Ambassador of War

Chapter 2

She awoke to warm breath playing across her skin and looked down to find him nuzzled into her breast. His face was peaceful, his eyes shut in sleep and his features relaxed. Nightmares had stayed away from wife and husband tonight.

Malar felt more content than she had in the months since her people came under attack, having been allowed a few nights of rest at last. Her brother was holding things down well enough, leading the raiders on a series of successful strikes. It was lucky that her Special Forces had survived; the standard army had been decimated, robbing them of their main defence. The Darks owed Xenon's commandos their lives.

She brought an arm up to stroke her husband's cheek, her fingertips running along the length of his head, back to his neck and a little further to his ears. He shifted slightly, a small groan escaping his lips, and she felt his arm wrap around her tighter. She allowed herself a smile, then laid a light kiss on his forehead, the corners of his mouth twitching up at the contact.

She gave herself a few minutes to enjoy Zion's arms around her, his warmth comfortable against her skin, then planted another kiss on his head and gently unwrapped his arm from her.

"Sorry, dear," she whispered, as she slid out from under the covers carefully, to avoid disturbing his sleep.

She quietly crossed the sparsely furnished room, slowly slipping on the uniform and armour that were hanging on the door. Taking the silver and blue helmet in her hands, and the cloak from its hook, she glanced back to the bed. Her husband had not stirred.

Shaking her head to dispel the familiar temptation to take the armour off, and climb back under the covers with him, she opened the door and left the room, pulling the helmet on over her ears. She glanced down the hall: her daughter's door was open, and peeking inside, she found the room empty. She hoped her daughter was alright; their conversation the day before had not ended well.

She is probably outside with Vicss, she thought. He was a good lad, and Malar had known Cobalt's friendship to him was a good one since the very start. She wouldn't be surprised if it blossomed from there in the years to come; they were fourteen now, and these sorts of things tended to happen sooner or later. Especially as she neared her first cycle.

Malar smiled to herself. He would make a good prince if they went that direction; she was sure of it.

As she stepped outside the house, clasping the cloak around her neck so it rested on her shoulders and dropped down to the ground, the guard standing sentry saluted her: "Good day, Your Majesty!"

Malar returned the salute, and continued from the wooden house, one of the many small buildings in this tiny town that encompassed all her people had left. It was far from the grandeur and majesty of her palace, the old seat of her throne, but that had been burned down by the Protectorate months before with the rest of the capital, robbing her of her home, and – she remembered grimly – something much dearer.

She heard the distant thrum of engines and walked in the blazing heat towards the edge of town. She got there in time to see the raiding party's return, the supply trucks coming to a halt just before the buildings and the trike escort braking in suit. The Ambassador on the lead trike killed the engine and dismounted, and Malar saw her brother's anger before he even took off his helmet.

"You made it in one piece," she commented.

"One piece, certainly," Xenon replied. "No casualties on our side, we caught them completely off guard."

"So, it was a success?"

"We got the canisters, as planned. But I would not call it a success." He spat the last word.