Vengeance, book III of the Rising Trilogy

~ THE RISING TRILOGY ~

Book Three

Vengeance

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Copyright © 2014 by Amy Miles Books, LLC.

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Acknowledgements

For my family.

PROLOGUE

Bastien stares up into the twilight sky, amazed not for the first time by the rings of color that splash across the vast expanse before him.  They glow with far more brilliance than any colors he has ever glimpsed back on Earth.  The colors appear rich in depth, as if they might feel like velvet if he were to stretch out his hand to touch them.  Perhaps this mirage is brought on by the mists that cling to this moon, or perhaps his voluntary exile has finally begun to riddle his mind.

Two of the other moons that orbit the planet Calisted hang in the sky before him, each boasting a vibrant intensity of shifting hues.  He likes this time of night, when the animals begin to bed down and an eerie silence falls across the land.

It is quiet here on the rooftop.  Away from the men.  Away from the demands of his work.  He doesn’t complain about his duties.  In fact, he embraces them with more fervor than most.  The tranquility of this place calls to him and yet, in the midst of such beauty, Bastien finds himself missing her.

Commander Bastien? a hushed voice calls from behind, low enough not to startle him.

Bastien stifles a groan as he rises from his knees.  His arms feel heavy after a full day of training.  He has heard several of his men wondering aloud if their commander trains out of fear of a coming revolt within Calisted’s new government, but this is not the true reason for his absolute drive toward excellence.  He has complete faith in the new leadership.  

No.  He trains to keep himself from thinking of those he left behind on Calisted only a few short months ago.

I asked not to be disturbed.  He wipes the beads of sweat from his brow with a towel and grabs his shirt.  A heavy layer of lean muscle ripples along his shoulders as the soft black material falls over his head.  The sweat has failed to dry completely from his body, though he finished training long ago.  The hair around his forehead and the nape of his neck is moist, leaving him feeling in sore need of a cold shower.

My apologies, sir, his second-in-command says.  Bastien likes Callum.  He is young and eager, though sometimes that eagerness can be a little annoying, despite Kyan’s assurance that Callum is mature enough to handle the responsibility.  There has been a call from Calisted and your presence is requested.

Bastien’s throat constricts as he turns to face the boy.  He is only little more than a year younger than himself and yet their age difference seems to be as great as the Riptal ravine less than a hundred yards from where he stands.  It is a vast, beautiful chasm filled with lush tropical plants and fruits so large you have to hold them with two hands.

From who?  He tosses his towel to the side, vowing to come back and return his training mats when he is finished.  If there is one thing Bastien prides himself on the most, it is keeping things neat and orderly.  No good commander can allow disorganization to slip through his ranks or chaos will ensue.

Callum holds out a small note, written on a heavy stock of paper.  Bastien can easily spy the black ink that has stained the fibers.  Kyan sent this as well.

Bastien has known this moment was coming.  He has feared its arrival for several months now.  Without opening the letter, he knows why Kyan asked Callum to be the one to give Bastien the message.  His gait falters slightly as he glances back toward Calisted.  

He had hoped with enough distance and time that the ache in his chest would begin to fade, but deep down he knows that he will never truly be whole without her by his side.

Are you alright, sir? Callum asks, reaching out to help steady Bastien, who waves the soldier off.  

I’m fine.  Thank you for your concern.  Bastien’s words are more clipped than he would have liked, but he can’t seem to speak without a harsh tone for fear of allowing a tremor to enter his voice that will betray him fully.  Please send a response acknowledging your delivery.

Callum stares at the unopened envelope clutched tightly in Bastien’s grip.  The paper begins to crinkle around his fingers.   Is there a problem? Bastien growls, his patience growing thin.

Kyan waits for you now.

Let him wait, Bastien mutters and turns away.  Callum clicks his heels, bows low in the usual sign of respect that Bastien has not fully come to understand or accept, and hurries away.  On Earth, Bastien had been held in high regard for his time spent training the soldiers sent to him.  He created an elite force that was feared by all who opposed them.  After his time on Calisted was done, and his bargain with Kyan sealed, he had hoped to simply slip in among the masses and serve as Kyan saw fit.  Unfortunately for him, Kyan saw fit to keep him as a commander, a position not only painfully visible but also widely respected.  

Bastien sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.  That could have gone better. He knows that he isn’t handling this situation very well, but it’s not Callum’s fault.  Running his hands through his hair to stop them from shaking, he blows out a deep, calming breath.  

