“Councilhead? My father is councilhead?” he responded with a swell of pride. His father had been barely past the waning. Now he oversaw the council of elders? Soren wondered if his mother was still alive, if his younger brother prospered and had attracted a bride. And his sister.
Suddenly the rushing surge of joy ebbed as he thought about Rensa. He didn’t have time to think. He didn’t want to think. He only wanted to enjoy this moment.
“Your family has been looking for you a long time, Soren of Eln.” Nu waved to her jubilant crew. “Don’t mind them. You just won us forty casks of vintage Eln blackwine and some rich trading rights courtesy of your fruitful family.”
“I’m sure your crew will enjoy them with Eln’s blessing,” Soren offered, amused. The Pyri never changed, and neither did their taste for blackwine, it seemed.
“We will return you to your home with joyous hearts, Soren. Wait while we initiate the docking sequence.”
Cyani entered the cockpit. The Pyri glanced up at her. “An Azralen Elite?”
“She is the one who freed me, and I would ask that she be allowed to accompany me to my home,” he insisted.
The woman’s brow furrowed. “For what purpose?”
“Byhirn,” he stated, knowing the translators couldn’t understand the word for Byra’s mating ritual. He had no garden to invite her to, but she didn’t need one. She loved him. If they couldn’t survive in his overgrown mess of a garden, they would find a way. They had always found a way together.
The P
yri looked shocked. “Really? How exceptionally interesting. Very well, she can accompany you so long as Smith remains on my ship as my”—she paused, and a wicked smile crossed her face—“guest. We have some unfinished business to attend to. When you send us word, we will release him back here with his ship.”
Cyn shot a glance at Soren.
“Damn pollen filters,” Nu grumbled from behind her mask.
Cyani laughed, drawing the back of her hand under her own nose.
Soren smiled and offered her his hand.
She descended and took her place at his side.
“Mami, I’d like you to meet Cyani,” he forced out of his tight throat.
“Welcome, my child,” his mother offered.
She took Cyani’s hand, folded it in hers, and pressed it to her heart, then patted Vicca on the head.
“Soren?” Cyani turned. The cheering crowd pushed around them.
Just then, Soren caught sight of a beautiful young woman standing near a team of fine silkas hitched to a wagon.
The pain sliced through him in one terrible cleansing stroke.
“Rensa,” he whispered.
She rushed forward and hugged him. He let the tears finally fall as he held his baby sister. He thanked the Grower, she was safe. All he had ever done, he had done to protect her.
Rensa shook as he hugged her, but she pulled back. She wiped her own eyes then looked up. Her brow furrowed then shot straight up in shock as she noticed Cyani for the first time. She looked back at Soren, puzzled, then she smiled. Soren smiled back.
“Welcome, sister,” she greeted, then looked like she didn’t know what to do with herself. Finally she motioned toward the road. “Come. I have the wagon waiting for us. Let’s get out of here while father makes his speech.”
Soren took a moment to greet the silkas. He never thought he’d see one again. He ran a hand down each long velvety nose. They watched him with deep dark eyes beneath their long sweeping lashes.
“What beauties,” he whispered to them. “You have the look of my old Mum-mum.” One shook its head, its long white hair floating around its elegant long neck. Soren ran a hand over the braids in their smooth coats. They had been tied with blue and green ribbons that bobbed over their shoulders and around their graceful legs.
With a sigh, he checked their harness, patted the nearest one on the rump, and climbed into the wagon.
Rensa wouldn’t stop staring at Soren’s wrists. He didn’t bother to cover his scars.
“Rens, listen to me. I’m glad it was me. It’s okay,” he said.
“No, it is not,” she countered. “I’m sorry.”
Soren took her hand. “I don’t ever want to hear that again. Do you understand? It was my fault, not yours.”
She nodded, though the motion was shaky.
“Rensa, I’m home.”
She smiled then, her eyes sparkling. She turned her attention to the silkas as she expertly drove them with soft taps of the lead-rod to their flanks. A flood of news poured out of her mouth, as if she had been saving every missed conversation from the last fourteen years.
She told them about the new relationship with the Pyri, and their willingness to share more of their technology, their father’s rise in power to become councilhead, the twisting political brumto do it.
They walked in silence down the path. Cyani pushed back the feeling that she was being foolish.
So what?
Now was not the time to worry about Azra. She didn’t have long before she’d have to return. If this was the only bit of peace and beauty she’d have in her life, she wanted to cling to it, even if it was only for a few hours.
This world entranced her. Her visions of the glorious afterlife couldn’t compare. She’d been mistaken about her impressions of what a lifegarden was. She’d thought of it like a farm, or a tended plot of land, but instead, it was an intricate and perfectly balanced ecosystem. It was hard to imagine Soren as a young boy struggling to create such a pristine wonder on his own.
He pointed out the different species of butterflies floating over the blankets of flowers adorning the path. For the first time since she freed him, he truly seemed at ease.
Yes, she could believe he created this. It was his nature to find beauty and watch it grow.
They walked down the path to the fields of spongy grass where a small flock of white beasts grazed. They reminded Cyani of camels with more elegant features, draping hair, long floppy ears, and only a slight hump. She had never seen anything like them on any other planet. One of the foals cavorted toward her.
Cyani laughed and ran as the little thing galloped around on unsteady legs. Soren caught her and held her in his arms as he chuckled at her. Vicca chased after the foal in a futile attempt to herd it back toward its sleepy-eyed mother.
