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Jos endured the next two days with gritted teeth. His muscles ached, trembling every time he moved. The net ‘path might have contained enough of the explosion to keep any of them from dying, but the blast had still done a lot of damage. His thighs had been shredded, his gut bruised and bleeding. Surgery and nanos only went so far. His body needed time to heal.

Which was a frekking shame. After months away from Tyelu, all he wanted to do was bury himself in her for a couple of weeks, until they were both sated and too tired to think.

Naturally, she abided by his doctor’s decrees to the letter. Sex was out of the question. Physical therapy was followed religiously. At night, she rested beside him, carefully separated from him by a pillow. During the day, she pushed him to just shy of the breaking point, only allowing him to rest when she was satisfied he’d done exactly what he needed to do to heal.

He knew she acted out of love. Even her icy resolve wasn’t sturdy enough to hide her concern. If her eyes weren’t underscored by deep shadows, he would’ve asked for a little slack. But those shadows were there, her hands trembled every time the news came on, and even her handicrafts weren’t enough to distract her. She’d taken his injuries much harder than he had, so if she asked him to crawl across hot coals, he’d frekking well drag himself there barehanded if that’s what it took to set her mind at ease.

His dal mates fared better, at least, except for Harak. He’d taken the brunt of the blast and was still hospital bound, but the rest recovered enough to go home and begin training again. Since all of them were unmated and had no one to push them the way Tyelu pushed him, Jos threatened to sic her on them. Not that they needed it. Q-mercs were a disciplined bunch. But the threat of his princess overseeing their recovery lit a fire under them all. No one shirked. They were all eager to rejoin the conflict.

Of the net ‘path they’d rescued, Jos heard nothing. The entire matter remained under an eyes-only investigation. Surprisingly, he’d been shut out of that loop, an oversight he vowed to remedy as soon as he returned to active duty. He also wanted to know exactly how the Sweepers had managed to capture a NetPath ship and a net node. The ‘paths acted in such secrecy, their security was so intense, that the ship and node’s capture had shocked everyone who knew about it.

Somehow, some way, he’d get to the bottom of that, but for the moment, he was content letting his mate coddle him in her own single-minded way.

A few days after Tyelu brought him home, they traveled to Abyw on a commercial liner. His new implant allowed him to hide his rank from the other passengers. For the duration of that trip, his implant broadcast his identity as Jos ab Kriya enig Tyelu. If any of their fellow travelers recognized him as anything other than a Pruxn?, they made no comment.

The anonymity was bliss. He and Tyelu hid in their quarters, quietly filling the time with some of the conversations other mated pairs handled during the courtship phase. Growing up, military training and service, family life. He told her about a few of his more difficult assignments. She shared her bemusement at earning the nickname the Right Hand of Death after one particularly brutal coup attempt. The back and forth, accompanied by the emotions echoing between them through the mating bond, deepened the intimacy of the trip, locking their love into place in such a way that Jos felt it became another limb.

They traveled straight to Hrelum and Tyelu’s parents’ home, giving them time with her family before their trip to Pr?thum. To Jos’s surprise, Minion 4 was there, seated in Alna’s kitchen eating a bowl of stew. He exchanged handshakes with his cousin, then settled carefully on the bench beside him, with Tyelu on his other side.

Oron pointed his spoon at the bowl. “Have you tried Lady Alna’s bovi stew?”

“Aye,” Jos replied. “You look like you’ve gained some weight.”

Tyelu snickered.

Alna, however, beamed. “We’ll make a proper Pruxn? out of him yet.”

“Only if I can marry you,” Oron said.

Gared, seated across the table, shot a mock scowl at the younger man. “Boy, I’m not so old I can’t take an undersized runt like you.”

Jos laughed. Gared wasn’t that much taller than him or Oron, but he packed a lot of muscle on his sturdy frame. He could probably take both of them on at the same time, one in each hand.

Tyelu leaned around Jos and eyed his cousin. “I thought you were on your way to Domor for another diplomatic conference.”