His bare feet slap against the concrete floor as he weaves his way along the rooftop and descends into the heart of his outpost.  It is cooler within than it was outside.  The climate here is one of the first things he struggled to adjust to when Kyan first sent him to this farthest moon base.  Alenida is always humid, almost to the point of his clothes feeling saturated the instant he exits the building.  It is hard to breathe at times; the weight of the moisture in the air far too oppressive.

The cool air drifting through the hallway brings sweet relief, and he can feel his body temperature normalizing once more.  Bastien dips his head in acknowledgement as he passes two guards and then pushes through a set of bright red double doors at the end of the hall.  He strains against their weight, reminded once more of the difference in gravity here.

Crossing the room, he gives little thought to the decor as the door hisses closed behind him and the air locks re-engage.  After living here for three months he has yet to officially move into his quarters.  He has zero personal belongings to call his own.  No photos.  No gifts from his friends.  He didn’t even keep the letter that Niyah sent to him not long after he was stationed here.  It has remained unopened, just like the one currently crumpled in his hand.

He didn’t need to know what that note said either.  There was nothing Niyah could say that would ever make him forgive her betrayal.  Her actions that day at Drakon’s base are simply inexcusable.  To turn her back on her own men for the sake of mere jealousy is beyond something that he can comprehend.  Good soldiers died that day.  He came far too close to death himself.

Lost in thought, his feet whisper across the plush emerald carpet, a perfect match for the jungle tones that brighten his room.  A huge domed window curves against the far wall, giving him an excellent view of the ravine as night begins to fall.  As he looks to the horizon he finds himself captivated by the sliver of light still left, just before Calisted eclipses the sun and darkness falls across the land.

I guess I can’t delay any longer, he says with a sigh.  Bastien approaches the opposite side of the room and taps the screen of a black monitor that rests sunken into the wall.  He waits impatiently for the connection.  It is usually slowest during this time of night when the moons and planet are aligned.

It has been nearly a month since he last spoke with Kyan, and in his opinion it is too soon.  His pain is still raw.  His willpower is too fragile to be reminded of anything or anyone close to her, yet Kyan has insisted on keeping tabs on him.

The image that appears before him is slightly blurred, no doubt from satellite disruption with the newly fallen night.  They have been working to triangulate the signal with higher efficiency, but Bastien hasn’t really needed that to be at the top of his priority list.  Not with so many other things to task his time.

It’s good to see you, Bastien, Kyan says the instant the image jerks and comes into clarity.  His responding nod of agreement feels forced.  You got my message, I see.

It just walked through the door.  His friend’s lips twitch at the corners but he remains unusually quiet.  That doesn’t bode well in Bastien’s opinion.  Is there something I can do for you, Kyan?

You know why I’m calling… Kyan pauses.  Bastien’s adam’s apple bobs as he forces himself to nod, trying to keep a straight face.  I’m worried about you.

No need, he responds with a definitive gruffness to his tone.  Bastien clears his throat and offers a strained smile in response.  I’m fine.

Are you?  Kyan’s image shifts, his face coming in for a close up as he leans in and draws a chair beneath him.  When he sinks back into the chair, Bastien can see the stress lines carved deep into the skin about his friend’s eyes, trailing across his forehead.  

Bastien tries to push Kyan’s words off with an indifferent shrug but he knows it’s no use.  He sinks down onto the edge of his bed, feeling the soft comforter cushion him.  He spreads his legs to shoulder width and leans forward on his knees, rubbing his hands together as he lowers his gaze.  I will be.  Someday.

Kyan’s sigh sounds as if it originates from within Bastien’s room, weighted and achingly familiar.  I am truly sorry, my friend.

This Bastien already knows.  Kyan has said these exact same words every time they have spoken and it never gets any easier.  Although he appreciates his friend’s sincerity, it has become an unwanted burden.  He would rather forget, to push aside the past and move on as if it never existed.  It is a good idea...in theory.

Is there a purpose for this call or are you just doing your monthly check in?  Bastien lifts his gaze, almost hoping that it is the latter.  

Yet again the past begins to encroach on his thoughts.  His mind drifts toward Niyah, toward the bond they were meant to share, but he knows that he could never entertain the thought of a relationship with her, genetic bonding or not.  Happiness is not an option for him.  He has accepted this.  Kyan, on the other hand, seems to have not given up that hope yet.

Kyan glances back over his shoulder as if he has heard something.  Bastien realizes with a start that his friend is not dressed in his usual black uniform but rather in an all-white, crisply pressed suit.  It looks odd against his paling skin.  Kyan has obviously spent far too much time in councils and war meetings of late.

This is not all that Bastien notices.  Upon his breast is a row of medals, not all unlike what his parents had told him the military generals from Earth used to wear.  They shine like diamonds as he shifts in the light.  Bastien’s gaze flits over his friend’s groomed state and frowns.

