Drenched: Elemental Warriors (A Sci-Fi Alien Warrior Paranormal Romance) Page 17

She stood there at the bottom of the landing, waiting for them to disembark, face unreadable.

  "Do you think she's mad?" Alanna asked, leaning closer to Luther to whisper it.

  He smiled and shook his head. "No, I don't think she's mad."

  "But how do you know?" she whispered back, but then they were in front of the queen and she was bowing and not whispering so as to seem more respectful to the person she was about to ask a favor of.

  A rather large favor, at that.

  "Alanna," the queen said, looking her over with a cool expression. "I had wondered if we were going to be seeing you here again."

  "I um...I found that I couldn't stay away, Your Majesty," Alanna said, still in her bow.

  The queen laughed softly, and Alanna nearly fell over with surprise. "Didn't I tell you that you don't need to be so formal with me?" she asked. "After all, I am not your queen."

  Luther, finally, decided to step in, and he placed a hand on Alanna's back, urging her to stand up. "Well, Your Majesty, we were wondering if that might change."

  It was a very lax way to go about asking the queen if it was alright for Alanna to move to her kingdom, but Queen Varen was apparently much more reasonable than Alanna would have ever imagined. She smiled and inclined her head, seemingly amused.

  "I do believe that would be fine. After all, my people owe you a debt, Alanna. The least we can do is provide you with a home."

  "Oh," Alanna said, surprised. "You...you don't owe me anything."

  "Someone else might have pressed their advantage," Varen pointed out, tapping her lips and then smiling. "I think we will get along just fine." And then she was gone, breezing away back to whatever she had been doing before she'd come to meet them.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Prinna seemingly melt out of the shadows and move to join her queen, and Alanna shook her head. Apparently that was something she was just going to have to get used to.

  It was good that she had been here before, it made the transition process much easier than it could have been, and she was pleased to see that she fit right back into the society around her like she'd never been gone.

  Of course, there were people who wanted to hear about their adventure on Earth, who wanted to know who had really been so foolish as to think that they could steal the power from someone like Luther and a people like theirs, and Alanna found herself recounting parts of it in cantinas and the marketplace, usually leaving out or adding things as she saw fit. What’s the fun in telling the same story over and over again, after all?

  The whole thing had given her an idea, though, and she pulled out the clay that had been given to her by Queen Varen all those months ago.

  It was different than the clays she was used to working with, but there was something about the medium that just seemed to resonate with her, and she never really had any trouble getting it to do what she wanted it to.

  She had something she wanted to give the people who had made her feel so welcome.

  One Year Later

  The view from the window was a windy, rainy mess, but somehow it was still one of the most beautiful things that she had ever seen. The sea was turbulent that day, crashing against the shore and churning with the wind, and in moments like that, Alanna could see what Luther meant about it seeming like it was alive.

  She didn't know what emotion it was expressing, restlessness, maybe, but it was nice to watch as she sat at her wheel and worked.

  It wasn't a wheel like the one she'd had on Earth, either. This one turned at the slightest amount of pressure and had odd screens that were supposed to be for her to program what she wanted it to do. A 'welcome home' gift from Clio, who had presented it to her with a flourish and a smile.

  Alanna was beyond pleased that she had it, even if it was a bit too fancy for her liking. She just ignored the automation bits, and let her foot press the pedal softly, working the clay between her hands as she looked out the window at the growing storm.

  She'd never expected to feel so comfortable here.

  Certainly she didn't regret coming back. It hadn't taken much for her to realize that she'd had more fun living here than she had on Earth and that while she would miss her friends and the studio and the life she had built there terribly, this was an adventure and a chance to be someone new and different. A chance to have things she had given up on having on Earth.

  So yeah, it had been a decision she was pretty sure of, but she'd expected to feel like an outsider. Luther cared about her, loved her, even, and she had a friend in Clio, and she was pretty sure that even Queen Varen liked her well enough, but she didn't think she was ever going to belong.

  And then she had presented them with the 'Heart of the Sea' that she'd made, an elegantly sculpted sphere with images of waves and sea animals carved into the sides of it, done in varying shades of blue, and suddenly everyone wanted to talk to her or see her work.

  Apparently Clio had been right about them liking art. They all liked it, but no one really knew how to make it. Once they knew that she could make it and would make stuff for them for a reasonable price, she had a business.

  It was the same kind of thing she'd been doing on Earth, only it felt so much better. The queen had commissioned a studio for her to work in, saying it was the least they could do considering her part in helping them in the end, and so she had a working artist's studio, just a bit back from the beach, surrounded by the beauty of Lin-Vayel.

  It wasn't attached to the house like she had always dreamed of when she was younger, but this was better, honestly. Because now she had other things to focus on besides just art, and it was always nice to walk home with Luther at the end of the day, hand in hand as he told her about the dives he went on and asked her about her day.

  So most afternoons that was where she could be found, working clay into elaborate shapes and useful vessels, filling her ever growing list of commissions.

