Stars & Ashes (The Saoirse Saga Book 1)

by Teagan Kearney

  “Help me roll him over.” Rehanya dropped her weapon.

  Rehanya did most of the work as the pain in Kia’s back made moving painful, but soon Oloran lay unconscious and flat on his back.

  “My arm’s stronger than yours, therefore I’ll do the honor.” She moved down the bed, picked up the metal bar and brought it down with a solid thwack across the top of his thighs and his flaccid member.

  Kia winced.

  “Better this way. If the other men or the guards find out what he tried to do—even if he didn’t succeed, they’d emasculate him.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They cut the whole thing off.”

  Chapter Four: The Heir

  The morning siren blasted Kia out of sleep. She struggled to her feet with her head throbbing and her back aching. The sympathetic looks she got from the other women in the shower room told her Rehanya had spread the word, and the pinkish red, rapidly turning purple, swellings on her face confirmed the story.

  The refectory was buzzing with rumors of a special visitor to Jahanamu. Kia thought if any underground resistance existed here, this would be a prime opportunity to strike back at the empire.

  “’Fraid I can’t get you any sick dispensation today,” Rehanya said with regret. “Everyone, without exception, has to be in the mines today. I’ll speak to the boss and make sure you get transferred out of your team as soon as possible. That bastard will hold a grudge. Next time, we’ll kill him.”

  Kia sighed. Her jaw hurt too much to chew, but she forced herself to sip a little of the soup. With luck, this visitor would get them time off work. Swinging that pick today would be painful. She gave a rueful smile. “At least I’m not the only one hurting.”

  “To your assembly points immediately and wait for instructions,” the tannoy boomed.

  The room rose en masse. If this visitor was as important as gossip indicated, the guards would come down hard on the minutest infraction as it would reflect on them—and they were never hesitant to administer retribution.

  Kia caught sight of Oloran, his shoulders hunched, in the crowded passageway to the magtrain.

  He turned, his face drawn and gray with pain and a murderous scowl on his face as he searched the crowd.

  She ducked down, annoyed with herself for her reaction. I’m avoiding confrontation, that’s all, she told herself—but Oloran had scared her in a way she’d never experienced. Compared to his brutal attack, her srilao training and the organized bouts in arenas seemed like playacting. She had participated in a sport. Oh, without doubt, the training was useful when you were fighting by the rules for a trophy, but none of her fights had been for the stakes in play last night, and Oloran hadn't followed any rules. How long was it since she’d done any training? How long since those soldiers had marched along the street in Sestris, and her father die by order of the empire? She saw again the determined set of her father’s face replaced with surprise as he fell to the ground.

  “Move.” Someone pushed her forward.

  She clenched her jaw to stop a cry of agony. Another day, she’d have turned and snarled, because you had to give as good as you got. Well, Oloran had gotten his just desserts all right.

  Kia trailed behind the stragglers to their order point and noted the guards, their phaserifles raised, lining the walls of the cavern. In front of them, three rows deep, stood the miners, with more guards spaced at intervals facing the workforce. She tried to slip into the back row but the boss spotted her. “Over here, Kia.” He pointed to a gap in the front row and didn’t seem to notice her bruised face, or else it made no difference to him. She walked with her head down, looking neither to left or right, to where the boss pointed.

  “I am going to kill you.”

  Kia startled at the hate-filled hiss coming from behind her.

  “But first I’ll finish what I started—”

  “Quiet!” roared the nearest guard, aiming his weapon over Kia’s shoulder.

  Please, please, keep talking, Kia prayed, but Oloran didn’t say another word. Nonetheless, his malice scorched the back of her neck.

  She heard nothing more from Oloran as the miners stood in absolute silence hardly daring to breathe or move for what seemed half the work day. Everyone had heard of the massacre of miners on the Ukendt asteroid, where the soldiers had killed over five hundred miners for an attempted uprising, and no one wanted to give a bunch of trigger-twitchy guards any reason for an unscheduled target practice session.

  Other than a slight wobble when she thought she might topple forward and end up flat on her face, Kia focused on her breathing and remained calm until the murmur of voices coming from the main corridor grew louder.

  A shiver ran through the crowd as booted footsteps echoed in the distance.

  “Stand to attention for the Emperor Teyrn’s Heir!” announced a voice.

  A few gasped, but most shrank even more into themselves.

  The Heir. The memory of sitting in the early morning cold outside Sestris’s walls as a sleek dark airship flew over surfaced. This man commanded the empire’s forces planning and executing its unstoppable expansion. Reports claimed this man oversaw every detail of each conquest. He would have been the one who decided her father should die. Yes, make an example of that city by killing their Electorate and enslaving their young men and women. A few words and the lives of everyone she loved had changed. Added to which, every atrocity she’d heard of committed by the empire in its apparent unstoppable conquest was attributed to this man.

