Alawahea

by Sara L Daigle

  Alarin did not answer. His eyes watched Merran over the rim of his teacup.

  Merran hissed in irritation. “You don’t know what you are asking. She’s—”

  “Not full-blooded High Council,” Alarin finished, an odd edge to his voice.

  Merran scowled. “That has nothing to do with it.”

  “Then what does?” Alarin leaned forward, far more intense than he should have been.

  “I’m working with her. She’s just a student. She’s too young. This thing with Justern is going to blow up in all of our faces. The Council would never approve her visa. Her family doesn’t approve of Azellians. Mine won’t approve of her human side. What about the Council? Do you think they would let me even start a relationship with a human? I’m the ambassador of Azelle, damn it. I don’t have time for a relationship, much less one that threatens to take over my whole life.”

  Alarin just looked at him.

  Merran paced the kitchen. “The aarya damn it all.”

  Alarin watched him pace. “It will work out, Merran. What others say doesn’t matter. You know that. They’re not the ones you have to face at the end of the day. It’s yourself.”

  Merran stopped. “What do you know about it? You’ve never had to deal with the whispers, the snide comments, the constant struggle to prove that even though you don’t have the name on both sides, you still can get things accomplished.” He glared at Alarin. “You don’t even have to worry about the woman you love meeting up to the acceptance and approval of everyone else.”

  Alarin did not react immediately, but Merran could tell he had hit a nerve. The Raderth temper flared. “No, I just have to accept that I have no choice in the matter at all. You think you’ve had it hard, Merran? You don’t know hard. You’ve managed to accomplish everything you set out to do. Everything! When we were younger, you told me that you were going to become ambassador. Did you let the Council stop you then? You fought and managed to get us here. Did the Council stop you? Justern may be found guilty, and if you want it badly enough, you won’t let the Council recall all of us, much less the embassy. You think the Council thinks any less of you because you’re not pure High Council? Wake up, Merran! You have managed to accomplish more than your last four predecessors and you know it. Greg has been brought out into the open. Do you know what kind of bargaining tool this is? Humans will be drooling to give us whatever we want, just so long as we let our Healers walk among their sick. You could probably end this farce of a trial tomorrow if you wanted. But you don’t, do you? You’re going to let this trial rip you and her apart. Why? Not because you are really afraid of the Council or of your family or hers, but because you’re afraid. Of her. Of the feelings she’s bringing out in you. Tell me you don’t love her. Tell me you aren’t in love with her. Tell me you aren’t terrified that she might be the one woman in the universe who you could be with forever.”

  Merran leaned against the counter, his hands pushed against the smooth hard surface, his arms locked against awareness, with his head down once more. He didn’t say anything.

  Alarin continued after a moment. “She’s innocent and falling in love with you, the aarya know why. If you hurt her, Merran, because you’re too selfish to see what’s in front of your face, I swear, I will never speak to you again.” Merran could sense the strongly restrained emotion. Alarin, who never leaked, was leaking all over right now.

  Suspicions clicked. Merran stared at Alarin with his mouth open. “You’re in love with her, too.”

  Alarin made a noise between a groan and a growl. “Not that it matters how I feel. For whatever reason, she’s chosen you. So I warn you, if you hurt her—” He took a deep breath and with some effort calmed himself down. “Tamara’s very special, Merran. She’s a wonderful, very sweet girl who I would snap up in a moment were circumstances different. Don’t screw it up.”

  Merran didn’t say anything for a long moment. “What about Ida?”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know,” he repeated in a tired, almost defeated tone. “I came to Earth looking for solutions and found complications.”

  “Join the club,” Merran snorted, running his hand through his hair. He said nothing for a few moments. “So how do I manage to integrate everything?”

  Alarin quickly returned to his usual calm state, shields hiding his emotions quite thoroughly. “I have to figure out my own mess. How am I supposed to know the solution to yours?”

