Synopsis | Reviews | Excerpt
The Coalition has not given up on the jewel that is Trios, and this time they are determined not to conquer, but destroy.
A new generation will be tested.
Lyon—the son of a legendary Trios king.
Shaina—the daughter of an infamous skypirate.
Rina—a survivor haunted by the losses of the first rebellion.
Prince Lyon would rather strip naked in the square than allow Shaina Silverbrake bragging rights for rescuing him from anything, much less would be prince-nappers on Arellia. But what he wants and what destiny has planned for him are about to collide when a dark plot is uncovered by Rina. Lyon’s last adventure before royal duty claims him for life becomes a race for a powerful artifact, and the fate of two worlds hangs in the balance.
Author of more than sixty books (she sold her first ten in less than two years), Justine Dare Davis is a four-time winner of the coveted RWA RITA Award, and has been inducted into the RWA Hall of Fame. Her books have appeared on national bestseller lists, including USA Today. She has been featured on CNN and taught at several national and international conferences and at the UCLA writer’s program.
Find out more at her website and blog at justinedavis.com, Facebook at JustineDareDavis, or Twitter @Justine_D_Davis.
The first two books, Lord of the Storm and Skypirate, of the Coalition Rebellion recognized as Romantic Times 200 BEST OF ALL TIME!
Prologue
"I’M
GOING AFTER her. I’ll take the next transport.” Dax Silverbrake was pacing the
floor of the Triotian royal palace’s private quarters, covering the same twenty
feet of floor time and again. Barely suppressed energy nearly crackled around
him.
King
Darian of Trios watched his best friend in obvious amusement. "Are you sure
confrontation is wise just now?”
The
pacing continued. "What I’m sure of is she has no business scarpering off
like that. Off world, without even a word of explanation.”
Dax
half expected a reminder he himself had done much, much worse. But Dare looked
as if he were considering his next words so carefully that Dax knew what was
coming, and hastened to forestall it.
"I
know, this is my doing. Perhaps it wasn’t the best decision, but I only wished
her safe, and free of pressure, for as long as possible.”
"Lying
to your child is rarely the best decision,” Dare said.
"I
didn’t lie,” Dax said. "I just... omitted something.”
"Spoken
like the skypirate you once were.”
Dax
winced. And there it was, he thought, stopping in his tracks.
Dare
pressed the point. "You omitted something indeed. The biggest thing of her
life. Her destiny. And she is, in fact, an adult now,” Dare added.
Dax
spun around then, glaring at his oldest, closest friend. "You are not being any
help, Dare.”
"I
am a father too,” he said.
"But
not of a daughter. They’re... different.”
"That
I cannot argue with,” Dare agreed with a grin. "Women are thankfully
different.”
"Califa’s
too damned calm about it,” Dax muttered.
For
the first time Shaylah, Dare’s mate, spoke. "That’s because she’s not worried
about Shaina’s welfare.”
"How
can she not be?” Dax spun around to look at the queen he so admired, the woman
he loved like a sister as he loved Dare like a brother. She was smiling so
serenely that Dax felt a spark of irritation.
"Because
she knows Shaina is safe.”
Dax
blinked. "What? How can she know that?”
"Shaina
was upset, furious really, and feeling betrayed.”
Again
Dax winced, but this time the feeling went clear to the bone. He was beginning
to realize the scope of the mistake he’d made.
"Califa
knows because she knows her daughter. She knows where she would go. Where she
always goes when something goes wrong in her life. Which is why she will be
safe.”
Dax
frowned. "Are you saying... ?”
"Of
course. She went to Lyon.”
Chapter 1
AS
LONG AS THEY didn’t know who he was, he had a chance of staying alive.
Lyon
held to that hope as he sat in the darkness of the tiny room they’d thrown him
in. His head ached where the cudgel had caught him, and his shoulder ached
where he’d gone down on the taproom floor, but nothing ached quite as much as
his pride. He’d been taken like a green cadet, by one of the oldest ruses of
all time.
But
the worst part was that when Shaina heard about it, she’d be able to say, "I
told you so.”
And
say it she would. She’d hold this over him until they were both old and gray,
and for Triotians that was a very long time.
All
this assuming, of course, that he was alive for her to say anything.
