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Habit had Tyelu waking early, despite the lack of sleep. She sat up and stretched, easing the twinges and aches caused by a night of Jos’s single-minded attention. A feline smile curved her mouth. He’d made a worthy lover. And, she hoped, a discreet one.

What had possessed her to share such intimate secrets with him?

The smile faded as she shoved the blanket away and rolled off the bed. Through the window, skimmers streaked across Domor’s morning skies, startling the tiny, winged creature building a nest in one corner of the outer windowpane.

Tyelu frowned at the creature, not really seeing its antics. Jos had promised to meet with her again, yet she couldn’t shake her lack of trust. Men were, in her experience, fickle, selfish creatures, interested solely in sating their own lust. She chose her lovers carefully and had many fewer than most believed precisely because so many of the men she met quickly proved themselves lacking in honor or respect.

Or in patience, a trait her family claimed anyone needed before attempting to deal with her.

Tyelu pushed the thought away as she strolled into the bathing area and readied herself for the long day ahead. The tyrl would be leaving today. She must oversee that and her own departure. Ryn had invited her to journey home on Yarinska . She had half a mind to join him, if only to escape Kodh’s sneering presence. Sigun wouldn’t need her once he left, so why not travel back to Abyw in the relative peace of her brother’s ship?

The ship he’d used to steal his beloved bride.

Tyelu’s frown deepened. There, her brother had shown more courage than she. Had she ever been tempted to steal a mate of her own, as Ryn and so many others before him had?

Jos , her mind whispered as she stepped into the shower and ducked her head under the hot spray. The Q-merc had tempted her from the moment he and his dal had popped onto Yarinska , when Ryn, Ziri, and their passengers had needed help the most. But did she truly want to…

The answer hit her before the question finished forming in her mind. Yes, she wanted to present him at the Choosing, to have him fight for her as no man had ever dared.

Did he want her enough to bother? Would he understand the significance of her stealing him away and honor the traditions of her people?

The water ran cold before she found an answer, leaving her dissatisfied and grumpy. She dressed quickly and stormed out of her rooms, leveling an icy stare on the few humans she passed. She’d nearly reached Sigun’s quarters when she met Luden Moko and his assistant, escorted by Magda Bur-D’ga and two other members of Jos’s dal. The Q-mercs wore full armor and held weapons at the ready, though their helmets were retracted, allowing Tyelu a clear view of the hard stare Magda directed at her.

Tyelu allowed a small, satisfied smile to curve her mouth. If the other woman wanted to challenge her, Tyelu was happy to oblige.

Luden smiled at Tyelu as the group approached and stopped next to her. “I was just trying to reach Ziri,” he said. “We’re departing this afternoon. Have you seen her?”

Tyelu wrestled enough of her irritation down to answer respectfully, for her brother’s sake if not for diplomacy. “No, sir. I have to call Ryn later. Would you like me to pass on a message?”

“No, no. I’m sure she’ll contact me when she has a spare moment.” He dipped his head in a respectful nod. “We’ll be journeying to Abyw ourselves before too long. I hope to see you then.”

Tyelu returned his salute. “It would be my honor.”

She stepped aside to allow the party room to pass.

Magda jerked her chin at the other mercs and lingered behind. As soon as they were out of hearing range, she rounded on Tyelu, her mouth set in a fierce frown. “You have no idea what you’re meddling in, princess.”

That last word held enough mockery to sting. Jos could call her that. No one else could, especially not one of his little minions.

Tyelu arched a cool eyebrow at the other woman. “Nor do you, Bur-D’ga.”

“He’s not a plaything.”

“I never said he was,” Tyelu countered. “Interesting that you think of him that way. Jealous, little merc?”

Magda’s expression hardened. “Tell you what, princess. Ask Emler what happens when a Q-merc gives over his heart.”

The Bur-D’ga stormed off, leaving Tyelu staring after her bemusedly.

“Who in the heavens is Emler?” she wondered. One of their dal, no doubt, in which case Tyelu vowed to avoid them all whenever possible.

All except Jos, naturally. Him she intended to keep.

But what to do about him? If she allowed him to jet off around the galaxy chasing Sweepers, it could be months before she saw him again. His feelings might fade during their time apart, and that would not do.

Now that she’d felt his singular touch, she wanted more, so much more a fragile hope filled her at the thought. She wanted to see him again, to convince him to fight for her, to stand among the other men and women in the inner circle of the Choosing grounds and watch with pride as he battled his way through kin and foe alike to claim her.

