The Harvest Young- Bound by Love Page 11

  Neo nodded at the expression of horror on Jolak’s face. “That’s right.”

  Kia’s bells tinkled faintly as he wrung his hands. “The males of my species are not responsible for this. They simply don’t have that kind of power. Merciful gods, how can Hamza not know that?”

  “I honestly don’t know. He’s reacting in anger, and nothing else is getting through.”

  “So he sees me as the enemy,” Kia whispered.

  Jolak whipped around and frowned at Kia. “That’s absolute garbage.”

  “I only wish that it were. I think Hamza reacted like he did because Kia is someone who looks Ne Reynian.” Neo glanced at Jolak. “Jolak, you said Hamza turned pale, right? I’m betting he’s trying to reconcile his anger at what happened to Duran with his ties to Kia and Laken.”

  “We must stop him. We must make him see reason. By the gods, this isn’t the young I raised.” Wide-eyed, Jolak gaped at Neo. “If he continues on this path—”

  “It will destroy us all, but most assuredly Hamza.”

  “It did King Vesh. I mated Duran in the aftermath of the war with the Onfre. I remember the fear, the all-out terror of what the Tah’Narians faced. They were heading toward extinction. Things were bad for so long.” Jolak chewed on his bottom lip. “Which resulted in desperate measures that changed the lives of so many.”

  Neo froze. “By the gods,” he muttered as Jolak’s words ricocheted around in his brain. Finally they settled on one inescapable fact. “The Onfre almost did to us what Hamza is threatening to do to the Ne Reyn. Not all Tah’Narians agreed with attacking the Onfre, I’m sure, but all of them damn sure suffered for it.”

  “Yes, they did,” Jolak said. “Ask Keyno about what happened to him and his first mate. Or ask Dale, Chad, John, or Cielo what happened to them as a result of Tah’Nar attacking the Onfre. Or any of the other males the Tah’Narians took so they could continue to exist. Hamza has heard the tales, but we’ve whitewashed them. It’s time he hears the unvarnished truth.”

  “That’s it.” Neo jumped up. “Jolak! That’s it!”

  “I’ll share what my life was like before Malk mated me too. That way he’d have an actual account of how Ne Reynian society is run.” Kia grimaced. “He should hear how all of the species he’s threatening to annihilate lives.”

  Jolak nodded. “Agreed. I’ll speak to our friends and see if they’re willing to recount what they went through. I hate to open those old wounds, but I think it must be done. I don’t foresee any complications, particularly when they find out what Hamza is proposing.”

  “Shit.” Neo collapsed back in his chair. “Hamza won’t be happy with us, especially if he hasn’t already told Keyno and Gibor what he’s planning. I can’t imagine he has yet.” Neo winced as another thought struck him. “And fucking hell, Hamza plans to ask Malk to be a blood general too. What the hell is he thinking? I mean….” Neo waved at Kia. “You’re his mate. Hamza is talking about killing all of your species.”

  Kia pursed his lips. “As far as the females go, Malk would gladly volunteer for some murder and mayhem. But the males? Yes, Malk will react badly over that. After all, he watched me deal with the trauma I suffered.”

  “Then we’ll include Malk too,” Neo pointed out. “This may be the only thing to get Hamza off this course he’s set on.”

  “I hope so, or we may find ourselves back to what it was before Duran took over,” Jolak said, rising. Kia and Neo climbed to their feet too. He started toward the door. “Now that we have a plan, it’s time to help organize and move everyone back into the palace. Then I need to deal with Duran’s laying in state.” The entrance slid open. “Now, you two.”

  Neo gaped at Kia. “Oh gods, did he just say he was going to—”

  Kia reached for Neo’s arm and tugged him along. “Yes, he most certainly did.”

  “But, but…. I… dammit.” Was that a good idea? It didn’t seem like it.

  “If you try and get in his way, you won’t like the consequences,” Kia whispered. “Let him be. He needs this.”

  “Hamza isn’t going to like it.” Neo strangled the impulse to laugh hysterically. They could just add that to the list of things Hamza wouldn’t like. “Gods.”

  “We’ll save him. I promise.”

  “Who? Hamza?”

