Page 15 of Scars & Starlight (Of Blood and Conquest #1)

KAIREN

A fter extending his hand, palm up, and asking for the nanites to remove the language barrier, Besson leads us inside his home, hands in his pocket like he’s not in the presence of a being who could end his gluttonous existence within a beat of his single heart.

His appearance suggests he made good use of this planet’s best cosmetic surgeons.

Although he is past the halfway point of his human lifespan, his skin is smooth, and his hair is full and dark.

Next, I observe the house of the most powerful man on the continent – plenty of cold stone, dead wood, and interactive glass.

“You said you were waiting for us,” Tara says to the leader. “How did you know we were coming? Who told you about the nanites?”

Besson turns his head to give her a grin that hardly changes the topography of his face. “I have people everywhere, Miss Novak.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “It’s amazing. The loyalty basic necessities can buy in a ravaged nation.”

“You have a spy on our base,” Tara correctly surmises with a grumble.

The older man releases an elegant chuckle. “Don’t sound so disgruntled, my dear. All I ask for is information. You don’t get to where I am without having your finger on the pulse.”

The familiar way he speaks to her makes me frown. “She’s not your dear,” I warn him.

Jethro Besson whirls around with his eyebrows slightly raised. “You are very protective of her,” he remarks. “Interesting.”

“Who’s feeding you information?” my princess asks with suspicion. I need to end this conversation before Besson asks whether she’s my match. He’s too well informed and either incredibly perceptive… or I’m incredibly transparent.

“The who is really not important,” Besson replies with a wave of his hand. “Surely you won’t begrudge a couple of words in exchange for medicine like insulin and antibiotics?”

Tara’s hands turn into fists at her side. I know what antibiotics are, but…

What is insulin for?

INSULIN: HUMAN DESIGNATION FOR THE HORMONE THAT REGULATES GLUCOSE UPTAKE INTO CELLS. ADMINISTERED EXOGENOUSLY TO COMPENSATE FOR ENDOGENOUS DEFICIENCY CAUSED BY A DIETARY DISEASE HUMANS CALL DIABETES MELLITUS.

I frown at the explanation. The nutritional habits on Avaris exclude any such conditions.

What is diabetes mellitus?

A METABOLIC DISORDER RESULTING FROM INSUFFICIENT INSULIN PRODUCTION OR CELLULAR RESISTANCE TO ITS EFFECTS. CONSEQUENCES INCLUDE ELEVATED GLUCOSE LEVELS, VASCULAR DAMAGE, ORGAN FAILURE, AND EVENTUAL DEATH. ADMINISTERING INSULIN IS ESSENTIAL FOR SURVIVAL IN APPROXIMATELY ONE IN TEN HUMANS AFFECTED.

Humans die from this?

I look at Tara with a newfound worry.

PRIOR TO THE FALL OF HUMAN CIVILIZATION, DATA INDICATES ONE DIABETES-RELATED DEATH EVERY NINE HUMAN SECONDS. APPROXIMATE FATALITY RATE: TEN THOUSAND PER AXIAL PLANETARY ROTATION.

“You have this insulin, yet you allow your people to perish from its lack, providing it only when it benefits you?” I ask through clenched teeth.

Besson gestures to a plush seating area. “I certainly don’t have enough to save the entire world, Prince. How would you choose who lives and who dies?”

“Can’t you make more?” My match asks as we sit close together, a unified front.

The human male shakes his head. “I can’t make everything.

And certainly not enough for everyone. We have underground laboratories hidden from the aliens, but expanding our operations would expose us.

” He waits a moment before continuing. “So, what will you have me make more of? Insulin? Antivirals? Antibiotics? Abortion pills?”

I put a hand over one of Tara’s clenched fists. “Our synth modules can create anything your people need,” I tell her. “Moreover, eventually all human illnesses will be eradicated. Everyone will be given nanites tailored to heal all instances of cellular damage.”

“Fascinating,” Besson breathes. When I look at him, I see him observing us with awe. “No more death from disease. Potentially endless lifespans. How old are you, if I may ask?”

I purse my lips, avoiding looking at my match. I never told her exactly how much older than my appearance suggests I actually am. “Hundreds of your planetary cycles,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. Tara’s hand twitches under my palm.

“Marvellous. Shall we get to the matter at hand so we may bring that future about?” the male suggests enthusiastically.

“It is not as simple as removing the Ghorvek threat and bestowing our every advancement on humanity,” I correct him.

“First, we must determine that you won’t use our technology to harm each other or your planet.

There are not many viable ones in the universe, and each one is a gift.

” I lean back and look him in the eye. “You were well on the way to cause irreparable harm before the Ghorvek came as it was.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Tara murmurs. “It’s one of the reasons why I focused on sustainable energy engineering.”

“I was always partial to solar power myself,” Besson agrees. He doesn’t argue with my statement, though I don’t miss the calculating gleam in his eyes. Is he wondering if there is a way to convince me to share more with him now?

Sighing, I brace myself to repeat the story of Avaris, the Ghorvek, and the ways the Avaren and humans can live in harmony in the future. We shouldn’t have left Kiko on the Talon. Next time we visit a military leader, I’m bringing the AU with us.

“Well, that was exhausting,” Tara sighs as her back hits the co-pilot’s seat on the Talon.

By the time we were done negotiating the next moves with Besson, stars ignited in the night sky.

The male had offered us both luxurious suites fit for royalty in his home, but I declined.

I sensed Tara’s unease at the thought of spending the night under the roof of a human of such reputation.

I did, however, accept his offer to leave the Talon docked here until firstlight and the continuation of our mission.