  Right now, she was working on one for the queen herself. Alanna had learned much about how the ancestors of those who lived on this planet had once lived under the sea. Queen Varen had showed her the relics they'd found there, most of them chipped or shattered in some way, some in pieces.

  When it had come out that Alanna had some skill at restoring those things that were made out of pottery, the queen had asked her to try her hand at it.

  Some things she was able to clean and reglaze, to give them a new shine. The pieces that were broken, she tried to put back together, using gold or silver to mend the pieces so it was clear that they had once been broken, but that showed the history of them. Some things were beyond salvaging, though, and it was those that she tried to recreate. It wasn't as good as putting them back together, but there was at least something that they could put on a shelf and look at to know where they had come from.

  It made her happy to be doing something, and even though this wasn't her heritage, that didn't mean that she couldn't be a part of it.

  Luther was pleased that she was finding her way here, she could tell from the way he smiled at her whenever she came back from a meeting with the queen or when he came to her work space to pick her up at the end of the day. He loved listening to her talk about her work, and he took pains to understand it, which was something Alanna valued more than she could say.

  A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts, and she called for whoever it was to come in.

  Luther ducked through the door, soaking wet and grinning.

  "Don't they have umbrellas on this planet?" Alanna teased, stopping the wheel and smiling at him.

  "You already know that we do not," Luther replied.

  "True. Well, don't shake off in my studio," she warned. "Some of these things aren't set yet."

  He nodded and glanced around. "You have been busy," he said, and there was obvious approval in his tone.

  Alanna smiled. "Well, at least one of us has to have a job that involves actual work," she teased, blowing a stray curl out of her face. One thing she would say against this plac
e was that the humidity was terrible for her hair. Maybe she would cut it.

  "Excuse me," Luther said. "I did actual work today."

  "You played in the water," Alanna said, grinning to let him know she wasn't seriously devaluing his work. "And now you're dripping all over my space."

  "I could drip all over you instead," Luther said, tipping his head to one side and raising an eyebrow at her. He took a step closer and Alanna raised her hands as if to ward him off.

  "Don't you even think about it."

  He laughed at that, and it was one of those loud, booming ones that filled the space in her studio and in her heart. She loved him. She really, really loved him, and she knew that she didn't say it often enough, but she couldn't help the way her heart swelled to see him so happy.

  "I wouldn't," Luther was saying. "I came to see if you could get away early. I am done for the day, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up with you and eat some of that spicy seafood stew from the market."

  Alanna's stomach growled at the mention of the stew that was, admittedly, very good, even though she could hardly tell what was in it because she was still unfamiliar with most of the sea creatures on this planet. It was delicious, which was really all that mattered, she supposed, and she was starving.

  "I could be done for the day," she said. "This needs to be reworked, anyway. I spent most of this afternoon daydreaming, and it's for the queen, so. Can't have her pearls going to subpar product."

  "I have never seen you make anything subpar," Luther said.

  "Oh, you." She flapped a hand at him. "Give me ten minutes to clean everything up."

  Luther smiled and nodded and tucked himself into the corner out of her way. One of the other things that she loved about this arrangement was how Luther always respected her space. He believed that the studio was her area, and he only came into it when he had permission and then made sure to be respectful of it when he was there.

  She appreciated that more than she knew how to say because she had shared a space for so long with people who didn't know what it meant to put things back where they belonged or how not to bother her with their inane questions and anecdotes.

  The only thing this space was missing was the terrible radio stations, and Alanna had Clio looking into that for her. Soon enough, it might be perfect.

  She cleaned up her mess and herself, changing out of her paint and clay splattered smock into the rain jacket she had worn on the walk over here from their home. Luther and the rest of his kind might not have minded running around getting messy and wet in the rain, but she preferred being dry when at all possible.

  Once she was done, she took Luther's hand and locked up after herself (with a fingerprint recognizing lock because Clio was a godsend, honestly), and they headed off.

  "So tell me about the dive," Alanna said as they walked in the direction of the marketplace. Her stomach was growling louder now, and she was of a mind to get pastries and meat pies as well as the stew that Luther wanted.

  Luther talked about his day as they walked, and Alanna enjoyed listening to it, laughing when he described the antics of the rest of his party and expressing her interest when he talked about the things they had found. She was sure that the queen would call her in to look at them eventually.

  They made it to the marketplace as the rain let up, and they split up, all the better to get their food faster.

  At one point she was making small talk with one of the women who sold handmade goods, discussing how she would like to have her own stall there sometime, and she looked up to see Luther watching, a proud smile on his face.

  Alanna blushed and ended the conversation before walking over to Luther. "Why the staring?" she asked.

  "I just...I love you," Luther said, sounding as awestruck as he always did when he said it.

  Alanna couldn't help the smile that spread over her face at the words. "I know," she said. "And I love you, too."

  Together, they went home. They ate their food and relaxed, watching something mindless on the screen on the wall. Alanna kept seeing Luther stealing glances at her, and when she finally asked him what he wanted, he just smiled.

