“Tamara?” The voice was familiar. Tamara turned to see Alarin coming out of the gates. “Are you headed back toward campus?” He joined her.
“Eventually. Were you visiting the embassy?”
Alarin looked tired, although she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about his demeanor that made her think that. He looked the same as he always did. “Checking on Greg.”
“How is he?”
“Still sleeping. After healing that deeply, he’s probably going to sleep for a week.”
She stared at him, suddenly not sure if he was joking or not. Nothing seemed quite normal at the moment. “You’re kidding, right?”
Alarin shook his head. “No. Normally the kind of healing Greg did is handled by two or three Healers, not just one. He depleted his energy reserves almost completely to Heal Justy. He also did something very dangerous. To siphon the drugs out of Justern, he absorbed them into himself. I don’t expect he’ll do much more than sleep for the next week or so. We’re probably going to have to move him to Merran’s apartment tonight, since I don’t think the embassy can have its ambassador’s office taken up by a snoring bulk, Healer or not.”
Tamara fell in beside him as he headed toward campus. Something about Alarin’s presence was relaxing, maybe because she could think of something else other than her world ending and her sense of identity shifting. “Why those two places?” she asked, very aware that he’d mentioned them for a reason.
Alarin glanced over at her. He was slightly shorter than Merran, she suddenly noticed, but because he was thinner than Merran it felt as though he was just as tall. “Because they’re shielded and Greg doesn’t have the energy to shield himself right now. He’s pretty vulnerable.”
“What happens if he isn’t shielded?”
“He goes psi blind or dies from overload.” Alarin’s voice remained unemotional and flat, but goose bumps crawled over her skin.
“What about Justern, then? Is he going to need a shielded place, too?”
“And then some. After what he went through, Justern is going to be lucky if he has any psi left at all.”
Tamara fell silent, musing over that statement as they walked. It reminded her of her own situation and her new relationship with Justern, and she suddenly wanted to share it with someone. Over the past couple of months, Alarin had become something of a friend, somewhat less threatening than Merran, maybe because they weren’t involved with each other. There had been small hints over the past few months when they studied together of a subtle attraction, but he’d never pushed those moments and an odd sort of trust had begun to develop. She took a deep breath. Telling him might put it into perspective. “Alarin? Have you ever found out something that turns your world upside down? Like finding out you’re not who you thought you were?”
He seemed to snap out of his mood. His glance was curious. “No, I can’t say as I have. What do you mean? Did you learn something about yourself?”
“Yeah. I’m—I’m uh, I’m half-Azellian.” Tamara blurted it out. It made her pause and think to herself. That feels so weird to say. Like I’m not really … and that Dad’s just going to laugh and tell me he’s kidding. Of course, I’m my mother’s daughter. But then, where would this frustrating Awakening have come from if not because I’m actually Azellian?
Alarin said nothing, stopping in the street to study her. She couldn’t feel his mind against hers, but she had the sudden impression he was somehow using those psi abilities. She stood under his scrutiny until she couldn’t stand it anymore. Feeling jittery, she started to walk again. He followed her. “It certainly explains a lot. Did you just find this out?”
“Yes. And there’s more. Justern is my half-brother.” She had to say the rest of it. How many impossible things can you believe before breakfast? She spoke to Alarin silently, suppressing a slightly hysterical giggle. Of course, it’s not breakfast, so maybe they’re more believable. She pushed the irrelevant thoughts out of her mind.
“Well, is that so?”
“My father is going to be his attorney.” She couldn’t seem to stop the startling thoughts. Maybe it is breakfast. I’m certainly being asked to believe the unbelievable.
That made him raise both eyebrows. “Really. I assume you share a mother, since Justern is most definitely a Memaxthal?”
“Yeah. Can you believe it?”
Alarin shook his head, but the motion seemed more as though he were trying to clear his head than respond to her question. “Are you going to tell him?”
“Justern?” At his nod, she shrugged. “I don’t know. Should I?”
“Would you want to know?”
“Yeah … yeah, I guess I would.”
Alarin spread his hands in a “see?” gesture.
“But how?” Tamara started walking again. “How do I go up to someone I don’t really know all that well? I’ve been spending hours and hours with you and Greg and Merran and Mellis, but Justern … I really don’t know him well … except that he makes snide comments in anthro studies class that make the whole class laugh. Do I say to him, ‘Oh by the way, you’re my brother? Do you want to go get a sandwich?’”
Alarin laughed. “Sure. Tell him in that way. He might get a kick out of it.”
“What way? Oh, I don’t know you, but you’re my brother?”
Alarin’s grin widened. “Don’t forget the sandwich part.”
Tamara sighed, but a smile edged in. “All right. You’re right. I guess it doesn’t have to be that complicated.”
Alarin reached out and brushed his fingertips gently across the back of her hand. “Look at it this way. What does you being Azellian really change, except your outer view of yourself? You’re still you, even if that doesn’t quite feel the way it did before. The inner self hasn’t changed any, and neither has the outer self really. You’re Awakening … we know that now for certain … and now you have a genetic reason for it. And knowing that makes Greg’s and my job to train you much easier, as there is a certain predictability to how your psi will react. You’re still an intern at the embassy. What has really changed?”
