A Shift in the Sky_In the Stars Romance Read online

  I don’t respond. I can of course speak in animal form, but she probably doesn’t know that. Having shifted means I can ignore her human babble for the time being, without any objections. She doesn’t ask again. Our short journey is blissfully peaceful.

  The long corridors are pretty empty. We pass a few of my colleagues, some in clothed humanoid forms, and some in the forms of their animals. Commander Frayne mutters words of surprise under her breath whenever someone is in their animal form. Her childlike wonder is remarkable. Presumably she has had little experience of consorting with the Imperial Order.

  I cannot even imagine living a traveler’s life like hers. My entire world is inside the Imperial Order. For a few seconds, I allow my mind to drift. What would it be like to live outside the Order, like a Wildcat, never sure of the next job or the next meal? It sounds at once thrilling and horrifying.

  We reach a bank of interrogation suites, and I take her inside one of them. I leave her there and step out again, closing the door behind me.

  “Wait, where are you…”

  The door locks, with a soft bleep.

  A junior enforcer appears in the corridor, and almost jumps out of his skin when he sees me. My class is very rarely found on this workers’ deck. His pale cheeks turn pink and he bows deeply.

  “Oh. Wow. Hey, Prince Jalton. I was just… Did you…?”

  “Get me some clothes. Also, I need refreshments suitable for a human. I have a prisoner to process, and then I’ll be heading back up top. You’ll need to arrange for somebody else to deal with the other prisoners. Change of plan.”

  He’s still startled, so I add “Now,” which sends him scuttling off to obey my order. He doesn’t ask why I’m processing prisoners in the first place. He’s used to us princes and our stupid japes. He’s also paid to obey us.

  Fortunately, he returns almost immediately with some clothes, and a tray. I shift back to my man form and then throw on the outfit, which is only two pieces of custom-fit tailoring and easy to slip on. Both pieces fasten automatically, so I take the tray from him and let the fabric do its thing.

  “Pleasure to serve you, Your Highness,” the underling calls out. I don’t bother responding.

  When I return to the room, the human female is not sitting in the chair provided. Instead, she paces the floor, skipping up and down and humming a tune. I stand in the doorway watching her for a moment. Eventually she realizes she is being observed, and stops.

  “They need to put a bell on that door.” She chews her lip, looking furtive.

  What does she have to hide?

  “I’ll make a note of your suggestion,” I say, setting the tray on the table.

  “Hey, is that drink for me?” She lifts up the glass, looking confused. “It’s pink. What is it? Cherryade?”

  “It’s water.”

  “Why is it pink?”

  “Humans drink colored water.”

  “No we don’t. We drink clear water.” She sniffs it suspiciously. “Or soda. Soda can be colored. Is that what you were thinking of? Soda?”

  I’ve tuned out her questions already, so I sit opposite her, with my touchscreen panel in front of me. “Okay, let’s get started. I have a lot of ships to process today, so I need to wrap this up as quickly as possible.” I don’t mention that I’m going to bale out after this job.

  “Tastes like water. Weird that it’s pink though.”

  “You’ve been hauled in for…” I check the screen. “A series of outstanding traffic violations.”

  Seriously? I’m dealing with this sort of crap? Inwardly, I curse the losing bet that sent me here.

  “A series? No, man. No way. I have one unresolved violation. One. Left the ship in a no-fly zone on Drancolia. That’s it, I swear.”

  “It says here that you have a total of forty-one outstanding violations. Plus one historic offence committed when you were under the age of majority, for which you are still on probation.”

  She nearly spits out her pink water. “Forty-one violations?”

  “No mention of the Drancolia rap either. That will bring it to forty-two.”

  “No, no, no. This can’t be right. Are you sure you don’t have me confused with somebody else?”

  “It’s not possible for Imperial Order technology to mix up two pilots. Your DNA is sequenced when you are assessed for your flight license.”

  “Look, I don’t know how it’s happened, but it’s happened. I have not committed forty plus traffic violations. That’s nuts. Check again.”