What’s going on, Kyan?

His friend pauses, his head tilted slightly and his hand raised for silence.  When he turns back, annoyance pinches his handsome features.  I am sorry.  I’m being summoned.

Summoned for what?

Kyan’s eyes narrow and then glance away.  Are you not aware of what day it is?

Bastien rubs the back of his neck, instantly reminded of his need for a shower as his fingers carve through the moist hairs.  He shakes his head.  Nah.  The days all sort of roll together for me now.

I thought you knew.  His friend sighs and sinks back into his chair.  He covers his mouth, as if unwilling to speak and then releases a deep breath.  Today is the royal wedding.

Those five words shatter Bastien’s existence.  The pain swoops in with such shocking intensity that he clasps his stomach and doubles over as if he has been subjected to a literal punch in the gut.  A strangled moan escapes his lips.  He can hear Kyan calling his name but he does not care.  He cannot.

How could he not have known?  Was it willful denial that led him to lose count of the days?  Was there some unconscious need that kept him training for hours on end alone on the rooftop instead of down with the men?  

I must go.  Kyan’s words break through his panic and Bastien raises up.

Wait! Now that Kyan is here Bastien finds so many things that he wishes he could say.  It’s not easy being one of only two people who truly know his identity.  Kyan’s ability to wipe memories enabled Bastien to slip away without any awkward goodbyes but it has also left him feeling empty, a black hole with emotions that can't be shared with anyone for fear that everything will unravel.

No one apart from Kyan knows he even existed before the attack on the palace, in which King Aloysius died and the government was finally overthrown.  That is how Bastien wanted it.  Of course Kyan’s reach does not extend beyond those he comes in physical contact with, so each of the men selected to be stationed at this moon base were chosen personally by Kyan.  It was the only way for the ruse to work.

Kyan turns back toward the screen, his hand poised over the disconnect button.  Bastien sucks in a small breath, holding it till his lungs begin to burn before he releases it to speak.  Will you give her a message for me?

His friend frowns.  I’m not so sure that is a good idea…

Please, Bastien pleads.  He rises and approaches the screen.  I just...I need her to know to be careful.

Kyan sits back, steepling his fingers before him.  Is there some threat that I should know about?

No, Bastien draws out, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.  His muscles ache but he ignores the pain.  He thrives off of it.  It’s the only thing that reminds him that he’s still alive when all he can focus on is the hole in his chest that will never mend.  I just...just watch over her for me, ok?

Kyan offers him a sad smile.  I always do.  

And Kyan, Bastien calls as his friend begins to turn away.  Can you tell her that I wish her all the best?

His friend’s hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed and Bastien grimaces, shaking his head.  Never mind.  That would probably just confuse her, wouldn’t it?

A little, Kyan admits.  He turns slightly away from the screen and holds up his hand.  

Are you walking her down the aisle?  Bastien’s voice wavers slightly and he clears his throat.  

Kyan nods.  The lines around his eyes become more prominent.  Her father’s illness has weakened him too much, so he asked that I take his place at her side.

Bastien nods, feeling his throat begin to clench.  Soon he won’t be able to speak or hold back the tears that threaten to fall.  He closes his eyes and turns away.  News of her father’s illness upsets him, knowing how much she must be hurting and how he is incapable of being there for her.

It’s not my right to be.  I gave that up.

I truly am sorry, Bastien.  Kyan’s whisper tears at Bastien’s heart, wrenching a sob from his throat.  He presses a trembling hand to his lips and nods.  

Me too, he whispers.  It takes him a moment to regain control before he turns to offer Kyan a pained smile.  Keep her safe for me, he whispers.

Always.  Kyan places his fist against the screen and waits. Bastien’s steps are wooden as he approaches and places his fist to the monitor, a Caldonian sign of true friendship.  Goodbye, my friend.

Bastien slides his hand across the screen and punches the disconnect button.  The screen goes black and his hand falls away.  He walks toward the window, staring through his tears at Calisted, knowing that he is missing a wedding that will bring great joy to everyone living on that planet.  Earth will rejoice as peace is finally brought to both peoples.

But Bastien can't bring himself to feel an ounce of joy, for there is none left in him to be found.  The closest moon, far smaller than the one he resides on, rises before him with a swirl of deep reds and dotted with sapphire clouds that match his own eye color.  In less than an hour it will eclipse the base’s view and completely block Calisted.

A luminous scarlet glow lights his feet as he presses a button on a control panel on the wall and the domed glass window splits in half, disappearing into the top and bottom of the window frame.