Tamara sighed again, liking his perspective, but not really accepting it yet. “Yeah, but my mother … my stepmother actually … isn’t who I thought she was.”
Alarin cocked his head and shrugged. “Does that change the love she gave you? Or the love you have for her? Who says the only ones we can love have to be genetically related to us? It would be an extremely inbred universe if that were so.”
That startled a laugh out of her.
“Instead of looking at what you’ve lost, look at what you’ve gained. You just gained a brother … something I remember you somewhat wistfully remarking that you would have liked to have when you were talking to me about your sister last week. You’ve gained the truth about your past, and with that, you can begin to deal with it. You’ve grown, changed, taken steps toward maturity.”
Tamara gave him a wry look. “I’m not sure I want to grow. Even if it does mean I now have a brother.”
Alarin smiled, then said thoughtfully, his mind obviously miles away, “You’re High Council on your mother’s side.”
“And this means?”
Alarin ran his fingers along his jaw line. “Not much, except that you’re occupying a place very similar to Merran. High Council on one side, not High Council on the other.” He shook himself. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
Tamara suspected there was more to his comment, but she also knew how close-mouthed Alarin could be when he didn’t want to talk about something. She’d learned that much about him over the past two months.
They reached her dorm. “Look. I gotta go,” he said.” I’ve got a class to catch. See you later?”
“Alarin, wait.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He strode away. Tamara went into the building and headed up to her room.
Her phone buzzed at her as she walked into her ro
om, telling her she had a message. Frowning, she pulled the cell phone out of her pocket.
It was her father. “Tamara, Merran and I are at the hospital. Justern has been moved to Room 504. If you want to come down, we are at Denver Mercy. He will be kept here for observation for a few days, then released on bail until his court case.” Tamara smiled to herself. How odd that her father had called her with the information. It was almost as though the whole universe was telling her that she should tell Justern. The least she could do was go down there and see how he was doing.
She found Room 504 with a little difficulty. The room occupied a wing away from the other rooms and was guarded.
A uniformed policewoman sat at a small table at the entrance to the wing. “Room number?” she asked as Tamara came forward.
“504.”
The officer looked down at the list in front of her. “Name?”
“Tamara Carrington to see Justern Memaxthal.” Tamara felt her pulse speed up, especially as she could see yet another pair of guards by the door that must be 504. They were treating Justern like he was a dangerous criminal.
“You aren’t on the list.” The guard looked back up at Tamara, her expression cold. As she spoke, Tamara looked down the hall, hoping her father or Merran would come out. Suddenly, the door between the two guards opened and Merran stepped out. The guards twitched and did not relax even slightly as Merran came out of the room.
Tamara took a deep breath, hoping Merran would notice her. He did, turning and walking toward where she stood. Tamara spoke to the policewoman. “Peter Carrington and Ambassador Corina asked me to come. The ambassador is right there.”
The guard shook her head, a line appearing between her brows. “He did not announce any visitors, and I don’t have you on the list, Ms. Carrington. Unless you have been authorized, I cannot let you in.”
Merran came up behind the policewoman. “I’ll vouch for her. We did ask her to come.”
The guard scowled up at Merran. “You need to announce any visitors, Ambassador. Or make sure you clear her on the list.”
Merran smiled down at her. “I apologize, Officer,” he said in a smooth, polished tone Tamara was beginning to associate with the Ambassador of Azelle. He offered her a bow. “I am very sorry for the confusion. I am not used to your conventions. I will be certain to announce visitors or clear them first in the future.”
The policewoman eyed him like she thought he might be making fun of her, but after a moment, she waved them through, taking refuge in her irritability, yet unable to find offense in his behavior.
Tamara didn’t say anything as they walked down the hall toward the other two guards standing completely still at the door. The guards stared straight ahead as the two of them entered the room. She would have said something once Merran closed the door behind them, but the figure lying on the bed immediately drew Tamara’s eyes away from him. Far paler than she’d ever seen any Azellian or human before, Justern lay under a sheet with eyes closed, his eyes bruised looking and his lips white and dry, obviously beginning to peel. A bag of fluid and a tube attached to his arm dripped the fluid slowly into his bloodstream. Tubes ran up his nose; Tamara traced the tubes to a tank of what must be oxygen. His skin had an unhealthy yellow tinge—is he really out of the woods? she wondered. Peter sat at a table not far from the bed, surrounded by papers.
She turned and left the room hastily, unable to stay inside. Silently, Merran followed her, leading her to a bench a little way down the hall away from the guards at the door. She sat and stared at the floor, trying to process what she’d just seen. “How is he? Really?” Tamara asked after a few moments of silence. “He looks about three steps away from death.”
Merran shrugged and managed a slight smile. “He looks about one hundred percent better than he did last night. Greg says he will be fine. Physically anyway.”
Tamara glanced at the guards and lowered her voice to a whisper. “What about his, you know? Any brain damage?”
Merran shook his head. “Don’t know yet. He opened his eyes an hour ago when he was first transferred, but he hasn’t said anything.”
