| Phase 55 Shia had taken to staying with Sig most of the time. Kiree did not appear angry or jealous in the least that the girl was so attached to him, nor did she bother to mention it to anyone. She just watched from what had apparently been her place before she and Sig had separated in Solaris, which just happened to be on what was his current blind side (it seems that as soon as we left the castle, Bart and Sig put those patches back over their eyes again). Unlike Bart, when Sig noticed someone approaching him he deliberately turned to them so they knew he knew they were there. But when she had neared he had only turned and welcomed her with a soft smile, as if he had already been able to tell it was her and hell, maybe he had. I stayed back against some mostly unhooked equipment and just observed the big picture, as is my way. I could see that my presence would not be scorned, but I wasn�t going to make a nuisance of myself and ruin everything. I felt left out--they looked like a happy little family--but it was somewhat of a vague ache and I paid it no real mind. The door opened behind me and I felt arms circle my waist and warm breath on the back of my neck. A strong but temporary mind link was forged in that moment. Those had been commonplace recently when we were near each other. In fact, it started when Alycia made her appearance. As if we weren�t supposed to be drawn apart by any outside force. � Here you are.� I shivered in delight at the sound of his low-pitched voice. � Were you looking for me or something?� He kissed my cheek and drew me back against him, resting his chin on my shoulder. � You could say that.� � . . . Hey, shouldn�t you be getting ready to leave?� � Brat and I talked with Maria and Rico. They�re going to go instead of me and Fuzzball.� I laughed quietly. � Can�t you call them by the names they were born with?� � Why? I know who I�m talking about and so do you.� I let my head roll back and rested my forehead against the side of his neck. It was one of those moments where everything faded out and we were the only ones on the planet; just being there together and sharing our warmth and love. Corny, I know, but that�s what it was. I noticed his breaths becoming deeper and longer and the weariness wore on me as well. My mind tried to remind me to break the link because not only had it made me sleepy like him, but I could possibly be pulled into his dreams and as curious as I am to know what he dreams, I don�t think I�d want a front row seat. Despite the warnings, my eyes fell closed slowly and I slept. *>*<* Analore tapped Sigurd�s shoulder and pointed in the direction of the door. He turned and saw Kris and Bart standing together beside some equipment, completely oblivious to the world in their state of sleep. � That�s so cute.� Sigurd snorted. � It�s so stupid. If we were attacked, they�d be on the floor.� She laughed. � Not quite. Look at their feet.� He did so and was only half surprised to find that both had their feet spread to make a more stable base and used each other to lean against. � I still say they�d be on the floor.� � Are you sure?� He nodded. � The ship rolls just a little bit. They�re braced for that, not a surprise attack.� She blinked. � . . . I never noticed . . .� He looked at her. � What? About the ship? It�s almost unnoticeable and only the most sensitive care about it even after being here for years. Just put your feet together and don�t lean anywhere.� She did so and suddenly reeled back and forward to keep her balance. When she caught it she looked at him. � �Unnoticeable�?!� � Well, it is.� � That�s nearly a forty-degree tilt!� � Don�t exaggerate.� � I�m not! You try not leaning!� � I wish I could. But I�ve been on this ship so long that my feet glue themselves to the floor unless I actually move to go somewhere. However, I have done it before, or else I wouldn�t have told you to do it. It�s not that bad, really.� � That was sand.� � And water. Water is about as bad as air, in my opinion.� Analore snorted delicately. � You�re just afraid you�ll fall.� He looked over at her flatly. � I�m just going to pretend you didn�t say that and therefore save you from a needless strangling.� She snickered and looked at Bart and Kris again, then frowned. � I could never sleep standing up like that unless there was really no other way. Are they all right?� Sigurd waved his hand. � They�re fine. They�re just a little tired from yesterday, that�s all. Nothing that nap won�t help fix.� � Are you going to make him marry that noble?� He started at the abrupt subject change. � . . . No.� � Why not?� � Why do you care?� � Just want to know your reasons.� � My reasons are my own. I don�t need you to tell me they�re acceptable.� � And what do you think I�m going to do if you tell me? I have no pull with anyone on this ship. It would be a waste of my breath.� She had a point . . . � Bartholomew is in love with Kris. He is happy with her. I have no right to take either of those away from him. Besides that, Kris has a positive influence on his attitude and keeps him from killing us all. And he seems to have some semblance of manners when he�s around her.� � What about Maison?� � Maison doesn�t like to admit it, but he�s seen all this as well. The problem is that he wants Bartholomew to marry someone of noble blood, but Bartholomew will have none of it and it�s one thing they constantly argue about. Honestly, I�m sure Maison would enjoy seeing Bartholomew and Kris get married. But it's simply that Kris isn�t a noble.� � That�s the only reason?� Sigurd waved a finger at her. � Ah, but in royal matters it is a big reason.� � And you would know about those?