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“Apologies, Dr. Oboid. We received this report from a Cedra Holloway who states that her Mate was kidnapped early this morning from their home on Star 3. Holloway herself was hurt in the process. The report states that the hunters who took her were sent by you, Dr. Oboid.”
Cedra! I released a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding, my chest loosening just a little with the confirmation that Cedra was still alive.
“There must be some misunderstanding.”
I could hear the distress in Mother’s voice, and I imagined her brows were furrowed with worry.
“Is Twyla Oboid here? May we speak to her?”
“She’s indisposed—”
“I’m here!” I found my voice, thumping as loudly on the door as I possibly could, sending sharp spikes of pain through my fists. “I’m in here! They locked the door!”
There was a shuffle outside. “Dr. Oboid, please unlock the door. It is not legal to keep someone against their will.”
“She’s my daughter. She will do as I say.” Father’s voice slithered over my skin like ice.
“Be that as it may...” The voice was calm as it continued. “She is of legal age and mated to someone else. In the eyes of the law, you are no longer her legal guardian.”
“Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do in my own house?” Father sounded livid.
“Sir, I’m going to have to insist that you unlock this door.”
The voice was unyielding.
“Do you know if Cedra’s all right?” I asked through the door, unable to help myself.
“Yes, she’s fine.” The voice that replied was distinctly feminine. “She’s anxious to have you home.”
“The door is auto-locked. I can’t get it open myself. It’s voice-controlled,” I explained, jiggling the knob anyway.
“Sir.” The low voice was back. “We are authorized to use force where necessary and this interaction is being recorded. To avoid damages, I’d rather you opened the door yourself.”
There was a prolonged pause and a low curse before the locks disengaged. Still on my hands and knees, I flung open the door to a scene that was almost comical.
My parents stood to my right, looking pinched, angry and uncomfortable. To my left were three peacekeepers in full uniform, their brass badges glinting in the noon light. The Philipses stood in the background, their hands still clasped around slim champagne chutes.
I knelt between them, barefoot and bleeding in Cedra’s worn shirt. Under several pairs of angry, shocked and concerned eyes, I got to my feet, holding myself with as much dignity as I could muster.
“Well,” I said, pushing stray curls out of my eyes. “Um, hello everyone.”
My father spoke first, his voice urgent. “Twyla, tell these peacekeepers that there was no kidnapping. Set them straight.”
I looked between my parents, my skin growing warm when the finality of the moment dawned on me.
“Father,” I said, swallowing past the hard lump in my throat, “I don’t want to disappoint you. Please understand that. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But who I spend my life with isn’t a decision for you to make. It’s mine.”
“Twyla...” Mother’s voice had taken on a pleading edge, and it tugged at my heart, impossible to ignore.
I bit my lip, taking a shuddering breath.
“Take me back to her,” I told the peacekeepers. “Please.”
“No need.” Sudden tears pricked my eyes at the sound of the voice that warmed my soul. “I’m here, ’mara.”
Cedra stood in the entryway, panting lightly. My knees wobbled precariously as I dashed the tears from my eyes, ducking past the peacekeepers to throw myself into her arms. She held me close, her breaths rasping in my ear as I wrapped all my limbs around her in the tightest embrace I could manage.
I felt the familiar tingling sensation of her nose on my pulse point, breathing deep, assuring her senses that I was really okay. A blanket of warmth covered me from head to toe and I let my head drop against her shoulder.
