by Kit Rocha
Dallas O’Kane, the leader of Sector Four, was no doubt a cause for considerable concern to the Base. But in the six months since the war, he’d seemed content to rebuild his empire of liquor, gambling, and sex, settling once and for all into the role of lustful barbarian.
Gideon, on the other hand, was building a temple.
“The generals have studied pre-Flare military history extensively.” Ashwin chose his words carefully. “I haven’t been briefed on their explicit concerns, but I assume that the number of refugees currently converting to your family’s religion give them pause.”
“A fair assessment.” Gideon lifted his eyebrows. “I could point out that my sister Isabela is now the official head of the religion, if that would help?”
Ashwin had watched covert surveillance of the assembly where the transition of power had taken place. Gideon had stood on the steps of the largest temple in the sector and visibly—literally—passed the mantle of power to his middle sister.
The Base believed Isabela to be a convenient figurehead. Ashwin couldn’t say he disagreed.
After another moment of silence, Gideon laughed. “I suppose not. What confuses them more? That I willingly gave away power, or that I gave it to a woman?”
Ashwin had promised the truth, so he gave it. “I think they believe the transfer of power was merely ceremonial, and your sister is a malleable figurehead.”
“They haven’t met Isabela,” Gideon replied, still smiling. “But that’s a philosophical question for another time. The crux of the issue is that they sent you to infiltrate the Riders, and I intend to let you.”
And there was the truth, stark and blunt. His mission was simultaneously compromised and successful. He could obtain his objective, a placement inside the heart of Gideon’s empire. He’d been given no indication that the offer was anything but earnest—if anything, the people surrounding Gideon had treated him with cautious respect since the day of Jaden’s memorial.
But Gideon knew he’d been sent. He knew anything Ashwin observed or discovered might make its way back to the Base. Rationally, this was only an acceptable outcome if Gideon had nothing to hide, if he was reckless, or if he had full confidence that Ashwin’s loyalties could be subverted.
The damn miracle.
The ash on his tongue turned to metallic anger. “Is this your wager? You’re pitting the destruction I’m capable of bringing to your sector against Kora’s influence on me?”
Gideon’s smile still didn’t falter. “Yes.”
“You shouldn’t.” Ashwin curled his fingers into a fist, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to punch the smug expression off the man’s face. “It’s irrational. And it’s dangerous.”
“Is it?”
Of course it was, and not just because of the explicit danger Ashwin represented. It was an intolerable cruelty, placing such an impossible burden on Kora, who was unaware of the responsibility and would still never forgive herself if she failed.
When Ashwin didn’t say anything, Gideon relented. His smile melted into a more serious expression as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “I think you give yourself too little credit, Ashwin. I think you care about Kora, and that you can be trusted to see to her best interests.”
“And what if I decide her interests would be best served by getting her far away from you and your sector?”
“Now you’re giving us too little credit.” Gideon met his gaze openly. Squarely. Few men seemed willing to look Ashwin in the eye for long. Humans had instincts, after all—even the dullest ones were honed enough to recognize danger.
But Gideon didn’t flinch. “You’re a man of reason and logic. I know I won’t sway you without giving you full, unlimited access. You need to see who we are, warts and all. And if you see something in us that would make Kora unsafe... Well, I want to know. No one else can assess what I’m trying to build as harshly as you will.”
It almost, almost made sense—but only in a world where Gideon was exactly what he claimed to be. The least likely of all possible worlds. “You’re assuming that I’m capable of caring for another human being. How do you know I’m not pretending affection for Kora? It would be the logical way to manipulate your sentimentality.”
“Because logic is your specialty. The heart is mine.” Gideon extended a hand. “A wager, Ashwin. Join the Riders. Learn everything you can about who we are and the world we want to make real. I’m willing to bet that I can make a believer out of you.”
Ashwin didn’t move. “And if you don’t?”
“Then you’ll do what you think is necessary. And so will I.”
There was an edge to the man’s voice, a hardness that had as many layers as his expensively humble clothes and his lavishly rustic office. Gideon might claim the heart as his area of expertise, but love wasn’t the only thing that resided in men’s hearts. Ashwin had seen the shadows all too often.
Maybe Gideon had, too.
In the end, there was no real alternative. He could abort his mission and report his failure to the Base. Whatever reprimand they devised would be manageable. The fact that they’d send someone else in his place wouldn’t.
Because Kora would still be here. At best—best—her discovery would lead to questions from Eden and the Base. Even if the former was under new, supposedly more benevolent rule, Lead Councilman Markovic didn’t strike Ashwin as the sort of man to let a resource as precious as Kora slip uncontested through his fingers.
The Base wouldn’t bother to contest. They’d simply come for her. And that was without knowing what she truly was.
If they found out…
Slowly, Ashwin extended his hand. This time, he didn’t bother trying to judge the socially acceptable pressure—he gripped Gideon’s palm with enough force to make his challenge and his warning unmistakable. “A wager.”
“Excellent.” Gideon smiled as if Ashwin wasn’t threatening to crush his fingers. “I’ll talk to Del and Deacon and arrange your initiation. Welcome to the family, Ashwin.”
