Hands of Fate (Veredian Chronicles Book 5)

by Regine Abel

  “Living dangerously is way more fun,” I said, kissing the top of his head.

  “Right… That wall you built looks amazing. You quite literally saved our asses,” Xevius said.

  “That’s what I do,” I replied smugly.

  Xevius snorted. “There, that did it.”

  We both looked at the monitors which showed the containment fields going up in both Secondary Engine Rooms A and B. Even though Secondary Engine B had not exploded, as long as the room remained overheated, it was better to play it safe.

  After running another ship-wide diagnostic, we agreed I would repair the busted secondary engine while he regained control of the other systems of the chaser. Xevius had stopped the main engine to let it cool back to normal levels while assessing if it had sustained any damage. Since we were in a vulnerable position, I didn’t press him with the questions burning my tongue. But as soon as we had the vessel fully secured, we would have a talk before resuming our journey.

  With the secondary engine room now back at normal temperature, I disabled my armor so that I could freely draw from the energy surrounding me. Despite the extensive damage the engine had sustained, I fixed it in a blink, then fetched some metal plates to make longer-lasting repairs to the hull. Ashara would have done a much better job welding them into place, but it would hold until we reached our destination.

  Wherever that may be.

  Once done, feeling lightheaded, I went to the kitchen to prepare us a light meal. Xevius joined me halfway through and helped me finish. As soon as we settled down, I all but wolfed down my food, feeling utterly famished after the intense training and the earlier scare.

  “I’ve got everything sorted out,” Xevius said, cutting into his grilled fish steak. “We can do a burst using all three engines to try and make up some of the time we wasted. And then we should just run with the main engine. If I push it a little, we should reach Korlethea no more than a couple of hours later than expected.”

  “But what if we get attacked again?” I asked, holding off on the questions that mattered most to me.

  Xevius shook his head. “The override locked all incoming and outgoing communications. While we can send and receive messages again, any incoming one will be automatically quarantined so that I can review its contents first. The sender will believe the message bounced unless we choose to answer. Even if they figure out that their plan has failed, they won’t be able to pull this stunt again.”

  “Won’t they send people to investigate?” I asked.

  “No. Not until I fail to enter Korlethean space with more than three hours after I should have done so, and without having received any communication from me.”

  “All right. So… who do you think did this? Who wants to take you out so badly? And why?”

  Xevius shifted uncomfortably in his chair, visibly not too keen on sharing his suspicious. My anger flared, fueled by my already frayed emotions thanks to nearly dying and the hormonal imbalance of my season. I took a bite of the accompanying steamed vegetables to keep my temper in check.

  “There’s only one person I can think of, but even for him, that seems over the top. He also would have needed to sway some high-ranking officer of the Agency, which I do not see happening.” Xevius frowned, took another bite, and chewed as he pondered.

  “And who is that?” I insisted. “The same person that made you not return to the first safe house on Xelix Prime?”

  Xevius stared at me, his expression unreadable. “I realize you almost got killed in this attack, but it was purely aimed at me. No one but your family knows that you’re traveling on board. I will settle the score in due time.”

  Swallowing my last bite, I set down my utensils with barely repressed anger. Xevius’s shoulders stiffened ever so imperceptibly while he finished his plate, having sensed my irritation.

  “You’re my soulmate, Xevius. You almost died,” I said forcefully. “You would have died had I not been on board. I don’t give two shits about your Korlethean secrets, but if someone is after you, I deserve to know so that I don’t get blindsided once we land.”

  Xevius pursed his lips, his golden eyes studying my features as if they could tell him what answer would mollify me. He licked his fork, placed it on top of his plate, and leaned against the backrest of his chair.

  “Yes, I would have died. But you were on board,” my mate said in a soft voice. “As Fate intended, neither of us were harmed. Do not fear reaching Korlethea. You come out unscathed, remember?”

  “And what of you, Xevius? Do you come out unscathed?” I asked, my voice hardening another notch. “Did Eryon tell you of a distant future he’d seen for you? Did your aunt?”

