by Lucia Ashta
PURPLE WORLDS
LUCÍA ASHTA
AWAKEN TO PEACE PRESS
Copyright 2017 Lucía Ashta
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction.
Cover design by Lou Harper of Harper by Design
Awaken to Peace Press
Sedona, Arizona
www.awakentopeace.com
I strive to produce error-free books. If you discover a mistake, please contact me at [email protected] so I may correct it. Thank you!
Sign up here to receive a free book, exclusive content, and to find out about giveaways and new releases.
For those who see beyond the purple veils
An awakened imagination moves between worlds.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Planet Sand
Planet Sand Preview
Thank you
Titles by Lucía Ashta
About the Author
1
I pulled Ilara more tightly against me, refusing to believe what Aletox said. This wasn’t the right Ilara, he said. This wasn’t my Ilara, he said.
It was bullshit, that’s what it was. I’d touched or licked every single inch of her body, and it was precisely the same body I’d longed for all that time she was away from Planet Origins. Her eyes, those eyes that had only occurred twice before in the entire history of the Andaron Dynasty, were identical. Their irises revealed the swirling of the cosmos as they always had. They sucked me into their eternal depths just as they’d done countless times before.
“You’re full of shit,” I said to the man in front of me, the one I’d never talked to this way before. Probably no one had ever talked to him like this before. But I wasn’t in the mood to mind my manners. Who did he think he was, coming out of nowhere to tell me he was my father, and now to materialize in the middle of the village to tell me this woman I held—and loved—wasn’t the princess?
The look Aletox gave me, with gray eyes as cold as the dead, was meant to intimidate me. But I wouldn’t allow it. Not today. I’d had quite enough of his nonsense to last me a long while. I wasn’t Aletox’s tool, nor was I Brachius’ or the King’s.
When I didn’t cower, Aletox relaxed the punishing fury in the steel of his eyes and returned to indifference. With unease, I wondered how much of what Aletox did was a show. What was the real man like? I really hoped he wasn’t my father because I had no desire to know. Having Brachius as a father was bad enough.
Once Aletox spoke, he did so without reference to my lack of respect. “As an open ended accusation, I can say that it’s undoubtedly true that I’m full of shit sometimes. It happens, however, not to be the case this time.”
Ilara fidgeted in my arms. I was grateful she didn’t turn to look at me then, to see the fear I couldn’t completely manage to hide. Weren’t my loyal friend, Dolpheus, and I the ones who were continually disappointed in the people of O because they were all too ready to believe in self-imposed limitations? Weren’t Dolpheus and I the ones who’d managed to transcend most of the limitations we’d been told applied to us?
Just in the last eternal-feeling days since I first set out to do a mind merge with the mighty King Oderon, I’d gotten through a force field, dissolved crystalline handcuffs, explored the King’s memories (and barely survived them), and brought Ilara over from Planet Sand to Origins without a transport machine—all things the people of O believed to be impossible.
So if Dolpheus and I were pioneers in the understanding that the only true limitations we had were those we believed we had, could I really deny the possibility that what Aletox said might be true?
I didn’t know if there were parallel worlds in which the same human beings existed, nearly identical replicas of one another. I likewise didn’t know if it was possible for there to be multiple dimensions that mirrored each other so closely as to be virtual holograms.
The only thing I did know was that I didn’t share the same definition of ‘impossible’ as most people. And yet, I desperately wanted what Aletox said to be one of those rare, truly impossible things. I wanted—needed—the Ilara in my arms to be the very same one I’d learned to love in a way I didn’t realize I could.
“Does she have a total lack of memory?” Aletox asked of me as if he couldn’t ask Ilara directly. “Or does she possess some recall of who she is?”
I didn’t want to say it. I really didn’t. But in the end, what could denying the truth do but confuse matters more? A soldier all my life, I was used to squaring my chest toward those things I didn’t particularly feel like doing and doing them all the same.
“She remembers nothing of her life as the princess. She remembers only her time upon Planet Sand, a place she calls Earth.” I thought I did a good job of keeping the sinking dread from showing in my voice. The Princess Ilara would never allow Aletox and me to speak of her like this, as if she weren’t present. The princess spoke for herself. Always.
“Then I think the conclusion you should take from this, until we can prove otherwise, is that the woman you hold in your arms comes from another world, not this one. And the princess is still out there somewhere.”
I entertained a series of thoughts to avoid facing the reality of what Aletox’s words might mean. First, there was no we. Even if what Aletox said were true and not one of his schemes to manipulate people and circumstances, he was not a part of anything important in my life. Nor would he ever be. I didn’t give a shit if he really was my father. I had no use for those kinds of fathers.