Family. A peculiar concept. Another weapon in Gideon’s arsenal, and perhaps the most dangerous.
Ashwin didn’t know how to fight back against acceptance.
»»» § «««
Even months after the end of the war between Eden and the sectors, Kora still dealt with its aftermath every day at her clinic near the city border. There always seemed to be people who were injured during the fighting, but had delayed or sought alternative treatment until they had no choice but to come in. Trust was a difficult thing for the poor and the proud in the best of situations, and this was anything but.
Sometimes, she thought the deadliest thing Eden had ever done to its citizens was teach them that no one cared. That no one willing to help them would ever do so without expecting compensation in return, and always at prices too high to be endured.
So Kora accepted the items they offered as payment, because word would get out if she didn’t, and then no one would come back. She told them about the refugee camps, and about the jobs the temple priestesses could find for them. She reset once-broken bones that had healed badly. She treated lingering infections, and tried not to weep at the sight of sick children who weren’t sick at all, just starved—of food, of safety. Of hope.
The man on her table now had injured himself scavenging. He hadn’t said so, but there were bits of ground concrete in the jagged, dirty wound, and his hands were raw from handling sharp hunks of rubble.
She irrigated the wound as Ana prepared the med-gel applicator. The first few times the newest Rider had accompanied her, Ana had watched with barely concealed horror. For someone who had grown up in Sector One, where taking care of the helpless was as much a religious calling as it was a savvy way for noble families to cement their good reputations, Eden’s disregard for its sick and hungry was simply unfathomable.
Ana had gotten better at hiding her outrage. But she still flinched when the man pressed a battered credit stick into Kora’s hand, one emblazoned with the
logo of a posh restaurant in the city. She’d been there exactly once, on one of her infrequent dates. The food was decent and overpriced, which had made it hugely popular with privileged society. It wasn’t a place to enjoy a meal so much as it was a place to go and be seen.
The door slammed, snapping Kora back to the present. Ana was already cleaning up, but she nodded to Kora’s hand. “That doesn’t look like a normal cred stick.”
“It’s not.” She tossed it on the table and turned to the sink. “Businesses in the city were allowed to pay part of their employees’ wages with credit. As if a cook or dishwasher is going to be eating entrees that cost more than their rent.”
Ana glared at the stick. “That’s such bullshit.”
Yes, it was. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure the place shut down after the war. They couldn’t afford to stay in business when they had to pay their staff with real money.”
“Then they must have been shitty to begin with,” Ana muttered, sorting the recyclables from the biowaste. “At least he gave us something useless, I guess.”
If the man even knew the restaurant was gone. Chances were good he did, but Kora didn’t care. “Whatever gets them in the door is fine by me.”
“Until they start coming on their own.” Ana leaned against the counter. “It’s about time to wrap things up for the day. Sun’s getting low.”
Kora bit back her instinctive protest. There was always more work, and she still thought it was silly for Gideon to worry about her being out near the city border after dark. But it wasn’t fair to keep Ana tied up when she surely had better things to do than babysit. “You must have plans, too.”
Ana grinned. “I was thinking of crashing gossip hour.”
“Crashing what?”
“You know, that quasi-slumber party the temple initiates have every night after dinner? They sit around and work on projects and eat snacks and do each other’s nails and talk about their families and which Riders they want to make out with.” Ana tilted her head. “You’ve never gone with Maricela before?”
Maricela had probably invited her—there never seemed to be an end to Maricela’s invitations to one thing or another—but Kora usually stayed in her room or in the library. Sometimes, she joined Gideon in his study, but even that was rare. Mostly, she kept to herself.
Avery’s words echoed in her head—there’s a reason they call it making a home, you know—along with her admonitions. Eden wasn’t home anymore. Even the Base, where she’d grown up, where she’d trained, where she’d worked, was part of her past.
This was her future.
She shut off the water at the sink and dried her hands. “Can I come with you?”
“Of course.” Ana pushed off the counter and swept the credit stick off the table. It joined the rest of the payments in the basket by the door, and she shook it gently. “Think there’s anything in here we can trade for some donuts? Bringing baked goods is the best way to crash.”
“If not, I’ll buy some.” Gideon’s cook always kept something ready in the kitchens, but bringing sweets from the palace might seem ostentatious. Kora didn’t want to show up as Gideon’s sister, the princess. Somehow, she had to find out who she was here in Sector One outside of that. Maybe, once she had, it would feel real.
“Great.” Ana hefted Kora’s medical bag, too, slinging the strap over her shoulder. “I know the perfect place.”
Ana always seemed to know the perfect place, a legacy of the life she’d built here. She knew exactly which routes to take to avoid the dwindling foot traffic in the market, and which shop would have extra pastries they needed to sell quickly.
She was comfortable here, in a way Kora envied desperately.
It wasn’t fair, and it didn’t make sense. Gideon had welcomed her into his home, into his family, and everyone in the sector treated her like the princess he’d declared her to be. But she’d only ever found contentment and comfort in her work—it was how she’d been raised, what she’d been taught. All she’d ever learned.
How could she help Ashwin discover the joys of Sector One if she didn’t embrace them herself?
