CHAPTER 2
“No. Absolutely not. Under no circumstances.” The Captain of the Trincaar’s Royal Guard, Nicholen, crossed his arms.
He stood with Camlan Valkkh in the tiny briefing room of the lead starship that would take them on a diplomatic mission to the human Sol System. The prince shifted his stance, and Nicholen matched him, centering his weight and resettling his arms. He tuned into his psy-sense—the ability all kadyyza possessed to read intense emotions—to scrutinize Camlan. Nicholen’s particular ability manifested feelings as scents.
The trincaar was taller and more naturally muscled than Nicholen, but the smaller man knew he’d prevail in a wrestling match if Camlan instigated it, easily winning the argument. The table would get in their way, but if this was how he wanted to settle this, Nicholen trained six days a week in the gym, alternating weights with jogging and martial arts training.
But Camlan’s eyes weren’t sparkling, and Nicholen’s psy-sense did not read the sugary mirth that went along with Camlan’s jokes. This wasn’t a teasing argument between now-adult men who’d been friends since they were children. The trincaar was serious.
“Those are your orders,” said Camlan. He ran a hand over the deep indigo cape that marked his station as the trincaarit-in-waiting—king-in-waiting. Then he reached up to unhook it, and it cascaded from his shoulder to rest in the crook of his elbow.
“I can’t impersonate you!” Nicholen took a deep breath and lowered his voice. Camlan was inured to his outbursts—the corner of his mouth quirked up. Nicholen would have a better chance of stopping this scheme if he kept calm and reasonable. “Besides, everyone will know who you are immediately. They’ll see me. They’ll know your Captain of the Guard is wearing the royal family’s cape. Everyone knows what you look like. And then where will you be?”
“They won’t. There are things you don’t know about the royal family.” The smile vanished. “There are things I didn’t know about our genetic heritage until today. I have the ability to make people believe that they’re looking at the trincaar when they look at you. Everything they know about me, all the audvids they’ve watched—you will replace me in their memory.”
Nicholen’s heart beat faster, as it did when he was preparing for an altercation. But this was not an enemy he could fight—and who was the enemy anyway? He didn’t like not knowing something.
“Secrets make it impossible for me to do my job.” It was the same thing he’d told Camlan three years ago, after he’d caught him sneaking out in the middle of the night to see some girl. That relationship hadn’t lasted long anyway, and Nicholen would never understand why the prince put himself in such danger. But ever since the near-assassination that came as a result from Camlan’s bad judgment, he was upfront with his lifelong friend and protector.
But Camlan only snorted. “Tell that to my father. He’s the one with the secrets.” He sighed. “Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s plenty more that neither of us know.”
“Look, I feel for your father troubles,” Nicholen really did, although Camlan wasn’t making his relationship with the sovereign ruler of Imdali any easier, “but no. I refuse this order.” As Captain, he was the only person who could override the prince’s command. Even if they could pull it off, masquerading as Camlan would introduce too many risks in familiar territory, let alone on an alien space station light-years from home.
Camlan stood, back rigid, cape slung over one arm. Midnight eyes bored into Nicholen. “And I, too, am sorry. This is on order of the trincaarit. My father has asked—told us to do this.”
Nicholen’s mouth fell open. The trincaarit was the only person who could override his own order.
“Do I need to call him? Have him tell you directly?” Camlan asked.
Nicholen closed his mouth. He hated being undermined. “Get him in here.”
Camlan pressed two fingers under his ear to activate his link. “Father? I told you he’d need more convincing.”
Within a minute, the door swished open and the trincaarit strode inside. Nicholen inclined his head in a deep bow. The kadyyza people were programmed to be deferent to the royal family, a decision made by the geneticists who were the forebears to their entire species. The current geneticists had eased Nicholen’s genetic commands for Camlan, but his instincts still kicked in full force with the appearance of the ruler of the entire Imdali System.
“Ah, Nicholen, my boy, good to see you again.” Travid Valkkh gave a slight nod in acceptance to the captain’s display of respect.
Nicholen fought against the desire to acquiesce. He was tasked with keeping the trincaar safe, and he couldn’t do that while pretending to be the trincaar. “Your Excellency, I must strongly recommend against this course of action.”