  Merran put his cup in the sink. “We didn’t come out of that Awakening unchanged, did we?”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Alawahea, Merran. All we can do is see what life hands us and work with what we have.” Alarin sighed. “She doesn’t need to know, all right? It’s my problem, not hers.” He managed a weak smile. “Side effect of the Awakening and sharing far more than I should have. Chalk it up to the fact I’m not a Healer.”

  Merran studied him for a long moment. The turquoise streaks in his aura were stronger today, more vivid. “You rode it with us last night, didn’t you?”

  Alarin sighed, rubbing his eyebrows. “That’s something else she doesn’t need to know. Another side effect of the Awakening, I assume, and the fact that my aura is still entwined with hers.”

  “We’ll abstain for the rest of the week.”

  Alarin looked at him sideways. “What will you tell her?”

  Merran made a face. “Ah, that’ll be tricky, as I’ve already told her you two don’t care.”

  “Don’t tell her anything.”

  Merran raised an eyebrow. “And this helps how?”

  “Don’t abstain. Not on my account. If it bothers you, go ahead, stay away from her. But don’t worry about me.” There was definitely an odd note in his voice.

  “Keep—you can’t possibly mean it. To ride her orgasms with me? You’ll be wild by the end of the week. Or insane.”

  Alarin sighed. “Let that be my problem. I—what if this effect doesn’t fade? You can’t stay away from her just because I’m around. I may as well get used to it.”

  Merran stared at him. “Alarin—” He shook his head. “She’s sensitive enough to figure it out eventually.”

  “I was there for her first time, so she has nothing to compare it to if I’m there for later times, too.”

  “Don’t you think this is complicated enough as it is?” Merran folded his arms across his chest.

  Alarin shrugged. “Probably.” A grin touched the edges of his mouth. “But I can’t do anything simply.”

  “What about Greg?” Merran looked over to the couch. “He’s stuck here too.”

  Alarin grinned. “Poor Greg.”

  “You’re damned right, poor Greg.” The voice came from the couch. Greg sat up, his hair tousled. “It’s not just you who’s going to be wild by the end of the week, given that these two might as well be aarya in mating season.”

  “And a good morning to you,” Merran said with feigned cheerfulness as he walked out of the kitchen, followed by Alarin. “What’s your opinion about this little situation we seem to find ourselves in?”

  Greg rubbed his eyes. “Well, for one thing, you’re probably right about it being a side effect of her Awakening. At least the physical part is.”

  Merran leaned against the couch arm. “And the mental part?”

  Greg yawned. “Is the aarya playing a joke on us?”

  “So will the effect fade?” Alarin asked from shields as tight as they could be, considering. Merran couldn’t tell if he was happy or sad about it.

  “I have no idea.” Greg looked at Alarin out of grave, amber eyes. “I’ve never seen this particular complication before.” He frowned. “Have you thought about how difficult it would be to try to carry on your normal life with her there all the time? Right now, you’re riding her orgasms. If this is a two-way thing, she’ll ride yours too, and that’s going to be something to try to explain to her.”

  Merran looked at Greg. “So he’s not s
haring with me, then?”

  Greg’s eyebrows shot up. “He could be. But considering that it was Tamara he was entwined with, I suspect not. If this is a permanent side effect, it’s going to play hell with your sex life, Alarin. I doubt Ida, or any other woman for that matter, will want to share you with Tamara, and there’s really no way you can hide it. Not if it’s leaving tracks like that in your aura.”

  Alarin sagged, looking tired. “I know.”

  Greg looked sideways at Merran. “And how about you? How do you feel about sharing Tamara?”

  Merran was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know, actually,” he said finally. “It has … possibilities. What about me? Am I tied to her that way, too?”

  “Maybe. It’s possible. The only way to test it is to have her sleep with someone else and see if you ride her orgasm too. It’s too difficult to tell when you’re actually with her.” Greg spread his hands. “I don’t think she’d go for that just for curiosity’s sake. Of course, should you both agree to share her, it would certainly be one solution.”

