Burning for Love by Evangeline Anderson
6
Rissa took the long way through the Solarium to the ball, because she was burning with questions—questions she needed privacy to ask. The first one, of course, was how the man she had been dreaming of for the past month had suddenly showed up in person in her life.
But she didn’t feel able to ask that because it would sound so strange—almost deranged! How could she tell him that she had dreamed of him—of his blue, metallic eyes and dark hair and his deep, rumbling voice? It would make her sound like a lunatic, so she kept that particular question to herself. However, she was unable to hold back some others.
“Were you really grown in a tank?” she asked, looking up and up at the tall Kindred. The huge warrior was so big that the top of her head barely came to his bicep and Rissa nearly had to scamper to keep up with his long strides.
“I was.” He nodded impassively, not looking at her as he spoke. In fact, what he seemed to be looking at was the hallway around them. His metallic blue eyes were constantly scanning back and forth. What was he looking for, she wondered?
“So you were not…born like other people are? I mean you said you were not conceived in the, uh, the usual way?” Rissa cleared her throat nervously, her cheeks heating. Imagine a whole planet filled with only men with no women to kiss in order to get them with child!
“I was not,” he agreed as they entered the vast, glass room of the Solarium. He was still scanning the way ahead of them alertly. “We should not have taken this route,” he said, frowning around the Solarium. “It is too deserted—too easy for an assassin to set a trap or ambush a target.”
“Oh, do you really think so?” Rissa looked around the high glass walls, which let in the pinkish sunlight of Regalia Five’s red giant sun during the day, but which were now black and blank since it was night outside. Unconsciously, she tightened her grip on the big Kindred’s arm, as she remembered the awful attack in the library and the feel of the sharp silver knife against her throat.
Sir James seemed to feel her tightened grip because he looked down at her briefly.
“Don’t worry—I’ll protect you with my life, as I swore, Your Highness. You are safe with me.”
Rissa nibbled her lower lip.
“Why would you swear to protect me with your life when you just met me?” she asked, though she knew she should not. It was a rude question—doubtless completely improper. But if the big Kindred cyborg, as he had called himself, really had no emotions, he shouldn’t mind a bit of impropriety. She hoped, anyway.
He glanced down at her again from his great height.
“Guarding you is my mission,” he said shortly. “Your wellbeing and safety were assigned to me by my direct supervisor, Commander Sylvan. I obey his orders completely.”
“Oh.” Rissa couldn’t help feeling somewhat disappointed by this answer. After the way he had stared into her eyes and kissed her hand while vowing his devotion so beautifully in the Receiving Hall, she had hoped for something else.
What are you hoping for, though? whispered a little voice in her head. A romantic declaration of love? Don’t be ridiculous, Rissa! Just because you’ve been dreaming of him for the past month doesn’t mean that he’s been dreaming of you, too—or that he feels anything for you. In fact, you know for a fact that he feels nothing, for he has no emotions.
Or so he had said.
“Do you really have no feelings at all? No emotions?” she blurted, before she could stop herself. Again, it was a terribly rude question, but it just seemed to slip out.
Sir James looked down at her again, searching her eyes with his own, flashing blue ones for a long moment. Rissa seemed to feel the breath catch in her throat at the intensity of that stare. But then he looked away and said,
“None,” in that same, flat voice that seemed to ring with finality.
“Oh,” she whispered. “I…I see.”
But despite her disappointment in his answer, she still had one more question.
“How did you cool me down when I fainted?” she asked, looking up at him. “Your hands…they felt like ice. But your arm seems warm enough.”
She nodded down at his left arm, which was the one he had offered to her, though it was more usual for a lady to walk on the right side of a gentleman. But Rissa wasn’t sure how she felt about touching his metal right arm, anyway, so she hadn’t complained.
“Ninety-five percent of my DNA is Kindred but the remaining five percent is Z’ngu,” he replied, glancing down at her again. “Which means that I can control my body temperature at will. As to why my body reacted to yours so quickly to cool you down…I don’t know.”
For a moment a troubled expression seemed to pass over his strong features, but it was gone so quickly, Rissa couldn’t be sure she’d seen it at all.
“Maybe it was just your way of…of protecting me?” she asked hesitantly.
He nodded thoughtfully.
“Possibly. I felt attuned to you the very first moment I saw you—probably because your safety is my mission. At any rate, when I felt how hot your skin was, my body reacted and dropped my temperature in order to cool yours.”
“Indeed, it did. And I am most grateful, Sir,” Rissa murmured. She could still feel those incredibly strong arms holding her against his broad chest and the cool, delicious sensation of his left hand—the non-metal one—caressing her flushed and burning cheeks. It was the closest, physically, she had ever been to any man and she was certain it would have been quite improper if it were not for the fact that the “man” she’d been held by was actually a kind of robot.
At that moment, they exited the Solarium and found themselves just outside the main Ballroom. Sounds of murmuring could be heard from behind the tall, carved doors and Rissa realized suddenly that when she walked into the room on her new bodyguard’s arm, they were going to be the talk of the Court.
I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be alone with him, she thought. We went right through the deserted Solarium together, without a chaperone! Without even a thought for the propriety of the situation or my reputation! However could I have been so careless?