  The thud of marching boots grew louder, and the cowed miners shriveled further, as if by will alone they might become invisible, when the Heir entered the cavern,

  Kia raised her head the barest fraction, compelled to glimpse the person who had ordered her father’s death. Peeking upward through her eyelashes, she caught her breath as she recognized one man, and all thoughts of the Heir fled. Her heart did a strange clippety-clop somersault, and she stifled the gasp about to leap from her throat.

  The man who’d taken her medallion stood not twenty paces away. His words rang in her head, my boss might have a use for you. Was his boss the heir to the Nadil-Kuradi Empire? Her heart stopped then drubbed an erratic quadruple-time rhythm. She was sure anybody looking at her would see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Calm down, she told herself, everybody here is terrified. You’re no different.

  She risked raising her head further to check. Yes, the man she remembered was talking to the Heir—though apart from the gold insignia adorning the Heir’s chest, he wore the same plain green uniform as the other four special guards accompanying him, except neither he nor the man who’d stolen her medal wore visored helmets like his guards. Still, the dominant way his glance rested on the man talking to him revealed someone used to being obeyed.

  She figured the visored soldiers must be part of the Chenjerai, the Heir’s elite guards, soldiers who had dedicated their lives to his service, giving up their families, and every other loyalty for him. There were many tales of their cruelty, too.

  Kia’s eyes slid past the Heir as her gaze returned to the other man. She’d forgotten his name, but the same tired lines decorated his face, and his eyes were as sharp as when he’d examined her in Sestris. With the weight she’d lost during the months of hard labor and insufficient food in the depths of Jahanamu’s mines and without her distinctive hair, she doubted he’d recognize her. Kia lowered her head as he bowed to the Heir and turned away, marching out of the cavern. Besides, these days she was nothing but a slave and property of the empire. She would have laughed if she could. She hadn’t understood it before, but she and the man who’d stolen her medallion served the same master. Her father had always said the universe was nothing but a great big joke at the expense of the creatures who inhabited it. She clenched her jaw, shutting down thoughts of her father. Risking another glance, her shoulders loosened and her heart slowed as she watched the subordinate leave.

  The Heir walked around the cavern, questioning their ha
tchet-faced boss about the mining. He was far too close to the miners, Kia thought. If anyone was planning an assassination, this was an ideal situation. She was sure many would embrace suicide to attain such a result.

  The questions and answers continued as the Heir came closer and her heartbeat quickened as he stopped in front of her. She kept her eyes down, studying the black uneven rock floor, trying to become one with it. She did not want to draw his attention. The thought of leaping forward and attempting a chopping blow to his larynx with the side of her hand flashed through her mind, but with the enhancements both the Heir and his Chenjerai were bound to have, she wouldn’t even get a foot off the ground before they shot her.

  The asteroid rumbled, a quivering shake of an animal’s pelt.

  “Don’t move,” roared a guard behind the Heir, raising his weapon and waving it at the miners.

  The miners stiffened and waited as the shiver ebbed. Accidents often occurred on mining asteroids. Disturbing the center of a large lump of rock flying through space at tremendous speed regularly ended in disastrous explosions or cave-ins as the artificial gravity flux was disrupted by the mining process. The empire didn’t care, they found another asteroid, and there were always plenty more miners.

  Suddenly Kia was flying forward as a pair of hands on her back—instinctively she knew it was Oloran—gave her a violent shove. She slammed into the surprised Heir’s chest, hurling him to the ground as the asteroid gave an immense groan, and the cavern collapsed with a thunderous rumbling around them. As total blackness and silence surrounded her, Kia couldn’t understand why she was still breathing. Shouldn't she have been crushed to death?

  “Thank you. You saved my life.”

  A faint light glowed and Kia realized Oloran had unwittingly saved her life, too, because she was lying on top of the Heir inside some type of personal force field that prevented her from being crushed to death as it held back the tons of rock above and around them.

  “Shame,” she muttered into his neck.

  He responded as if she hadn’t spoken. “I must inform my father the force field needs adjusting. If you hadn’t struck me when you did, it wouldn’t have activated in time.”

  “Thank Oloran. He pushed me.” She was finding it difficult to breathe because the force field was pressing down on her back as it shrank to protect the Heir’s body.

  “I’m sorry for his death then.”

  “I’m not,” Kia grunted as she studied the profile of the man who’d ordered her father’s execution and the murder of her mother and little sisters.

  His hair was brown-gold, worn in a short military cut, and his skin was light gold, smooth and perfect. He wasn’t classically handsome as his nose was a fraction too long and his lips thinner than what was considered perfection, creating an impression of severity.

  Her brain shifted direction as she pondered if she had the strength to strangle him. She tried to move her arms, but the force field was pressing her into his chest, and its unrelenting pressure was unyielding on her legs and back. How long did she have before it forced its way into her body?

  “I take it he’s responsible for those bruises on your face then?”

  “He’d be upset if he was aware he’d saved my life and even more disturbed if he realized his action had also saved yours. He was expecting your men to shoot me.”