“So we don’t know? What about, you know?”
“He’s shielded, heavily, which is a very good sign, but I can’t tell for sure. He could be shielding the way you do, subconsciously, and it’s all gone latent. We don’t know how much he remembers either. I’m pretty sure he’s awake in there, but he’s refusing to interact in any way. Based on that, I suspect he remembers quite a bit. Justern’s pretty sensitive. I don’t know how he’s going to react to an accusation of rape.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I wish Greg were functional.”
“What could Greg do?”
“There are certain things a Healer can tell without having the patient’s acquiescence. Like whether or not his brain has been physically damaged. It won’t help us with any psychological damage, of course, but at least we’d be able to start somewhere.” Merran brushed his hand through his hair again, a gesture Tamara was starting to realize was an exasperated or nervous one on his part.
An idea popped into her head, a feeling. If she were in Justern’s boat, she’d want to know that there was support for her, that someone cared. Maybe that was all he needed. “Let me talk to him.”
“I don’t know if Justern can handle any new information right now.” Merran looked down at her, his dark eyes studying her. “He’s got enough to deal with and memories of his mother are not going to help. There’s just too much pain right now.”
Tamara scowled. “He’s got no one, Merran. No one at all. He probably feels more alone right now than he ever has in his entire life. It can’t hurt to tell him I do care, no matter the reason for it.”
Merran got to his feet abruptly. “Well, it’s better than him lying there like a lump. All right, if you can get him to open up, then be my guest.” Tamara followed him over to the door. He held the door open for her and walked in behind her. Merran went up to her father and leaned down to say something to him.
Peter looked up and frowned. Tamara just looked at him, pleading with her eyes. Peter looked from Merran to Tamara and back again and finally nodded. Without a word, he got up and followed Merran from the room.
Tamara walked closer and stared at the young man lying on the bed. Dark hair hung limp around his dirty, sweat-soaked face. Dark lashes lay against his pale cheek. She pulled a chair closer and sat beside him. “Hi, Justern. It’s Tamara. You don’t have to wake up. I don’t mind. I just came to see how you’re doing.” She was silent for a moment, studying him carefully, thinking about the tone she wanted to take. Although her psi wasn’t online, something told her that Justern was indeed aware of what she was saying. She snorted. “Well, if I go by appearances, you’re not doing all that great, I’d say. You’re lying in a hospital bed with tubes stuck up you. If I were in your position, I don’t think I’d be too happy either.” She couldn’t help but grin. “Of course, there are worse places they could have stuck the tubes.” Her eyes wandered down the bed. “Unless they did that too. Ugh. I’m told it hurts like hell.”
A small noise made her jump. Her eyes flew back to his face. His blue eyes were open and focused on her. When he spoke, it was a hoarse whisper. “It does.”
Tamara leaned closer, resting her arms on the bed. “Really? How bad?” He’s talking. This is good, right? she asked herself.
“Like someone stuck a burning match up my penis.” He coughed a little, cleared his throat, and sounded a little stronger. “But then it just matches the burning in my head. And my throat. And everywhere else. Come to think of it, maybe it’s not so bad.”
Tamara grinned, relaxing against the back of her chair. “What, didn’t you want to participate in the torture session known as the hospital?”
“I think the next time I’ll pass.” Justern turned his head a little, as far as the tubes up his nose would allow. “What are you doing here?”
“Visiting. Checking to see if you need me to bring you your homewo
rk assignments next week.”
Justern’s face spasmed at that. He closed his eyes. “Thank you, but I don’t know that I’m going to be needing those.”
Tamara thought frantically, What is he referring to? The accusation against him? Or that he doesn’t think he is going to live? “This will be over in no time, Justy. I can help you keep up.”
Justern opened his eyes again. She suddenly realized that it was like looking in a mirror. So similar to her own. Changeable, blue-grey eyes, a ring of dark on the outer edge of the iris. Were her own eyes the inheritance of that mother she’d never known? She suddenly was desperate to spend as much time as she could with Justern. He was her only connection to a woman who had helped form her, who had given her what? Eyes? Psi talents? What else? “Why would you do that?” He turned away. “If I’m lucky, I’m going to get my ass kicked right back to Azelle.”
He did remember. “Justy, my father is a defense attorney. He’s going to be representing you. You’ve only been accused, not convicted.”
Those eyes, so similar to her own, met hers with a force she didn’t expect. A faint frown ghosted between his eyebrows. “That’s as good as a conviction, Tamara.”
Tamara picked up his limp hand. “Not if you didn’t do it. And I know you didn’t, so you don’t have anything to worry about. I mean that.”
His fingers twitched in hers. “I already know that society decides long before courts get in there, and what society judges, stands.”
“We can still fight it, Justy. And we will. Especially if you remember what happened and we can counter her claims.” Tamara squeezed his hand. “Please don’t give up.”
“I remember.” Justern pulled his hand away. “The little sheei did everything she could to throw herself at my head. For weeks. I knew what she was. I knew. So I avoided her, told her no. Slept with her friends, but not her.”
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