  “It’s unnecessary.”

  “Please?” She looks desperate. Her long eyelashes flutter as she blinks back tears.

  I don’t know why, but I decide to indulge her. “All right.” Restarting the search takes fractions of a second. The whole thing runs again, but comes back with an identical table of data. “It’s all the same results as before. Forty-one violations, not including the Drancolia ticket or your juvenile record.”

  “Let me see that.”

  She almost leapfrogs the desk and leans over the screen, frowning at the list of offenses. Her long hair dangles onto my lap. It smells of Earth flowers and herbs. I breathe in her fragrance, momentarily off-guard.

  It occurs to me that I’ve never been with a fully human female. It’s been a while since I was with any female, in fact. Too long. Our father insists that I marry Lady Simla, so most women don’t dare to accept my advances. They’d literally be killed. I understand, but it doesn’t mean I don’t wish things were different.

  The women of Drancolia are beautiful to look at, but they never smell as good as this Earth girl does right now. Corby Frayne’s fragrance reminds me of exotic fruit, ripening in the twin suns of a Ganidroke morning.

  My lion stirs inside me. It wants her. It’s a demanding animal. But it’s not getting its way this time.

  “Uh, Your Highness? Why are your eyes closed?”

  I snap them open at once. “It is irrelevant. Listen, are you sure there’s no way you forgot you had all these outstanding charges?”

  “Forgot? Yeah, sure.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Once you get over forty violations on your record, it probably sticks in your mind.”

  I scroll down the list again. Some of them do seem unusual. This isn’t my real job, so I can’t be sure, but the wording on some of them seems odd. Hasty, perhaps.

  I read out one of the charges. “Two counts of exceeding the speed limit on Ninklobia. Sound familiar?”

  She leaps up, almost bursting with the urge to speak. “Ha! I knew it! These charges are all bullshit. There is no speed limit on Ninklobia.” She sits down again, folding her arms triumphantly. “Something’s up here, Prince Jalton. I’m being set up. And that’s your proof.”

  I look at her, and then back at my screen. Then I perform a quick search on the device for the Ninklobian speed limits. And… she’s right. I look up at her and back at the list. It doesn’t make any sense.

  I tip my head forward, massaging the back of my neck. It still aches from the all-night casino session. A complicated case is the last thing I need. I was only supposed to jump in, do some boring work to repay my gambling debt to my brother, then return to the royal wing. Now I’m expected to fix a screw-up too?

  “Look, the computer doesn’t make mistakes,” I say, at last.

  “Okay, sure. Then like I said, somebody’s setting me up. Either way, I’m innocent.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It is, isn’t it? But now you know, you’d better let me go.”

  “Nice try.” I read the entries again. “What I don’t understand is how you weren’t hauled in long ago. Forty-one violations is a lot.”

  “Exactly. That proves it’s bogus. Your Imperial Order guys are thorough. They don’t wait for someone to commit their forty-second crime before they jump on them.”

  The human makes a good point. How had she slipped through the net? Could there be any truth in her claim that she’s being set up?

  She leans dow
n to tug her bootlace tighter, and her hair falls in a curtain over her face again. The enticing floral scent wafts across the air toward me.

  “Commander Frayne, I have no idea what’s happening here,” I say, in my most official voice. “But it’s not something I have any interest in pursuing. I need to process you, and then I’m out of here.”

  To hell with it. This is definitely my only job down on the interrogation deck. Enough’s enough. One super-demanding prisoner was enough for me. My brother could forget the damn bet. I’d repay him some other way.

  “You don’t care that an injustice is being done?” She opens her eyes wide, and locks onto mine. “You don’t care about what’s right?”

  “Save the theatrics, Commander. You Wildcats have no morals at all. Let’s not debate that, by the way,” I add, because she opens her mouth to speak again. “I have one job to do. Then be back in the royal quarters, and I’ll leave you in peace.”

  “Leave me in peace where?”

  “In the cells, awaiting justice.”

