by Jess Granger
Cyani stood in the center of the room as waves of shock pulsed through her numb fingers. Without the certainty of her duty, her future stretched out before her like a large void. Did she really have a choice?
“It’s your future, sis. Go back to Azra, trust your Elite sisters . Maybe I’m wrong—maybe they won’t blame you when the ground and the seas finally rise up against them. Or you can stay here, hidden and safe with a man who loves you. What do you want?” Cyn asked.
The words echoed in her mind, her heart. She had heard them before.
“If I become the Grand Sister, you won’t need your revolution. I can make things better,” she reasoned.
“Damn it, I can’t turn back now. The islands will erupt with or without me. I’m going to stand for what I believe in. I’m a soldier, and I’ve made my choice. I will fight. I don’t want to fight you. Stay, Cyani. Please. Do what makes you happy.”
A fluttering feeling started in her numb toes and rushed up her legs. The release was intense as she felt hot tears on her cold cheeks. She could have a life of peace. She could have love. She could have babies of her own raised in safety with a strong and noble man as their father. Joy rushed through her. She threw herself into Cyn’s arms.
He laughed as he caught her.
“I love you, sis,” he confessed. “Mom and Dad will be thrilled.”
“I love you, too, Cyn, even though I hate you right now.” She squeezed him tighter. “I swear, if you get yourself killed, I’ll kill you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve learned a thing or two in the last few years. I’ll be fine.”
The door slid open and Nu stood in the corridor with her arms crossed.
“I swear, Smith, you are a menace. Fenril help the woman who ends up with you,” she scolded.
Cyn let go of Cyani as she tried to stifle a chuckle.
“Aw, Nu. Are you saying you don’t want to spend the rest of your days with me?” he teased.
“I’d rather tie myself to the foul end of a mammoth with a digestive virus,” she grumbled. “The sooner I get you off this ship, the better. Are we leaving?”
“Wait,” Cyani burst out. “I need to stay.”
Nu’s hard eyes softened. She placed a hand on Cyani’s bicep and gave it a squeeze. “Good. Take Skitter with you, and the translator. Skitter will be able to communicate with Bug. You can contact your family secretly that way.” Nu winked. The orange A.I. floated up and the light around her swelled with what could only be pride.
Cyani’s shock nearly stole her speech. “Why?”
“Cyn here isn’t the only one capable of spying,” Nu stated as she poked him in the chest. “I’ll monitor any communication between the two of you. You are not to mention the Yeshulen or Byra’s location. Keep it to family. And when you do speak, know this, I will know exactly where you are.”
Cyn nodded, but his face turned contemplative, like he was trying to figure out a way around the tech-leash.
“Why would you do this for me?” Cyani asked.
Nu shook her head as she exhaled. “Azralen, you know nothing of the Yeshulen. Nothing is more important than family.”
Cyani reached out and gave the woman a hug, then gave Cyn another hug.
“Get out of here,” Cyn ordered. “Go be happy.”
Cyani smiled. The smile grew, starting in her heart and spreading out until the euphoric feeling surrounding her felt like it radiated around her.
She followed Skitter through the ship and out through the shield.
Heavy rain drenched her as she tucked her head and ran for shelter at the far end of the market. The drops of water felt warm and fresh. Her whole body seemed lighter somehow.
She loved Soren.
They could be together.
As the rain pounded her shoulders, she ducked under an old awning in a dark alcove and hugged her arms around her chest to ward off the lingering cold from the Yeshulen ship.
The hatch door closed, and with a smooth gliding motion, the enormous ship rose into the air.
Cyani watched it go. She sent a quick prayer for Cyn’s safety, and that he would be the spark that started a firestorm of change for her people. He was truly of the blood of Cyrila and Fima. She hoped that the knowledge that she was safe would temper his recklessness. If anyone could change their world, and make it out alive, it was him. She had faith in her brother.
Maybe there was hope for Azra after all.
