I can feel a presence in the room, and I struggle to sit up. “Where is she?” I ask.
“Sleeping,” Tin answers. “After she pummeled you for a bit, she felt horrible, cried herself sick. Brando took her to her quarters, tucked her in.” I move, and pain flares through me, making me gasp. “If it helps any, she was crying and saying how sorry she was.”
“No, Tin, that really doesn’t help,” I grit out, and fight to sit. The pain in my side increases, so sharp I almost pass out again. “I think she broke my ribs.”
“Fractured. Nothing that won’t heal.”
I pause and look at him. “You think I deserve it.”
“You called Sadi a bitch. In front of her friends and sister and Brando, you insulted her. If she hadn’t beaten you, I would have. The girl just lost her father, Juhan. And we both know it was your fault.”
I hear the disgust in his voice, feel it in his psyche. And his fear, like a blanket. He’s afraid of me, and it makes me perversely happy. “Why are you here, if you dislike me so much, Tinex?”
He sighs. “I don’t dislike you, Juhan. I just don’t trust you, not when it comes to Sadi. She doesn’t think when you’re around, and that’s not safe.” Before I can fully process his words, he motions at the pale suit hanging on a hook. “And I’m here because it’s time for the funeral.”
I look at the clothes and my breath catches. They’re white, so pure it makes my eyes ache looking at them in the darkness of the room. I wonder how I will shine in the light of day.
“I’m not wearing that,” I say, and he laughs. “I’m not Brando—I do not kill for Harvine or his kin,” I snap, angry suddenly. What the hell is she doing?
“I don’t care who you are. Sadiene is about to bury her father, and she wants you in whites. She’ll get you in whites if I have to knock you unconscious and dress you myself.” Tin says it so evenly that I don’t doubt for a moment he means it.
And would probably enjoy it.
I snatch up the white mourning suit and hobble to the shower. Tinex helps me rebind my ribs, and I shiver in the cool air as I dress in the linen—real linen. The price of this suit could feed my family for a year, and I will wear it once.
I don’t recognize myself when I look in the mirror. Not in the white mourning suit, my dragonfly wings spread behind me, my eyes empty and cold.
Sadi is waiting downstairs, gorgeous in a pale lavender sheath. Brando is at her side, deadly in his mourning whites, and I shiver from the instinctual fear that the white produces. Will others feel it when they see me? Is that what Sadi wanted?
Why is she still playing this game?
She looks up as we enter the room, and an apology flickers in her eyes.
-Don’t,- I say, stopping her before she can speak. -It was deserved and I’ll heal. Let it go.-
She hesitates, and then nods, turning away. “Are we ready?”
Four more guards, in grey, so they must be new or unblooded, fall in around us as we leave the main house. “Where is the service being held?” I ask.
“Mother’s gardens,” she answers, following the bodyguards across the pebbled path, toward a copse of trees that drip with pale pink blossoms.
As we approach, the sound of people swells, a soft murmur. Sadi pauses, a tiny misstep, and without thinking, I step closer, letting her lean against me as we take the final corner.
The entire funeral is spread in front of us: politicians and their beautiful, cold wives, Harvine’s staff—easily picked out by their red eyes and rumpled clothes—an elderly woman who seems almost asleep. Emissaries from the League, the governing body of New Earth. IPS representatives, clustered together, radiating distrust. And Eleyi.
How did I miss them; how did I not feel their thoughts? I curse myself, my inattentiveness as I feel their eyes on me, the curious current of emotions rippling out to prod at me. I snarl silently, slamming my mental walls up, and a few openly frown at me.
Let them wonder. Let them be irritated.
I feel the moment they take in—truly process—my whites. Whites, which are only worn at a funeral by someone who has spilled blood in defense of the newly dead or their families. I lift my chin a little, guide Sadi past the crowd of mourners, to where her sister is waiting for her.