The heat that hits him is stifling, but welcoming at the same time.  The dancing waters of the Daldorian waterfall can be heard over the song birds nestling down in their beds.  The falls call to him.  He knows that beside them he might be able to drown out his thoughts, even if only briefly.

Time passes slowly as he stands on the threshold of the window, listening.  As the last sliver of Calisted disappears from sight, flashes of light soar high into the air.  He lifts his gaze as brilliant blues, purples and reds burst like fireworks over the jungle canopy.  Shouts of joy rise from across the base.  The clanging of pots and pans can be heard from the far end of the building as cooks leave their meal preparations to celebrate.  Bells and shrill whistles announcing the conclusion of the royal wedding echo in Bastien’s ears as he lowers his head.

He grips the edge of his window with trembling fingers, his toes curling over the ledge.  Winds buffet him, rising from within the great depths of the ravine.  It is nearly a two hundred foot drop straight down to reach the canopy below.  Bastien’s tears fall unheeded as he is overcome with grief.  

I have truly lost her, he whispers and leans over the edge, tumbling down into darkness.

ONE

My mother used to say that the eyes are the window to a person’s soul.  Over the past few months I have begun to wonder if that extends to dreams as well.  

Rolling onto my side, I slip out from beneath the covers and plod silently across the cool tile floor.  A shiver that has nothing to do with the cool breeze wafting through the floor to ceiling windows grips me.  I cross my arms over my chest and rub my fingers over gooseflesh.  

I had another dream last night.  They seem to be coming more frequently.  This one has repeated several times.  Each morning I dream of the man called Bastien falling into a ravine, and I awake with tears in my eyes and an ache in my chest.  

Eamon suspects something is wrong, but I can’t tell him about it for fear of hurting his feelings.  I have considered seeking Kyan’s counsel, wondering if these strange dreams are somehow visions of the future.  But how can they be?  The dream was of my wedding day, and that was months ago.  Perhaps it is a glimpse into the past?

I lean against a tall marble-veined pillar and look out through the white gossamer curtains that sway in the breeze.  The hem tickles my bare feet, but I hardly notice.  Perhaps it is nothing more than stress, I surmise as I think back upon the past few months since my wedding day.  

My life will never be the same.  The day King Aloysius’ regime fell and I was crowned Queen, I set aside my childish fancies and became a woman: insecure and unsure of herself, but determined none the less.  I hardly recognize myself when I look in the mirror now.  Although I have grown fond of my black hair, there is a hollowness in my eyes that feels foreign to me.  

I was sure Eamon would notice, but he has his own duties to attend to when back on Calisted.  I turn and glance back at him over my shoulder, smiling at the tawny hue of his bare back against the white covers.  He stirs, restless in his own sleep.  I love moments like this when the world falls away and I am able to just be.  No one calling my name.  No one demanding an audience.  

The name wife has been one that I have greatly enjoyed accepting.  Eamon is a wonderful, attentive husband.  He is kind and gentle, just as I always knew he would be.  It was he that insisted that we finally leave for a long overdue honeymoon.  Although I put up a fight, insisting that I was needed back on Calisted, he enlisted the help of Kyan to overrule me.  A mutiny among my own ranks.

I turn away from Eamon, feeling the familiar warmth in my belly as I notice the curve of his jawline or unruly hair after a night spent in my arms.  I know that I am blessed.  I have a life that any woman could dream for and yet, in the early morning stillness, sometimes I feel completely alone.  As if a part of me has been stolen away and I am left searching for it, though I have no idea where to look.

The sound of covers shifting brings a smile to my face.  I listen without turning as Eamon stirs, groaning as he stretches.  His feet pad against the floor as he approaches.  His arms encircle my waist as he places his lips against the nape of my neck.  His warm breath sends ripples of goosebumps across my bare skin.  

He brushes his hand across the thin strap that drapes my nightgown across my body, pushing it down my arms so that he can have unimpeded access.  It pools at my feet and I close my eyes to the cool breeze as it washes over my bare skin.

Eamon presses the length of his body against my back. I lean instinctively back into him, closing my eyes to his touch.  His fingers graze along my skin, sliding down my arms to rest against my hip.  I missed you, he whispers against my ear.  

I’ve only been gone a moment, I laugh and turn my face.  His lips slide up from my neck and he nestles into the hair billowing around my ear.  

Feels like an eternity.  His groan and the press of his fingers against my hips makes me laugh softly.  

After last night I expected you to sleep the day away.

And miss having you in my arms?  He pulls back my curtain of hair and presses his lips just behind my ear.  I shiver as his arm winds around my waist, drawing me in close.  I wouldn’t miss this for the world.