She pressed back deeper into the alcove. The empty market was completely deserted. She watched the heavy drops of rain splash into the puddles on the worn stone, sending a spray of water back up from the ground.
This was her home.
No more whips, no more weapons. She could spend her days using her hands to nurture life instead of taking it. She took a deep breath. Perhaps her nightmares would fade, replaced by dreams of light bugs floating near a clear stream.
She heard a galloping in the distance, a lone Byralen caught in the storm.
It was coming toward her, not back to the lifegardens.
Soaked and muddy, a silka raced into the market. A cloaked woman threw herself from the beast’s back and ran to the landing area.
“No!” she screamed at the sky with chilling agony in her voice. “No, come back. Come back!” She collapsed into a puddle in heart-wrenching sobs.
“Rensa?” Cyani called, leaving her shelter in the alcove. She ran to Soren’s sister and took her by the shoulders. She tried to lift Rensa up to pull her out of the storm. Rensa lifted her face to her. Her wet hair hung limp across her pale face, framing deep black eyes brimming with unshed tears.
“Cyani?” she choked out. Rensa threw her arms around Cyani’s neck, throwing them both back into a puddle. “You didn’t leave!”
Cyani wanted to laugh as she felt the cool water soak up into her robes on her backside. Why was Rensa crying?
“I couldn’t leave,” she told the girl in an attempt to calm her down. A flash of lighting ripped through the sky and thunder boomed overhead with such force Cyani could feel it in her chest. The silka screeched and galloped off the way it had come. “We have to get out of the open. This is dangerous.”
Rensa clung to her as she dragged the girl into the alcove. They ducked under the fall of water sliding off the canvas awning. Rensa stumbled and knocked over a stack of empty woven baskets. Cyani tried to pick them up, but Rensa caught her by the arm and pulled her back toward the storm.
“Cyani, you have to get back to the garden right now,” she pleaded.
“We should wait out the storm,” Cyani reasoned.
“Don’t you love him?” Rensa asked, her voice hard with accusation. “Don’t you want to be with him?”
“What are you talking about? We’ll get killed if we go running out there. As soon as the storm clears, we can go back.” What was wrong with her?
“Soren is dying.” Her voice broke into a sob.
“What?” Cyani’s knees buckled as she stumbled sideways. She caught one of the supports of the awning and clung to it while she tried to breathe. How could that be? He hadn’t bonded with her. He told her he hadn’t. He promised she would have a choice, that he wouldn’t chain her.
He let me go.
Thunder boomed again as another strike of lightning hit close by. Suddenly the truth threaded itself through her memories of the last few days. His eyes were blue.
He was bonded to her, and he let her go.
“Shakt,” she whispered. “How bad is it?”
“He’s not fighting.” Rensa collapsed against the wall.
“I don’t understand—he can live a couple of weeks, right?” She had time. She had to have time.
“No, Cyani. He’s bonded. It changes our blood. The longest anyone has survived the loss of a fully bonded mate is a day. If he doesn’t want to live, he won’t last the night.”
22
SHE HAD TO GET BACK BEFORE—NO, SHE COULDN’T EVEN THINK IT. A SEARING flash of lightning slammed into a tow
ering oak. The air crackled as a heavy limb creaked and fell, shattering the roof of a nearby building. The ground beneath Cyani’s feet shook with the force of the impact.
“How do I get back?” Cyani shouted over the roar of the storm.
“Follow the disc,” Rensa yelled. “For the love of the Grower, hurry!”
Cyani threw herself into the slashing fury of the rain. Skitter rocketed ahead until she became nothing more than a glowing dot of orange. Cyani nearly lost sight of her.
No.
Shakt.
She had to keep up. Cyani pushed her body harder than she ever had, harder than the long battles against the Garulen on Felli. Harder than the endless hours spent in training under the threat of the whip or death. Harder than the nights she ran from the flesh traders in the shadows as a child. Her muscles burned as the rain flooded into her bleary eyes. She did her best to control her breathing, to draw from her endurance, but her heart pounded so fast, so loud in her ears it rivaled the thunder.