  “Yes.”

  “I hope so, or Jolak could lose both of them. I’m not sure Jolak could survive that. Or me.” Neo plastered a smile on his face as they reached Jolak. He wasn’t sure he was ready for what else the unit day would bring.

  MOVING BACK into the palace was harder than Neo ever dreamed. There was a lot to accomplish, and memories lurked in every corner, waiting to tackle him when he least expected it. But hands down the most awkward situation was moving into the royal wing. Since it hadn’t sustained damage from the attack, Hamza had assumed Jolak would move back into the royal suite.

  Jolak kindly, but firmly, refused. He stated that his place was no longer there, and that he planned to reside in Neo and Hamza’s former rooms. After a brief argument with Hamza, Jolak won. That launched a rush to move two quarters full of things. Hamza, already tense, spent the rest of the afternoon snapping at anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path.

  Eventually Neo had enough and pulled Hamza into a vacant office.

  “What are you doing?” Hamza demanded.

  “Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing. Look, you need to get a grip. This is challenging enough without you acting like an ass to everyone you meet.”

  Hamza’s tail whipped back and forth on the floor behind him. “I’m not acting like—”

  “The hell you aren’t.”

  Hamza crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Neo.

  Neo returned the favor.

  Shoulders sagging, Hamza huffed. “I wasn’t expecting atat to refuse to stay in his quarters. It never crossed my mind he’d no longer wish to stay where he and my dabba spent so much time.”

  “And that’s probably why he didn’t wish to stay there—too many memories. Not to mention it’s the royal suite, and you’re king now. Jolak can be a stickler for protocol.”

  “I know. Gods, I wish this unit day was done. I’m tired.”

  There were circles under Hamza’s eyes, his shoulders were slumped, and an air of defeat hung over him. Hell, he was even pale, and that was saying something for a Tah’Narian. The lack of sleep was obviously catching up with him. And when was the last time he’d had a meal? Neo couldn’t remember seeing Hamza eat that morning, and there certainly hadn’t been time today.

  “Like, bone tired.” Hamza massaged his temples, then flinched slightly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing.” Hamza dropped his arm, but a grimace crossed his face.

  Neo’s gut tightened. There was something wrong. “Really?” Neo crossed to Hamza. “Because it doesn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me.”

  Hamza stuck his hand behind his back.

  What, were they ten again? “Hamza.”

  Hamza huffed. “Fine.”

  Neo gently clasped Hamza’s hand. Bending over, he studied the scraped, swollen, and bruised skin around his knuckles. “Any pain?”

  “Yes, some.”

  “Numbness?” Neo ran his fingers over the inflamed areas. “Any difficulty moving parts of your hand?”

  “Some, and a little.”

  “Some of your knuckles are slightly depressed,” Neo muttered. “When you make a fist, has there been any popping or cracking sounds?”

  “I haven’t noticed, but I haven’t been checking for that, you know?”

  Neo straightened. “How did this happen? What did you do?”

  Exasperated, Hamza sighed. “I was upset last night, and I kind of lost it, and, well, the wall was there and—”

  “And you decided to… what? Hit it?”

  Hamza blushed. Kind of shuffled his feet. Exhaled loudly. “It seemed like an excellent idea at the time.”

  “But n
ot so much now, huh?” Neo asked. He was tempted to take Hamza into his arms, especially when he was being so awkwardly cute. It was hard to reconcile this Hamza to the one where hatred blazed from his eyes.

  “Not so much.”

  “You may have metacarpal fractures.” Neo wanted to press a kiss to the torn and damaged skin. He hated knowing Hamza was in pain. “Is Medical set back up?”

  Hamza balked. “But surely it isn’t broken. I didn’t hit the wall that hard.”

  “Your hand says otherwise.” Neo released it. “I won’t know until I scan it. Now, Medical?”

  “Dammit.” Hamza blew out a breath. “Yes, it’s open. Everything is now. The palace is fully functional.”

  “Guess that explains why you’ve been such an ass today. I probably would’ve been too if I’d fractured something and hadn’t told anyone.” Neo pointedly stared at Hamza, then at his hand, then back at Hamza.