Tyelu shook her head as she mentally reviewed the laws governing the Choosing. The Pruxn? had formulated strict rules to prevent abuse. There was a reason each planetary system was visited no less than once every one-hundred-and-fifty Standard years. To the best of her knowledge, the Q home world had never been targeted. It was too well guarded, its location a shadowy myth to outsiders, all but the highest diplomats and rulers. Sigun likely knew where it was…

Tyelu frowned. He’d remarked on the Choosing a few days back. What was it he’d said again?

The final days of this season’s Choosing are close at hand. The Q’Mhel would make a good mate.

There’s still time.

But the next Choosing concerned mates stolen from Tersii, Ziri’s home world, which was still recovering from a devastating Sweeper attack. Not all of the mates-to-be had had to be stolen. Some had voluntarily resettled on Abyw, on the hope that they’d find a home there. Some had, an event even Tyelu found pleasing.

The fact remained that this Choosing season concerned Tersi, not Q. The two systems could be light years apart, for all she knew.

A low-level headache erupted behind her eyes. Tyelu sighed. Her ruminations might come to naught if the man in question failed to keep his promise to her. As much as it hurt to think so, she would never consider forcing herself on an unwilling partner. Her heart had been dinged enough already.

No, Ryn and her father might have been courageous enough to risk stealing and wooing an unknown bride, but here Tyelu’s normally prodigious courage failed. If Jos didn’t want her, she would forget him and hunt for another.

But if he did want her, if he came to her again, willingly…

In that case, it became a matter of how to get him to Abyw, and how to keep him there long enough for the Choosing to take place.

She pushed the headache down, veered down a different corridor, and located an open public comm unit. Quickly, she contacted Creti’s quarters, and was relieved when the other woman answered.

Without preamble, Tyelu said, “I need advice.”

A hint of amusement lighted Creti’s dark eyes. “Does this have anything to do with a certain handsome Q’Mhel?”

Tyelu nodded tersely.

“Don’t worry, darling. I have just the thing. I’ll courier it to your quarters within the half hour.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me know how it goes.”

Tyelu nodded again, then cut the connection and stalked purposefully toward the tyrl’s quarters. If Jos truly wanted her, nothing would stop her from claiming him, not even the trivial matter of the law.

Jos cleaned out his planetside quarters, affixed transporter chips to anything he didn’t need right away, and sent it to his ship. He thought hard about dropping by and seeing Tyelu again, but duty won out over need. If he juggled duty well, he could wrangle a spare quarter hour to see her before his dal left the system to ferret out the Sweepers that had attacked Domorian space.

Fortunately, he could hand security concerns for the Tersii diplomats off to another unit beforehand. He’d handled plenty of guard duty in his time. That wasn’t the problem. No, the problem was that guard duty didn’t consume enough of his attention to suppress thoughts of a certain princess. She popped into his mind so frequently, it was a wonder he’d gotten his frekking gear packed.

He located his dal via his implant and opted to transport to their location, saving time better spent elsewhere. On his haughty Lady Warrior, for one. He smiled now, thinking of the way she’d come apart for him, her icy glare replaced by enough heat to melt him where he stood. His dick twitched to life behind his armor, and he swore at it good-naturedly.

By the stars, she was potent. And he intended to have her again as soon as he could arrange it.

He doublechecked his land-locked quarters, then triggered a transport. A moment later, he popped into an empty area in Forro’s spaceport, close to his dal and the Tersii delegation. He headed toward the Tersii ship’s berth and found Magda supervising security while the Tersii loaded their baggage and cargo. Another dal waited patiently to the side, well out of the way. Awaiting him, no doubt.

His dal’s helmets were down. Jos examined them carefully as he approached, the ones he could see. Magda had scattered the dal strategically around the ship, with herself and Emler guarding the boarding tube. To the casual observer, she no doubt appeared coolly focused on the job at hand, but Jos noticed a tiny tic in the corner of her mouth that spelled trouble.

Two guesses where the trouble came from.

He heaved a sigh as he crossed the last few paces to where she stood, positioning himself out of her direct range of sight and motion. “All’s well?”

“Aye, Q’Mhel,” she replied, her steely gaze flitting between the many people milling around and into the ship. “Five by.”

Her voice held that flat tone he’d come to associate with an itchy need to chase action. “We’ll be in the thick of it soon enough.”

She snorted. “Lubbers sure are taking their time.”

“Not everyone was born with a knife in their hand.”

“Including a certain princess?” she muttered.

Ah. There it was, the root of the problem.

His shoulders relaxed, and he allowed himself a small smile. “Jealous?”

“Of that piece of frippery?” she sputtered, her gaze never leaving her duty.

“Of the fact that I found a bedmate and you’re still looking.”

