Alawahea

by Sara L Daigle

  “What’s the president’s opinion? I would think you could get him to support Justern easily. Just to get you and the Council to agree to let humans access Healers?”

  “It’s not as easy as that. Your conservative side is terrified of Healers and Azellians and anything we represent. As often as I insist that Healers are special, we’ve opened a can of worms with their abilities. Justern’s situation is fanning fears of beings who can read minds and take advantage of helpless young college students.” Merran shifted against her and sat up. “I’m trying to minimize that feeling, but the political powers are staying out of it until they see which way the wind blows. Politics and careers are always a larger motivating factor than poor innocent Azellians.”

  Tamara moved too, so she could sit against the couch. He got to his feet and started collecting their scattered clothing. “It’s so unfair. If we could just show people what happened, let people know—”

  “Your father doubts that any such evidence will be acceptable, especially not with this information being so new. But you can be sure we’re going to try.” Merran walked over to the little bathroom in the corner, wetted down a towel, and wiped himself off. He wetted another towel and handed it to Tamara, then pulled on his clothes.

  She used the towel and dressed. “Is this ever going to be over?”

  “For Justern, it’s likely. As soon as the trial takes place, and if he is found guilty, I will do what I can to get him sent home. Then it will be over for him, but probably not for me. I’m going to be handling the consequences of this for a very long time, both in how our exchange continues and in influencing the Council to not take any retaliatory action.” Merran brushed a hand down his suit. He looked up at her, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Did you actually want to get some work in today?”

  She laughed. “It’s not required. It’s midterm break, remember? My schedule runs with the semester.”

  Merran kissed her lightly. “Then go home and be with your family. I’m going to get some work in, probably until late tonight, so don’t worry about coming over.”

  She hugged him mentally and physically. “All right. Until later.” With that, she walked out of the embassy, a little sore from their exertions and a bit shaky, but also feeling more relaxed than she had in a while. As she walked, she wondered when the personal trials that had scooped her up at the beginning of the semester would see fit to let her be.

  Chapter Twelve

  AS SHE WALKED HOME, Tamara had every intention to speak to Alarin as soon as possible, but her mother took a bad turn and she didn’t feel she could leave her side. She called Greg in desperation, who told them that her mother was not likely to survive the night. He was able to dull her pain, but he could do little else. With her father and Andreya beside her, Tamara sat in vigil around her mother’s bedside that evening.

  Lost in a dream world, her mother lay insensible and unreachable for hours. Tamara fought off waves of despair as Jeanine Carrington moaned monotonously in a low voice. Let her die, she prayed to any deity that might be listening. Let her be free.

  Jeanine gave up the fight at three o’clock the following morning, answering Tamara’s prayers with the dark of the night. Dull with exhaustion and adrenaline, Tamara made her way into the living room. Andreya trailed after her, looking lost and forlorn, and Tamara could sense her need for some kind of comfort. Too lost in her own emotions, however, she could offer nothing.

  Greg was sprawled on the couch, facedown with his head pillowed against the cushions. Somewhere through the thick strands of emotional cotton that surrounded her, Tamara touched his mind with hers, and he woke immediately, flipping over and sitting up at the same time in a graceful move that made Tamara vaguely jealous. “It’s over?”

  Tamara nodded, too numb to respond in any other way.

  Greg touched her mind. Are you all right?

  I will be eventually. I think I need to sleep, but I don’t know if I can.

  Try. It will be the best thing for you. There isn’t much we can do now. It’s too early in the morning. His mind brushed up against hers and she could feel his compassion.

  Her father came out of the bedroom, his eyes red-rimmed. “I’m going to call the funeral home. Why don’t you girls try to get some sleep? We’re going to have a long day tomor—today.”

  Andreya looked more miserable than ever.

  All right, I’ll try. Would you work with Andreya, please? Tamara sent the request to Greg on his intimate level, although she sometimes still had difficulty aiming at that level.

  Of course, he answered, as he walked over to Andreya.

  “I don’t know how much sleep I’ll get, but I’ll try.” Tamara told her father. “Dad—”

  Her father hugged her tightly, opening his arms to Andreya too. He held them tightly. Tamara could sense the tears he held back and she hugged him even tighter. After a while, her father released them and Tamara, eyes wet, fled to her room. Sleep didn’t come for a long, long time. When she finally drifted off, dreams haunted her.

  The day passed in a hell of half-aware arrangements, acceptance of condolences, and notification of her mother’s death. Tamara never did have a clear memory of it. She certainly didn’t get a chance to talk to Alarin or anyone else for the week until her mother’s funeral.

  The funeral itself passed quickly. Tamara was still in a mostly numb state. She greeted Merran in the same dull fog that had surrounded her for the entire week. He paid his respects at the funeral, then had to leave to attend a meeting.

  “Is she all right?” Merran asked Greg as he stood in the doorway looking back over to where Tamara moved mechanically, her shields shuttered tight. “She won’t let me in at all.”

  “She won’t let anyone in,” Greg replied soberly. “She cried the night her mother died, but she’s been dragging herself through the rest of the week completely walled off from all of us.”

