doesn’t overstep his part of the agreement.”
One of the guards roughly pushed Tarrel to the wall and searched him. The other one searched Neela.
“He can come,” the lead guard said, “but if the king turns him away, he will have to await you here.”
“I understand.” Neela led them into the main corridor.
She waited long enough for Tarrel to lock out the computer verbally. Tarrel fell in beside her. He’d always liked the wood and rough stonework of this colony’s dock. Normally, it made him smile to see the rustic concession to space travel and technology.
It was as though the Prillians knew they needed to make a docking system for their guests, but they wanted to keep as much of their natural environment as possible. As a result, most of the advanced technology had been embedded into the stonework and appeared nearly seamless.
He shot Neela a sidelong look. The king may not want him there, but if she insisted, it could be a show of force. Tactically, it was a risk, and it put him on alert since the king might take Tarrel’s presence as a political footnote to their agreement in sending him Neela.
They took corridor after corridor. Each turn brought them closer to the central hub of the royal compound. A royal seal adorned the outer perimeter. The opaque force field cleared and de-energized to allow them passage.
“You brought a guest?” A commanding low voice came from inside the room.
The king moved within easy sight. His blond hair fell in thick ropy strands to his shoulders. A midnight blue robe draped from that point backward, revealing a smooth bare chest, thickly belted lean hips and loose woven pants. The sandals he wore only seemed to emphasize the strength of something as normal as feet.
The man exuded power, but there was a cautious wisdom behind his pale gray eyes. Neela steadied herself, something he only knew from the rippling of pink color to deep plum on the visible portion of her spine at her neck.
“This oughta be fun,” Tarrel muttered under his breath.
Thrax ignored Neela’s pilot. He had the pertinent information on anyone granted permission to land, including the man’s military achievements.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked, coming to stand in front of her. He cautiously probed her senses, feeling no block as he had on previous occasions. Now there was a nebulous sensation of uncertainty and curiosity. He thought he even detected a spark of interest.
“I’m not afraid,” she answered.
“You’re unblocked from me,” he commented.
“The Elaran government didn’t wish for you to be anything but certain of your compliance. Or mine,” she added.
“And you’re here willingly?” he asked. He stared deep into her dark brown eyes.
Neela didn’t flinch. “I am.”
“I’m glad.” He smiled at her and touched her cheek. The smooth warm skin was as soft as it looked. Thrax turned his attention to the pilot. “Why did you bring him?”
“Insurance,” she admitted.
“Unafraid but wary.” Thrax nodded. “He won’t interfere, or he’ll be asked to leave.”
“I’ve been briefed about your-
Thrax laughed openly. “You’re her friend. You care a lot about Neela. I can see it bothers you that she’s here with me.”
The pilot frowned. “I’m not happy about it.”
“Because you love her,” Thrax added.
The pilot shot a glance at Neela, but didn’t otherwise answer. Neela blushed. It looked good on her.
“You haven’t told her yet.” A mental picture of both men in bed with Neela flashed from the human’s facile mind to Thrax’s. “I like that idea. Thank you for providing it.”
The pilot’s eyes widened with alarm.
Thrax clapped him on the arm reassuringly. “Pardon me. I forget myself sometimes. Prillians can block their thoughts. Seeing an open mind is a terrible temptation. You can stay with Neela. I think we can make your thoughts as much of a reality as mine if she’s willing.”
Thrax sent the guards away. He motioned them toward a large table spread with food and drink. All the finest delicacies were laid out. When he’d last seen Neela, she’d been fighting off his men with the ferocity of a she-devil. A bit of the rebel remained, but she’d been tamed. He wanted her compliance, but he also wanted her spirit.
“I won’t probe your thoughts while you are here. You have the sanctity of them for your protection. Neela, I will only sparingly ask for your thoughts, since I know you’ll be forced to answer me. I appreciate what you’ve done in compromising your natural restraint, but you intrigued me as you were. I don’t approve of the change.”
“I’d apologize,” she began. “But I’m finding this emotional latitude difficult. I don’t like it.”
“Eat, please. You aren’t prisoners here.” Thrax sat down with them. “I never expected them to deliver you,” he told her after a few moments of awkward silence.
“A bargain was struck. You offered the terms and they accepted,” Neela intoned.
Thrax studied her perfect posture and up-tied raven hair. She wore the ear cuffs of status with seven slim chains cascading from the clasp. Each colored bead at the end represented a particular honor. Seven points of recognition and he knew the red glass bead on the primary chain represented the diplomatic relationship between Elara and Prill that she had worked on for two years.
Neela Pharr’s dark gaze locked on him. Thrax let the silence stretch on as he took his seat. He’d discovered a long time ago that people hated empty air and tended to fill it. Usually they filled it with information they hadn’t intended to share. Neela wasn’t one of those people. It didn’t matter. He needed the spare minutes to gather his thoughts anyway.
Neela continued to wait, poised, calm, unruffled, her food untouched. He wished not for the first time that he could see the flash of anger in her eyes. Something to know that she had an opinion about her being offered up as payment by her superiors.
Thrax leaned forward. “Tell me, Emissary. How gracious is your government expecting me to be?”
He detected the twitch of a smile. “Your Highness, the Elaran Prime Minister wishes to express his great respect for you and his appreciation in allowing me to continue to mediate discussions.”
Thrax gently lifted the beads of her position, letting them slide from his fingers one at a time. “You’re quite decorated,” he mused almost to himself. “I wonder what color bead you’ll receive if you fix this political screw up?”
“Purple, my lord,” she answered frankly.
Her pupils had dilated. He couldn’t quell the pleasant thrill it gave him to know that he’d finally see her uninhibited after all these years of working with her. The arrangement was ideal even though he’d have preferred her to be uninhibited out of uncontrolled attraction to him. He’d only half thrown out his request to have her, thinking there’d be no agreement. That she’d accepted-he wondered if she realized how valuable that made her. He’d had no intention of giving over the mines to the Elarans. But perhaps there was a compromise to be made allowing him to maintain full control, while still honoring the agreement he never expected the Elarans to follow through on.
“Purple,” he repeated. “My people’s resources reduced to a colored bead.”
He left the table. Thrax heard his guests rise and follow him to the sitting area.
“I’m sorry, my lord, I didn’t mean to sound so callous. The drug I used…” She sounded nonplussed.
Thrax nodded.
“I’d have told you the truth. It just makes all information accessible when you ask,” she said.
“I know.” He took a seat. Thrax sat forward on his chair and watched the pilot whose gaze had locked on his charge. “I want you to live a little in my world. I want you to know, first hand, what it’s like to have absolutely no control over your fate. Do you feel it?”
“
“I don’t want to leave.” Neela shrugged off his arm.
“You can’t, regardless. Not if Elara wants access to our mines.” Thrax leaned back, pyramiding his fingers in