As the sisters hug, Sadi murmuring in Zoe’s ear, the soft clamor of voices falls silent. She seats herself neatly, and I take my place at her side. I can feel Brando behind us, Tin and the rest of the security team scattered but close. It’s distracting, but as I watch the ancient minister teeter to a small lectern, the bodyguards fade in my mind.
He speaks in a wavering voice, waxing eloquent about the kindly Senator who, if he were to be believed, had never met a child he hadn’t kissed or a small creature he hadn’t fed.
As he begins to ramble about the temperance of life and the path across the stars we must all follow to another destiny, I can’t help the sarcastic smile that curves my lips. Does he really think that this helps those grieving?
-Juhan’tr. You are being rude.-
The thought intrudes suddenly as a Siniese Senator takes the minister’s place, and I flick an annoyed thread at the Eleyi.
-You cannot ignore your people forever.-
I bite back the urge to laugh. -Why? My people have done precious little for me recently, and less for my sister. I’m trying to mourn, if you’d be so kind.-
-You’re being childish,- another mind snaps and I want to scream. -Your lady is dangerous. The Eleyi need an ally, and she won’t make a good one.-
That sparks my anger—Sadi is mine. They have no right to insult her. -Sadiene Renult-Harvine has been a friend to me. If you think I will betray her on the eve of her father’s death, you are sadly mistaken. Besides, the Eleyi have never been interested in self-defense. Why should they care now? Hide in your trees, old ones,- I shoot back, shifting as I feel the heat of their angry glares landing between my wings.
-Why do you wear the color of death?-
It startles me, not so much because I didn’t know they were wondering, but because it is rude of them to ask. I put as much arrogance as I can in my tone. -Because I’ve killed.-
-That isn’t the Eleyi way,- one snaps.
-Maybe,- I say, my tone even, -we should change our ways before we are all sold into slavery. Like my sister.-
I don’t wait for a response, but instead slide my mental walls higher. Sadi shifts next to me, the parade of Senators and politicians extoling the virtues of her dead father finally slowing. She stands, carrying a small silver vase to the lectern.
Her voice is soft, rough with grief and exhaustion. “Daddy used to tell me, we are the sum of our choices. It’s what defines us, our actions when a choice is needed to be made. Do we choose what is easy and expected, or do we do what is right?” She looks up. “Doing what is right, so often, is hard. It hurts. And the price is usually high.”
She takes a breath, and I send a wave of comfort at her.
“Daddy knew that, knew that doing what was right came at a price. We both did. I like to think if he had known, he would have been proud of me no matter the price. Many of you—all of you, I’m sure—know that I am involved with an Eleyi. What you don’t know is that when I met Juhan, he had just lost his sister to slavers. He was frantic with worry, desperate to find Chosi’le. It struck something in me, something that understands the need to protect a sibling.”
Zoe reaches for my hand and I squeeze her thin fingers. On the lectern, a tiny smile turns Sadi’s lips as she watches us. “I offered my help. I never explained to Daddy, never told him why this choice needed to be made. I wonder if I should have. It seems to be one of the choices that changed everything.”
She takes a deep breath and looks up, steely determination in her eyes. “You’re wondering why I’m telling you this. Why it matters at the funeral of an IPS senator. I’m telling you because it’s why he died.” A startled wave goes through the room, but she talks over it. “Juhan and I made enemies in our search for
his sister—people who don’t want slaves freed, or who are worried about a lost profit. And it is worrisome to have Eleyi come searching for their stolen family. It sets a bad example,” she adds, her mouth twisting as if she has tasted something foul.
“But they didn’t attack us. Because cowards will never attack head-on. Instead, they attacked a man half a galaxy away, a man who didn’t know anything about our actions. And they killed him. That he was opposed to their agenda merely made it that much sweeter.” She looks down, and I see tears on her cheeks. “So, I ask you. What should we do? Should we ignore an attack against our own senator, a man who upheld our laws, who was killed with such violence? Do we have a choice?”