  “No. Neither Eryon nor my aunt told me of such distant futures.”

  Again, the careful, non-committal answer. He wasn’t lying to me, but he might as well have been the way he danced around the questions.

  “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe the reason I survive this trip is because we never actually go to Korlethea?” I asked.

  Xevius blinked, taken aback by my question, having clearly never considered it from that angle. I leaned forward and took his hand, my gaze pleading.

  “We don’t have to go there. All the proof you wish to present is recorded. You can send them a holographic message or record a video of your arguments. You said yourself that your course of action will be deemed treason even if, by law, you are entitled to act according to your conscience when it comes to matters of Fate. Why deliver yourself to them to be condemned?”

  “It is inevitable that I go there,” Xevius said as if it was self-evident.

  “Why?” I asked, utterly confused. “We can choose not to go.”

  “The prophecies—”

  “ARGH!” I shouted, interrupting him. Tearing my hand from his grasp, I stood up, kicking away my chair. It toppled over with a loud clang. “You Korletheans and those fucking prophecies! You’re like fucking slaves to them. So, some male or female who has eaten too much hallucinogenic roots tells you to go someplace you’re guaranteed to be arrested, maybe even tortured and executed, and you just go? Do you not see how stupid that sounds?”

  Xevius’s expression hardened as he rose to his feet, leveling me with an icy stare. “You know nothing of our ways.”

  “I don’t need to know your ways to see this is completely irrational!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in disbelief. “Considering what just happened, if you had not been told about that vision, would you still be headed to Korlethea?”

  “That’s irrelevant. I have been told of the prophecy,” Xevius said in a clipped tone, underlying the important difference between vision and prophecy. Lifting his chin, he crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Indulge me,” I said with exasperation. “Without the prophecy, what would you be doing?”

  Xevius clenched his teeth, visibly fed up with the topic. But, thank the Goddess, he indulged me. “I would weigh my options.”

  “So why don’t you now?” I asked, raising both palms questioningly.

  “Because. It’s. Irrelevant,” he said forcefully, as if he didn’t get why it was so hard for me to understand him. “Prophecies, the visions of a Seer, are inevitable. Even if I wanted to turn around and go back to Xelix Prime, circumstances will still end up bringing me back to Korlethea to stand before the Quorum the day after tomorrow.”

  “Fine, maybe you will. But that’s not a reason to just surrender. You should fight until the end!”

  Xevius ran his fingers through his hair, and shook his head at me, looking discouraged. “Why waste energy on a losing battle?”

  I wanted to shake and slap him to knock some sense into him. I didn’t understand how such a strong, tough male could just lay down so helplessly before the edicts of Fate. We, Veredians, had devoted our entire lives defying that entitled bitch, and we had prevailed.

  “Because every action you do has a ripple effect. All those alternate paths your Oracles see are impacted by the choices you and othe
rs make. What if you attempting not to go to Korlethea causes the ripple that would ensure a positive outcome for someone else’s foretelling or your own?”

  “I am well aware of all this. But experience has taught me that attempting to fight prophecies only makes matters worse,” Xevius said dismissively.

  A crushing wave of disappointment washed over me as I gazed upon him with new eyes. Xevius was too indoctrinated, too set in his ways to even contemplate a different path. He would follow blindly the dictates of those damn visions—whatever they may be—like a sheep, like a whipped, obedient little dog. That was not the kind of partner I’d expected the Goddess to give me.

  Even as those thoughts flicked through my mind, my heart breaking that my mate and I probably would never share the same type of perfect harmony Aleina and Ghan had achieved, Xevius’s face closed off, my own having no doubt revealed my feelings. Without my visor, I still struggled to remember to control my facial expressions.

  “I am Korlethean, Kamala. I am sorry for not living up to your expectations, but this is our way. If you wish to leave the ship, you may use an escape skiff to rendezvous with your Sisters’ vessels in the vicinity of the Korlethean airspace. Otherwise, I can send them a message to come get you. Let me know once you’ve decided.”

