Page 135 of Warrior's Reign
It was if he pulled on every facet of their training and covered them both in a blanket of serenity. She focused on his still face and calm eyes, the flow of his black hair over his shoulders, the dull gleam of his gray silk robes. Light glanced off his cheekbones and she chortled. He didn’t need facial enhancements. He was built with natural shimmer highlights.
“The medic is here, First,” she heard Icolo say.
“Fast,” Reign said. “On standby?” Of course they were. She felt herself relax, knowing the medics would keep her stable if she drifted into unconsciousness. “Until we meet again, Eredan.”
And she let herself escape the terrible burn.
* * *
Reign woke and stared at a familiar white ceiling, the scent of eucalyptus and lavender in the air. Yadeshi liked all white medbays, though it had always felt clinical to her. She preferred color when she had to lay around and convalesce.
Perversely, she yearned for something gray.
“Good,” Eagan said. “It’s time for you to get up.”
Reign sat up solely, testing her muscles. She was sore, but the excruciating burn of multiple blast strikes was gone.
“Ibukay had you fitted with nanos,” Eagan said, coming next to Reign’s bed. “They typically don’t give the new guards that until they’ve survived for at least three years but she and the Adekhan were insistent. And when your parents arrived, no one wanted to explain to them why we let their daughter remain unhealed.”
Reign stared. “My parents? Zoriah and Benyon?”
Eagan returned her stare. “Do you have more than one set?”
“Shit.” She swung her legs over the bed. “Where are they? Please don’t tell me they’re with Vykhan.”
Eagan folded his arms. “I wouldn’t know. But I have orders to inform him as soon as you’re awake.” He paused, hesitated, gaze lowering to Reign’s arms. “Those are new,” he said quietly. “And I recognize the pattern.”
“Can you keep it quiet for now?” She ran a hand through her hair. Someone had braided it.
He shook his head. “It’s just as well you woke up now.”
Dread unfurled. “Why?”
“Because,yada’ami, you have been called before the ImperialBdahnand Consort.”
* * *
Vykhan insisted she take the time to dress, though she wanted to eat pavement to answer the summons immediately. One didn’t keep the rulers of a province waiting.
“They know you were injured,” Vykhan said. “They will expect you to take some time to compose yourself.”
Instead of the dress uniform of Ibukay’s guard, or even one of her sets of tailored formal robes, Vykhan presented her with a set of formal Yna Ipaluk gray robes that also boasted the insignia of her palace position. The fabric was sumptuous and when she examined it, the cuffs were embroidered in the same color with the patterns she recognized from the Rhyksai family cloth.
“To remind them,” Vykhan said, an edge creeping into his voice. “Who you are. An alumnus of Yna Ipaluk. A lifesworn guard ofBdakhunIbukay.Mymate bonded, a Rhyksai.”
Reign stared. Something shimmered in his eyes that she might have thought was murder if she didn’t know how devoted an Imperialist he was.
“I think they get that, Vykhan.”
He shook his head, then brushed a kiss over her lips. “come,yada’ami.Dress. I will braid your hair.”
Vykhan braiding her hair into a complicated traditional style to match the robes was a surreal experience. he sat her in front of her mirror so she could watch his deft fingers weave her curls into the patterns.
“I will teach you to do the same for me,” he told her. “We will have some time to ourselves after the wedding.”
She clasped a hand to her stomach. “Wedding.”
Vykhan met her eyes in the mirror. . .and smirked.