Instinctively
he checked the chain around his neck. The heavy ring bearing the royal crest
lay safe against his chest. He’d taken it off before he’d arrived. The ring was
too recognizable, and he’d wanted this bit of anonymity before the rest of his
life began.
How
long had he been out? Minutes? Hours? It had been daylight when he’d risen to
wander Galatin, the capital city of Arellia, his mother’s home world. And now
it was—
His
thoughts broke off at the sound of approaching footsteps. The door rattled. He
leapt to his feet, ignoring the pain that shot through his head at the swift
movement. He’d already felt around in the darkness, knew they hadn’t left him
anything to fight with. This was going to be hand to hand.
So
be it,he thought.
He
backed up against the wall. He raised one knee, bracing his foot against the
wall. Light poured in as the door swung open, and he blinked reflexively as it
stabbed at his eyes.
"Awake,
are you? Good. I was afraid you were out permanently.”
The
cheerful voice didn’t fool Lyon this time, as it had when the jolly-looking
round-faced man had approached him asking directions. That had been just before
the man’s unseen companion had bludgeoned him senseless. He’d awakened to find
his money pouch gone and a lump on his head the size of a whisperbird egg. So
much for being the pride of the Triotian War College.
"Not
feeling talkative?”
He
could make him out now, an unprepossessing man with a tendency to wear an
absurd grin. Lyon contemplated making a run, and tensed the leg braced against
the dank wall, ready to push off, thinking he could bowl over the rotund man
and be gone before he could recover. Except for one little problem. He didn’t
know where the second man was, the tall one who was altogether too handy with
his cudgel.
"Well,
that’s fine, you just stay quiet, and when the man with the coins arrives,
we’ll just be on our—”
A
hollow thump in the corridor was followed by the thud of something heavy
falling. The man in the open doorway looked toward the sound.
"Rickel,”
he called. Silence. "Eos, that man,” he muttered. His voice rose a notch.
"Rickel, don’t play any of your silly games now.”
The
man took a step in the direction the sounds had come from. Lyon knew he had to
take this chance—he might not get another. He shoved away from the wall,
lowered one shoulder, and ran for the light.
The
man wasn’t nearly as soft as he looked. Lyon heard a grunt as his shoulder took
the man at kidney level, but he didn’t go down. His hands wildly clawed back at
Lyon. Grasping fingers tangled in his long mane of hair, and yanked fiercely.
Lyon winced. Twisted away. Struck out at the round man’s face.
Lyon
heard another thud, just like the first. The round man jumped, yelped
explosively. He glanced down the dark hallway, as if facing a secondary attack
from the rear. The glance was only a split second, but Lyon didn’t waste the
opportunity. He drove a precisely aimed foot sharply into the man’s ample gut.
Air whooshed out of him. Lyon swept the man’s legs out from under him with a
swiping kick. Swiftly, he grabbed his own blade from the man’s belt and used
the hilt to send him to sleep.
One
down. Now for the other. I’ll relish paying him back for this headache.
"Cub!
Over here!”
He
froze.
No.
It was impossible. She had sworn she wasn’t coming. She was home, on Trios.
There was no way in Hades that Shaina Silverbrake could be here.
But
he knew that voice too well. And no one else dared use that childhood nickname
any longer.
"Come
on! These skalworms will be coming around any minute—you’d better get moving!”
He
spotted her the instant she spoke the second time, from the shadow of the large
archway. She was grinning at him, that insufferably taunting grin he’d seen
directed at him all too many times in his life. She’d always seemed more
vividly alive than anyone he knew, and now she was fairly crackling with life.
She was fire and spirit and beauty afoot. She took his breath away.
She
doesn’t want you except as her loyal companion, so stop even thinking about it.
"Will
you move, Cub? I’m out of rocks to throw. Don’t mess up my chance to rescue youfor a change.”
He’d
deal with her unexpected appearance here later, he thought. In the meantime,
she was right—as she so often was—and he’d better get moving.
She
led the way unhesitatingly, and just as unhesitatingly he followed. She wasn’t
the exact navigator their beloved Rina was, but she knew the way and he didn’t,
given he’d been unconscious when they dragged him in here.