  She yelps in anguish, and a weird pang flits across the muscles of my stomach. Before I can analyze it, there’s a knock at the door.

  “Yes?”

  “Prince Jalton, the floor manager has an update for you.” It’s the junior enforcer from earlier. His face is scarlet, and his hands tremble. “Please read this.”

  He passes me a note, written on paper sealed with a wax-stamped crest. The only time communications are done that way is when it’s top secret. Only paper messages are untraceable, and unhackable.

  I unfold the paper and read it. It’s written in the Zsiatin language, an obscure method of hieroglyphics taught only to Imperial Order natives.

  The note is short and simple.

  “Kill this prisoner,” it says.

  And underneath that, it says “Do it off-world.” It’s signed by the head of the Imperial Order discipline wing.

  I look at the enforcer, who smiles meekly. He has no clue what’s in the note. He wouldn’t be shooting me shy grins if he did.

  I read the note one more time. Holy shit.

  This communication was meant for a real inspector, someone way below my class. Someone who apparently has the task of killing prisoners without trial when ordered to. Is that how we conduct our justice system? Apparently it is.

  The sender of the note had no idea a prince would receive it.

  Nausea returns in a rush. I press the back of one hand to my mouth as I contemplate my next move.

  There is no need for me to get my hands dirty with this kill. In fact, it would be most inappropriate for me to do it. The best thing to do would be to pass the job back to the real criminal processing team. That way, I could get my royal ass back topside, and stop meddling in other people’s jobs. That’s what I’ve been wanting to do since I got here, after all.

  I look at the prisoner. She stares beseechingly at me still, with those wide hazel eyes.

  My lion moves inside me. My blood stirs with longing for her soft human flesh. My lion roars, and it will not be quiet.

  I already know what I have to do.

  A deal is a deal. I lost the bet, so responsibility for this prisoner falls on me.

  I fold the note up again and tuck it inside my hip pocket.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I say.

  The junior enforcer nods, and I close the door.

  5 Corby

  Prince Jalton closes the door on the messenger guy, and remains standing. “We’re moving. Get up, Commander Frayne.”

  “Where are we going?”

  It’s like I never said a word. He opens the door again and says “Follow me,” in his deep grouchy voice.

  The good news is that he’s staying in his guy form this time. No more lion. The lion was gorgeous, but also kind of terrifying. I’d never gotten so close to an apex predator before.

  The bad news is that all his pretty man parts are covered up with clothes now though. Boo. It’s a little bit of a tragedy. The tailoring works too, but he looked jawdroppingly incredible in absolutely nada. And I’m aware I probably shouldn’t be looking at an Imperial Order prince like he’s a hot studmuffin, but sue me. I’m in trouble anyway.

  There are no more options, so I follow him like he wants me to, down long winding corridors lined with blank windows. I’m pretty tall, but his legs are way longer than mine. The man is huge, and fast. Before long, I find myself jogging just to keep up with his casual stride.

  “Where are we going, Your Highness?” I say. Kissing his ass with the “Your Highness” part is irritating, but I can’t afford to piss anyone else off today. I get the feeling my Teflon coating is wearing thin.

  Again, he doesn’t turn around. He just keeps moving.

  Finally, we reach a set of doors. Prince Jalton places his face up close to the screen, and it must operate a security scan or something, because the doors open almost instantly. I stay close behind him, in case they slam shut again. He’s authorized, and I’m obviously not. Although he must be allowed to take prisoners wherever he likes. He’s one of the princes, after all.

  Prisoners. I shiver to think of myself as one of those.

  How am I ever going to get out of this predicament? I have no money even to pay the damn Drancolia fine. I definitely can’t cover any of the other made-up charges. This is serious. If I can sweet talk my way out of any of this, it’ll be a miracle.

  And if the rumors are true that Imperial Order prisoners are usually executed if found guilty, no matter how minor their crime?

  Shit shit shit. I’m so screwed.

  We’re in a dark spacious room now. I can just about make out where the walls are, because they’re accented with tiny bulbs in rows like perfectly arranged fairy lights. But I can’t see what kind of a place it is.