She falls quiet, and I can hear the murmur going through the crowd, can feel the anger and anticipation. Sadiene Renult, at her finest, playing her audience like a finely tuned instrument. “I think we do,” she says at last, and when she looks up, there is something different in her gaze, a resolve that startles me. “I think we can change things. I’m not sure how, not yet. But when I am, I ask you to support me. And if you can’t,” she adds, glancing at the row of Interplanetary Senators sitting a few rows back, “I ask that you don’t oppose me.”
There is a moment of quiet, a soft hush as Sadiene steps from behind the lectern. Zoe rises without prompting, and together, the girls walk to a pair of trees. They’re tall, and grow impossibly close, so close it’s hard to see where they separate. They remind me, oddly, of the Eleyi trees.
As the wind rustles the silver green leaves, the sisters gently upturn the urn. The ashes catch, swirling in the breeze, floating into the overhead branches, clinging and flying and finding peace.
Chapter 38
Juhan’tr
“I want to do something,” Sadi says, and we stare at her. The staff was dismissed after the immense brunch where the Senator’s life was celebrated, and I dodged more free Eleyi than I thought possible to find on a planet other than our home world. It’s late now, and Zoe is almost asleep, her head drooping against Tin’s shoulder.
“The last time you said that,” Tin says slowly, “you bought a slave and turned our lives upside down.”
Zoe’s eyes open at that, but Sadi waves it away. “Juhan isn’t a slave. And I’m not forcing any of you to do this. I can’t. Now that Daddy is dead, you will likely find other employment.”
The two bodyguards exchange a look and I laugh softly. Sadi’s cool gaze comes to rest on me. “What?”
“They won’t leave you, idiot,” I say, letting all my affection filter through. “Not when you’re in danger.”
She looks at Tin, then Brando, who stares back with blank impassivity. For a moment, her psyche wavers, and I almost stand and go to her. Then it steadies and she nods, blinking rapidly. “Fair enough. I want to take Daddy’s seat in the Senate.”
I blink, startled, and she leans forward before any of us can form an argument. “I could do it; you all know I could. It’s a game, and it’s one I’ve always been exceptionally good at.”
“Sadi, it’s a game that gets people killed,” Brando says, gently.
“If you aren’t careful, yes.”
“When have you ever been careful?” he demands.
She ignores him. “Senatorial seats are often handed down through families. I’m a natural choice.”
“Except,” Zoe says, “that you’re only twenty-three.”
“There isn’t an age requirement for the IPS. There can’t be, not with the short-lived races.”
“We aren’t a short-lived race.”
“The Senate will never accept you, Sadi. They’ll treat you like a child at best, an interloper at worst, and most often as a tasteless joke,” Brando says bluntly.
“Unless”—she hesitates, and glances at me, her nerves spiking—“I do what no one has done in over a hundred years.”
They fall quiet, watching, and I nod, slowly. “You want to bring the Eleyi into the Senate.”
I lean against the doorway as Sadi has her face dusted again. She looks impressive, in a professionally cut suit of ash grey with a purple blouse and a silver crest hanging on a delicate chain at her throat.
Just enough to remind the devoted public that she is still the little girl they fell in love with.
She catches my eye as the live feed begins, and she launches into the speech we scripted together, through the long nights this past month.
-You can’t back down, not after this,- I say. And she allows a smile, a real one, not meant to toy with the emotions of her audience, to turn her lips. A smile for me, a smile that reminds me of Sadi when I first met her, six months ago, the lovely cursing whirlwind who rescued me from a hell on earth, and set my feet to a path I could never have fathomed.
My Sadi, still there, hidden behind the quiet demeanor of Sadiene Renult.
I turn away. We’ll leave soon, for Eleyiar, after she campaigns here. But it won’t be long. They will be all too willing to support the daughter of their fallen Senator.
Without really thinking, I reach, silently, for Chosi’le.
-I wish you were here, sister. It’s not right, being free without you. And I do not know what to tell Father. Or Mother. What do I tell them? How can I go home without you?- I pause, irrationally hoping that she will respond. Even knowing that she would be punished, a tiny, selfish part of me hopes. Hopes she still cares. But there is nothing, nothing but silence from the part of me where she should be. And an ache, a pain that hasn’t stopped since she refused me on Pente, throbs in time with my heartbeat, choking off every feeling but pain and guilt.
