by Dan Ackerman
They walked in uncomfortable silence sometimes punctuated by Cathie’s comments or a greeting from another peer.
Arden’s mouth grew dry and not just from the heat.
He loosened the buttons at his throat.
Years later and he remembered the night as if it had just happened.
Like it was happening now.
Arden scrambled for an excuse. Any excuse.
He spied the lift to the gymnasium and headed towards it. “Nice to see you, Cath. I’ve got a…I promised the other two I’d stop by and watch their match.”
She pouted at him. “Alright, well, I wish—”
“Next time,” he promised and practically ran onto the lift.
He hated lifts but not as much as he hated Bull.
The other peers in the lift made nice with him and he made it through the conversations on autopilot.
He exited on the floor for the handball courts. He didn’t know if Cole or Mace would be here today, but they didn’t do much, so the odds likely tipped in his favor.
He spotted a familiar shock of dark reddish-brown hair that had to be one of them. Only a year apart, most people didn’t believe they weren’t twins.
He watched Cole sprint and jump around the handball court.
People kept trying to talk to him, old teammates of his, reminiscing about when he’d played. He’d never been good, but he’d managed to avoid being bad. A bit of Six before practice and games had snapped him out of the mellow of Twelve. He might have been better if he’d put his heart into it, but handball had only been a way to have an automatic group of friends.
He fumbled his way through those conversations. After a while, though, he found the banality of it soothing.
When the match ended, Cole ran over with a grin. “Hey! Ardi, I didn’t expect to ever see you here again.”
He licked his lips and considered what to say. Cole knew what Bull had done, one of the four people who’d stayed late at that party. “I. Breakfast? I didn’t eat yet.”
“Oh. Sure. I’m a mess, though. Let me wash up. I’ll be right out.”
It took less than fifteen minutes for Cole to reappear, freshly scrubbed and smelling like citrus.
He wore casual, athletic clothing and asked, “Did you want me to dress up? I’ll have to stop by my room if you do.”
“You’re fine as you are.”
They headed toward Crumbs, a teenage haunt of theirs, and requested a table in the corner. The manager, Zira’s uncle on her father’s side, hugged Cole and bowed to Arden. Once upon a time, he would have hugged Arden, too, but Arden had made himself unavailable to people.
Once they sat and received their food, Cole tucked in and Arden ripped apart the oat biscuits he’d ordered. Every so often, he dredged a piece through a bit of strawberry compote.
“So,” Cole said.
“Hmm?”
“You seem out of sorts.”
Arden shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he couldn’t stop the memories from playing in his head. Practically too drunk to move, lying next to Mace, woken up by Bull’s quiet, awful grunts, jostled by his thrusts.
Bull still had a mark on his arm where Arden had bitten him, too panicked and drunk to do anything else.
Mace said he didn’t remember anything. He’d laughed about it afterward and said, “Well, it’s probably the only way an idiot like him could get someone as pretty as me.”
He had broken up with Arden a few weeks later, though. He’d promised it was unrelated. He had been upfront about not being sure if he even liked boys prior to the thing with Bull and Arden hadn’t been a particularly good boyfriend.
But Mace hadn’t dated much after that.
Poor fucking thing.
Arden shoved a piece of biscuit in his mouth. “I think I’m bad at this.”
“At what? Eating?”
“Being Autarch.”
“Oh.” Cole went quiet. He sipped his water. “I wouldn’t know anything about stuff like that.”
“You just write poems,” Arden supplied for him. He usually used that excuse when it came to anything that required an opinion.
Cole smiled. “The critics like them.”
“The critics are vapid.”
Cole’s olive skin darkened. He looked crushed. He tried to smile but didn’t manage it convincingly. “Well, uh.” He let out a wounded chuckle. “Not for everyone, I guess.”
“They think they’re reading love poems or sad little things about heartbreak. If they knew what they were really reading, they’d hate them.”
“Ardi, uh, Your Eminence, I, just. They’re really just nonsense poems, that’s…there’s nothing to them.”
“It’s not a reprimand, Cole. I like your poems.”
He flushed again. “I didn’t know you’d read them.”
“You send me copies.”
Cole shrugged. “Still.”
“You shouldn’t pretend to be stupid.”
“I am stupid. Being sensitive and scribbling about it doesn’t mean I’ve got any brains.”
Arden pushed a biscuit towards him. “The compote’s good.”
Cole tried a bite. “My father always said Angie got all the brains in the family. This still tastes exactly the same! I haven’t been here in years.”
“Me neither.”
They finished the rest of the oat biscuits.
“Mia’s been telling me about this hobby people used to have on Terra One,” Cole began.
Arden tried to remember who Mia was as Cole rambled about something called a garden. Eventually, he had to ask, “Mia…She’s…?”
A wrinkle of hurt flashed over Cole’s face. “They’re one of my partners.”
Partners! Arden really hadn’t been paying attention. He didn’t know Cole had paired up with one person, let alone more than one. “I’m an awful friend, Cole, you know that. How…” It felt like a tactless question, but Arden asked, “How many people are you seeing?”
“Well, Mia and Wei live together, but I stay over a lot.”