“Layne Bilal took that one. She’s tops in the diplomatic hierarchy, unlike lowly minion me.” Oron dropped his spoon into the now empty bowl and leaned back, rubbing his palms down his thighs. “A Sweeper ship dropped into Domor’s system right after she was supposed to get there and took out their net node. Looks like a targeted hit. I guess the news hasn’t caught up with you yet.”

Jos glanced at Tyelu. “Had you heard?”

“If I had, you’d know, too.” To Oron, she said, “Any word on her wellbeing? What about the Domorians? Did they weather the attack well?”

“No word yet. Q Command rerouted a dal when the node dropped out. That’s how we know what happened. Communications in that system collapsed. Everything’s having to go through the dal’s courier and even it has limits.”

Alna clucked her tongue. “What are the Sweepers up to?”

That question had been brewing in the back of Jos’s mind since before he met Tyelu. Unfortunately, his recovery might come too late for him to personally investigate. The dal could move forward with one d’ga missing, even two in a pinch. It couldn’t when less than half were fully whole. Unlike other military forces, Q-mercs rarely substituted d’gas because of injuries. They were too tightly linked together. Unless someone retired early, died, or was promoted, a dal that formed together usually served together until all their contracts were up.

Go in as one. Come out as one.

They could get a floating d’ga, if they needed one, but most had already been assigned. Dealing with the Sweepers was consuming more of Q’s resources than other peoples knew.

Alna plopped a bowl of stew down in front of Jos, interrupting his thoughts.

He glanced up at her. “We ate not long ago.”

“Eat again,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “You’ve lost weight you couldn’t afford to part with.”

“I’ll never be able to fit into my armor again,” Oron muttered. “But this stew is worth it.”

Before they left, Gared pulled Tyelu into the living area for a private word. She knew before he started talking that he’d made his decision, and dreaded hearing what it was. If he asked her to succeed him, she’d have to give up some of her time with Jos. And if he told her he’d chosen Kodh instead…

She wasn’t sure how she’d react, or if she should react at all. Despite the bitterness and anger Kodh had allowed to consume him, he wasn’t a bad man. Her father would phase out his own rule by increments, gradually handing leadership over to his successor, then staying on as a mentor for as long as he was needed.

Kodh would be fine.

What surprised her was her own apathy. The province needed strong leadership, and if it was asked of her, she would fulfill her duty well. But with Jos’s erratic schedule and the travel time between Q and Abyw, plus the possibility of children…

She shook her head. They hadn’t even talked about that yet. Besides, Gared might have chosen another option. No need to get ahead of herself.

Once they were out of earshot, Gared crossed his arms over his massive chest and stared down at her, an odd mixture of concern and duty in his expression. “I polled the Hrella over the past few days, to get a feel for their take on the matter.”

Her heart sank. She kept her chin high and her gaze steady. “And?”

“They came down in favor of you. Not by much, but enough.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think you’ve grown into a fine woman,” he replied gruffly. “And that young man of yours helped you get there.”

“If you’re thinking of choosing me because of him—”

“Don’t get your nose in a twist, daughter. He’s a good man, but he and his family will never rule here.”

Tyelu let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Taq Zhina is trying to incorporate me into their ruling structure.”

“She’ll have to get in line. We’ll have a trial period, eh? Six months for you to learn the role well enough to decide if it’s a mantle you want to wear. What say you?”

“If you ask it of me—”

He tweaked her chin. “Don’t do this because you think I want you to. Do it for yourself or not at all. The province needs a leader who’ll stick, not an ambivalent one who can’t render fair and consistent judgements. The kafh can’t afford to indulge in resentment over forced duty.”

“I know.”

Her gaze drifted beyond her father to the kitchen where she’d left Jos. He’d leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and watched her now, smiling faintly. They hadn’t discussed this either, not in enough detail, but she knew his mind, knew that he’d support her decision no matter what it was.