I left her there.
-Sadi says she is doing this for the Eleyi. She’s not—she’s doing it because someone hurt her. And she’ll hurt them back. She’s so young, and I know Brando is worried. But she will do what no one else can. She’ll change the Eleyi.
I look back at Sadiene, quietly closing her statement. She’s officially running for the Senate seat. And she’s starting her campaign here, on New Earth, before leaving for Eleyiar. I close my eyes, forcing down the rising wave of grief. I shouldn’t be going home. Not without my sister.
The flutter against my psyche is so light, I almost dismiss it. But then it comes again, and with it, a familiar psyche, brushing like moth wings against me.
-Don’t be sad, brother,- Chosi’le says, and I gasp, tears in my eyes as I slide to an ungraceful heap on the floor. -Support your lady. Do what our people need. I don’t need you to rescue me.-
She’s fading so quickly I panic. -Don’t leave me, Chosi,- I beg, clutching her psyche. I can feel tears on my face, and her wrapped around me—I can’t lose that. Not again. I don’t know who I am without my sister.
I don’t realize I’ve Spoken aloud, until she responds. –You are who you have to be. And I am doing what I have to do.-
-I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be separated.-
A feather light touch of amusement drifts through her. -Neither do I. But we are where we are—and we will get through it. You promised.-
A swell of love, of everything that my sister is, wraps around me, and she fades, leaving only the echo of quiet faith and enduring love.
Sadi is crouched next to me, her hand on my shoulder, and I see in her worry the girl who flouted her father and bought a slave. This is the girl who holds my future—my sister’s, my people’s—future, in her tiny hands.
And with the fading presence of my sister in my mind, I finally relax. And put my hand in hers.
Read the end of Juhan and Chosi’s story in
Violent Freedom
Coming Fall 2015.
Juhan’tr
I face the wide viewer window, staring out into space as behind me, the vid interview wraps. Sadiene Renult-Harvine is running for the empty Senate seat, and half the IPS is trying to get in touch with the youngest senatorial candidate in the history of New Earth. Everyone wants a sound bite, and a vid feed and a promise.
Everyone but me.
She wra
ps it up, and I’m vaguely aware of her dismissing Tinnex to edit the vid before she strips off the classically appropriate top and strides over to me. Under it, she’s clad in a ribbed tank top, and practice leathers. Standard Sadi attire for space travel.
“They like seeing you with me, Juhan.” She says. It’s very carefully not an accusation, or an order, and her mind is blank.
It annoys me anyway.
“I don’t care what they like, Sadi. You know that. I’m tolerating this because there’s no other way without killing the entire jakta.”
I still haven’t completely dismissed that theory. Force will get Chosi back, and it is almost worth the hate I will see in her eyes.
“Tolerating won’t win the election,” Sadi says sharply.
-I’m not your pawn.-
She recoils, and I turn back to the viewer. Space is slipping by, as we stream through the star spangled darkness. I can feel the soft shudder of the ship, and know we’re pushing too fast. She’s doing it because of me, because of my impatience and insistence. But I don’t tell her to stop. I don’t tell her how unsafe it is.
We don’t have long, to make a move before the IPS locates her. The satellite vid feeds will only placate the voters for a tiny window of time. Then they will want her, in places where they can see her. New Earth will want her on planet, and their closest allies will expect negotiation meetings. She will be wined and dined across the universe, all to court the vote that could. Might. Maybe.
It’s not a guarantee. There are no guarantees. There is only the mad hope and Sadi’s insane plans.
How in the stars have I managed to get caught in another one of those?
Glossary of People and Places
Note on Eleyi Wings.
Eleyi have a given name (i.e. Chosi) and an appellation (le) that denotes what type of wings they have.
Tr- double dragonfly wings.
Le- translucent moth wings.
Re- bat wings
Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) Page 30