Reign

  Strands of Starfire

  Reign

  May Sage

  Contents

  1. The New Lord

  2. Energy

  3. The Wise

  4. The Child

  5. Red Thread

  6. Retrograde

  7. The Lotus

  8. In the Beginning

  9. Alliances

  10. Peace

  11. A Dance

  12. Colder

  13. Darkness

  14. Ruthless

  15. Visions

  16. Starfire

  17. Uncloaked

  18. An Old Man

  19. Marks

  20. Worlds Apart

  21. Solstice

  22. A New World

  23. Loyalists

  24. The Imperials

  25. The Dominion

  26. Behind the mask

  27. The Bridge

  28. Goading Her

  29. Flesh and Blood

  30. In Command

  31. Home

  32. A Dance in the Night

  33. The End of the Dream

  34. Snakes

  35. Mates

  36. Skies Alight

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Strands of Starfire: Lineage

  Illustrated Glossary - excerpt

  Author’s note

  Strands of Starfire: Reign

  May Sage © 2018

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-912415-37-3

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912415-28-1

  One

  The New Lord

  It wasn’t often that Lord Kai smiled, but that day should have been one of those rare occasions. He’d won. He’d accomplished his goal. After over ten years, he stood on the High Throne in the cold castle dominating the planet-wide city of Vratis, fort to the Warlord of Ratna.

  He’d defeated his enemy—almost all of his enemies. Those who oppressed and allowed others to live under the talon of slavery had answered for their crimes. Children with magic in their blood, condemned to death because of what they were, would be free now.

  And yet, Kai’s features were as expressionless as ever. Not even a hint of a smile.

  Kai Lor, of the House of Hora, got up from the strange floating throne. Catching his intention, the responsive, coveted seat moved slowly to the floor. Now that he was at his companions’ level, his tall stature seemed even more imposing. Evris, be they male or female, stood taller than most creatures in the known universe, and Kai had yet to meet anyone who reached past his shoulders. This alone might have made him seem threatening, but there was something else about him—in the way he moved and in his intense gaze, perhaps. Those who met him for the first time generally knew to fear him. Those who were familiar with him, even more so.

  The room only served to aggravate his fearsome persona. It was austere, like a temple, rather than the command center of a warlord. Kai didn’t like it much. He’d have to get it redesigned; change all the purple lighting to red and paint the black walls white.

  His four advisors and the seven guards, who’d spent the last hour arguing about the next step, grew silent when he descended the dais. He didn’t bother to explain himself, leaving them to warily watch him head to the round balcony set at the back of the throne room.

  The large beast that had rested on the platform over which the throne hovered lifted its head before trailing Kai’s steps, following him out. It didn’t fear him, unlike everyone else in the room.

  The streets were eerily quiet below. This world didn’t yet know what sort of person their new master would be. They’d heard rumors. Terrible rumors. All of Vratis watched in an uneasy silence. By dawn, Kai would have more orders to give. He’d earn himself new enemies.

  His fingers threaded through the rough bluish-silver fur of his snow wolf, his companion. The beast was the closest thing he had to real kin.

  Kai frowned. That wasn’t exactly true. There was one person who belonged at his side. Back when he’d seen her through the eyes of a seer, he’d known, without any doubt, that the female was meant to be with him—always. She was there, somewhere. He’d find her. He’d destroy worlds until she stood next to him.

  The door of the throne room slid open behind him, and without leaving the balcony or turning to check, Kai knew it was Wench, his head mechanic. His aptitudes extended to feeling people around him. With experience, he’d learned to identify the vibe they emanated. Wench was steady and loyal. He felt like a deeply rooted tree.

  “Where’s the lord?”

  The lord. That was him now.

  “Out,” someone replied, waving toward the curved doors leading to the balcony.

  The man’s confident steps had an upbeat ring as he rushed to the balcony. Kai wasn’t surprised when he told him, “Good news!” Kai turned to him, brow lifted. “We found the child.”

  That caught and retained his attention.

  Kai’d had many reasons for leading the civil war against their previous warlord. One of them was a child—a child without whom he may not be alive today.

  There had been no sign of the child in the palace when he’d arrived, and the previous warlord’s men weren’t talking. Kai knew that now, over a dozen years after their first meeting, she wasn’t a child at all. She’d be a young female in her twenties.

  But still, he would have recognized her. And everyone in this palace would have known who she was; the old warlord’s secret weapon. When he’d failed to find her, he’d guessed that his predecessor had had her killed, rather than surrendering her to him. A last act of defiance. But that theory didn’t quite fit with Wench’s upbeat demeanor.

  “She’s alive then.”

  Strange. Nothing outwardly betrayed a change in him, but he could feel it. His indifference vanished, replaced by a keen interest, and underneath it all, there was something else. Something he hadn’t felt for a long time.

  Hope?

  The corner of Kai’s lips lifted a smidgen.

  “You’ll want to watch the recordings we’ve dug out,” said his mechanic. “It’s a long story.”