  Before I can ask Prince Jalton about it, the main lights in the room switch on.

  My jaw falls open when I look around. It’s a vast rocket garage. Rows of what look like eyewateringly expensive ships take up the center of the space. Way in the distance, I see one wall is stacked with weaponry, while another is filled from floor to ceiling with touchscreen devices of one kind or another. Scanners, sequencers, whatever. I have no idea. Imperial Order technology is way ahead of my puny hardware.

  Finally, the royal roarer decides to talk to me. “We’re going on a little journey,” he says, like it’s a daytrip to the beach.

  “Excuse me?”

  He leads me to a particularly sleek looking ship, and opens the door with another face scan.

  “A journey?” I say, panic starting to rise. “I’m not stepping inside that thing. If I’m going anywhere, it’s going to be in my own damn ship.”

  The entry staircase descends with a soft whoosh. When it has extended fully, he turns to me. “Please step inside. This won’t take long.”

  A deep sense of foreboding grips me. Folding my arms in front of me, I stand with my heavy boots apart and shake my head. “Nope. I’m going nowhere.”

  He looks at me, as though seeing me for the first time. Frowning, he shakes his head slightly, as though his ears may be blocked. “What?”

  “I said I’m not going in there with you. Something bad might happen, and…” I falter. “I can’t leave my ship.”

  “You already left your ship.”

  “Only for a conversation. Which turned out to be a lot more of a ballache than I expected. And anyway, it’s not like I had a lot of choice. You barged in, like a… a lion. But this?” I wave my arms around manically. “This is a whole other vehicle.” I take a step back. “Why would I need to get on this particular ship? What do you have in there?”

  “I have no idea what’s in it. I just need to take you elsewhere, and this looks like a good vehicle to take for a spin.” He shrugs, with the natural confidence of a guy born into unimaginable privilege. “I can take whichever one I want. Are you going to stand there arguing, or are you going to follow my instructions?”

  “Do you plan to take me somewh
ere in this ship? Because let me tell you, that is not okay.”

  He looks me up and down, his eyes running languidly from my face down to my feet and back again. I feel a flush of awkwardness at his attention. He’s stupidly good looking, and I can’t stop my cheeks burning. Damn this royal jerk.

  “Look, you’re going to have to trust me,” he says, but his face is totally unreadable.

  He doesn’t meet my eye now, and instead just holds the door open for me. I don’t know the guy at all, but I’m still getting a vibe that suggests he’s not being upfront with me. Who knows what the real deal is?

  “What if I resist?”

  He shrugs. “Well, I could always shoot you right here and now. That’s probably what they do to prisoners resisting arrest.” A ghost of a smile plays around the corners of his mouth.

  “Arrest? You’re not an enforcer.”

  “No, but I’m sure princes can arrest people too. And shoot them.”

  “Oh, really? You’re sure?”

  “Of course. Who’s going to stop me?” He flashes me a full-beam smile for the first time, and it throws me off-center for a moment. He’s even more handsome when he’s not frowning. “Look, just get on the ship, Commander Frayne. I don’t have time for this. If you value your career, I suggest you do as I say.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  He holds eye contact steadily. “If you don’t, you have forty-one chances to tell the authorities why you disobeyed me.”

  I pause for a second, thinking about all my options.

  Then I realize I’m out of options.

  With a little squeak of frustration, I begin to climb the stairway.

  Prince Jalton hurries me on to a sleek looking ship and hits the door close panel. The ship is way more fancy than mine. In fact, it’s on a whole other level of fancy. Mine looks like an antique go-kart in comparison.

  This one has what looks like a marble and steel interior, trimmed with precious alien stones that glimmer slightly in the soft lighting. I don’t know if this is standard decor for Imperial Order ships, but somebody put some real effort into making this comfortable. Prince Jalton is a rich boy, obviously, so he probably doesn’t even notice. But to a kid from a blue-collar Earth neighborhood, this shit is fly.