Chapter 1
Orin’s first day on his new job was an odd one. He was the ship’s new engineer, working under a man the others said was a tyrant before swearing him to secrecy. And, to make things even more interesting, the spaceship had been attacked by Mordians and had nearly lost an engine. He considered boarding an escape pod and getting out of there.
But he wasn’t getting out of here without finding out the truth about the missing Aridian princess. His job here was simply a cover.
Still, it was bad luck. He mulled this over tea—the actual tea from his home world, Larin—in the Mess Hall while people-watching.
There weren’t many people. It was the early morning hours, and everyone was probably still shaken up from the attack. He saw a young man and a young woman with their heads together. An older man sat in the corner alone. A woman and child sat on the other side, the child yawning and the woman—presumably her mother—scolding her.
He caught the little girl’s eye. Her eyes were filled with tears, and it pained him to see her so upset. “Would you like to see some magic?” he asked.
The mother’s expression softened. “I think Palla would like that.”
The little girl—Palla—grinned, showing her front teeth missing. “Yes, sir, I would like that very much.”
Orin chuckled. He knew just the thing. He raised his hands and focused his magical energy into his fingertips. Then he sent two glowing blue strings into the air, to the ceiling. Then he moved his hands, moving the strings with them, like a puppeteer. He made the strings dive and jump, twirl and bend. He added a third string that glowed yellow and intertwined them all together in a complex dance.
Palla clapped her hands and giggled. “More, more!”
Orin smiled and separated the three strings, making them dance independently of one another—a tiring task, but a visually stunning display. For the finale, he made them burst like fireworks and fall to the floor. “How’s that, dear?”
“That was wonderful,” Palla’s mother said with a smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“The dancing strings were pretty,” Palla said. “Will you make them dance for me again soon?”
Orin tweaked her nose. “Of course I will. But right now, I must get going.”
“Goodbye, Mr. String Man,” Palla said with a wave.
Orin chuckled. “Goodbye, lovely girl.”
He went back to his tea, which had gotten cold, and obtained more. He didn’t want to drink his tea alone, so he approached the man he saw earlier. He was still alone, eating a concoction that had to be an acquired taste because it had something moving in it. “Hello. I was wondering if I could join you.”
The older man, who had ice-blue irises and black sclera, smiled. And were those fangs? How odd. “Of course you can. Are you the new guy?” He picked up the squirming part with his fork and slurped it down. “That was a lovely display, by the way. I bet you made her day.”
Orin focused on the man’s eyes. “Thank you. I am Engineer Orin, at your service.” He extended his hand for the man to shake.
The man smiled. “Ever try Fillini worms? There’s nothing like them. I am Jacob, Head of Sanitation. Basically, the head janitor.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Orin replied. “Everybody’s jobs are important for the smooth operation of a spaceship.”
Jacob snorted. “Today’s incident notwithstanding.”
Orin took a sip of tea. He didn’t want to pry, but it appeared from the whispers he’d heard that the attack had been personal. “Do you know anything about the attack?”
He could sense Jacob’s heart rate accelerate, which usually meant panic. That did not bode well. “Uh, well, you see…” Jacob slurped up another worm while it tried to wiggle away. Orin averted his gaze. Jacob leaned forward. “I’m not really supposed to be gossiping. I hear things, but it’s not proper to spread it all, you see? But I can give you one tidbit if you promise not to tell anyone else.”
Jacob’s heartbeat decreased a bit, and Orin could think again. He leaned forward and pitched his voice low so no one would hear him, even those with superior hearing. “I promise.”
“Good, good. Sure you don’t want to try a worm?” Jacob asked, and then laughed. “I can tell you aren’t a fan of your meal still moving around. Larinu, right?”
“What gave it away? Besides our drastically different appearances, of course?”
“I’ve got a feel for these things,” Jacob said. He pushed his plate away. “Okay, well, it’s been said that the attacking ship was Mordian?—”
“Looking for the missing Aridian princess?” Orin asked.
Jacob smiled. “They believe she’s here,” he said, “with us. Isn’t that absurd? What would we do with an Aridian princess?”