� � Well, you don�t live around a prince and not pick something up when he�s being schooled.� � Don�t you mean live as a prince?� He balked, feeling his cheeks warm. � What do you mean?� � I happened to . . . overhear---� � You eavesdropped.� She moved her hand dismissively, as if it didn�t matter. � Oh, what a crude word, but if you must . . . So I was eavesdropping and happened to pick up a few facts from the conversation, that�s all.� � You�re a prince?� Shia questioned in a soft and amzed voice, leaning down from her perch on Sigurd�s shoulders. � Cool.� � I�m not a prince,� was the quiet snap. � He is,� Analore told Shia. � I�m not!� Analore glanced around to make sure none of the crew members on the bridge were listening in, then looked at him. � Oh please. You may not�ve been in line for the throne, but you are a prince.� � I was never a prince. I was, however, a squire.� � Didn�t Bartholomew say that he was supposed to divide his inheritance with you?� � . . . Yes.� � Then your father viewed you not only as his son, but as a legitimate heir?� Sigurd didn�t like where this was going. � . . . I suppose.� Analore put her hands on her hips. � Then why are you trying to say that you aren�t a prince when your own father said you were?� He knew it. Backed into a corner. Why did he let her do this? Why hadn�t he just stopped the conversation in a safe zone? � I mean, think about it, Sigurd. You�re just beating yourself down and telling yourself you�re no good by continuing to be like this.� She paused for effect and he waited apprehensively for the scorching remark that he was sure would finish the argument. � You�re dishonoring your father by not accepting your birthright.� He flinched and shut his eyes. �Damn it. Why is she always right?� <She�s just giving you perspective,> said that despisable part of him that he now realized sounded exactly like Analore. <If she hadn�t set you straight you would have gone on for the rest of your life swearing up and down that you were nothing more than a mistake; a useless bastard child, right?> �Yes,� he conceded wearily. � Then you are a prince?� Shia asked. � . . . In the loosest definition of the word,� Sigurd replied, knowing that was the safest answer to give. Analore didn�t seem to like it, but she let it go because he was admitting his heritage. � It�s a good start,� was all she said. � I think I may need to have a talk with Kris about this. If I can�t make you see the truth, maybe she can.� *>*<* I laid quietly, half on my back, my eyes closed. A cool breeze constantly brushed across me and I felt totally calm, as if I belonged here. I could hear hateful shouts from far away--the voices were those of the men who had attempted to buy me or beat me into slavery--but I was not afraid. A presence I knew all too well appeared beside me and I became aware of the familiar touch of my other half. I let his hand run down my body with the infinite gentleness of one who knew me inside and out. I then felt his lips on mine and sensed the deep passion. He had never done this before and though I was not scared, I was surprised. No one can find us here, he told me in a soft, whispery mental voice. It�s just you and me. We have no restrictions. I opened my eyes and stood straight. And when I say �stood� I mean on the air beneath me. We seemed to be alone in a protective bubble that was surrounded by my tormentors and all around the far outside were soft pastels wavering lazily. I turned to him and smiled invitingly. He hesitantly accepted the opportunity and kissed me tentatively, then deepened it into something we never would have dared anywhere else. I felt dangerously light, as if I had been drugged, but his arms held me and kept me with him. Shh, he soothed, sensing my slight panic at being so light-headed. You�re mine. I�m not going to let you go. Don�t be afraid. I�m right here with you. I relaxed against him and pulled away slowly. I lowered my head to his neck and nibbled at the hollow over his collarbone. He let his head fall back, proving his trust in me, for he was very defensive of his throat for obvious reasons. I moved up and set my teeth against his skin, then began to roll my head back and forth with a soft growl. My play-maul was rewarded with a full, rich laugh--something I had yet to hear from him. It surprised me; usually his laughter was cynical or mocking or, in rare cases, amused. But it had never been a genuine laugh like what I had just heard a moment ago. I looked up at him. You need to do that more often. He smiled. What? You like it? Laughing is good for you, I told him, leaning against his chest for the time being (I like skin-on-skin contact because it is a direct transfer of warmth and I am a complete sucker for warmth). You should do it more often. I do. A real laugh? Like what you just graced me with? I don�t think so. I�ve never heard that before. He ran his hands over my back in a semi-massage. I�ve never had a reason to laugh like that before. I popped up and kissed him, drawing it out as long as possible. He was more than willing to participate and I found myself almost totally on my back a second later. However, even though I knew what was coming I was not frightened. I was merely excitedly uncertain. Hold still, he instructed. I don�t want to hurt you. I nipped encouragingly at his jaw. As if you would. That�s not the point. I nipped again, impatiently this time, and he jerked back to escape the worst of it. I know. But before either of us could do anything, my name floated through the air on the eternal breeze. We both groaned. He grinned. Maybe next time? I humphed. Next time. How long do you think that�ll be? He shrugged. No way to know until we find out, right? <--Phase 54 Phase 56--> |