They
ran until they reached the alley behind the taproom. And that, too, brought
back memories. Shaina had always been quicker, and able to outrun him, until a
growth spurt had given him the height and stride to beat her. And their
instructors in the warrior arts hadn’t been above using their competitive
natures to get the most out of each of them.
And
of course his father had advice.
Don’t
get cocky. A smart woman doesn’t need muscle or strength to get the better of
you. And Shaina is very, very smart.
The
words had been delivered in a wry voice, interrupting Lyon’s crowing over his
first-ever victory over her in a footrace. The comment had been followed by a
teasing comment from his mother, and then his parents had exchanged That Look
that told him they’d be disappearing into their chamber for a while. He’d been
just old enough by then to realize what that meant, and had quickly gone back
to his crowing to hide his embarrassment at his parents’ lovesickness.
And
his father had been proven right in their next race, when Shaina had distracted
him at the start and gained herself a ten-stride lead he hadn’t quite been able
to overcome. Their race now was to get clear of this dark, rather dank alley—he’d
swear he’d seen a fanged flymouse hanging upside down in that high corner—and
it ended at the street. A street that was full of rowdy Arellians, reveling in
remembrance of their declaration of independence from the Coalition.
They
merged into the crowd, thankful the celebration seemed to still be going full
speed. As they worked their way down the street, Lyon watched celebrants who
clearly gave little thought anymore to the years-long war that the declaration
had caused, a war that left many dead and more wounded, some permanently.
Judging by the people he’d talked to since his arrival, looking forward, not
back, was the Arellian wont. He had the odd thought that he, only
half-Arellian, probably knew more about their history than they did, thanks to
his parents’ insistence.
But
this was not the time to be thinking about history. Or even the future, that
distant time when he’d be dealing with the burden his father now carried. Life
was interesting when your father was the man who saved worlds and you were set
to follow in his footsteps.
But
right now he should be focused on saving his own backside. And Shaina’s. Not
that her backside was something he wanted to even let into his mind. It was
enough to deal with the fact that she, the very person he’d come here to get
away from, was walking beside him, apparently completely unaware of his
turmoil.
To
her you’re just the big brother she never had, he told himself.
And
you’d better remember it.
"HERE,
CUB,” SHAINA said, pulling her long, dark hair free of the cap she wore, "stuff
that mane of yours under this.”
Lyon
was sitting across the small fire from her, on the folded thermal cloth he’d
pulled from the pack he’d retrieved from his hired room once they were sure
they’d eluded his captors. They’d escaped to the high ground above the city, at
the base of the ancient mountain, camping as they had often done at home while
exploring the slowly healing face of their world.
He
caught the cap she tossed. Frowned.
"I
don’t need it.”
It
came out more sharply than he’d intended, but he was on edge. Not so much from
the narrow escape as because that nickname was beyond wearing on him. But he
knew if he said anything, she’d just use it more often. She liked being the
only one who could really disconcert him.
"Wrong.
I’m the one who doesn’t need it. I blend in here.”
She
had a point, he thought. With her dark hair and pale skin, she looked as much
Arellian as both their mothers. It was he who stood out. His father’s genes
threw true.
"Unless,
of course,” she added, "you’d rather keep walking around as a target.”
"It’s
not as if anyone knows who I am,” he said, grimacing as he put the cap on,
shoving long strands of Triotian gold hair out of sight under the heavy blue
cloth, taking care not to touch the still very tender lump behind his ear.
She
scowled at him across the fire. "Have you been drinking too much lingberry,
Cub?”
"Have
you been bitten by a bark-hound?” he retorted. Damnation, he didn’t know if he
could take much more of this. She treated him as if he were indeed that
cub—perfectly safe, utterly tamed—while he felt anything but tame right now,
fighting urges she clearly didn’t feel in turn.
No
wonder the nickname was starting to slice at him.
"I
could be any Triotian,” he said with an effort at calm. "You know there are
lots of people traveling between here and Trios since the MIP was signed.” The
Mutual Interest Pact had been a triumph of his father’s negotiating skills,
even if there were doubts on Trios that Arellia would hold up their end.
That
all this would someday be his responsibility was a knowledge he’d grown up
with. Yet somehow the coming changes in his own life and position, which had
once loomed huge over him, seemed less important right now than the change in
his feelings toward his best friend.