  Two

  Energy

  Twenty-four years ago.

  “Kai,” Balu whispered, waking him up instantly. It didn’t take much to pull him from his light, restless sleep. Bad things happened to those who didn’t stay on their guard in Haimo. “Kai, he’s coming.”

  The boy stiffened at his friend’s warning. Balu needn’t specify who he meant when he said “he” that way. “He” was Master Hora.

  Akia Tai Hora was the fat, indulgent noble who owned Haimo. Yes, the entire planet. His ancestors had come from a trade background, and prospered so much through the entire sector that a warlord of old had declared them dukes of Haimo, a then unclaimed, yet rich planet-wide territory.

  Lord Hora didn’t visit all his slaves’ homes. Kai’s was different in many respects, and a little nicer than most. Although she was owned by Akia, the female who lived there had a few slaves at her service. Mae, Kai’s mother, and lady of this home, was no doubt the most exquisite female amongst the slaves. She had smooth, spotless, golden skin and long dark hair—a rare physical characteristic in their land—and a mouth that didn’t need any rouge. She certainly looked nicer than Akia’s noble wife. Thus, as their lord and master, he used her as he saw fit. Even at nine years old, Kai knew of these things.

  No one had told him, but he’d guessed, with repulsion, that the fat noble was his biological father. Many clues had led him to that conclusion. For one, in looks, he was quite similar to Veli, the master’s legitimate son. Kai was a little darker, with black eyes and hair like his mother, but their features were nonetheless similar. Secondly, Kai had long ago realized that he was treated quite well for a slave. Boys his age normally labored in the dangerous mines or in the fields—
a hard, relentless work. Haimo was situated far from the sun of their system, making it the coldest planet in their world. But instead of being condemned to such work, Kai, at age six, when he’d been deemed old enough to work away from his mother, had been sent as an apprentice in the forges.

  Akia also had an interest in him. He talked to him and sometimes even ruffled his hair. Kai thoroughly washed after such distressing occurrences. And then there was his name. Akai, he’d been called, by someone so lazy they’d simply flipped around his sperm donor’s name to form his. He started demanding to be called Kai right after connecting the dots.

  Kai jumped out of his bed, and promptly proceeded to hide his things—things he made from scraps he found everywhere. Pieces of metal, broken glass. Anything he found that could be of use, he kept and fashioned into something else. His mother called him her little artist.

  From time to time, Akia came to his room, and he’d order him to keep the trash away. Kai had never received a beating for disobedience, but he’d seen others take one. Two winters past, he’d seen a grown-up die after a workmaster struck him with an energy whip. Five blows was all it had taken. Kai certainly didn’t wish to gamble away his life that way. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but Kai really did wish to live. Although perpetuating his harsh existence might have seemed pointless, he had hope. Hope for something more someday. He’d heard of slaves who’d earned their freedom. Why not him?

  Balu helped. The boy put things in his trunks and polished his boots as Kai washed his knees and hands with soap. Balu was eleven, having two years on Kai. The boy had made it out of an accident in the mines a year ago, but it had left him weak and with just one leg. Kai had watched his mother kneel in front of master Akia upon Balu’s behalf. “He’ll do just fine in the house as there’re no stairs,” she told him. “He’ll work.”

  Kai understood why she’d begged that way. If she hadn’t spoken for him, Balu would have been shot. For his own good, the workmasters would say. Then, they’d mince him and give his flesh to the vepkhia or the nekos used in the arena games. Occasionally feeding them Evris flesh made them more vicious, hungry for more of it.

  Akia wasn’t the worst master. He’d sighed at Mae’s request, but he let the boy heal and then sent him to their home. Kai was glad; he’d never had a friend before. The other children hated him because they knew. They saw it in his eyes; they might be dark like his mother’s, but their shape didn’t lie. He was the pampered master’s bastard.

  Kai hurried downstairs, keeping his gaze on the floor once he’d reached the master.

  “Ah. Here he is. Getting bigger every time I see him.”

  Kai didn’t reply, knowing the remark wasn’t for him. “Yes, sir,” said Mae Lor, always formal and deferential.

  “Do you work well at the forges, boy?”

  “Yes, sir,” Kai echoed, talking now that he’d been addressed directly.

  “Good, good. Come here. Take this.”

  He held his hand up and received a bronze coin for his effort. A fortune.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do.”

  This, he knew, was his clue to leave the room, leave the house. He was dismissed. The master had business with his mistress.

  Kai ran. There was nowhere for a boy to go at six in the morning, but he ran. He’d reached the end of the village, arriving in front of the endless barren landscape where white dunes extended as far as his eyes could see, and then further still. There was no town on the planet, just the Hora residence surrounded by simple, flat roofed, identical buildings where he kept the men and women he’d purchased to work until they died. The contrast between the off-white homes with rustic materials and the golden palace with all its towers and domes couldn’t be overstated.

  Kai had never stepped in the palace. Later that day, he would.