  Merran rubbed his forehead wearily. “I’m sure either Alarin or I could get through if we had some time alone with her. She’s just overwhelmed and I’m sure running on pure adrenaline. See if Alarin will do it, will you? If he doesn’t get the idea himself, that is. I have a meeting with the Council this afternoon, or I would, but I can’t exactly postpone that.”

  Greg nodded. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to need it to convince the Council … again … not to recall us all.” Merran sighed. “Let me know how it goes with Tamara, and tell her I’ll call her later.” He walked out the door.

  Tamara was barely holding herself together by a thread, completely unaware of Greg, Merran, or Alarin’s worry. She searched for a time to get away from the suffocating, overwhelming emotions of her relatives, and the blatantly anti-Azellian comments and conversations floating around. She finally found it about two hours later, escaping into the backyard to walk.

  The silence of the trees wrapped her in a fragile, soft bubble of peace. She could still hear the party behind her, drunken people mixing with sorrow to create a mental dissonance that threatened her sanity. She took a deep breath and sat on the bench under one large oak.

  With a sinking feeling of dread, she sensed the approach of someone and pulled her shields up around herself hastily.

  “How are you holding up?” Justern asked, coming around the backside of the oak, obviously doing something similar—escaping into the garden to walk.

  “I’ve been better.” Tamara relaxed and rubbed her cheek with her fingers. She moved over on the bench as she looked up at him. “How do Azellians deal with the level of sheer noise humans put off?”

  “Painfully. Unless we stay shielded all the time, which we usually do.” Justern extended his long legs out in front of him, linking his fingers behind his head.

  “I don’t know how much of the funk I’ve been in this past week is mine and how much is everyone else’s.”

  “Probably a combination. My philosophy is not to worry about it and focus on the birds and the trees. They’re less of a pain
in the ass than most people.” He looked over at her, those eyes that were so similar to hers appearing uncomfortably intense. “Speaking of people, you do realize that Mer and Alari are working themselves into a frenzy worrying about you. Merran hides it better, but both he and Alari follow you around like baby kiyyar.”

  Tamara blinked at him as the image of a maternal duck being followed by a line of ducklings came to mind with the unfamiliar word. “Worrying about me?”

  Justern gave her a smile that didn’t match the expression in his eyes. “I’d have thought the question would be Merran and Alarin?”

  She could feel a blush crawl up her cheeks. “I … uh … it’s complicated.”

  “Complicated is fun. Come on, I need the distraction. And so do you. Do you really want to go back in there and face all the people whining and crying in their soup? I’m ready for a good story.” Despite the harsh words, the emotion behind his offer was supportive and caring and uncomplicated. He knew what it was like, this pain of losing a parent. He also knew something none of her other friends did: it was survivable. Lowering his arms, he linked his fingers over his stomach, slouched on the bench, and watched her expectantly.

  “I—I don’t know what to do.”

  “Good place to be,” he replied lightly. “It’s one of the most creative places.”

  “Creative?” Tamara frowned at him.

  “When you know what your future is, and it’s all laid out in nice fixed rows, is there any creativity there?”

  “Well, no …”

  He spread his hands, then linked them again. “Good place to be,” he repeated. “Most of the time.” A shadow flittered across his face, and she knew he was thinking about the uncertainty of his own situation. “Anyway. Do about what?”

  “Them. The guys … what did you call them, kiyyar?”

  Justern studied her for a moment. “Are you having sex with either of them? Or both?”

  Tamara choked. “Seriously?”

  He grinned at her.”What? It’s a legitimate question.”

  “It’s also a highly personal question, thank you very much.”

  Justern squinted at her. “Well, you have every right not to answer it. Of course, the answer’s in your aura. Let’s see. That aura is streaked with both brown and green, so I’d say it’s both.”

  Tamara shook her head. “That’s definitely not fair.” She cocked her head at him. “How did you know I Awakened?”

  “Besides the fact you have an aura when you didn’t before? Mel told me.” Justern shifted. “So what’s the problem? From what Mel says, they’ve each got their talents.”

  The conversation had edged into the surreal, but it helped distract her from the misery she’d been steeped in for the past week, so she let it continue. “You mean you don’t know personally? From what Mel said, Azellians experiment with both before settling into their preferences.”

  “I’m quite a bit younger than they are. By the time I Awakened, they were both pretty firmly interested in women and nothing else. Or so I thought.” Justern continued to watch her with an intensity that was both unnerving and flattering at the same time. She felt as though he were dissecting her, although there was no judgment to the scrutiny, just his full attention. “Your turn.”

  Feeling defensive, Tamara frowned at him. “I’m not sleeping with both of them. Only Merran.”

  Justern gave her a long look. “That’s not what your aura says.”

  “It’s complicated. I haven’t ever really slept with Alarin, he just, uh, sort of links with us when Merran and I …” she trailed off, blushing.

  Justern was silent, studying her. “And this bothers you?” he said finally.

  Tamara sniffed. “Why wouldn’t it? It’s … not … normal.”

  Justern shrugged. “Why would you want to be normal? It might not be common, but I’ve had a few multiple links during sex myself. It’s fun.”