  Despite the cool and collected expression on his face and the neutral tone of his voice, I could sense the underlying hurt. With a stiff nod, he turned on his heel and left the room. Guilt ate me from the inside: with all the heart-rending choices he’d had to make, the disillusions and betrayals he’d faced, I should have been his rock, not the one adding to his burden and belittling his culture.

  I stared at his receding back until the mess hall’s door closed behind him, feeling angry, lost, confused, and utterly alone.

  CHAPTER 14

  Xevius

  I sat, legs crossed beneath me, on the padded floor of the meditation room. My hair, still slightly damp from the shower I’d taken, stuck in places to my bare back. The flowy fabric of my white shaal—the meditation skirt—lay sprawling around me. With the floor set to resemble the grassy plateau of one of the floating mountains of Mount Aelyons and the walls set to the stunning landscape of Korlethea, I sought peace for my aching heart and my troubled mind. But my Kaa, the soothing energy that my people learned to develop and share from the earliest days of childhood, didn’t provide me with the comfort I needed.

  Even now, Kamala’s disgust for my beliefs—for me—clawed at my heart and shredded my very soul to pieces. I hadn’t faced other people’s disappointment often, but hers hurt more than words could ever describe. I understood her logic, but it was flawed. Non-Korletheans could never grasp what a fickle bitch Fate became when we tried to thwart her. First, things got significantly worse, and the inevitable still came to pass. The outsiders would call it unfortunate coincidences, but history and statistics proved it to be otherwise.

  How have things gotten this bad this quickly?

  Less than two weeks ago, my life had been fine. Not amazing, not miserable, just going through the routine of protecting the realm. And now, not only did I have less than two days to live, I’d earned my soulmate’s contempt, and become a traitor three times over by sparing the Titans, sending vryer roots to the Xelixians, and bringing my mate to Korlethea.

  I called on my Kaa again, but my muscles relaxing only exacerbated the searing pain in my chest. Somehow, I needed to pull myself together and make her see, patch things up between us. This was not the last image she should have of me. I wanted us to spend what little time we had together in the same easy, happy, loving bond we’d so effortlessly fallen into.

  The soft, swishing sound of the door opening startled me. I didn’t look over my shoulder, content to listen to her light steps on the padded floor. Back stiffening, I all but held my breath, clamping down my empathic ability; I couldn’t handle more of her disdain right now. My fingers resting on my knees tightened when her steps stopped halfway into the room, paused, then turned towards the hygiene room. Seconds later, I heard her approach, stopping at arms’ length from me.

  Just when I was about to give into the urge to turn around, Kamala’s soft hand gently lifted some of my damp hair before running a comb through it. My heart and throat constricted. Grooming someone else’s hair was a sign of great affection and care for my people. I didn’t doubt for a moment that she knew it very well. Hair also held an important symbolism for Veredians, inherited from us back in the days my Korlethean ancestors had mingled and experimented with them. Over the centuries, it had taken a different meaning for the Veredians, more in line with their culture and values.

  Neither of us spoke. The gentle scraping of the comb on my scalp before slipping through the length of my hair soothed my heart in a way my Kaa had failed. All because it came from her, from my Kamala, my warrior goddess. I timidly opened my empathic senses, like a wounded animal about to be petted by a rescuing hand, hoping for a gentle touch, but fearing greater pain.

  A whirlwind of deep-rooted affection—that I didn’t dare call love—and nurturing protectiveness swirled around me. Beneath it all, sorrow, guilt, and confusion lingered but none of the disdain from earlier. I wanted to take those negative feelings away as she was mending mine.

  Kamala continued combing my hair for a few more minutes before bunching them in a tail and clamping one of my binding rings at its base. Unlike Veredians, we couldn’t freely braid our hair unless our function or ranks justified it. But we could bind it any fashion we liked, from ponytails, to buns, to more elaborate arrangements. When I wanted mine controlled, I either made a simple ponytail or bun, but also often used this binding ring. Mine didn’t braid my tail like Kamala had done for hers, but the ring unfolded around the length of my hair in a wide, golden spiral which kept it tightly bound.