“So, the UK next?” Tara asks with the gentle smile I’ve grown accustomed to seeing on her face.

“If by ‘the UK’ you mean the archipelago humans call the British Isles, then yes. That’s the plan.”

That area of the planet is ruled by the only female on our list of leaders, a woman called Margaret Elmsleigh.

Margaret – or Maggie as her friends call her, according to our intel – is also the youngest world leader.

If everything we have learned about humans so far is to go by, it is highly likely that there is more to her ascent to power than meets the eye.

“So, who are you going to have overseeing the fighting force we’re assembling on this continent?” my match asks next.

There is something about how easily she became military-minded, thinking like a leader, that really appeals to me.

There is no doubt in my mind that she was made for me, to rule with me.

I get an overwhelming urge to lay her across the Talon’s consoles and worship her body, perhaps begin working on all the royal heirs I want to give her.

I clear my throat and my mind of these fantasies before I do something brash. “I considered perhaps sending Avenis,” I answer her belatedly. “And I’m certain your Sergeant Potts will want someone to accompany her?”

Her smile, having wavered when I stayed silent so long, returns in a flash. “You’re so considerate,” she praises me, making me want to preen under her approving gaze. “I think he’s going to have Eric do it,” she muses. “He’s basically his second-in-command in all things military around our base.”

I hum neutrally, watching Besson’s men patrol his vast estate. “Let’s discuss it with them,” I say decisively, calling out my command cube and letting it hover in the air in front of us. I hail my security chief first. Her face appears before us, framed by her dark hair, black with a blue sheen.

“My prince,” she greets me respectfully.

She then looks at my match. “Prin–” Avenis starts coughing violently at my warning look.

“Excuse me,” she apologizes. “It seems I have to relearn how to breathe.” Her confident smile successfully distracts Tara from the near-slip.

I must tell her tonight – I have no choice anymore.

It’s too dangerous to hold back when she could find out from others at any moment.

“Avenis, we’ve established rapport with Jethro Besson,” I tell her, eager to get this conversation over with so I can talk with my match instead.

“Please report to Sergeant Potts at Tara’s camp at firstlight.

Besson will be expecting you to coordinate the merging of our forces against the Ghorvek on this continent. ”

“It will be my pleasure, Commander,” she replies with a bow.

Nothing more is said – for the most part, we laid our plans during our briefing with Tara.

So, in order to communicate with Potts, I hail Orien next.

When I hear female laughter before our eyes even meet, I sigh inwardly.

It took less than a planetary rotation for him to have the women in Tara’s home eating out of his hand.

“Orien, we must speak with the human Potts.”

“Right away, Commander,” he replies, moving already.

“Oh, and Orien?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Be prepared to take a fighter ship to London once we’ve spoken to the leader there,” I instruct. “She has secrets that need to be uncovered if we are to trust her.” And he needs to direct his charm elsewhere.

Orien’s grin turns deadly, and Tara fidgets by my side. I place my hand on the back of her neck, gently scratching her nape, enjoying the way her cheeks color.

“I will be eagerly awaiting your orders, Commander,” my intelligence chief purrs.

I roll my eyes at him. “I’m sure, my friend.”

When Orien reaches Potts, the latter confirms Tara’s prediction of assigning his son, Eric, to accompany Avenis to Besson’s compound.

I watch as my match, with Kiko now on her lap and all but vibrating with excitement to be there, yawns repeatedly.

I dismiss the cube and face her, my mouth stretching into a smile as I observe her treating the AU with the same gentleness a child might with their favorite toy.

“Would you like to retire and get some rest?” I ask her quietly in the silence that follows.

She looks at me from under her lashes and nods shyly. “Can you go with me? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course,” I murmur. Standing up, I offer her my hand. “ Actually, there is something I wanted to discuss with you, if you’re up for it,” I tell her once Kiko hops off and her small palm meets mine.

“Oh?” she asks in a whisper. “Nothing bad, is it?”

I chuckle nervously. “The opposite of bad. At least I think so.”

We store Kiko in his compartment as he doesn’t need to be present for this revelation, then I lead her to the hatch that opens into a resting area.

Located in the upper section of the fighter ship, it consists of a bed that should fit one Avaren and one human, a synth module for nourishment, and a narrow cleaning chamber where one can take care of their biological needs.

Tara looks around and bites her bottom lip. I’m envious of her somewhat flat teeth. “It really is small,” she breathes, gingerly sitting on the edge of the bed. I give her some space by facing the synth module and ordering a complete nutrient drink.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” I ask her, despite knowing she had plenty of each available during our conversations with Besson. I think I might be avoiding disclosing the truth of what she is to me for just a moment longer, fearful of her reaction.

“No, thank you,” she says as I finish off my meal. I have no choice but to face her.

I take a deep, bracing inhale and sit by her side, allowing for some space between us so she doesn’t feel trapped.

“There is something I should have told you, perhaps even a couple of rotations ago… But I wanted you to get to know me without this hanging over us and maybe changing the way you look at me.”

Tara quirks an eyebrow. “What is it?” she asks with a strained giggle. “Do you have a tail?”

I open and close my mouth before blowing out a gust of air. “No, I do not have a tail, you mischievous little creature. I do, however, have a match.”

She blinks at me. “Oh…” she utters, the pain in her voice giving me hope while also making me want to stab myself in one of my hearts for hurting her .

“It’s you,” I tell her quickly, both getting it off my chest and stopping whatever speculation whirlwind she began.

“M–me?” she stutters, tapping her chest as if I’m confused about who she might mean.

“You,” I answer firmly. “The Creators intended you for me, Tara Novak, and whether you accept my eternal devotion or reject me… You are the princess of Avaris.”