  Alarin made a noise. “A human? Half-Azellian she might be, but she’s purely human in her upbringing.”

  Greg grinned suddenly. “It certainly would be an unorthodox arrangement, but not unheard of.”

  Merran rolled his eyes. “Ah yes, the infamous Darvyne sisters and their husband.”

  “It’s actually more common than that story might lead you to believe,” Greg said, his eyes twinkling. “You’d be surprised what we Healers see.”

  Alarin sighed. “Either way, Ida’s not going to be happy.”

  Greg sobered and shook his head. “No, she’s not. Of course, if you return to Azelle, you might find distance makes the effect weaker. But that means you’ll have to stay planets apart.” He looked at Alarin intensely. “But then, you weren’t really expecting your relationship with Ida to survive the separation anyway, were you?”

  Alarin sank down at the end of the couch. “I care about her, Greg, and she’s surprised me while I’ve been here on Earth these past few months with her attempts to be patient and understanding, but she’s too entrenched in the future my mother wants me to live. I can’t share with her the way I did … do … with Tamara. And after having shared that much with Tamara, I can’t go back to the guarded relationship I have with her. Even if I never have Tamara, I can’t go back to Ida. I know she’s your sister, but I won’t make her happy if I’m miserable. Psi couples can’t live that way. Look at Justern’s parents.”

  Greg studied him for a moment. “No couple can live that way, human or Azellian.” He seemed to be about to say more, then shook his head. “As long as you three find a way to be as happy as possible, I’ll be happy too.” He made a face. “If I survive the week and the spillover, that is.”

  Merran looked toward his bedroom door. “I think the aarya have got it out for me. Just when I thought my life was complicated enough, it gets more complicated.” He sighed and straightened. “I think I’m going back to bed.” He looked at Alarin. “I’d ask you to join us, but I think Tamara might get suspicious.”

  Alarin grinned. “I doubt she’d be suspicious for the right reason.” He shook his head, sobering. “She may figure it all out eventually, but I don’t know that we need to tell her right now. This is a new world for us, too.”

  Merran shook his head. “I agree with you there. We’ll tell her later. Good night.” He headed for the bedroom, leaving Alarin and Greg to discuss the situation further, if they chose.

  Tamara was still breathing softly in sleep when he came in. He stopped by the side of the bed and studied her for a moment. Alarin is right. My feelings for her scare me to death. Alarin’s presence in this little relationship is nothing compared to that. I knew her Awakening would change things between us, but that it would be like this? He thought about what the results would have been if Alarin alone had channeled her and he shivered.

  “A sense of humor?” he muttered to himself. “Or a streak of sadism?”

  Tamara stirred, a frown etching across her brow. Merran dropped his robe and climbed back into bed. Tamara moved again, murmured something, and turned over. Merran lay on his back, looking up at the canopy overhead. A streak of sadism. The aarya don’t have a sense of humor. They have a streak of sadism. To have tied three people together like this ... “Alawahea,” he whispered into the early morning light beginning to spill in through the curtains and partially darkened windows. Although it was a philosophy he’d been taught long ago during his training as an acolyte, he had never really accepted it as a philosophy. Maybe it’s time I tried. He turned over on his side and wrapped his arm around Tamara. She moved in her sleep, cuddling up against him. Although Azellians were not typically demonstrative physically, her warmth against him was soothing and stimulating at the same time. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I simply don’t have the time to be with her as much as I want—my time is not my own. Maybe the aarya are offering me a solution, not a sadistic trick. Can I share Tamara? Will she accept the solution? He didn’t know. A feeling of peace crept through him. Maybe it’s not time to worry about it right now. He drifted off to sleep, his mind going still.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE REST OF THE WEEK passed much like it had the first day. The journalists, just as Merran had feared, clamored for more information about Greg’s talents. Justern’s plight and the abuses he’d suffered in jail were lost in the excitement and speculation about Azellian talents. Walking a thin line, Merran juggled the various reporters with a deftness that took every last erg of his energy and ability. Greg was unusual, he pointed out. Not all Azellians shared his talents, he emphasized. Greg’s talents were useful but bound by a strict moral code. Yes, when Greg recovered from saving Justern’s life, he would be willing to speak to the media. No, he did not know when that would be. Healing of any type took time, and Greg’s abilities had been strained to the limit.

