Her Merciless Prince Read online

And I was alone in a forest. With him.

  I grip my kit tighter.

  “I have work to do,” I say, as he looks me up and down and swaggers my way.

  Swagger! I’d laugh if I wasn’t so terrified. He wasn’t huge, but he was big enough to overpower me.

  Another step.

  “Keep away,” I warn him.

  He takes another step.

  “People are talking about how you an’ me would be good together,” he says. Arrogant ass.

  “I have work to do,” I say, and try to walk away.

  He grabs my arm and I don’t think, I just act. My kit comes flying up, metal corner clocking him right in the chin. He falls back, lets me go.

  I run. I don’t look to see if he’s okay. I don’t even care.

  The few trees break and I’m back near the fields, in the light and safety.

  Blood and bone, I hate that man. He wouldn’t leave me alone like he was convinced that we should be together. Just because we were almost the same age. Like that was the only matchmaking detail that mattered!

  I walk back toward my parents, to show them my findings.

  Screw Jordain. I have work to do.

  “It’s strange,” mom says.

  Dad steps in, shaking a testing tube. “It’s not an acid or chemical I’m familiar with.”

  “That’s kinda scary,” I say, sitting down near them.

  “It’s not scary,” Mom corrects me. “It’s a mystery. And we are here to crack the mysteries.”

  I grin at Mom and hop back up. I want a closer look at the leaf.

  “It’s like an enzyme, but with extremely acidic properties,” Dad explains, handing me his notes. As if I could read his scratches.

  “Jostere!” Mom jumps at hearing her name screamed. “Henrouk! We demand answers!”

  “There’s that blowhard again,” Mom says, taming her hair back down. She glances my way. “You didn’t hear me call him that.”

  “I heard nothing,” I confirm, and Glast, a tall, fat-nosed man with enough land to call some shots, barges into our work tent.

  “We’re busy, Glast,” Mom says, and I hide a smile. Mom hates the man and certainly makes no qualms about it. Dad’s better at the diplomatic stuff.

  “Glast,” Dad says, stepping between him and Mom. A move to stop her from staring daggers at him. “We have some leads, but we need some time.”

  “This is your strain,” Glast spits in Dad’s face. I take a step forward, but Dad waves me back.

  “It is,” he says, cool as a morning breeze. “And it seems an outside force visited it. We found traces of acid.”

  “Acid?” Glast says. Didn’t expect that, apparently.

  “Sybil found it,” dad says with pride. I blush a bit but don’t look down. I’m damn proud of my find. It’s like I’m finally stretching my wings.

  “In the woods, beating on Jordain?”

  “What?” I spit out, staring at the crazy man. “He grabbed me!”

  “Jordain says he pointed out the burns, and you clocked him to take credit, girl.”

  I lose it, take a step forward, my voice shrill in my own ears. “That good for nothing lying…”

  Dad steps in front of me, hold my arms. “Calm down,” he warns. He’s scared. I’ve never seen my dad scared.

  But the people were getting more jumpy, with crops failing more often. And they were looking for something to blame.

  We were an easy target, even though our skills weren’t easily come by.

  “Let’s discuss various possibilities, Glast,” Dad grabs his arm and talks to him as they walk away. A perfect redirection.

  Mom’s the boss, sure, but dad’s the diplomat.

  “Come on,” Mom says, her voice as acidic as the stuff on the leaf. “Let’s figure this out before the locals get even more restless.”

  Chapter 3

  Eron

  “The main question is what you’re doing here,” one of the Time Agents asks, a fuschia-skinned race I wasn’t familiar with. Which really added to my comfort. Bound on the bridge, with no royal markings on my clothing, faced by a race I didn’t even know existed.

  The universe is big. Too big. Which is weird, considering mine had shrunk so wildly this morning.

  Dad was right. I should have taken my training a bit more seriously, so I’d at least recognize this race, and perhaps know better how to address it.

  But I don’t, so I hope I’m not about to create some sort of interstellar incident.

  “If you untie me,” I try to sound as non-threatening as possible, “I’ll happily discuss everything with you. I’m of no threat to you.”

  “How did you get on board?” he asks, or maybe she. I can’t quite tell. Maybe genders aren’t even a thing for them.

  I really should have paid more attention to my studies.

  “Look,” I can feel my temper slipping. I want to shift. To break away, to leap over my interrogator’s head and make my escape. But where would I go? I’m in space. The options are limited. “Your security isn’t great. That’s your problem, not mine.”

  “No, it’s your problem,” another Time Agent walks in, serpentine skin on his broad body, slit eyes. This one I know. He’s a Resstle. A fairly gentle race until provoked. Quick to strike. Deadly.

  But overall peaceful.

  He grins at his partner, hits him on the shoulder. The two share a quick look that I can’t quite read. I’m pretty sure the first agent rolls his eyes before leaving, the red markings on his black uniform clashing against his skin.

  “What I want to know,” the new agent says, crossing his arms, “is what a prince of the House of Claws doing on board our ship?”

  “You know who I am?” I hadn’t quite expected that.

  “We just came from your planet,” he shrugs, clicks something on his belt. I’m suddenly free.