On the other side of the boarding tube, Emler hid a laugh behind a cough. Magda speared him with a brief glare before turning it on Jos.

“She’ll break your heart,” she said flatly.

“You’re assuming I have a heart to break.” Though he suspected Tyelu had already wormed her way into what little heart he had left. He shook the thought off and clapped Magda lightly on the shoulder. “Chin up, spacer. We’ve got a Sweeper’s nest to wipe out.”

“Thank the frekking stars. My sea legs were getting wobbly.”

He left her there to finish out the rotation while he coordinated handing off security to another dal.

What felt like hours later, Jos rotated his shoulders under his armor, flexing out the stiffness. The Tersi contingent had dragged their heels loading, boarding, and clearing Domor’s laughably light customs regs.

Once they were under another dal’s protection and underway, his dal had turned their attention to coordinating with the larger fleet for a run at the Sweepers. Q headquarters had politely but firmly waved away offers of aid from non-Q civilians and military units, if only for the sake of expediency. The Q-mercs already in Domorian space had the leg up there, saving everyone a lot of time and aggravation, including Jos himself.

His last mission briefing ended, giving him a slender window of opportunity to say goodbye to Tyelu. She hadn’t so much as pinged his comm, unlike every other lover he’d ever had. Maybe she was busy, too. Maybe she’d had her fill of a certain spacer.

His mouth twisted into a grim smile as he located the tracking beacon he’d slipped into the lining of her duffel. If so, he intended to disabuse her of that notion, firmly and at length if necessary.

The beacon blipped on his tracker. He noted the location—still in her quarters—routed it to Apedemak ’s transport deck, found a quiet corner, and ‘ported directly to her.

She was standing once again at the windows overlooking the quad below, her fingers toying with a charm affixed to the necklace she wore. She’d changed out of the uniform of a tyrl security officer into the informal dress of Abyw: sturdy dun-colored breeches topped by a rustic, midnight blue hand-knit sweater, clothes more suited for physical labor than travel or guard duty.

He knew she’d felt his presence, maybe seen his image reflected in the window. Yet she didn’t turn or speak, merely stood there looking as elegant and cold as the glaciers capping Abyw’s polar reaches.

“We’re leaving soon,” he said softly.

“Me, too.” Her fingers tightened on the charm, then tucked it safely beneath her sweater, and at last, she turned toward him. “Ryn and Ziri invited me to travel home with them, on their ship. We’re carrying cargo back for trade. Always has an eye on the bottom line, does our Ziri.”

Her voice held an uncharacteristic touch of melancholy. Despite his intention to make her come to him, he found himself crossing the distance between them until he stood a bare hands breadth from her.

“You know how to reach me?” he said.

A faint smile touched her mouth and flitted away, though her lashes remained lowered, hiding her beautiful blue eyes from him. “Of course. There’s only one Jos Q’Mhel.”

“I’ll be done before you know it.” Unable to resist, he reached up and tucked a wispy strand of her silky hair away. “I’ve got some leave stored up. There’s this place I want to show you.”

“On Q?”

“Yeah.”

“No one’s allowed on Q except the Q.”

“Family’s allowed. Friends.” He wrapped his hand around her nape, under the loose waterfall of her silky hair, and willed her to look at him, to snap and snarl and demand. “Lovers.”

“Is that what I am? Your lover?”

“Stubborn griyet lover,” he growled, and at last her eyes flashed up to his and he saw in them the spirit he’d come to admire.

“Is that so?” she said, one eyebrow arched.

“Aye, princess.” He lowered his head, brushed his lips across hers. “Give your lover a kiss and wish him to hurry home.”

She leaned into him, obliging him so sweetly he forgot, for a moment, the duty calling him away from her, forgot the time and the problems awaiting his attention, forgot everything but the sweet taste of her mouth and the gentle pressure of her touch.

She dropped back on her heels, breaking the kiss, and rested her forehead on his armored chest. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

“Stars, Tyelu. Do you think leaving you is easy?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed and her arms tightened around him. “But I do know what duty feels like. I just hope you can forgive me for taking you from it.”

“What—” he said, then something popped and his armor went dead, taking his interface and comms with it. His implant fritzed, shooting lightning-sharp pain through his body, and he staggered back and fell to one knee on the floor.

He forced his head up against a second wave of pain, forced himself to meet her gaze. “What did you do?” he gritted out.

“Breathe, Jos.” Tyelu squatted in front of him, her expression set in a hard mask, though her words were soft and distant. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t know it would hurt you.”

Another wave of pain washed over him, dragging him under a tide of blackness that carried him far, far away from the woman who’d just betrayed him.