had never seen one with paper pages. I was going to put it back where it belonged."
He smirked. "All right. You borrow any more books?"
"No." She paused, suddenly tired. "I went to Commandant Blackmoor's office and confessed to cracking the field mesh so I could learn the new patterns on the Echo obstacle course."
His smile faded. "Cracking meshes is a serious offense."
"Yes." It had been her way of dealing with the grief, to push herself through the obstacle course at breakneck speed so she could finish her training sooner and avenge her brother's death. "Commandant Blackmoor asked why he shouldn't expel me."
"Gods," Jazar said under his breath.
"Yeah." She exhaled. "He didn't, but they took me off the
honor roll and put me on probation. It'll take me a year to work off all those demerits."
Jazar drew her to a stop, an unusual act for a cadet, not quite breaking regulations, but close because he touched her. In the growing darkness, his eyes were hardly more than shadows. "Are you all right?"
She knew he was asking about Althor. "I'm okay." She wasn't, she was dying inside, but she couldn't say that.
He reached for her hand, then stopped. She knew why; someone could all too easily report their touching as inappropriate.
"If you need to talk," he said, "I'm here."
"Thanks." Then she remembered. "But I won't be here! The brass is sending me for that tour on the Fleet cruiser. If I'm going to command ISC someday, I have to get experience in all four branches." She and Althor had been the Im-perator's two heirs, both expected to prove themselves over the years. Then suddenly it had changed. Now Kurj had one heir. Her. She would have gladly given up the title to have Althor back again.
Jazar blanched, less relaxed with her now even than when he had to salute. "Sometimes I forget who you are."
"Jaz, don't." Soz didn't think she could bear it if he put that distance between them. So many people felt it with her. "It's just me."
His grin reasserted itself. "Soz, condemned to rule the universe. Come on, Your Majesticioso Empress. I'll walk you to Engineering."
She grimaced. "Majesticioso? Was that a word or noise from your eating too many beans?" Jazar laughed. "Ah, Soz, you are unique." She walked with him, glad of his friendship.
Eldrin paced the bedroom of the royal suite, unable to stay still. It was beautiful here, the mosaics sparkling and tall vases standing in the corners. Diamond chandeliers hung from the ceiling. But he felt suffocated. The heavy drapes closed in on him, and his head ached. He loathed the thought
of calling a doctor. Leaving Taquinil and Dehya because his mind endangered his son was torment enough; having to seek help for his extreme empathic sensitivity would be humiliating.
Gods, his head hurt. He strode to the cabinet against one wall and clicked open the crystal doors. The bottles inside were gorgeous, especially the carafe shaped like a flying dragon with wings spread. The deep blue glass and iridescent highlights pleased his sense of aesthetics, at least as much as he could feel pleasure when he was so uncomfortable.
His hand shook as he pulled out the decanter. Red wine sloshed within the bottle, too loud, grating on his nerves. He shook his head, trying to clear it, then winced as pain stabbed his temples. He grabbed a crystal tumbler, a smaller version of the dragon, and poured a drink. Too agitated to put away the wine, he set the decanter on the counter and paced away, across the room, to a wing chair upholstered in dark red brocade. When he sat down, the cushions shifted, trying to ease his rigid posture. He had only meant to sip his drink, to savor its quality, but he finished it so fast he barely tasted the wine.
He set his glass on a table by the chair and thought of getting more. Then he steeled himself. He wouldn't drink tonight. None of his medicine, either. Nor would he call for help. He was a fighter and a bard. He would get through this.
Eldrin closed his eyes,
He smirked. "All right. You borrow any more books?"
"No." She paused, suddenly tired. "I went to Commandant Blackmoor's office and confessed to cracking the field mesh so I could learn the new patterns on the Echo obstacle course."
His smile faded. "Cracking meshes is a serious offense."
"Yes." It had been her way of dealing with the grief, to push herself through the obstacle course at breakneck speed so she could finish her training sooner and avenge her brother's death. "Commandant Blackmoor asked why he shouldn't expel me."
"Gods," Jazar said under his breath.
"Yeah." She exhaled. "He didn't, but they took me off the
honor roll and put me on probation. It'll take me a year to work off all those demerits."
Jazar drew her to a stop, an unusual act for a cadet, not quite breaking regulations, but close because he touched her. In the growing darkness, his eyes were hardly more than shadows. "Are you all right?"
She knew he was asking about Althor. "I'm okay." She wasn't, she was dying inside, but she couldn't say that.
He reached for her hand, then stopped. She knew why; someone could all too easily report their touching as inappropriate.
"If you need to talk," he said, "I'm here."
"Thanks." Then she remembered. "But I won't be here! The brass is sending me for that tour on the Fleet cruiser. If I'm going to command ISC someday, I have to get experience in all four branches." She and Althor had been the Im-perator's two heirs, both expected to prove themselves over the years. Then suddenly it had changed. Now Kurj had one heir. Her. She would have gladly given up the title to have Althor back again.
Jazar blanched, less relaxed with her now even than when he had to salute. "Sometimes I forget who you are."
"Jaz, don't." Soz didn't think she could bear it if he put that distance between them. So many people felt it with her. "It's just me."
His grin reasserted itself. "Soz, condemned to rule the universe. Come on, Your Majesticioso Empress. I'll walk you to Engineering."
She grimaced. "Majesticioso? Was that a word or noise from your eating too many beans?" Jazar laughed. "Ah, Soz, you are unique." She walked with him, glad of his friendship.
Eldrin paced the bedroom of the royal suite, unable to stay still. It was beautiful here, the mosaics sparkling and tall vases standing in the corners. Diamond chandeliers hung from the ceiling. But he felt suffocated. The heavy drapes closed in on him, and his head ached. He loathed the thought
of calling a doctor. Leaving Taquinil and Dehya because his mind endangered his son was torment enough; having to seek help for his extreme empathic sensitivity would be humiliating.
Gods, his head hurt. He strode to the cabinet against one wall and clicked open the crystal doors. The bottles inside were gorgeous, especially the carafe shaped like a flying dragon with wings spread. The deep blue glass and iridescent highlights pleased his sense of aesthetics, at least as much as he could feel pleasure when he was so uncomfortable.
His hand shook as he pulled out the decanter. Red wine sloshed within the bottle, too loud, grating on his nerves. He shook his head, trying to clear it, then winced as pain stabbed his temples. He grabbed a crystal tumbler, a smaller version of the dragon, and poured a drink. Too agitated to put away the wine, he set the decanter on the counter and paced away, across the room, to a wing chair upholstered in dark red brocade. When he sat down, the cushions shifted, trying to ease his rigid posture. He had only meant to sip his drink, to savor its quality, but he finished it so fast he barely tasted the wine.
He set his glass on a table by the chair and thought of getting more. Then he steeled himself. He wouldn't drink tonight. None of his medicine, either. Nor would he call for help. He was a fighter and a bard. He would get through this.
Eldrin closed his eyes,
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