  The dynamic between him, Tamara, and Alarin was pushed to the back burner—Merran was far too exhausted by nightfall to do much more than fall into bed. He spent every spare moment, when he wasn’t talking to journalists, with the Azellian Council in an attempt to calm them down about the revelation of the presence of Healers. Far from happy, they resisted as Merran talked very fast to keep them from immediately recalling all the students home.

  Tamara watched Merran struggle through the week with a sense of awe for what he had to deal with and accomplish. On top of the media attention, there was the usual paperwork to be done and phone meetings with the Dorbin ambassador, who was curious to see what Merran would do and how he felt about the current situation, as well as the Atheran ambassador, who hoped to gain some kind of leverage during this time to get access to Azellian resources too.

  “God, how does he do it?” Tamara asked later in the week, staring over to where Merran sat at his desk arguing in Azellian with someone at the other end of the video phone. It sounded like an argument, although she couldn’t sense any of the real emotions behind Merran’s rapidly recovering shielding.

  Greg glanced over at Merran. “It’s what he does. And what you would have to do if you wanted to become an ambassador.”

  “Not all ambassadors are as … intense as Merran,” Alarin disagreed. He sat sprawled on the couch beside Tamara, helping to train her by providing jabs whenever he felt she wasn’t concentrating hard enough. “They don’t accomplish nearly as much as he has either. His refusal to give up has gotten him to where he is … as young as he is.”

  Tamara shook her head. “It takes up all of his time and energy, though. Is it worth it?”

  Greg shrugged. “He thinks so.”

  “It makes things difficult when a relationship is involved,” Alarin said softly. Tamara looked over at him. Deep inside her mind something stirred. Since her Awakening, he’d been in her head far more than he should have been. He shares a spot oddly entwined with my feelings for Merran. She pushed the thought back and buried it deep, using Greg’s training to hide
it. I am with Merran, not Alarin, and that is that. Wayward feelings for someone who had helped with her Awakening—she did remember his calm, cool depths clearly before the muddled mess that apparently had been the moment she had blocked off, when the strongest level had broken free—were not acceptable and would not be allowed expression.

  That Alarin himself might share her feelings was the farthest thing from her mind as she shook her head. “You have to accept your partner in full for who they are. I’ve known Merran is busy as ambassador. I need to have the space to grow too. I’m still learning so many things, and Merran’s giving me that space.” She glanced over at the other room. “It’s actually a good thing.”

  Greg tapped her hand. “Don’t lie, Tamara, akila. You’re leaking too much to lie.”

  Tamara tightened her shielding up. “All right, all right. It does bother me that I play second fiddle to his work. But it takes time to build a relationship and I want to give it time.”

  “Not bad,” Greg replied, surveying her shields. She felt a sharp jab against them and held far more tightly than she had been able to do even a few days before this incessant training started. Nothing. She could feel something brush across her aura, but she was too controlled to let it affect her.

  “You’re right.” Alarin leaned forward. “I’m impressed. For someone as sensitive as you are to have shielding that strong bodes well.”

  Tamara looked over at him. “You and Merran have shielding just as strong.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I insisted you stay in this shielded environment until we could get a sense of how good your shields are,” Greg told her. “If you tried to go outside unshielded, you’d probably pass out. Here on Earth there’s far too much energy running around to ever go completely unshielded. In fact, I’d suggest that you spend nights here, or we set up a minor level of shielding on your room, at least until your shields become second nature. Shields tend to relax when you’re sleeping. You also have to learn not to project or completely relax your shields during sex, or you’re going to have lots of very uncomfortable people around you.”