Is that all?  I wind my hand back around my side to grasp his hand as it begins to journey into sensitive regions.  His fingers flex as if he doesn’t want to give up control but he allows me to wind my fingers through his and draw him back to my waist.  I turn to face him, my resolve wavering in the face of his endearing pout.

I will never get used to the sight of Eamon.  I have spent years looking at him, hunting beside him, even falling asleep in his arms under the stars, but this is different.  He stands before me without any barriers.  Nothing hidden.  Nothing secret.  The level of intimacy is one that I could never have conceived of before, bonding us together in ways that make my toes curl with excitement.   

Eamon leans forward and kisses the end of my nose.  It is his sign that he is willing to concede defeat...for the moment.

You seem distracted, Eamon whispers as he winds his arms around my waist, holding me close.  

I nod, allowing a small frown to tear down my smile.  I’m sorry.  I’m being a terrible wife, aren’t I?

Eamon gently uses his thumb and forefinger to lift my chin so that I meet his tender gaze.  That is not possible.  He smiles and tucks a stray clump of hair behind my ear.  I can only imagine how messy it looks after so many hours spent lounging in bed.  Hardly the behavior expected of a Queen, but at the moment I struggle to find a reason to care while in his arms.  Homesick already?

A bit, I admit sheepishly.  Though we have only been gone a short time, I find myself drawn back to my people.  Our people.  On Earth my only purpose in life was to hunt, to bring in the game so we could eat.  It was a simple task; not always an easy one, but it was something I was good at.  Now my days are filled with meetings, delegations, official reports, and I hardly have time to think of myself.

I do not begrudge this new role.  A part of me actually enjoys it, especially when I am able to get out among the people and see the changes that have occurred since my late husband’s death.

Aloysius was a cruel dictator.  It took the first three months after his death to recall many of the troops from Earth and allow them to be with their families.  Husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, siblings reunited for the first time since the invasion.  Countless officials within Aloysius’ court were released to be returned to their homes, their abilities no longer being exploited for personal gain but used for the greater good.  Many volunteered to return to Earth to see to the repairs but those who wished to remain behind were granted their desire.

Regular supply routes have been created to send much needed supplies to the people of Earth.  Rebuilding teams have already begun working alongside the survivors to uncover ruins of cities and begin restoring them to their former glory.  I dearly wish that I could take part in the renovations myself, but my place is here.  

Kyan is still head of my war council, seeing to the finer details of keeping our defenses intact.  Carleon is his second-in-command now, a position that I believe is all too fitting for my friend.  His most pressing task has been to nominate other leaders to take over command of Caldonian soldiers who live among the stars.  

Distant worlds are being explored and inhabited.  Peace flows like the river that trails through the heart of Calahorra, which has been recently renamed City of the Queen.

I feel safe knowing that I have the best advisors and friends surrounding me, and yet something feels off.  Perhaps it’s the dreams that continue to plague me.  Dreams of a man whose eyes are capable of piercing through the veil of sleep to find me each night.  

I cast my gaze away as Eamon draws me into his embrace.  My head nestles perfectly in the hollow of his throat as he rests his chin atop my head.  I cannot bear to look at him as I think upon the pain that I felt while trapped within my dream.  I felt the man’s anguish as he leapt from his window and spiraled down into darkness.  That is when I always wake, not knowing if he survives the plunge.  

Even as the light of a new dawn calls me forth from the dream world, I know that this man is a real person.  A man with a name.  Bastien.  But why do I know this?  Why does he come to me every night?

Eamon raises his hands from my waist to my upper arms as he draws back to look at me.  You’re still having the dreams, aren’t you?

For a moment I consider lying, changing the subject or evading his question with a sultry kiss, but that will not allay his questions fully.  Eamon will know something is wrong.  He always does.  Yes, I admit in a whisper.

He sighs and tucks me into his arms, inserting himself into my world both physically as well as emotionally.  You know, a less secure guy would be worried that his wife is dreaming about strange men.

No!  They aren’t like that!  I blink as I wrench back from his grasp, flabbergasted that he would even insinuate that my dreams are anything more than what they are.  Then I notice the smirk forming along his lips and I smack him on the shoulder.   You’re evil.

Eamon places a gentle kiss against my forehead and releases me.  And yet for some reason you still love me.

His bare feet whisper back across the tile floor as he makes a beeline straight for the bed.  The covers are rumpled, twisted and hanging from the side onto the floor.  The sight of Eamon’s bare back calls to me and yet I remain near the window, soaking in the cool breeze that drifts off the water beyond. I can hear the lapping of waves and sigh.  

From Calisted this moon reflects a deep, pure blue.  Now that I have come to this place and seen the vast oceans,