  “I wasn’t being an ass—but if I had been—then yeah, that might’ve had something to do with it. As well as the reason I broke it.”

  “Yeah, you don’t get to put that off on me. I was upset too, and I didn’t go around punching innocent walls.”

  “Innocent walls, huh? But guilty ones are fair game?”

  “Weirdo.” Neo had missed this easiness between them, even though it hadn’t been that long since they’d argued. “All I’m going to say is I think the wall won.”

  “It does seem like it.” Hamza swallowed. “I miss your touch. I miss you.”

  “I miss your touch and miss you too. But that’s a whole ‘nother can of worms, as my dad says, so let’s just leave that alone for now. Come on, let’s go to Medical.” Neo motioned for Hamza to start walking. “By the way, some people will do just about anything to get out of work,” Neo said, trying to lighten the situation.

  Hamza snorted.

  “CONGRATULATIONS, YOU managed to break several of your knuckles.”

  “Well, hell.” Hamza scowled at his hand.

  “And the prize for such an idiotic action is spending the next two unit hours with an orthogenic regenerator attached to your hand.” Neo studied the x-ray.

  “I don’t have time for this.”

  Neo was going to have whiplash from Hamza’s sudden mood changes. It was confusing, and he was tired of walking on eggshells around Hamza. “Should’ve thought of that before you started hitting innocent walls,” he said, baring his teeth in what could, maybe in some other galaxy, be termed a smile. “And by the way, be glad you didn’t require surgery, or you’d be here even longer. So, you might as well get comfortable and be happy it’s only two unit hours.” Neo threw over his shoulder, “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

  Chapter Thirteen – Hamza

  “HA, HA,” Hamza muttered.

  The low buzz of a comm caught his attention, but he didn’t hear Neo speaking. Neo returned with an evil-looking contraption and a hydropain-spray for the pain, which Hamza was pleased to see. It wasn’t until then he realized how uncomfortable he’d been. It was getting hard to tell the physical pain from the mental. When the meds kicked in, Neo fitted the apparatus onto Hamza’s hand. He watched Neo’s long fingers deftly maneuver the thing.

  “In two unit hours a nurse will remove it and you can leave.”

  Hamza jerked his head up. “You’re not staying?”

  “I can’t. I need to check on how moving our quarters is progressing. Also, Jolak commed me earlier. There’s a few details left concerning your crowning and Duran’s laying in state.”

  Hamza gritted his teeth. “Tell me Jolak isn’t handling the laying in state.”

  “Fine. I won’t tell you Jolak is handling the funeral or the laying in.”

  “Dammit.” Oh, Hamza hated that blank look on Neo’s face. He’d seen it too often the past twenty-four unit hours. “I need to be there, taking care of that. Not him.” Hamza reached for the orthogenic regenerator.

  Neo grabbed Hamza’s free hand. “Touch that, and I swear by the gods, I’ll sedate you. You know I’ll do it too. Let the damn machine do what it’s programed to do, which means sitting your ass there and letting it fix you.”

  Hamza opened his mouth.

  “I know you didn’t ask for my advice, just like you didn’t last night, but this time I will have my say. Duran was Jolak’s mate, and he has the right to handle the funeral and laying in. Whether or not you agree doesn’t matter.” Neo released Hamza’s hand.

  Hamza’s lips tightened. Was Neo still harping on that? Whatever easiness that had sprung up between them since the fight from last night shattered. Just when he thought they were making headway, Neo had to go and ruin it.

  “And frankly, I wouldn’t want to be on this side of the planet if you try to stop him. But hey, don’t let what I think stop you. You didn’t before. Now….” Neo checked his comm. “Before I leave, I’m going to fix you a meal since it’s the middle of the damn unit day already. And no, I don’t want to hear you don’t have time to eat. For the next two unit hours, you have nothing but time. Plus, the food will provide energy you need to heal. So, what do you want?”

  “Neo—” Hamza’s comm beeped, and a growl threatened to escape. What now? After a quick check, he saved the message. More progress reports were coming in on the statuses of the cities attacked. Things were coming along nicely there. Distracted, he read the reports again. “Ah, whatever is fine. I don’t care.”