Camlan was a large man, but Travid was even larger. The similarities were striking; the older the son got, the more like his father he looked. Because Travid was the reigning ruler, Nicholen’s psy-sense read nothing from him, another trait buried in kadyyza genetic code.
Travid said, “I’m not changing my mind. This must be done.”
Nicholen had grown up in the royal household—his father was Captain of the Trincaar’s Royal Guard—but even so, it was difficult to think of arguing. Still, he managed, “Why?”
Even those midnight eyes were nearly identical. “Camlan has a lesson to learn.”
The trincaar shuffled his feet. “Do we really need to—?”
“Let the man understand,” said Travid. “My son has been having difficulty coping with Willex’s death. Although it happened many years ago, he’s been feeling unequal to the task of ruling as of late.”
“Not exactly unequal—”
Travid silenced Camlan with a look. “You were never intended to rule. You stepped dutifully into the role, picking up the things you needed to learn, but you were just a boy at the time. Now, in your heart of hearts, you don’t believe you can do it.”
The eldest Valkkh brother had died in an accident when Camlan was a teenager. He was practicing off-roading in the forest, one of his favorite pastimes, when his vehicle hit a branch and tossed him into a swiftly moving river. He’d become entangled in a webbed shirt fashionable at the time and drowned before his security team managed to drag him out.
A full-scale, year-long investigation took place, but no charges were laid. Most of the family suspected that a terrorist organization called the Geshhina Kadyyza was involved, but every lead met a dead end. They were ruthless, bent on overthrowing the current government, and incredibly wily. Just the sort to evade detection.
Willex’s death hit the entire family hard, but Nicholen had watched the weight of new responsibilities settle on Camlan’s shoulders over the years. As of late, his long-time friend had been shirking duties, pissing off Travid’s advisers, and making a spectacle of himself in “leaked” audvids on the neural net.
“How will my becoming trincaar help him with this?” Nicholen struggled to understand.
“He believes people only listen to him because of his title. He thinks he has nothing to offer as a person. I want him to use this opportunity to observe how people treat the trincaar and to make decisions on his own merit, as you do in the role of Captain of the Guard.” Travid was still watching his son. “Are you able to complete this task?”
Nicholen’s still didn’t like it, but the reasoning seemed somewhat solid. “I’ll do whatever you need. It’s just…” He trailed off. How could he explain? Because he’d grown up in the royal household, his position as captain for one of the princes seemed guaranteed. But he didn’t want to be handed the position. He needed to earn it—every single day he was on the job. “The trincaar’s safety will be at risk if I’m not operating with my own authority.”
“You’ll have his authority,” said Travid.
Nicholen frowned. How could he argue with that? Besides, his resolve was crumbling as the genetic predisposition took over, making him want to ask forgiveness from his sovereign leader. He was too proud for that, but, “Fine.” He turned to his prince and long-time friend. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”
The corner of Travid’s mouth lifted in a small smile. He knew his son as well as Nicholen did.
“Of course I won’t.” Camlan’s grin was back, the one that lit up the neural net audvids and kept half the solar system obsessing over his relationship status on social media.
Nicholen might not be able to influence Travid, but he definitely could influence Camlan. “I’m serious. That is an order.”
“Yes, sir.” Camlan mock-saluted, and Nicholen’s psy-sense picked up his mood again—sugary-sweet and teasing. Nothing ever got him down, that was for sure.
Travid plucked Camlan’s cape from the crook of his elbow. “Here. You’ll need to wear this to pass as royalty. You must act as similarly to Camlan as possible.”
“If I may,” Nicholen had difficulty getting the words out, but he needed to know, “how does this work?”
Travid looped the cape around Nicholen’s shoulders. “The forebears buried secrets in our DNA. The royalty’s psy-abilities are much greater than is commonly known. I tell you at great risk—it is important this information does not leave this room. But I trust you with my son’s life, so I must trust you with this.”
The cape settled around Nicholen’s shoulders, and the reality of what the trincaarit was ordering sunk in. Nicholen would be acting as trincaar, greeting the human delegation, pretending to be something he was not. Sure, he’d grown up watching the Valkkh brothers learn how to be princes, but acting one himself was completely different.
“You’ll do fine. I know it.” Travid’s hand was heavy on his shoulder.