Ana steered off the main streets, circling around to a dirt road that threaded through the Rios family orchards. The lemon trees were in full bloom, hundreds of bright little blossoms scenting the air that rushed through the Jeep’s open top. The fragrance was sweet, sweeter than the tangy orange blossoms that tickled her nose when she got too close.
The road opened up into a grassy clearing behind the family temple. Ana parked between two motorcycles and reached back for the pastries. They stepped through the heavily guarded side door and climbed the stairs to the living quarters.
The noise greeted them halfway up, and Kora wasn’t surprised to see most of the acolytes she recognized on sight gathered in the common room, chatting and laughing as they busied themselves with various tasks or even none at all. It didn’t seem to matter.
“Kora!” Nita tossed aside the book she was reading and rose. As usual, she’d abandoned her robes and was wearing a colorful skirt, a simple tank, and a wristful of bangles that clinked together as she caught Kora up in a welcoming hug. Ana got the same embrace. “I’m glad you’re both here.”
She didn’t act like they were crashing the party. She made it seem like their attendance was expected and understood—and maybe it was. “It’s good to see you, Nita.”
“Come on.” Nita grabbed Kora’s hand. Ana had already deposited the baked goods on the table, and two younger acolytes whose names Kora couldn’t remember squealed in delight and dove for the sweets. Nita just laughed and steered Kora around them, back toward the couch. “You’re going to be popular. We all take turns cooking, so anything we didn’t have to make ourselves is a treat.”
“It was the least we could do.” No one else had gotten up to greet her, but Kora could feel the weight of a dozen curious stares as she settled on the sofa. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Anything,” Nita replied easily.
“You’ve been working with Maricela, right? On her sculpting?”
“Yes. Well, when she works with clay.” Nita tilted her head. “Are you interested in joining us next time? It’s an amazing way to relax, you know. And you work so hard…”
The stares had turned into whispers now. “That’s what Maricela said. I’ve been busy, but I think I can make time.”
“You should. I have a potter’s shed out back, but the weather’s been so nice lately, we were thinking about hauling everything out into the courtyard next time.” Nita’s gaze drifted to the whispering acolytes, and she gave them a quelling glare. Everyone looked hastily away, and Nita rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind them. They’re dying of curiosity, but they’re too polite to blurt out inappropriate questions. Mostly.”
They’d all seen her before, plenty of times. “What questions could they possibly have?”
Nita leaned closer and lowered her voice. “About Ashwin.”
Kora’s cheeks heated. That, at least, made sense. Ashwin was a stranger, mysterious and sexy as hell. Most of the women—and men, if they were so inclined—in Sector One were just romantic enough to find the combination irresistibly compelling.
Unless what they were really curious about was his involvement with her.
She wrinkled her nose at Nita.
The other woman’s lips twitched. “Well...there might be a little of that.”
One of the acolytes approached, smiling shyly, and handed Kora a stoneware cup of punch. Then she bowed and scurried back to her group, where they turned back to their conversations. Slowly, everyone else followed suit.
Kora sipped her punch. It was delicious, sharp and sweet, made from fresh berries with a hint of citrus. “If they want to know,” she observed casually, “they’ll have to ask Ashwin.”
“Don’t tempt them,” Nita retorted, relaxing onto the couch with her feet tucked up under her. “Most of the girls here come from families only slightly less
exalted than Maricela’s. Or mine,” she added, her voice turning wry. “Del’s hardest job is teaching everyone impulse control. Growing up as nobility tends to leave one a bit spoiled.”
“What about the rest of them? The ones who aren’t from rich families?”
“Sponsorships, mostly. Usually because they’ve shown a special talent for some craft. We’re all supposed to be here to learn skills that will make us a valuable addition to a family, but…” She shrugged. “Some people have more practical skills than others.”
Most of the people Kora had met in One were crafters. Even the ones who provided services tended to combine that with at least one skilled trade, like the food vendors in the market square who also sold preserved vegetables or dried meats. If someone possessed a natural talent for a craft, it was easy to see how much families would value an education that helped develop that craft.
“Take Sola, for instance,” Nita continued, nodding toward a redhead tucked into the corner with a board balanced on her knees. “She has talent to burn. She designs these unbelievable lace patterns, so Gabe’s family sponsored her. They have a whole spinning and weaving empire already, but with designs like hers, they could start an entirely new business. One of Gabe’s cousins is courting her now.”
It seemed transactional, almost impersonal, as if their investment in Sola’s education was meant to be a sort of dowry. “You make it sound like an exchange, but it can’t be. Gideon would never stand for it.”
“Oh, no. Sola’s free to do with her future as she will. But... Well, most people would be thrilled at the chance to join the Montero family. To join any of the noble families, even if it’s not the main branch. It means security, no matter what happens.”
A security that Kora herself had stumbled into without realizing it. Logically, she knew what her position meant—being accepted into Gideon’s family afforded her money and status, but those were two things she’d had all her life. They weren’t new, and she couldn’t possibly appreciate them like some of these girls could. On the other hand, she’d never had a real family before, a thing they all seemed to take for granted as much as she did security and luxury.