“Come on,” Soren whispered in her ear. “I’ve got something to show you.”
The sun faded fast as they crossed the field and made their way over a series of large flat stones embedded in the cool creek. They followed the creek bank up into the edge of the forest. The ground sloped down into a shady grotto. A chorus of chirping insects hummed in the trees. Curling ferns lingered beneath the sweet-smelling needles of the conifers. A trickling waterfall played over moss-covered rocks. The soft flowing plants were the same color as her hair.
“One of the very first thoughts I had when you freed me, was that you reminded me of this place,” Soren admitted.
“You thought I had mossy hair?” she teased.
“You reminded me of my home,” he answered. “Look.”
Cyani turned her attention to the place he was pointing and gasped. Amidst the ferns tiny pinpoints of light swelled and faded as they floated like magic over the fronds. They lit in bright shades of green, yellow, violet, and blue as they drifted about, lighting and disappearing again.
“What are they?” Cyani whispered in awe.
“Light bugs,” Soren answered. “They’re hoping to find a mate.”
“Creative name.” She smiled at him. He shrugged as he sat in a patch of cool, sweet-smelling flowers.
Vicca leapt at one of the bugs and took a swipe at it with her paw. She twisted in the air and landed with a loud splash in the creek.
With a squawk, she threw herself back out of the water and scurried under a stand of ferns.
Laughter bubbled up out of Cyani before she could help it. Her amusement was carefree and spontaneous. It came from her alone, unlike her feelings on Mah="1em">
“Soren,” she gasped.
His hot mouth closed on her flesh, and the sensation of his intimate kiss ricocheted through her nerves. She had never felt anything like it as his soft tongue teased her. She felt helpless and cherished, as if this was their altar, and the fires of Makko surrounded them once more.
His hands smoothed up her bare thighs. The rush of pleasure was so intense, so drugging, she closed her eyes and clung to his hair. She tried to escape the waves of color washing through the grotto, but they had invaded her mind until she could see nothing but scalding violet and the soothing love of pure clear blue.
She couldn’t think.
“Soren, please.” She pulled at him, desperate for a reprieve from the addictive torture he was putting her through. He slid up her side with a seductive grin on his face.
“Will you stay, Cyani?” he asked.
She fought hard for her thoughts, for control, but they had slipped through her hands long ago. She was falling now, and nothing could stop it.
“I can’t,” she confessed.
He closed his eyes for a lingering second then opened them again.
Cyani’s heart thrummed in her chest faster than the wings of a hoverbird.
He leaned forward and kissed her. Hard and tender at the same time, the kiss flooded her with sad longing and sweet possession.
She gently pushed him back.
With soft nibbling bites to her lips, he let her pull away.
“The Grand Sister named me as heir. I will rule Azra,” she whispered. She said the words, but they didn’t feel right; they only felt bitter.
“What?” He stiffened, his hands clenching her robes beneath her, as his eyes searched hers with heartbreaking disbelief.
“I will be the Grand Sister,” she said. She felt like she had her hand on the hilt of a knife, driving it deeper.
He let out a slow breath he had been holding as his eyes faded to black. She couldn’t bear the sight of it, so she pushed away from him and gathered her knees to her bare chest.
He covered her shoulders with her training robes. Their slight weight oppressed her as she slid her arms into the garment and began fastening the clasps.
“I’m sorry, Soren,” she said. “I have to go back.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance. The heavy clouds that had lingered on the horizon at dusk marched toward them. Soren blinked up as he tried to fight back the angry surge of emotion rushing through him. It was all for nothing.
“Soren?”
He stood. He couldn’t speak. He paced to the far end of the grotto and stalked back and forth near an overhanging bank.
“Soren, say something,” she begged.
What could he say?
If you leave, it’ll kill me before daybreak?
How could he shackle her with that guilt when he knew what she could do for her people?
Essa, Calya, and little Sene needed her. All the other children that had grown in the darkness needed her. She could save them.
“Blight, pestilence, and rot!” he shouted as he threw his fist into the muddy bank.
“Soren, could ^cross the road. She remembered waking up next to Soren as his eyes shone green for the first time. He was throwing a rock for Vicca as she scurried around in their small shelter.
She tried to take a deep breath, but ended up gulping a hasty mouthful of air. The rain fell on her shoulders, dripping through her loose hair the way it had that stormy night on Makko. She felt her heart stutter in her chest as her body remembered what it felt like to reach out, throw her traditions and shame into the mud and kiss him until she couldn’t breathe.
She slowed to a stop.
The cold rain fell, turning the once clear path to sludge. She turned and stared back up the road.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
She reached for her collarbone, and the soothing feel of her necklace gave her the strength to move forward.
She had to do the right thing.
Why does it feel so wrong?
Pushing herself at an agonizing pace, she wound through the maze of lifegardens until the road curved and opened into the empty market square.
A couple of old men drew down a heavy tarp over the front of one of the small buildings at the periphery of the market.
They looked at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. She turned away from them and darted up the stairs and through the shield to the Yeshulen ship. She needed to find Nu and convince her to launch the ship. The quicker she left, the less time she’d have to feel the ripping pain coursing through her.
Unless I feel it the rest of my life.
Two guards gave her a double take.
“What are you doing?” The Yeshu immediately widened their stances. Cyani braced herself for attack. Why did the Yeshu all have to be so defensive?
“Where’s Nu?” she asked. The chill of the ship seeped into her wet clothing. Suddenly the icy air seemed to stab deep into her bones.