  “Fine. One whatever coming up.” Neo stomped over and programmed the reduplicator. When it beeped, he snatched the food out, brought it over, and dropped it in front of Hamza. “Once the treatment is done, the area will be tender, so treat it with care. I’d resist hitting walls with that hand, or next time you may need surgery to correct the damage. I’ll see you later.”

  Hamza’s tail twitched behind him at Neo’s tone, but he didn’t bother to reply. Instead he scanned the messages coming in about the space fleet. Every ship was now in orbit, and the ones damaged were repaired.

  Good. That was excellent news. The sooner things were back to normal, the sooner he could plan his attack against the Ne Reyn. Absently he reached for what Neo placed in front of him. He’d deal with Neo later. Right now, this was more important.

  ONCE HIS treatment was completed, he left Medical and went straight to Duran’s office, his guards in tow. Leaving them stationed outside the door, he stepped inside. Halfway into the room, he stopped. It was pretty much as it had always been—every picture, every book, every knickknack was in its place. He took a deep breath. Gods, he could still smell his dabba’s scent. It had been woven into the curtains and rugs. Maybe even the very walls.

  Memories threatened to overwhelm him, and he tried shoving them aside. But he couldn’t help but see himself sitting in his dabba’s lap as a young, all bright-eyed and curious, as Dabba carried on interplanetary conference calls or read over reports.

  Pain, something he was becoming used to, flared briefly in his chest. Gods, how he missed his dabba.

  Slowly he approached his dabba’s massive desk. He ran his fingers over the chair, then spun it, listening to the squeak that had been there as long as he’d been alive, it seemed.

  Dabba, why don’t you get a new chair?

  I like this one. It has character.

  A smile teased his lips as he heard his dabba’s voice in his head. And now he’d have a chair with character. He settled into it, twisted a bit to arrange his tail out of the back of it, and tapped the communication device to start a call with the city lords and advisors he’d appointed to oversee the rebuilding of Castron, Lowbrett, and Kiton.

  Once that was finished several unit hours later, he turned his attention to making a final check-in with those who were overseeing the space fleet. Next he focused on memos that dealt with outfitting both Darkkit Palace and the Tah’Narian Planetary Defense building with weapons.

  By the time he was finished with that, the two suns were setting. Finally he contacted the captains of the Onfre ships and extended an inv
itation to attend his crowning, which was scheduled to take place in three unit days. Then Duran’s laying in state would start, and the funeral would be held five unit days later in the Great Hall.

  He ended the communication and straightened his desk. As he was shutting down, a subspace message came in.

  “How odd. It’s encrypted. Wonder what this is about?” He typed in the passcode. As he read, his eyes grew larger. “What the hell?”

  Infuriated, he commed Advisor Taff. While the comm buzzed, he read the message once more. He still couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  “Sire?”

  Hamza tore his gaze from the subspace message. “Good evening, Advisor Taff.”

  “Good evening, Sire. How may I be of service?”

  “Report to my office. Immediately. I have something I need to discuss with you.”

  “Of course. I will be there directly.”

  “Good.” Hamza shut the comm off.

  He pushed to his feet and came around the desk. Anger fired his blood, and the urge to hit something grew. Only Neo’s warning of what could happen kept him in check. He paced in front of his desk, the words from the subspace message replaying in his head.

  He was mad. Killing mad.

  He stalked the confines of his office until finally there was a tap at the door. He granted permission to enter so Advisor Taff could get his ass in there.

  “Sire? I came as quickly as I could. Is everything okay?”

  “No, everything is certainly not okay.” Hamza stalked around the desk and sat. He turned the viewing screen toward the seat across from him. “Have a seat, Advisor Taff, and explain what this is about.”

  Advisor Taff sat and squinted at the screen. “Oh.”

  “Oh?” Hamza jerked the screen back around to him. “Is that all you have to say? Why wasn’t I told about this?”

  “In the chaos of the past several unit days, I forgot. For that I apologize.”

  “I don’t want your apologies. I want to know what the hell we’re doing funding the Ne Reynians’ civil war!” Hamza bellowed. The very idea made his head want to explode. “Explain. Now.”