She swung her gaze back to her father and nodded. “A trial period then. We’ll have to work around Jos’s schedule somewhat, but I can arrange to spend more time here, among the people.”

“That’s settled.” He pulled her in for a hug, squeezing tightly. “I’m proud of you, daughter.”

Tears pricked her eyes, and she let them fall. A wise warrior knew when to cry as well as she knew how to pick her battles.

Later that night, Tyelu drove Jos to their home on the outskirts of Hrelum and hovered nearby as he walked upstairs to their bedroom. He was steadier now. His doctor had injected another round of nanos into his system before they left for Abyw, what he called a just in case batch : just in case the previous nano injections hadn’t corrected the damage. They seemed to be working. Between rest and physical therapy, Jos moved much more easily than he had the day she’d brought him home from the hospital.

She smiled at his back as she followed him up the stairs. Moving easily was good. She had plans for her Q’Mhel, plans she could only execute when he was well enough to handle them.

After they unpacked their bags and went through their nightly toiletry rituals, she slid into bed beside him and gingerly draped an arm across his chest. His armor had deflected much of the damage here, but not all. He sported a few new scars on his beautiful skin. She was thankful for every single one. Those scars served as a reminder that he’d survived and returned to her. How could she not accept them?

Jos hugged her close and kissed the top of her head. “No pillow tonight?”

“Only if you want one.”

“Frek, no. Does that mean we can have sex?”

She tilted her head back until their gazes met. “Do you want to?”

He snorted. “You have to ask?”

“We need to talk first.”

“Why? Is everything ok?”

She shrugged. “We should probably sort some things out.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What kind of things?”

“Family things. Children things.”

“Are you asking me if I want to have children?”

“Do you?”

He shifted beneath her arm, shifting toward her until they faced one another. His hand stroked down her arm to her fingertips and back again. “Do you?”

“I asked first.”

“You’re the most stubborn, obstinate—”

She hid a smile against his chest. “That’s redundant. So. Do you?”

“Yes,” he said. “Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before.”

“We haven’t had a lot of time to sort these things out.”

“I’ve been home days now. Why didn’t you say something?”

“You weren’t in a position to do anything about it.”

“Do anything.” He tilted her face to his and met her gaze. His eyes had taken on a distinct glow, lightening their murky green. “Like making a family?”

“Like that, yes,” she said softly. “If you want to.”

“Babe, that’s the best idea you’ve had since you kidnapped me.”

She laughed. “So you’re not still mad about that?”

“No. I wish I’d let you kidnap me the day we met, or that I’d kidnapped you. Hold on.”

She pushed up on her elbow, alarmed. “Why? What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

He pulled her back down and pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth. “Relax, princess. I’m fine. Just need to get permission to turn my birth control off.”

“You can do it yourself?”

“New implants. They’re fully integrated, but I can’t touch any of the bio controls without permission.”

“Oh. I have to see a doctor about mine.”

Jos heaved a playful sigh. “Oh, well. We can always practice.”

“Anytime,” she agreed solemnly.

He rolled her beneath him and touched his forehead to hers, his breath gentle against her lips. “Are you sure?”

“About starting a family?”

“Yes.”

“I’m certain.” She traced a line down his jaw and over the tattoo that somehow, miraculously, linked their emotions together, wrapping their hearts around each other in a way she’d never thought possible. “I want it all, lover. Children, a home, a place by your side, everything. I’m afraid I’m quite selfish that way.”

He laughed softly. “If you are, then I must be, too.”

“Jos?”

“Yes, princess?”

“I love you.”

His love flooded through her, filling her more surely than words ever could, stealing her breath under the sheer force of his emotions. She let him sweep her away into a place where nothing could touch them, not duty or politics or difficult family members. No doubts, no fear, no bitter regrets or loneliness. Jos had become her reason, her grace, another layer of strength melded into her own, as finely tempered as any sword, and she could do nothing less than surrender herself to the love he’d given so freely, forever, until the end of time.