Her feet sank into the sticky mud as the cold rain splashed up her legs and thighs. The fabric of her robes clung to her skin as she pushed relentlessly into the darkness.
Please don’t die.
Lightning struck, illuminating the walls of thicket on either side of the road.
It’ll be my fault.
He loved her.
She was such a fool. Why didn’t she see it?
I didn’t want to see it.
He had done what he promised. He’d given her a choice. He was willing to give his life for her freedom. He couldn’t die.
I love him.
She would love him the rest of her life.
No matter how hard her panic pushed her forward, she felt like she was crawling through the thick mud, wasting precious time. Her shoes had fallen off. Her hair clung to her neck and shoulders, but it didn’t matter. She pursued the tiny glowing orange orb, the lingering hope on the horizon.
Until Skitter stopped. The orb started spinning in frantic loops in a wide spot in the road.
What was wrong?
The road split into five different routes. Skitter flew around in wild circles, screeching a panicked “EEEEEEEEEeeeee.”
“Skitter, find the vine that looks like this,” she commanded as she held up her wrist. Skitter zoomed down, flew slowly around her hand, then zipped off through the pounding rain.
Shakt. She planted her muddy hands on her thighs and bent over, fighting for breath as she waited at the crossroads while the orb flew in and out of the darkness. She looked at the imprint of her muddy hand on her once pristine robes. Sodden and dripping with dark black mud, they weighed her down.
She had no time for this. She had no time left.
A loud victorious whistle pierced the fury of the storm.
She had found him.
ANOTHER FEVERED CHILL SHOOK HIM AS THE THUNDER ROLLED OVERHEAD like K-bombs in the distance. He’d stripped off his clothing. He felt so hot and so cold at the same time. He couldn’t stand the feel of soft cloth on his skin, but when he tried to stand, to walk, he passed out.
So he leaned his head against the wall while Vicca placed her paws on his knee and let out a whimper.
He stroked her soft ears.
“It’s okay, little girl,” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”
It wouldn’t be long, and it would all be over.
None of it would touch him anymore. None of the pain, none of the terrible darkness. He’d finally be free. His spirit would linger here, and sustain his garden for his brother’s son, his namesake.
His only regret was the pain he’d caused his family by allowing them to hope.
His father had to carry his mother out of the garden when Soren told them what he’d done. He could still hear the echoes of her cries in the wind.
He didn’t want to think about the look on Rensa’s face when he told her that Cyani had chosen to leave.
“How could she do that to you?” she pleaded.
“She doesn’t know.” The simple statement had crushed Rensa. It was as if he had killed a part of his sister’s spirit. She ran, leaving him to die alone.
Soren scooped up Vicca and held her to his bare chest. He didn’t want to bear the guilt anymore.
It would all be over soon.
Vicca wriggled out of his grasp and bounced toward the door. It crashed open, knocking her backward.
Time froze.
Cyani stood in the doorway, drenched and covered with mud. Her chest heaved under the transparent fabric of her filthy robes. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.
“Soren?”
Cyani tried to swallow her panic. He crouched naked against the far wall, a sheen of sweat covering his strong shoulders while his streaked hair clung to his damp skin. His eyes were glazed, his brow knit in pain, but he was alive. Vicca barked and leapt around the room in crazy spinning circles.
“Soren?”
His eyes blazed with blue violet. The light filled the room as he lunged toward her.
He crashed into her, throwing them both back against the far wall. He crushed her as his mouth took hers, feeding off her. She knew what he needed. She knew what she had to do to save him. She embraced it with a rushing sense of joy and frantic relief.
Feed from me, devour me. Take what you need to live.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in. The burning heat of his skin eased the terrified chill coursing through her body. She sent a grateful prayer to the Creator that he was alive.