  “I have everything I want,” he said. “But I wonder...there is a ceremony my people have, when two people who want to be together for the rest of their lives bind themselves to each other. I wonder…”

  Alanna laughed, joyful and pleased. She had just been talking to Clio about what people on Lin-Vayel did when they wanted to get married.

  “I’d love to,” she said.

  Luther looked surprised. “You...you would?”

  “Of course I would. I came here with you, didn’t I? I left behind everything else, and I love you. I want to be with you forever.”

  Love and satisfaction filled her, the emotions crashing into her and making her feel lighter than she had in a long while. When Luther scooped her up to kiss her thoroughly, she laughed.

  This was how it was meant to be.

  Prequel One: Remnants

  “Another.” A gruff command, barked out, clearly by someone who was used to giving orders and having them followed. The man in question didn’t even look at the person he was speaking to. Just set his glass down on the bar with a hard thunk, fingers gripping the glass for a moment before he let go.

  The young woman who tended the bar glared at him, but she was used to this. Everyone was. If a week ever went by when Sorrin Descenta wasn’t in there drinking his way through their stores of spirits, then something would have happened to him. He was there all the time, at least three or four times in a week, sitting at the bar glowering at anyone who dared to speak to him for more than a second.

  The bartender was allowed to ask for his drink order when he arrived and then tell him how much he owed at the end of the night. Other than that, Sorrin never wanted to hear from her.

  And she’d tried. Making small talk was technically a part of her job. All the standard fare—“How are you tonight?” and “Anything new going on?”—was just met with stony silence and a sharp eyed glare.

  She’d been frightened at first, sure that Sorrin was going to cause some kind of trouble or try to hurt her, but the more he came in, the more she saw the truth. He was angry, but not at the world in general. He was more just sad than anything, and even his glares seemed to lack the right heat when she saw them enough times. It was some sort of reflex, as far as she could tell, and it made her feel sorry for him.

  He’d been through something terrible, but keeping people at bay wasn’t the way to go about it. All it would do was make sure you never stopped being lonely and sad.

  Sorrin didn’t share that opinion, of course.

  In his mind, being alone was the only option that made sense. When you let people get too close, you just got hurt. That was the lesson he’d been taught in the most brutal and painful of ways. If it had been possible to erect a large energy shield around himself to keep people at bay, he would have, but it was impossible to get the kind of clearance needed for something like that without there being a battle.

  Sorrin was sick to death of battles.

  He was also sick of this planet. Dovarah was not his home, but then, as far as he knew, his home had been destroyed. Dovarah was the last place he’d been stationed before everything he knew in the world had collapsed around him, and he’d barely had the energy and wherewithal to eat, let alone move to another place.

  At least he had this bar. It was dingy and always crowded, the haze of smoke from pipes filling the air with the sweet, warm scent of spiced tobacco. Music droned on from a box in the corner, but no one danced. It wasn’t that kind of place.

  No, it was the kind of place that mothers warned their daughters not to wander into alone and chided their sons for going to. It was the kind of place that fathers went after a long day of being bound to the same woman, when they needed their eyes to wander a bit. It was a place for thugs and the refuse of society, and Sorrin supposed he fit right in at the moment.

  In the corne
r of the bar, there were two men who kept looking at him. Their eyes would slide over his body up to his face and then dart away, as if trying not to be caught at it. Unfortunately for them, Sorrin was a warrior. Or he had been at one point, and even though he no longer considered himself in service to his government in that way, his skills hadn’t diminished, and he was keenly aware of everyone in the bar at that moment.

  They knew who he was. He was sure of that. These days there were very few people who didn't know who Sorrin was. A disgraced warrior by his own hands, a failure, a wreck, a shell, a 'poor thing'. People he had never met before spoke of him in the streets, in cantinas and markets, telling his story and either cursing him for the part he played in it or pitying him for the outcome. Sorrin wanted neither their condemnation nor their pity, but he wasn't in any position to say anything. He deserved their condemnation at the very least.

  "That's him," one of the two whispered to the other. "Has to be."

  "Is not," the other insisted. "What would he be doing here?"

  "How should I know? Maybe he fancied a drink and didn't want to be seen?"

  "He's doing a bad job of that then, if you recognized him, blind as you are."

  "Oh, go hang yourself in a pit, Kithar. That's him, and I'm telling you. Terrible what happened, isn't it? You've heard about it, right? The way the Camadors slaughtered all of The Fair Queen's men?"

  Sorrin inhaled sharply, keeping his gaze lowered and on his glass. He'd heard different accounts of what'd happened to him and his fellow warriors, but hearing the name, the common name anyway, of the woman he had served and gone into battle for, the woman he had ultimately failed, was like a kick in the stomach. Sorrin hadn't seen her since the day he'd removed himself from her service.

  "Fair Queen?" the other one asked. "Who's that?"

  "Well, she's not really a queen. That side of Kalogo hasn't had a queen in forever and an age. Senator, she is, and a high one at that. High enough that her men called her their queen. Pretty as a Schelrian sunrise, too."

  "Makes sense with the same, I guess, then."