cocked his head to the side. “Just between you and me, I think what you’re doing is really brave.”

  Her eyes stung. “He hates me.”

  Childers shook his head “I highly doubt that. Everyone else hates you. But I doubt he does.”

  “I don’t care about anyone else.” His eyebrows came together in an expression of sympathy that made her want to scream.

  “Don’t you dare cry, gorgeous. Take a deep breath. We’re going to make the universe love you.”

  Just Tam. No one needed to love her but Tam.

  Childers was good to his word. He asked leading questions that gave her the perfect openings to explain why she’d abandoned the mate who loved her.

  “Nissa, I understand you have a message you’d like to share with Tam Essinger.”

  She licked her lips. It was time. Don’t cry. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with every last hope she had. She’d said the words in her head a hundred times, a thousand times. Simple. Pure. Honest. Tam had never asked for anything more. No bullshit.

  “Tam, I know you’re there, somewhere. I feel you.” She pressed a hand over her breastbone, where he lived in their bond, inside her. “It was a mistake. I should have fought harder. I should have found another way. I love you. Come find me. I’m on Triannon. I’m waiting for you.”

  There. That was all she had. Everything. For him. All this time, she’d thought she had nothing to give him, but she had. She could have given him herself, he hadn’t wanted anything else, but she’d held back. Not anymore. She was his now. She belonged to him. And he to her.

  She stared at the blue dot in the HolCom in front of her, willing it to reach Tam, wherever he was across the wide universe. Let him see this. Let him know.

  34

  With a jingle of my bells.

  THE TINKLE OF LITTLE BELLS proclaimed Reyback’s entrance to the clearing in which Tam sat. It reminded him of another clearing, at another time, when he’d stroked Nissa’s cheek as he’d slid his cock between her lips. Sweet, and gone.

  Reyback’s eyes glinted in the dim light of the forest. He smiled. “You ready?”

  Tam rose, arms loose by his sides. “As I’ll ever be.”

  The bond shifted in his chest. Like a flat disk after hitting the ground, it spun, wobbling, and stilled within him. Like a release. She felt easier. Lighter. What the hell did that mean? It made his ass itch just thinking about it.

  They still met in their dreams every night but nothing happened. Nothing new anyway. Just more of the same bullshit. Heavy panting, no release and nothing of substance. He’d gladly give up sex with her for the rest of their lives if he could just talk to her. Weird.

  He looked around at the forest floor. “My weapons?”

  “I hid them. They’re about thirty feet north of the crash site, in a big bastard of a tree.”

  Tam nodded, eyeing the other male. “They like you. No one will try to take a stab at you.” Tam sucked his tongue. He couldn’t be so sure. They’d made a lot of friends since they’d crash-landed on this planet, twelve days ago, but they’d made some enemies too.

  “Still, I’d rather be sure. I don’t trust these people.”

  “Don’t see that matters much. You trust the admiral, right?”

  Tam nodded. The crash had destroyed his ship and the communication system, which meant they’d be stuck here for a while, or at least until he could fix it. He didn’t care. He’d be glad to stay there for the rest of his life. There was nowhere else to go.

  “Well, he trusts these people. Sent me to bring you here.”

  Tam shook his head, still struggling to come to grips with the fact that Reyback and the admiral were brothers. “Do or die time, lover-boy. Trust the admiral, trust these bastards.” The locals had treated them well, far better than they’d expected. A family had taken them in, offered food and clothes, though they’d been surprised at the size of them. The local clothing didn’t fit well but their flight-suits had burned up in landing.

  He’d had to slice the shirt at the shoulders and take off the sleeves so it would fit. It didn’t matter. All he really needed was something to cover his dick, and the pants, as small as they were, did that much.

  He was fine. His sheaths still held his weapons and his boots still fit his feet. If he looked like an idiot, who cared? The locals cowered if he got too close, or worse, grinned and called out to him.

  Reyback rolled his shoulders. “The guards have it patrolled well enough. There shouldn’t be any trouble. These people love you.”

  Reyback didn’t give a crap what Tam wore. He strutted around, half-drunk most of the time, and he looked a damn sight worse.

  He was almost Tam’s size and though older, his body held the thick Argenti musculature. When they’d first arrived, Reyback had given the locals a bottle of akdov in gratitude for their hospitality. In the spirit of fair trade, they’d given Reyback a pair of shiny orange pants with bells sewn down the seams, as an extra sign of respect.

  Reyback was a lot of things but he wasn’t a total asshole. He’d taken one look at the earnest expressions on the faces of the farmer and his wife as they’d handed over the pants, and he’d sighed and humbly put them on.

  He jingled everywhere he went.

  “Have you been drinking?” Tam asked.

  “Not today. But I will tomorrow.” Reyback turned his back to Tam, bells ringing, and headed out of the clearing toward their only hope in hell of turning this ridiculous situation around. “Come on, Little-Pants. I’ll be there watching your back.”

  “Sounds good, Jingle-Bells.”

  “Eh, fuck you.” Reyback threw his arm out behind him in a dismissive gesture.

  Fuck you. The words rolled through his mind like a beating drum. I love you.

  __________

  THROUGH THE SMALL WINDOW in her cell-like room, the sea wavered, green and as timorous as Nissa’s mood.

  Tam hadn’t come. Had he seen her interview? Had he ignored it? She felt him through the bond. Energized. What did that mean? Had he forgotten her so quickly?

  She knew she should be glad of it, if that were the case, but a small part of her died at the idea. She dropped her gaze to the thin linen shift she wore. Anyone who didn’t know her might take one look at her and assume she was just one more citizen of Trian.
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  Garbed and tanned as a farmer’s wife, she fit right in. Trian needed to change. The people needed education and hope and freedom. She deserved the same. Servitude, even as a coddled, prized princess, was no future.

  Her father would be disappointed but he was probably the only person left alive who truly cared if she represented Trian as their queen-designate. What difference did one simple marriage make? She’d fight for these people for the rest of her life but she wouldn’t marry their future-king.

  Chingassa. Chingassa. Chingassa. The eternal chant soared even over the crashing waves. She closed her eyes. The man was everywhere. He’d won nearly every competition so far. Where he walked, the people rejoiced.

  She rose to her feet, pushing her hair over her shoulders. The final game was upon them. Five champions remained but only one actually represented any true threat to Chingassa.

  Nissa had refused to watch the previous games. She’d put in the requisite appearance, shaken a few hands, smiled at the people and always left before the champions were brought in. She’d seen them briefly, though, coated in the rich red mud that obscured their faces and hid their identities.

  She couldn’t refuse to attend today.

  35

  No fight left.

  “FATHER,” Nissa greeted the king.

  “Come, daughter,” he said, pulling her to stand beside him. Excitement hovered in the air around him like a dense, happy cloud.

  He’d changed his style of dress since they’d arrived on Triannon, opting for the flight-suits of the Tribe. He looked more official in them, though far less like the man she’d called king her entire life. The new dress highlighted his slight stature, both in comparison to the Tribe warriors but also to the Trianni who lived on the planet. They’d interbred with the Vestige over the hundreds of years of their enslavement and most of them stood several inches over her father.