His frantic hands ripped through her robes. She tore at them—she couldn’t get them off fast enough. She had to feel his skin against hers. Her whole body shook with exhaustion, burning pain, and the electric pleasure of his touch. His hand pressed into the small of her back until her naked skin met his. She could feel his engorged flesh hard against her abdomen. She brushed her hand over its length and he stiffened.
“Cyani,” he growled, but his voice cracked with emotion. He scorched a trail of kisses down her neck, feasting on her skin.
“I’m here.” She wound her fingers into his silky hair. “And I’m never leaving you again.”
He captured her in a devastating kiss as his strong hands gripped her hips and lifted her off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned into his relentless kiss as his body slowly sank into hers, stretching her, filling her.
She clung to his shoulders and hung on as he thrust into her with fierce desperation. It was all she could do to remember to breathe as the burst of color from his touch painted the room in a cascade of flowing light.
“Soren,” she begged. She kissed his neck as his body pumping in her drove her to such frantic ecstasy she could barely hold on to him.
His whole body shook as he clung to her. The rhythmic slide of his flesh entering her over and over drove her mad as the tension in her body wound to the breaking point.
It shattered, and she screamed as he thrust into her. His muscles tensed. He pushed harder. Deeper.
She couldn’t breathe.
She heard him roar, then sob.
And then peaceful darkness embraced her.
SOREN STRUGGLED TO COMPOSE HIMSELF. HE PULLED AIR INTO HIS BODY IN forced gasps as the rush of pleasure and relief still gripped him.
She came back.
With his muscles taxed and shaking, he gently eased them both to the floor. He buried his face between her damp breasts. With each breath, he felt himself grow stronger, his heart lighter. She came back to him. In spite of everything, she chose him.
He would spend the rest of his life worshipping her.
He lifted her hand. Mud caked her arms. The time to begin his adoration was at hand. She needed him now.
Gathering his strength, he embraced the cool touch of the night air as his fever receded. She moaned as he lifted her into his arms. She must have run through the storm from the market.
Astonished by her endurance, she had pushed herself past her body’s breaking point
and passed out again. Her head lolled against his arm, the way it had when he had lifted her out of the stingship on Makko. She had saved him then, and now again. In the years of his life that stretched before him, he would never be able to repay her, but he would certainly enjoy the attempt.
In awe of her strength, he carried her out of the house to the bath pools near the edge of the vineyard. Warm water fell over the edge of a smooth, flat black stone into the dark pool. The soft rain fell in gentle waves, making the water dance. The fury of the storm had passed.
He lowered them both into the pool. She still didn’t wake, but he wasn’t concerned. They had both been through too much, and the intensity of his hormones entering her must have been difficult for her to absorb after her exhausting run.
He settled her in his lap, and with careful attention, he bathed her exquisite body. She would wake in comfort, clean and pure. This would be a new beginning for both of them. He paid careful attention to her hands, stroking her long fingers, and kissing the tattoos circling her wrists.
She sighed as he gently washed her hair, then lifted her back out of the pool. Carefully he cradled her as he brought her back into the house. With loving attention he dried her and settled her into the bed.
He had work to do.
Hours later as the dark exhaustion began to lift, Cyani turned, and tried to wake. Shakt, she had passed out. She’d always found that trait of her species a bit annoying.
“Cyani?” Soren’s soft voice murmured in her ear.
She felt his fingertips feather down her temple and across her cheek. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
Soren lay beside her in an enormous bed. Four intricately carved posts of a warm red wood rooted into the floor and grew up through the ceiling. They had been adorned with flowing garlands of violet and white flowers cascading down the posts and over the edges of the bed. Exquisite woven blankets in cool shades of green and blue draped over them as her head sank into a fluffy pillow.
She had died and gone to heaven.
“Cyani, are you okay?” he asked, tenderly kissing her on the forehead.