  Somehow that didn’t surprise her. “Fun?”

  “It’s not like you’re married to Merran, is it?”

  “No, but we’re in a relationship. That should mean some exclusivity.”

  “Why?”

  She blinked at him. “Well, because. I mean, we’re in a relationship. It just goes with the package.”

  Justern shifted on the bench to face her, resting his arm across the back, his hand just out of touching distance. “You just Awakened. Why would you tie yourself to someone just because you slept with him? Merran’s not thinking about it in those terms. Alari probably isn’t either.”

  A weird feeling spread through her, a series of emotions she didn’t know how to categorize. Her head spun. Maybe Merran truly didn’t care if she slept with Alarin or not. She swallowed. “But Merran said … Merran said that he has no interest in sleeping with anyone else. Just me.”

  “Yeah, Mer’s always been a one-girl-at-a-time type of guy. Pretty straightlaced in his preferences too.” He shook his head. “Misses out on quite a bit, believe me.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Something about Justern’s attitude was making her calmer with the idea, although she had no idea why. He was certainly implying things she had never ever imagined. “So you’re saying I should sleep with Alarin?”

  “Why not?”

  “He … he has a fiancée. Isn’t that an exclusive relationship for Azellians?”

  Justern snorted. “Maybe in her world, but Alari’s got no interest in marrying Ida. He’s just waiting for a reason to dump her. You might be it.” He poked her shoulder with a finger. “Besides, it might get him out of your head if you sleep with him. Saying no is a great way to start an obsession. Especially if he’s riding sex with you already. Bringing the physical into the psi is really … intense. Bringing the psi into the physical will help reduce some of that intensity. It’s also a great distractor from …” he waved his hand back toward the house, “… that crap.”

  Tamara glanced in the direction of the house. Her Aunt Stacie stepped out onto the patio, looking for someone, putting a hand up to her eyes and peering at the yard.

  Tamara returned her attention back to Justern, who seemed willing to discuss his fellow Azellians quite bluntly. Mellis would probably have been open to the discussion too, but somehow it was easier talking to someone who had never slept with either of them. Mellis’s history with both young men made it odd to talk to her about them. Not that Mel hasn’t made the offer to listen several times over the past week. I just haven’t taken her up on it. “So … what’s Alarin like? A one-girl-at-a-time type of guy, too? Straightlaced?”

  Justern stretched and shifted so he rested his elbows on his knees. “Let’s just say of all the people I know, Merran and Alari would be the last two I’d have expected to find themselves sharing a woman. Although Alarin did it once before, that was during Awakening and doesn’t count.” He glanced over a shoulder at the door to the house. “Relative alert. I think someone’s looking for you.” He shifted his weight, getting ready to get to his feet and bolt, considering the hostility he’d been facing as an Azellian in a house full of grieving humans.

  “Wait a minute,” Tamara protested, grabbing Justern’s shoulder before he could get up. “He’s done it before? With who?”

  “Why Mel, Greg, and our friend Charina, of course.”

  “He told me it was only Mel.”

  Justern pulled away and got to his feet. He grinned down at her. “He’s not about to shock your human sensibilities when he wants to get you into bed. Ask him again once you’ve slept with him.” He studied her for a moment. “Although if either of them hurts you, I’ll kick their asses.” With that startling statement, he turned on his heel and made his way away from her, slipping out of sight with a startling suddenness, almost as if he just … disappeared.

  “We’ve been looking all over for you, sweetheart,” her Aunt Stacie said breathlessly, pulling her attention away from where Justern had gone. “Why are you sitting out here all alone? It’s dinnertime. Come on up to the hous
e. Your dad was wondering where you were.”

  Tamara took a breath and let it out slowly. “I wasn’t …” She halted, not really wanting to explain that Justern had been out here with her. Her aunt wasn’t as rabid in her dislike of Azellians as her grandmother, but watching them all dance around Merran—not only an Azellian, but the infamous Azellian ambassador no less—had been both amusing and pathetic. “I was just taking a breath of air, Aunt Stacie. I’m coming.” She turned and followed her aunt back to the house, feeling better and lighter and much less stressed.

  It was a relief to go back to classes the next day. She missed her mother terribly, but it helped to have schoolwork to distract her from both her mother’s death and the weird relationship she found herself in.

  “So what’s going on?” Mellis asked late one afternoon, almost two weeks after her mother’s funeral as they sat in her room studying together. Tamara pushed the tablet away from her and leaned back against the wall, bringing her knees up to her chest and linking her arms around her legs. She rested her chin on her knees.

  “With what?”

  “You and Alari.”

  “Me and … what do you mean?”

  “I mean you walk around for four weeks with a turquoise aura and now you won’t talk to Alari? He’s been a basketcase these past two weeks, you know. I know your mom just died, and you’ve had a lot to deal with, but is that any reason to ignore your friends?”

  Tamara stared at Mellis. “A basketcase?”

  “He’s been holed up in his room for two weeks, hardly coming out to attend a class. I haven’t seen him like this since … well I’ve never seen him like this. What happened between you two?”