But then she remembered the Steward’s, sharp words of rebuke to Lady Mildew. He had said that it was perfectly fine for Sir James to be alone with her—indeed, to bathe her and dress her and act as her Constant Companion, too.
Because he’s a robot, she told herself again. A cyborg—he has no feelings, no improper urges like the other men Lady Mildew is always warning me about. So it is perfectly safe to be alone with him—and perfectly proper as well.
She would hold her head high when they entered the Ballroom, she decided. If she betrayed even a whiff of shame or self-doubt, the gossip-hungry Court would pick up on it at once and tear her apart like a pack of ravening dogs.
“Are you ready?” she asked, looking up at the big Kindred. “We must let them know to start the dancing.”
“I cannot dance,” he said, frowning down at her. “And I don’t think you should be dancing either.”
“Not dance? Admit myself to be a wallflower?” Rissa was shocked. “I cannot do that! I am the Princess—I must lead the dance, not refuse it!”
It was a fact Lady Mildew had always impressed upon her. “Royalty leads, girl!” she’d said more times than Rissa could count. “It’s your duty as a Royal of the Very First Family to make a good showing in a ballroom or any social situation.”
Indeed, her own dear Mama had believed this precept so strongly she had gone to the fateful ball where she had self-immolated, despite the fact that her Heat Cycle was at its zenith and her maids had begged her to stay in her quarters and lie in the ice bath instead. Rissa could do no less, herself, she thought.
But Sir James was staring down at her with a forbidding look on his dark face.
“You shouldn’t dance because you’ve already overheated once tonight,” he pointed out. “I could smell you burning, Princess—a scent like burnt sugar. It isn’t safe to overexert yourself.”
He had very strong features, Rissa thought—well-molded and handsome to be sure, but when he looked at her sternly like that, it was quite intimidating.
It was a good thing she didn’t intend to let herself be intimidated.
She lifted her chin, staring right back into his metallic blue eyes.
“Sir James, forgive me for saying so, but you have only been here for an hour and you do not know me or my Cycle. I will be the judge of what is safe and what is not where it regards my personal situation.”
His frown deepened.
“You must allow me to do my job. I’m here to protect you until you find a mate and get Joined with him so that he may ‘slake your Heat.’”
Her cheeks burned at his words—how could he speak so openly of the mysterious process that would interrupt and tame her Cycle? All the other servants and Nobles only spoke of it in whispers—none of them were so blatant!
But again, Rissa refused to be intimidated.
“And how do you expect me to find a husband to…to help me, if I am not allowed to dance with the eligible men of the Court?” she demanded. “Besides, you were only sent here to protect me from assassins!”
“No, my orders were to protect you from all danger and that includes overheating!” he growled.
“And what do you know about my Heat Cycle?” Rissa flared. “How do you presume to know what makes me overheat?”
To say the truth, she hardly knew herself. Sometimes, it was true, that physical overexertion seemed to play a part in making the fire in her blood rise. But other times, there seemed to be no external reason at all. For instance, why had her Heat peaked when Sir James had sworn his vow to protect her? Why had her heart started pounding and why had her cheeks and then all the rest of her gotten so hot when he kissed her hand and looked into her eyes?
Rissa was still trying to understand it herself. But she wasn’t about to allow a male who had just come to Court an hour before dictate her actions for her.
If I let him boss me around, I’ll be no better off than I was with Lady Mildew as my chaperone and Companion! she told herself. So she held her ground and refused to drop her gaze. No matter how foreboding the big Kindred looked as he stared down at her with those flashing blue eyes of his, she would not budge, she told herself.
“Fine,” he said at last, frowning at her. “You make a valid point—I am not well informed about your Heat Cycle. But if I see or smell you overheating, I will step in, Princess. I am here to protect you from danger—danger which comes from outside but also from within.”
That seemed to be the best concession she would get, so Rissa decided to take it.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him again. “I’ve been dancing at Court balls since my Coming Out ceremony five years ago.”
But of course, her Heat Cycle hadn’t yet started at that time. In fact, it had only gotten really bad in the past month or so, Rissa admitted to herself. Still, that didn’t mean she could afford not to dance. The Court would whisper dreadfully if she sat on the sidelines and refused to participate.
Sir James said nothing, but only frowned at her again.
“Come on.” Rissa tugged on his arm, which felt like iron beneath her touch. “We must go. If we stay out here too long together, there will be talk—even if you are an emotionless robot. You look too much like a man for people not to start gossip if we’re not careful.”
“I don’t care what anyone says as long as you’re safe,” the big Kindred informed her. “But you are probably right—it’s past time for us to enter the ball. Just know that I will be watching you every moment, Princess, to be certain of your safety.”
“Er…thank you.” Rissa inclined her head, not sure how to feel about his words. She had thought she would gain more freedom when she traded Lady Mildew for the Kindred guard. Now she wondered if she might, indeed, have a great deal less.
But there was not time to speak about it now. They must enter the Grand Ballroom with their heads held high. No one must know that she had mixed feelings about her new guard and Companion.
She must simply do her duty and dance.