Second, how the fuck did Aletox know I’d brought Ilara over from another planet when I’d told no one of it but the companions that were with me, whom I trusted implicitly? Well, maybe not Lila, but she’d had little opportunity or motive to deceive us. So if neither Lila nor Dolpheus nor Kai told Aletox, then how did he know? The fucking birdie Billius didn’t know to tell Aletox through his sneaked comm.
Of course, this could only mean that Aletox had already known that Ilara hailed from another world or, at the very least, that parallel, identical versions of human beings existed in other dimensions. And this was perturbing as it lent validity to what he said. Also, it made me question how he knew this and for what reason. Because people like Aletox always had a reason for any secret they kept: to wield it someday.
Third, Aletox’s arrival and subsequent confrontation with a reality I had no desire to accept put both the Ilara I held in danger and, if the princess truly was a different woman than this one, then it also placed the princess in harm’s way. I couldn’t accept either of these situations. I’d protect Ilara—any Ilara—with my life if I had to, and that loyalty had nothing to do with her royalty.
If all these people that surrounded us—tribespeople and royal guards—apart from my immediate companions and Aletox, now realized the princess might very well be on a different planet, any of them could attempt to locate her and put an end to the Andaron Dynasty through her demise. Of course, the main people both capable of doing this and potentially desirous of this wer
e the two possibilities for my father. Both Aletox and Brachius possessed the genius, the skill, and the wealth and power to locate and subsequently retrieve the true Ilara.
But the Royal Guard could cause problems if any of them, like the birdie Billius, talked. As Ilara had already revealed she was the princess, while we’d believed she was, then it seemed a strategic necessity to continue the ruse until we could figure out what the hell to do about this mess.
The Royal Guard would undoubtedly spread the news in its entirety if we did nothing to prevent it. I actually trusted the tribespeople more than the Guard, which was sworn to protect the royal family. Yet another indication of the insidious pervasiveness of corruption on O. I could trust no one unless they proved themselves worthy of that trust.
I’d already done bindings with the kidnap victims we were returning after sparing them from the Dark Warriors or whoever their aggressors had actually been. It seemed we weren’t going anywhere just yet. We’d have to bind everyone, including, and most especially, Aletox. Would he agree to it?
Lastly, my heart wrenched uncomfortably at the thought of the woman I’d made love to just hours before. How was she feeling? What might it be like to discover you weren’t the person everyone hoped you to be, even the man who held you in his arms shortly after telling you he loved you?
If Aletox’s revelation felt a bit like he was ripping my beating heart from my chest, I could only imagine how it must feel for her. It was seeming more possible by the second that I’d torn her from the world she actually belonged in and brought her here… to an uncertain future rife with danger.
I didn’t know precisely what to think anymore, but I did know I wanted the Ilara pressed against me to know I was still with her. I was still the man who loved her. I would still do anything for her.
I pressed my lips to the crown of her head which shone in the rising Suxle Sun. I wanted all to see that I still believed in this woman, no matter what version of the woman she might be.
Every single set of eyes in that vale followed my mouth as it pronounced my love and loyalty.
But my eyes remained on Aletox, the man I would never trust.
2
“No one will leave this village without submitting to a binding first. And that includes you.” I spoke loudly enough for all to hear, but my eyes were trained on Aletox, daring him to deny me this.
“And why must we do this thing you ask of us?” Aletox asked, even though the reasons were damn well obvious enough for someone as intelligent as him to deduce.
“Because, if what you say is correct, and she isn’t the princess, then her life is in danger. Taking her out will be the easiest way to strip power from the languishing monarchy. Without her acting as the princess, the Andaron Dynasty is vulnerable while its king lays ill. And if the princess truly is on another world, then someone else could find her before I can. I won’t allow any of this to happen. Which means I will bind you all before you’re allowed to leave.”
I had no idea what Aletox was physically capable of. Where Dolpheus and I were brawny, our physical prowess obvious from muscles that showed even through our clothing, Aletox was sinewy, cagey, the kind of person who might possess unquantifiable skill without revealing it prematurely. Dolpheus and I sparred regularly. We had to. He and I were well matched in skill and size, and we constantly strove to improve. Even if now, after centuries of practice, any improvement came so gradually as to be barely noticeable, we practiced daily, giving it all we had.
In all the time I’d known Aletox—nearly as long as I’d known my father—I barely remembered a time when he wasn’t in Brachius’ shadow. And yet, I’d never seen him practice any kind of physical skill. Not even once.
Yet Aletox had an edge to him, a crisp one that didn’t come from sitting around doing nothing. The courtiers at the royal court were round and plump with their painted, useless faces always sporting the latest in trends and stylized expressions. They specialized in sitting around being pompous and gossiping and plotting. In this they were masters.
There wasn’t a thing about Aletox that had gone soft. Perhaps he’d never been soft, not even as an infant. He might have been the only baby to be born with angular features and sharp edges. He seemed as if a coil were wound tightly inside him, ready to spring at any moment, to burst forth with great and startling power.