“Wei Han?”
Cole nodded.
“And Alexander and I, we’ve been thinking about moving in together. He stays over most nights I’m home and, uh, well. Things aren’t going great with him and Zira.”
“You’re with Zira’s…Zira’s Alexander? Aren’t they married?” He recalled Zira getting married for sure. It had been a while ago, maybe eight or nine years.
Cole looked at his hands and picked at a non-existent hangnail. “Yes.”
“And you and Alexander, that started before or after they got married?”
“After, but it’s not about us, their issues. I don’t think so anyway. It’s about, uh, you know, other stuff. They don’t like the same things, I don’t think. They fight about Lex a lot. How to raise her and all that.”
Arden always forgot Zira had a daughter. He’d never considered Zira the parenting type and it had shocked everyone that she’d had a baby, let alone had one intentionally and as young as she had.
“So, Alexander might move in. If things don’t turn around with them.”
“And you’ve told me all of this before?” Arden asked because none of it sounded familiar.
“Not all of it.”
“Good, I was wondering if I had memory problems. Although, honestly, I don’t listen to anything anyone says anyway.”
“We know.”
“It is one of the perks of being Autarch. You can be as rude as you like, and no one says anything.”
“You’ve been rude all your life, Ardi. We’re just used to it by now.”
Arden chuckled. He paid for breakfast, made his farewells, and promised to see Cole tomorrow for lunch at their usual place.
The next day, as he walked in a few minutes late, the table hushed. He found the way they all looked at him while trying not to stare unsettling.
Once he’d settled into his seat, Zira immediately asked, “So is it true?”
He wanted to ignore
her for being so vague.
“You put a thrall in charge of one of the hydroponics bays?” Mace clarified before Arden could be impolite.
“I…What? He’s not in charge. He’s just…advising,” Arden said.
“You’re having a thrall advise Raleigh, though,” Zira said.
“Yes.”
“That’s sort of a bit much, even for you,” Cathie said.
“I don’t follow,” he said with the hope that his tone made it clear he better like what they were implying.
“That’s so…” Cathie began.
“Disrespectful,” Cole supplied cautiously. Not necessarily cautious for himself, but he glanced around the rest of the table as though he wondered what turn this could take.
“It’s rude?” Arden demanded.
“I mean. Letting a thrall tell someone what to do.” Cathie shrugged and looked at her food.
“Raleigh won’t like it,” Cole said.
Arden had not considered for a single moment what Raleigh would like. “Raleigh’s an idiot. He needs all the advice he can get.”
“But from a thrall?” Zira asked.
The table quieted again.
Mace took a large bite of food, then said, “Uh, big match tomorrow.”
“I take advice from a thrall,” Arden pointed out.
They all looked at their lunches.
Arden huffily stabbed a bit of fried tofu in his salad. It split and he had to chase it around his plate. For once, he finished his entire meal since he was so intent on not talking to anyone. He didn’t know who had told them he’d sent a thrall to advise in Hydroponics Three. He’d only told Raleigh just that morning.
He thought he’d worded it nicely, too.
He hadn’t even told Rhys.
Fuck. He should do that, shouldn’t he? Especially if word was already going around.
He left the lunch early and sent for Rhys.
They arrived back at his chambers at about the same time.
Rhys followed him inside and Arden caught him eyeing the couch. They hadn’t seen each other since Rhys’s injury.
“Your Eminence, how can I serve?”
“You’re recovered, I take it?” He eyed the scab and fading bruise on Rhys’s head.
Rhys nodded. “Three days’ rest, doctor’s orders.”
“Mmm, well, I hope you enjoyed it. You won’t be getting much for a while.”
Rhys’s face remained smooth. “Your Eminence?”
“I’m sending you back to Hydroponics Three.”
He nodded. “Of course, they have much need there.”
“Not to lug around crops or…whatever else it is they do. You’re going to advise Raleigh.”
Those void-dark eyes widened slightly. “I…I’m sorry?”
“What? You’ve been whispering little pieces of advice to me without me even asking for years. Don’t act like this is something unusual.”
“Your Eminence, it is unusual.”
“What’s the difference?”
Rhys glanced out the window and then at the floor. He looked everywhere but at Arden.
“Honestly, tell me your reservations.”
“Raleigh isn’t you.”
“No, he’s doing a much worse job than I am with a fraction of the number of things to oversee. He can’t even get two hydroponics bays in order. He needs the help.”
Rhys closed his eyes and gave a small bow. “As you command, Your Eminence.”
He hated that. “Rhys!”
The thrall flinched.
Arden’s stomach twisted. “Just tell me the fucking truth.”
“You…you wanted help. You knew you needed it. That’s the only reason you let me get away with any of the things I’ve said to you. It took months for you to even take my first suggestion and that was just to turn up the heat in the Quarters so people could get enough sleep to do their jobs.”
Arden crossed his arms. “I didn’t know it was cold there.”
“You wanted to do better, and it still took time. Raleigh…he won’t listen to me. He doesn’t think…” Rhys risked a glance at Arden’s face. “He thinks it’s everyone’s fault but his own. All I’m going to do is piss him off and that’s going to come down on me.”