Shaina
ignored his words. "Of course they know who you are. You look just like your
father. You know, the guy whose face is right next to your mother’s on all
those placards all over the planet?”
He
signed inwardly. She was right. Of course his father was everywhere. As was his
mother. The Graymist family was as famous and revered on Arellia as his
father’s was on Trios. Many had died heroically during the first Coalition
invasion, and had been secretly venerated even as the Coalition became the way
of life. The rest of the Graymist family on Arellia had been wiped out in the
rebellion. So when a surviving member of a most beloved family bonded with a
king and became queen of the most revered planet in the system, he supposed
the fame was inevitable. Especially when together they had waged the battle
that had ended the Coalition’s evil on Trios, which in turn had inspired the
rebellion here on Arellia.
But
two of the biggest heroes of that rebellion were Shaina’s own parents.
"Look
who’s talking,” he said. "Your parents are right next to them on practically
every sign.”
"Yeah,”
she said, rather glumly. "And before you ask, yes, I saw the statue.”
Lyon
managed not to laugh at her tone. His edgy mood faded. He’d seen it, too, that
larger-than-life sculpture commemorating the flashbow warrior of Trios and his
remarkable weapon, the gleaming silver crossbow that could only be used by him,
firing bolts of incredible power. The new statue was the reason this year’s
celebration was even bigger than usual. It made sense, he supposed. This had
always been a tribute to the warrior as much as to the decision to fight.
That
warrior also happened to be Shaina’s father, the near-mythical Dax Silverbrake,
former skypirate, now Defense Minister of Trios, a title he ignored for the
most part, saying being the flashbow warrior amounted to the same thing.
"Quite
a party,” Shaina said, looking toward the glow of lights and the faint sounds
of celebration still coming from the city. "You’d think they’d just signed the
declaration this morning.”
"My
father says it’s important that they remember. If you forget, you get soft—and
ripe for the picking all over again.”
Shaina grimaced. "My mother says the same thing. She says
the Coalition, or people like them, will never, ever give up,
not really. Even if you wipe them out, more like them will reemerge, somewhere,
and take the same path all over again.”
Lyon
didn’t say, "She would know,” although it went through his mind. Shaina’s
mother, also Arellian and the former Major Califa Claxton of the Coalition
Tactical School, had been both famous and honored in the Coalition before she
committed the unpardonable sin of betraying the High Command for a friend—his
mother.
Like
everyone on Trios, Lyon knew the story inside out: A prince become king and
his new queen working with the prodigal flashbow warrior and his tactically
brilliant mate, standing together in a way that inspired them all. The Coalition,
which had expected to crush the upstart rebellion easily, had instead been
driven out of its most prized conquest.
He
was incredibly proud of them. The responsibility of being their heir was heavy
at times—hence his desire for anonymity on this trip—but he wouldn’t trade
being their son for anything.
"—stay
here. I may never go back.”
Lyon
snapped out of his reverie at Shaina’s words, and the edge that had come into
her voice. "Never go back?” he said, afraid he’d missed something crucial.
"Well,
maybe not never,”
she amended, "but come on, Cub, you have to admit living out from under our
parents’ legends has... a certain appeal.”
Since
he’d just been thinking something similar, he couldn’t deny it. Nor could he
deny the tense undertone he was still hearing as she spoke. As always, she
used the bedamned nickname, which he’d only allowed because it had pleased him
to have at least one person eschew the royal deference.
That
at twelve she had refused to allow him the same privilege with her own name had
amused him. Now he only used the shortened "Shay” in his mind, when his
thoughts strayed into territory he tried to avoid. When someone thought of you
as their brother, thinking of them as something much different than a sister
only made things worse.
And
taking off for another planet hadn’t helped much, even before the source of his
disquiet had turned up in person.
"Do
you really think it would be different here?” he asked, feeling his way
carefully, not knowing what was eating at her. "They’re as celebrated here as
they are at home. Especially your father.”
She
grimaced. "If they only knew.”
There
it was, Lyon thought. Whatever was eating at her was surfacing now. He’d grown
up with her, and he knew her expressions almost as well as he knew his own.
"Knew
what?”
"That
my father, their vaunted, adored hero,” she said, her voice now nearly dripping
with a bitter note, "is a liar.”