  “Prince Eron,” he says, nodding slightly out of respect. It’s not the full bow I would receive on my planet, but I’m also sneaking aboard his ship. I’m free, and that’s respect enough, for now.

  “Agent…”

  “Starz,” he says. I don’t expect a first and last name combo. His people only have one name. But this one is rather unusual. Their names have more slithering syllables, usually, and they’re named for earth, plants, or rocks. He seems to sense that I know this and adds, “My parents had aspirations for me.”

  “Seems to have paid off.” I like him. My wolf senses assure me that I can trust this strange man, even though our species have no formal alliance at the moment.

  “If I may ask again, your highness. What are you doing on board? How may we be of service?”

  What breath I’d regained blows out of me.

  “My parents,” I can’t quite say it, so I almost whisper it, “they’re dead.”

  Starz looks shocked. “I’m so sorry, Prince Eron. If I may ask…”

  “An attack.”

  The agent’s eyes narrow, his slit eyes blinking three times in rapid succession. It’s disconcerting. I can see why so many people distrust his race, even if there’s no warring history among their people.

  Unlike most of the galaxy.

  “Were your parents not headed to earth?”

  “Yes,” I remember that sight on the screen, now turned off. “Wasn’t earth destroyed?”

  “It was greatly damaged,” Starz speaks slowly, ideas assembling with each spoken word, “but that was centuries ago. Some strange time event occurred on the planet. We’re on our way to investigate now…”

  “What do you mean?” I’ve heard of a few strange time events. The Time Agents are a force to be reckoned with, dealing with time, space, and people. A giant jigsaw puzzle, trying to keep the fabric of time from choking worlds.

  He brings the picture of the earth back up. My breath catches in my throat. If anyone still lives there, their lives must be dire ones, indeed.

  “This could be related…” Starz mutters. I move closer to him.

  “Can we save my pa
rents?”

  He turns to me. I’m pretty sure that if he had eyebrows, they’d be raised high right now.

  “You do not wish to be king?”

  My blood boils Is he really suggesting that I want my parents dead? That I’m happy they’re gone? That my plan was to just step onto the throne and forget them? Is that really all he thinks of me?

  Starz holds out his hands. I wasn’t subtle, I stood, ready to pounce on him.

  “I get it,” he says. “I lost my parents, too. And I loved them very much.”

  He’s telling the truth, not just some lie fed to appease me. I relax a bit. He continues. “The two events may be related. Though I’m not sure how…”

  The fuschia Time Agent comes back, holding a tablet in his hands. I notice he has six fingers. He hands it to Starz, nods to me, and heads off the bridge again. The rest of the crew is leaving us be, busy keeping the ship moving through space.

  Space isn’t as empty as people think. To move at this high velocity and clear that much distance quickly meant that multiple types of scanner and eyes had to keep watch on what was coming up, while others worried about moving the ship safely.

  Some ships had spacefaring AIs. But lots of races still preferred trusting their people over a cold computer.

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  “Well, we have to go investigate the rift anyway,” Starz says, “and your parents were caught at the heart of it.”

  “What does that mean?” Hope blossoms in me like nightshade. Pretty to look at, but poisonous.

  He looks at me, his eyes steady. “It means that, if we find some of their DNA, something to link them back to you, a direct descendant, we may just be able to bring them back.”

  “Find their... DNA. Like, their bodies?”

  “Yes,” Starz continues, oblivious to my anger, “if we find them, and tie them to our temporal DNA locator, linking it with your still present DNA... this might be the solution we need to fix Earth.”

  “Can’t we, I don’t know, just time travel back for a bit and save them?”

  Starz gives me a look. One both incredulous and pitying. Just because I can trust the man doesn’t mean I need to like him.

  “Time travel is... complicated. But, they were caught in some sort of temporal trap at worse, anomaly at best. Do not lose hope though, Prince Eron. All we must do is first find a piece of them. The bones will be our best bet…”

  But I’m not listening anymore. I can’t. Because I know it won’t happen. Finding the bodies of two people caught in a blast? Had the bones even survived? If they’d made it on the planet at all?

  I’m no longer sure what I’d been thinking, hopping in a Time Agent ship as if I could somehow change what had happened. Like I could just step into the past and save the two people I love most.

  I need to let go of that possibility. To face my grief. To begin to let go, if I can.

  Truth is, I can’t afford to dream that it might be possible. I have to focus elsewhere. My planet was in trouble if that was the best they could expect of their new king.

  And yet... I look at the shot of the planet, dark and grim. What if their bones were down there, just waiting for me?

  No. I can’t.

  Hope is not the poison I choose to take this day.

  Blond hair tumbles around her face, like cascades of satin. Her lips curve with a smile as they near mine.

  I hold her. She smells of earth and plants. Of life.

  She leans into me, laughing, her blue eyes bright with wit and love.

  I hold her close, tumble on the fresh grass with her... and wake up, alone in my small cabin, only the light from distant stars streaming in from my porthole providing any light.

  Cold, distant light.

  Like my home, a place I don’t want to return to.

  Like my future, which I no longer understand.