“I’ll make sure he leaves you alone.”
“Then he’ll take it out on the other workers.”
Arden scoffed.
“Which won’t fix anything,” Rhys reminded.
“No. It won’t.” He sighed. “Fuck.” His throat tightened. “It’s too late to take it back. I already told him.”
Rhys nodded.
“What do I do?” Arden asked. He’d never openly asked Rhys for help before. He’d always just pointed him in a direction and waited for the suggestions to come.
“I don’t know.”
Arden reached for his tablet with an unsteady hand. He didn’t know what to do but look through a few reports. He moved back and forth between different pieces of useless information.
He threw the tablet and it clattered against the viewing window.
Rhys recoiled. “I’m sorry, Your Eminence, I…I’ll have better advice for you once I think about things a little more.”
“I’m so fucking stupid.”
“No, Your Eminence, it was—”
“It was fucking stupid, Rhys. I can’t see two feet in front of my own face.” He kicked the nearest piece of furniture. Pain lanced through his toes. “Fuck!”
“Please,” Rhys whispered.
“We’ll all fucking die because of how fucking stupid I am!” He swiped the knick-knacks off his coffee table and the ones that didn’t break clattered across the floor.
It had never come to this before.
Arden had never let his insecurities show so openly, not among friends or family, certainly not in front of a thrall. He’d lashed out at people, and lost his temper, but never with tears in his eyes, never insulting himself. He hadn’t had a tantrum like this since he was a child and Mother had tried to make him do something he hated. Except Mama couldn’t scoop him up and tell him he wasn’t bad, just shy.
“He’s not shy, he’s spoiled,” Mother would always scold but she would never make Arden go out if she thought he’d have a tantrum. It would have embarrassed her too badly.
Spoiled, careless, selfish. Mother had always known exactly how he would turn out. He’d seen it in her face every time she’d told him he would become Autarch. He’d seen it when she’d told him his time as Autarch would come sooner than they’d thought.
Rhys watched him warily.
Arden threw something else, the closest thing to him. A pillow from the couch that barely made it five feet and plopped harmlessly to the floor.
Rhys covered his mouth.
Arden bit his tongue.
They glanced at each other. Eye contact unraveled their composure and sent them both into giggle fits, nervous and uncomfortable.
“I’m so sorry,” Rhys panted through his fingers.
“So fucking stupid,” Arden breathed. He threw himself on the couch and squeezed his temples to see if it would make his headache go away.
“Am I still speaking honestly?” Rhys asked.
“Might as well.” Vomit almost came up instead of words.
“You aren’t stupid.”
Arden snorted.
Rhys approached the couch. He gingerly sat beside Arden. Not close at all, but too close given their relative positions on Eden. “You’re not stupid. You don’t have to worry about people not wanting to listen to you. They do what you say because they have to do it. There’s no want involved. But as soon as you leave me alone with him it will become my word against Raleigh’s. I already know how that will play out.”
Arden looked at him. “How will it play out?”
“The same way it always does when a thrall speaks out against a peer.”
“You mean I’ll take Raleigh’s word over yours.”
“Without a doubt.”
Arden did
n’t like that. “Rhys, I trust you.”
Rhys shook his head.
“Don’t!” A whine had crept into his voice. “I said I trust you. I’ve staked the lives of everyone on Eden on that.”
Rhys furrowed his brow.
“What if you were wrong? All those little things you’ve whispered and insinuated because you know I’ll eventually listen. What if I listened and you were wrong? Or have you never considered that?”
“I’m not wrong often enough that I think about it much,” Rhys admitted softly.
“Well. Think about it.”
Rhys retrieved the pillow and tablet Arden had thrown, his face drawn as he moved about the room. He replaced the pillow and set the tablet on the coffee table. He started to pick up the knick-knacks, broken and whole, from around the room.
“Oh, don’t…I’ll call for someone.”
“I’m already here,” Rhys answered and continued to tidy. Finally, he stood to the side of the couch, hands folded, eyes lowered.
Arden drew his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. Just as he’d watched Rhys clean, he watched Rhys stand there for a while. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to say something, too, which he found unusual. And irritating.
After a while, he settled on, “I have no reason to do anything of the things you suggest other than that you’re the one who suggests them.”
Rhys shifted subtly.
“Half the shit you ask me to do doesn’t make any sense. Like…upping the heat. What does heat have to do with productivity? Or, uh, what was it last year?”
“Increasing the work age.”
“Right. But it helped. Everything you suggest helps and I need all the help I can get to stop Eden from turning into another failed Terra outpost.”
“Eden won’t fail.”
“Unless we should look into hyperspace and try to ship everyone to Terra Four.”
“Eden won’t fail.”
Arden sighed. “Then tell me how to fix it.”
Rhys glanced up. Something strange moved over his face, something Arden couldn’t untangle. “As you wish, Your Eminence. Is…it would be helpful to know your intentions with H-Three.”
“To make it better. Six dead in one quarter? We can’t lose thralls like that. And we can’t have two of the hydroponics bays struggling. Figure out what Raleigh is doing wrong, tell me how to fix it.”