  Once done, my mate scooted closer to me. Breasts pressed against my back, Kamala wrapped her arms around my chest and leaned her cheek against my nape. Lifting my hands from my knees, I covered hers with mine and held them close. I basked in her affection, my heart filling with love for my Sareema.

  “My people are obsessed with Fate,” I said softly, paying close attention to the emotions emanating from Kamala. She didn’t tense but perked up with curiosity, encouraging me to continue. “When more than 50% of the population possesses some degree of foresight, it is to be expected. It is both a blessing and a curse. How can you enjoy life and the surprises it may have to offer when you always already know what’s to come?”

  Kamala’s thumb began caressing my chest in a slow movement. Leaning my head down, I kissed the back of her hand before continuing.

  “Without strict rules on how to handle visions and prophecies, defining the rights and boundaries as to how our people can respond to them, we’d live in complete chaos. People used to kill each other preemptively in an attempt to thwart an Oracle’s dire vision. Others who tried to save themselves from a terrible prophecy—even knowing they’re unavoidable—ended up needlessly suffering or causing their loved ones greater hardship, only to end up with the same fate. I could try to run, Fehama, but I’d still end up before the Quorum. Except, instead of being whole as I am now, I could be crippled, or you could be severely injured. Either way, there would be a price to pay.”

  My mate’s arms tightened around me, confusion and anger fueled by a sense of injustice emanating from her. “But that’s so unfair,” Kamala said, her breath fanning on my shoulder. “Why show you a future you can’t do anything about and punish you for trying to better your circumstances?”

  “Because prophecies aren’t about changing the inevitable, but mitigating its fallouts,” I explained gently. “If you know you will be bankrupt in a couple of years, you intentionally don’t have joint accounts with your mate so that she doesn’t have her assets seized at the same time as yours. If you know you will have serious medical conditions later, you have plenty of time to make arrangements to receive the best care from the best people. If you know you will die at a
certain date, you can put your house and your succession in order.”

  “Hmmm, I hadn’t thought of it that way. Still, I don’t think I would want to know,” Kamala said.

  “I generally don’t want to hear about prophecies, either. Because you are right, by being inevitable they do take away a great deal of choices, while offering others.”

  Gently untying Kamala’s arms from around my chest, I turned to face her, once more mesmerized by her beauty. Kneeling behind me, she was clad in another of those sinfully sexy, traditional Veredian dresses, her lustrous curtain of hair draped freely around her. I cupped her cheek with my palm. She smiled and leaned into the touch.

  I’m crazy for her.

  I’d fallen hard for my mate. Every day, Kamala proved how perfect we were for each other. Even now, this argument that could have turned ugly and festered. But, like me, she’d sought to iron things out, beating me to the punch, and giving me exactly what I needed, right when I needed it. She had no idea how accurate her assessment of Fate’s unfairness had been.

  We deserved so much more time…

  “If it had only been a vision and not a prophecy, I would gladly heed your advice and turn around,” I said.

  Kamala nodded slowly, sadness written on her face, resignation exuding from her. “Then whatever Fate has in store for you, we’ll face it together,” she said before leaning forward and gently kissing me.

  My chest constricted again, and it took all my willpower not to reveal the depth of my distress and sense of loss over what we would never have. I pulled her into my arms and returned her kiss with something akin to desperation. She responded in kind, our passion igniting like a forest fire.

  All but falling onto her back, Kamala drew me to her, spreading her legs for me to lie on top of her. The markings on her shoulders, naturally darker during her season, quite literally turned near black before my eyes. I didn’t quite understand what had triggered such a strong response from her. Had I pushed some of my emotions towards her? Empaths often developed an empathic bond with their mates, allowing them to perceive some of our emotions as we felt theirs. It usually took months, sometimes years with non-Korlethean partners. Had it already begun forming between us? I didn’t know, and right now, I didn’t care. The powerful need riding her slammed into me, her emotions screaming for me to take her, driving me insane with desire.