I couldn’t anticipate what Aletox might do if I forced him to bend to my will. And I would if I had to. If I had to use force with Aletox I would, and Dolpheus would back me up just like he always did. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t let anyone leave this vale.
I’d do everything in my power to protect Ilara. Any and all versions of her had coalesced into one in my mind.
Protecting Ilara included controlling Aletox, the one man I suspected no one had ever controlled, not even Brachius. It was likely that Brachius believed he controlled Aletox. But now I doubted that to be true, although I’d long shared this same view. In fact, Aletox might have been controlling every single one of Brachius’ important moves for centuries, certainly for as long as Brachius had been developing advancements in splicing. Aletox had Brachius’ ear. If his whisperings were self-serving, then he could point the head of the Vikas viper in any direction, like the most skilled of viper charmers.
I was seeing Aletox in a whole new light. I was seeing lots of things in a whole new light, and I didn’t like the truths it was revealing.
While my mind evaluated and measured, Aletox pinned his eyes on me. All this time, they hadn’t budged. They hadn’t given an inch. But neither had they taken one.
Finally, his jaw unclenched enough for him to speak. “You expect me to submit to you?”
It was a question laced with peril. The warning to me in those few words was more evident than the poisons courtiers laced each other’s nectar with. I wasn’t the fool the courtiers were. I wouldn’t drink the inoffensive looking drink. I wouldn’t take the bait Aletox was offering me.
If I was going to have to play a game with Aletox, a master in games, then I’d have to make every one of my moves carefully. Reacting impulsively or defensively would land me somewhere I could not as yet anticipate, but I could be certain it’d be unpleasant.
“No. I’m not asking you to submit to me. Not at all.” I spoke with calm I didn’t feel. I’d stared down hairy mowabs several times my size, known for devouring men as if they were twigs, whose red eyes were more welcoming than Aletox’s. “I’m asking you and all these people here to agree to protect the information revealed here today with their lives. Because it’s the only way to protect the princess of Origins, and that’s the only way to protect the monarchy and preserve whatever stability Origins has right now. A revolution or a coup will be bloody and devastating, more so to the people of O than to anyone else. There are strong loyalist factions, which support the monarchy. There are forces equal in strength that oppose them. The ones that will suffer are those caught in the middle of it all. The ones that don’t benefit much from the government in the first place.”
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t dare to speak so outwardly and plainly of the setbacks of the monarchy. King Oderon ruled fiercely. He was intolerant of any expression that wasn’t in full support of the monarchy.
But since I was already a fugitive from the monarchy, with a death warrant on my head, that I fully intended to keep attached to my neck, I figured there wasn’t much to lose. Besides, if I had my way, everyone here that was listening to me speak would be subject to a binding and unable to reveal any aspect of these conversations.
“I’m not asking you to agree to a binding to appease me.” Even though I continued to speak loudly enough for all spread out across the village to hear, the only one I had to convince was right in front of me. No one else would dare to defy me. Whether we liked it or not, Dolpheus and I were the subjects of an astonishing variety of legends, all which espoused our ferocity and invincibility in battle. We tolerated the rumors—some exaggerated, some not—mostly because we could d
o little to squelch the rumor machine of O. At times like these, it made our life easier. When people were either in awe or in fear of you, they tended to do what you wanted them to do.
But Aletox knew Dolpheus and I when we were snot dripping boys. Regardless, I doubted he’d even fear a mowab. Even with as mighty as legend hailed Dolpheus and me, we reserved a respectful dose of fear for the mowabs. It kept us alive.
I suspected Aletox could have a staredown with a mowab and actually win. The mowab, which doesn’t bow to anyone, would bow and back away.
But my ferocity matched that of a mowab right now. Ilara always brought that out in me. “I’m asking you to agree to a binding because it’s for the good of our planet, or our community at large. Because it will spare us from needless bloodshed. None of us want to see war return to O. No one wins in war. Everyone loses.”
Aletox’s resolve wasn’t softening. He might be the one man who didn’t care if thousands died without need.
“You think the monarchy is best for O?” he asked. It was, perhaps, the most dangerous question asked so far.
Again, I played the game. “What I think doesn’t matter. If the princess doesn’t bring her support to the Andaron Dynasty right now, there will be chaos. There will be bloodshed. And there will be unrest for a long time, since both opposing factions are strong. Neither will go down easily or without a fight. This isn’t about what I want for one woman—or two, if that ends up being the case—it’s about sparing all Oers from violence, loss, and grief. Now isn’t the time to evaluate the form of rule of O.”
“Isn’t it always the time to evaluate whether the rule is fair and right? It seems to me that this is a perfect opportunity to adjust the government.”