Page 58 of The Interdimensional Lord's Earthly Delight
“He can’t die,” she whispered. “Don’t let him die.”
Nor joined them, towering over the kneeling Thorkons.“We have the mercenary ship locked down,” he reported. “Radek is injured but alive, and we recovered all the crew listed in the ship’s manifest from downstream.” He hesitated, staring at the dat-pad strapped to his forearm. “Most survived.”
Lishelle bit back a moan. Not that she cared about those damn mercenaries, but she didn’t want anyone invoking the specter of death.
Would one Thorkon godcome for another?
“My lady,” the medic murmured to her. “If you’d please…”
She sat back hard, the jar to her tailbone feeling as if it would shatter her. The two crewmembers kept up with their scanning and electroding… What the hell was the point of faster than lightspeed and universal translators that made every word clear if it couldn’t save the man she loved? For an instant, she hated allthat futuristic technology if all it was going to do was tear her world apart again. But of course all the philosophical musings in the world wouldn’t change anything either.
She watched, numb, as the medics poked some more and consulted their dat-pads while Nor stood sentinel. Did he fear Blackworm was going to rise up? Or did he fear what she would do if Tynan didn’t?
“Shel, are you all right?”Trixie whispered. “We followed you as soon as we could. We had a tracker on Radek, so when he contacted the mercs, we were right behind.”
Lishelle flicked an impatient hand at her friend. “I fought this time,” she said hoarsely. “I didn’t hide from the fear and chaos. I didn’t try to talk it out. I fought. And still…”
“Oh, sweetie.” Trixie scooted closer and wrapped her arm around Lishelle’sshoulders.
She wanted to be strong, she did, but she clung to her friend while the mud and blood soaked her antique wrap.
It seemed like forever, but really, the Azthronos cruiser had just settled into the garden, crushing some of the bomb-blasted greenery, when the first medic sat back. The second joined him and glanced up first at Nor then over at Lishelle.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” he murmured.“The injuries were just too severe.” He redirected his attention to Nor. “Sir, I don’t know how to explain it, but the genetic markers for Blackworm that we had on file, they…they’re not…”
Lishelle laughed bitterly. “He’s not Blackworm.” Oh,noweveryone believed.
She pressed her bone-dry eyes to Trixie’s blond braid and bit back a scream of rage and loss she knew would never end.
Now thather love was dead.
***
Light. So much light, all the light, it burned him. It scorched away everything he was, everything he’d ever known…
When he opened his eyes, the misty jungle sunlight shone through the arched windows high above his throne, the gentle golden beams floating like pollen. A hundred or more of his people drifted around the dais, chatting and laughing. Somewhere close,music played, a sentimental lament of love lost. He’d never liked that song…
He glanced down at the goblet of ghost-mead in his hand, balanced on the wide arm of the throne where he lounged. Frowning, he remembered someone else sprawled decadently across his throne…
“Drink deep, warlord,” came a cheerful call. “You did it!”
He twisted his mouth into an acknowledging grin and gulped at the goblet.It was a celebration of some sort. But about what? What had he done? Conquered something, probably, and in fine style. But why couldn’t he remember?
Restlessly, he pushed to his feet and stalked a slow circle around the dais. The great hall was as it had always been—impressive and lively—but his mind’s eye overlaid it with a strange, grimmer reflection: the high window broken, vines creepingin, eerily flickering ghosts speaking of love…
What—?
As he strode around to the front of the dais again, the happy crowd had vanished. Only three maidens remained, standing in a row.
One was palely blond, one was brilliantly redheaded, and the one in the middle had softly dark skin almost as rich as…
He frowned. “What is this place?”
“This is your home,” said the black-haired girl. “Thisis your past. This is your second chance.”
“I don’t…” He laid one hand over his chest. The steady beat reassured him. Because he remembered something worse. “You killed me!” He took a jolting step toward them. “You tore my heart from my chest.”
The blonde flicked a dismissive fingertip down the embroidered front of her formal robe. “You think you’d’ve been used to it since you did it yourselfso often.”