  The blonde woman haunts my dreams, for what now seems like forever. I can still taste her lips against mine. I can smell the earth on her, feel her skin against mine.

  I sit up, lean against the cold cabin wall, and stare out at the distant stars.

  Does this dream mock me and all that I can no longer have?

  Chapter 4

  Sybil

  I stare across the other field to the left of the village.

  It’s as dead as the first. The wheatakle, which was strong yesterday, is now brown, folded in on itself, blending into the brown earth. I look at the radiation scanners. The weather will turn tonight. We’re going to get a radiation storm, no doubt about it.

  We’re prepared, of course. We have to be. Just like we have to create stronger and stronger crops.

  It’s part of what we have to do to survive.

  We make the crops to withstand this type of storm, but it’ll slow down our research while we have to hide away in our caves, waiting for it to pass. And maybe more of our crops will die.

  This isn’t good at all. The villagers are getting so restless.

  “Any idea what’s happening here, Sybil?” Jordain walks up beside me, his hands in his pockets like he has an apology to offer. Well, I’m not in the mood to receive it.

  “No idea yet,” I answer. “But, maybe you should go scouting around— you’re so good at figuring out where the beasts are.” I practically spit out the last words. I thought he’d glare at me, or maybe look apologetic, but he just gives me a sideways grin and then meanders off on his way.

  I find that most unsettling of all.

  “Well, we’d best get to work collecting samples.” My father says as he walks beside me. “Your mother’s analyzing yesterday’s samples still, but, if we can’t figure this out quickly enough, we’re going to be in trouble. Besides, with the storm incoming, we don’t have that much time to collect samples before they’re washed away. Let’s get as much as we can. You walk the perimeter again, and I’ll walk inside the field itself.”

  I nod and head off. There’s nothing else to say. We know our jobs. We’ve rehearsed them often enough. A part of me is almost excited. With all this field time that I’m getting, mostly out of necessity, it means I’m becoming a biologist much sooner than anticipated. But that also means that the crops are dying.

  Talk about a two-edged blade.

  I walk the perimeter as quickly as I can. I see some more of those strange burns marks here and there on the yellow grass surrounding the fields. No burn marks on trees this time, but I find a rock with similar markings.

  I pick it up, throw it in a sample bag, and look back toward the village.

  The fields are next to our village. If something or someone is poisoning them, could we be under attack soon?

  I’m not sure, but the idea tugs at my mind enough that I begin to walk back. I see my mother in the distance, in her field lab, looking over some samples, bent down, not even paying attention as Glast hammers her with questions.

  She shoos him away.

  I smile, make sure to duck so that I’m not seen by him, and head into the village. The destroyed fields are at opposite ends of the village. I walk along the path that leads from one to the other.

  At first I don’t see anything. Our village is small enough but quaint. Mostly made out of a network of caves, cloud lightning and daylight streaming down through various accesses at the top.

  The caves are the safest place for us to live. At first, centuries ago, after the radiation storms began to strike, people used to live in houses in grand complexes. Clustered together— millions, sometimes billions at once, although I can’t imagine so many people. Houses reaching up to the skies, and down below the earth, sprawling across vast lands.... but the world is different now.

  It has been for a long time.

  The caves offered the best protection after the calamity— whatever that was. We’re still not sure about that. But the caves are where we still live. Every generation, someone comes up with some idea for a new way of living: a new house, a new construct that would protect us as well as the caves. />
  And some people try it, living in so-called luxury until they eventually die from radiation sickness.

  The caves are just safer.

  My parents often say that humans are just beasts who think differently. And so the caves are not a bad place for us to make our life. But to me, it feels so strange and wrong in a way that I can’t explain to them. That I never could explain to them.

  Instead of stone under my feet, I yearn to feel carpet beneath me, made of synthetic fibers that I’ve never even seen, cushioning each footfall. I want to look out on the great city from high up in the sky. Through windows— windows that would protect me from the elements, and yet let me see through easily. But it’s the caves that I live in, I have to keep reminding myself.

  I walk through them now to the center of the village. All of these caves and various households give way to this clearing where natural light pours in, despite the eternal cloud cover.

  Water bubbles up from underground sources here and follows rivulets around the area. And in the center is the shrine. The thing that brought us here to populate the area, or so the stories go. Some people say it came from the skies. Which I suppose is possible.

  Things do fall from space— ships, other races, other people. But rarely. It’s not as though we can join them, anyway. But this? This looks like it’s made of earth.

  I walk around it, place my hands on the exterior of the shrine. It feels right to me. It’s an oblong shape, but on the rounder side. It looks like a rock, but my hands on it tell me it’s something much smoother than rock.

  Cold to the touch and yet welcoming. We call it the shrine. The center of our village. The thing that unifies us. The landmark that we come home to after hunting, or working hard in the fields. To me, it’s also home. But it’s more than that.

  It’s the one thing that I can look at and know is right. Not like the rest of this world.

  I wonder if there are maybe some secrets in there hidden, secrets that could help save my people. Maybe even something to explain what’s happening to our fields now. I wonder, but, wondering will only get me so far.