  He’d left so fast he hadn’t taken his coat, mittens, or the brown hat his mother had knitted him the previous week for his birthday. To keep warm, he moved constantly, blowing hot air on his hands. He was used to the cold, but in the dead of the Haimo winter, it was biting.

  “Little Akai?”

  The familiar voice calling him belonged to old Kumi, one of the few females with wrinkles on a well-worn face. Their way of life didn’t lead to longevity.

  The elder didn’t ask what he was doing out by himself at this hour; instead, she waved his way. “Come on in, I’ll give you something hot.”

  He practically tripped in his hurry to accept that invitation. She made the best root and spices drinks.

  An hour later, wearing Kumi’s scarf, he headed to work. He liked it at the forge.

  Haimo was a mineral planet, so most of the slaves went down to the mines to dig out ray crystals. Those laboring at the surface cut and loaded humongous blocks of stone—granite, limestone, alabaster—onto cargo ships. The riches of Haimo were sold all over the galaxy, even to the Imperials.

  The very best crystals, the rarest stones, and all of the fyriron were kept and sent to the forges. Fyriron was silvery and smooth, yet stronger than gold. It took a higher temperature to melt it, and Kai had heard that only a handful of forges in the galaxy were equipped to cast it. The weapons they formed were meant for warlords and kings.

  Kai rushed to his station, not bothering to disturb the head of the forges with a greeting. Isha Lor, his uncle, didn’t care much for civilities in general, and it was twice as true when he was sharpening a newly made blade. There was that look in his eyes, pride and sadness all mixed together. Isha loved his craft, but while he might create these masterpieces, it wasn’t his name engraved in one corner; it was their master’s. The half dozen of workmasters stationed in the forges served as a reminder of their position in this world.

  Kai liked Isha, although the feeling wasn’t mutual. Kai had always been good at telling how people felt. His mother’s brother watched him with some suspicion, as though he expected him to do something unforgivable any second. It didn’t bother the child. He knew trust was earned. Someday, Isha would know he was good, reliable. Isha already nodded at his work from time to time.

  Along with half a dozen other apprentices, Kai labored in silence for hours under the watchful eye of the workmaster assigned to the forges. Then came their break. Someone rang a bell in the distance, indicating their food was ready, and they had fifteen minutes to go fetch it and eat it.

  Everyone hurried to secure their work before heading out toward the eating hall.

  One apprentice rushed the process that day. Instead of properly locking the blade he was sculpting onto the overhead shelf, Fein just hurriedly crammed it there.

  Kai turned and screamed, “No!” before anyone saw the trajectory of the weapon as it fell. The slaves froze. The workmaster turned and watched Kai, who was standing, hand outstretched.

  The blade had been halted in its course, millimeters away from Isha’s face.

  He’d never forget his uncle’s face. There was terror in his eyes.

  Kai didn’t understand. He couldn’t comprehend what had happened. Why hadn’t the blade fallen to pierce Isha’s skull, like he’d felt it would? Like he’d seen it would.

  But he knew why. He’d stopped it. Without touching it, he’d stopped the object in midair. He could feel it, feel his hold on the metal as surely as if his hand had been around it. It wasn’t his hand holding it, though; it was his mind.

  That was his last thought as the workmaster hit him hard with the hilt of his blaster. Kai fell unconscious and woke up in chains.

  He’d never been here before, but he knew exactly where he stood. The marble walls, the tall statues, the gold on the ceiling were all too luxurious for any other edifice in Haimo. He was in the palace.

  In front of him stood Akia and Veli.

  Veli was older than Kai, a teenager. He watched him with unconcealed rage. Akia was simply cold. His expression betrayed nothing.

  Somehow Kai knew that it was all a facade. Beneath the indifference and the disdain, there was one clear feeling e
manating from both father and son.

  Fear.

  They feared him.

  They should.

  “How long have you had magic?”

  Magic. Was that what that was? Kai’s heart stopped. He’d heard of magic. He’d heard those who wielded it were dangerous and evil.

  He knew that they were killed.

  “I don’t—”

  “Don’t lie, child.”

  He closed his mouth.

  He had magic. He’d witnessed and felt it; why deny it? Kai was no liar.

  “I don’t suppose it matters.” Akia gestured to his guard. “Lead the boy to the woods, tie him up. I won’t curse this land by spilling magical blood. Let the beasts and the cold take him.”

  Kai knew he was going to die when they left him outside the village, tightly bound to a tree. He didn’t cry. It felt… familiar, like he’d lived through this again and again.

  Like he knew this wasn’t the end. He’d come back. He glared at the master defiantly. However many times they destroyed him, he’d come back.

  Away from this, in a system where slavery was outlawed—the only system of the sort in the whole of the Ratna Belt—she was born that day.

  They called her Nalini, daughter of Moa and Claus Nova, lords of the Val, King and Queen of Itri. As she was the eldest child in a strong line, rooted right back to their original planet, the happy parents cried for their little princess, foreseeing that she would do great things.