Orin laughed, but wondered. What could they do with her? A flicker of unease ran through him. “That’s totally absurd. People love to spread stories.” He took another sip of tea. He cast his energy around him, searching. He continued out the door and down the hallway…three more people. Several rooms, most likely living quarters. Ten more people. Two in the process of bonding, in fact.
He kept going, farther and farther away, to the farthest reaches of the ship. Touched each person briefly.
And then he touched someone different from the rest—a slave.
Who was she?
Princess Tasa of Aridia clenched her jaw to keep from crying out. This time had been worse than usual. Obviously, Commander S’artha was having a bad day.
“They were attacked,” Falda, her cellmate and friend, said as she wiped the blood off Tasa’s face. “And they almost lost an engine.”
Tasa frowned. “How do you know that?”
Falda seemed very focused on cleaning Tasa’s forehead. “I just do.” She stopped and studied Tasa. “Well, you seem fine, apart from the cuts and bruises.” There was an odd tremor in her voice. “Next time, we’ll need to do something?—”
“You bet we need to,” Tasa said, her hands clenching into fists. “I refuse to take this abuse any longer!”
Falda smiled. “Your bloodline is the strongest in all Aridia. Your ancestors were warriors. You are definitely one of them.”
Tasa let out a breath. The anomaly was also in her bloodline, the one that gave her abilities that frightened others. She was an empath, able to feel the emotional energy of others. It was too much like magic, the ability to manipulate energy. Most babies like her were killed. But because she was of the Royal House, they’d allowed her to live.
That was it, though.
And when she was taken by Commander S’artha one month ago, her family hadn’t even tried to find her. And now she spent her life in a prison cell mending clothing, dreaming of the sun, and getting beaten up.
This wasn’t life.
“I need to get back to work,” Tasa said. She glanced up at the clock. “Oh, no. It’s almost noon! We’ve going to be in so much trouble! What’s next?”
Falda plucked a vibrant red garment from the basket below them and handed it to Tasa. “We’re going to be all right. I believe that you can get out of here. That both of us can.”
“If we could ever get this work done,” Tasa muttered. She clenched her hand, crushing the delicate fabric in her fist.
The sound of the door being unlocked startled Tasa. “What’s happening?” It had to do with the garments, she knew it. Her stomach twisted.
“I do not know,” Falda whispered. “Just keep working.”
The door opened with a loud creak. One of the guards stepped in. He was tall, and he smelled of sweat. “What are you doing?”
This wasn’t good.
He came closer. Tasa’s heart leapt to her throat. She tried to continue stitching, but her hands shook too much.
“Slave Tasa, I thought we’d agreed that the garments would be ready at noon. I am looking at my watch now. It is noon.”
The garments weren’t even close to being done.
With the beating, and the pain she was in, and not being able to think…
He tore the garment from Tasa’s hands. “Do you consider this done? Do you do such substandard work?”
“Leave her alone,” Falda said, standing. “She was beaten an hour ago.”
“As she should be,” the man said with a sneer. “What she needs is more incentive, don’t you think? Maybe the commander should make you his number one breeder. I hear empathy is a sought-after ability in children.”
“No!” Falda screamed. “Don’t you dare take her!”
“Or what?” he asked. “What will you do if I disobey the commander’s orders?”
“Anything,” Falda said.
“No.” Tasa stood, as straight and as proud as she could. She was royalty. “You will not do anything, Falda. I will accept my punishment.”
“Well, seems like you know your place.” The man’s fist sang through the air and slammed into Tasa’s cheekbone with a crack. She clenched her teeth, but did not cry out, as pain exploded in her face. Stars filled her vision.
His fist slammed into her other cheekbone, whipping her head to the side. A punch to her nose, another crack, more pain exploding, and blood.
So much blood streamed down her face.
Tasa did not cower, and she did not run or try to defend herself.
Her face felt as if it had been shattered into pieces.
“Tasa,” Falda moaned.
Tasa didn’t think. She reached out with the same energy that let her feel what others felt—and searched. Through the entire ship, through doors and hallways and living quarters.
And screamed for help.