  The Heir gave a grim smile. “I’m sure he was. However, we have a problem.”

  “We?”

  “Yes. I owe you my life, but the force field is programmed to recognize the nanobots in my blood and exclude any foreign object. It will consider you a foreign object.”

  She could feel the Heir’s muscles tense as he strained against the force field, holding it back, and easing the pressure on her chest. Was the force field malleable and smart enough to slide under his arm and exclude her that way? Would it hurt as it passed through her? “That’s a pity, ’cause I was hoping to kill you.”

  “That's very difficult to do, and you’re at the end of a long queue.” His lips quirked up. The sight of her father’s killer smiling at something she’d said made her heart jolt. She closed her eyes. Death was coming on not so quiet feet, but it would be a relief. She looked forward to reuniting with her family and sailing across the shining sea.

  “Added to which you’ve placed me under an obligation to save you so I’m no longer indebted to you.”

  The force field pressed harder, and its weight pushed against her skin as it sought a way to eject her from under its protection. An excruciating rush of pain stabbed through her back and she wondered how much time she had left. “Oh, don’t bother. I absolve you from any obligation.”

  “Honorable. A good quality in a person,” he said, pushing her head down sideways onto his shoulder as he moved his arm across her back.

  What was he trying to do? Suffocate her? His arm squished her against his chest even more as he fiddled with something, but she couldn’t see what he was doing. He grasped her wrist and raised her hand. “I apologize for what I’m about to do next.” His sounded serious.

  She twisted her wrist trying to free herself from his hot fingers as something warm and wet trickled down her hand. “Don’t mind me, I’m just passing through.” She wanted to laugh, the joke was funny but she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.

  “Honorable and with a sense of humor. Hold still, this will hurt a little.”

  She caught a flash of gold and shrieked as he sliced her wrist with the sharp edge of his insignia badge, opening the vein. Why couldn’t he break her neck and rid himself of what was clearly an inconvenience? Maybe monsters like him enjoyed seeing their victims bleed to death all over them? Then she saw he’d slashed her wrist and was pressing it tightly against the matching cut in his. She watched with an odd fascination as their blood mingled. She looked up and stared into his green and gold flecked pupils before trying to wrench her wrist away, but between the force field pressure on her back and legs, his body underneath hers, and his strong grip holding her wrist to his, she couldn’t move. “What are you doing?”

  “Giving you some of my nanobots to make the force field retreat. Your blood will reject them, but not immediately and by the time they do, we’ll be rescued.”

  Violent nausea rippled through Kia, and a searing pain burned up her arm, spreading as the nanobots made their way into her system. She opened her mouth to scream but between the small knives stabbing her insides and the increasing pressure of the force field outside, all that came out was a strangled wheeze.

  “I’m sorry.” His arm tightened on her back. “This is the only way, but it won’t hurt for long.”

  Chapter Five: Changes

  Kia dreamed she was half asleep on warm sand, basking in the sun, the air soft on her skin, and the gentle swish of waves a soothing melody in her ears.

  “How much longer does she need?”

  The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She tried to speak but something in her mouth prevented her vocal chords from responding. She wanted to open her eyes but her eyelids were sealed shut and refused to obey. I’m not on the beach, I’m in the water, she thought, as she understood she was floating and struggled to move her arms and legs. Panic rose as she realized she wasn’t swimming on the surface—she was underwater and drowning.

  “She’s waking,” the voice said. “More seds. Quick, before she damages herself.”

  When she next awoke, she was lying on a bed under clean white sheets. She attempted to sit up, couldn’t and found her wrists and ankles restrained. She lay back, and for a few blessed minutes, she remembered nothing. The past was blank and as white and clean and empty as the room. She relaxed in the peaceful nothingness of the present, then memory snarled its way through the barrier she’d erected along with her dead. Her mother’s face surrounded by the same white blonde hair she’d inherited, the looks of love she gave her children, even when they’d disappointed her, tore at her heart. At least she hadn’t had to watch them die as she had her
father. The sea she’d been drowning in retreated, but a faint throbbing at the base of her skull anchored her in the present, and one thing was clear: she was still a prisoner.

  What about Jared? Was he alive? Would she ever see her brother again? She sought to contain her emotions, as she’d done for the past months, but something inside had shifted, and she surrendered, crying until she fell asleep exhausted by grief.

  The door sliding open woke her, and she stared in shock as the Heir followed by the man who’d stolen her medallion walked in behind him. She turned away as chaotic memories of the Heir cutting their wrists and mixing his blood with hers surfaced.

  “Still sulking at her good fortune,” the thief commented.

  What good fortune? She closed her eyes as if that would somehow make them disappear. She jerked her head around as the Heir sat down on the bed. Heat colored her cheeks, and she met his gaze, tasting bitterness.

  “A moment, Nagavi.” The man left, and the Heir’s green eyes glinted as he moved forward and placed his fingers over her carotid artery.

  Startled, her heartbeat raced.

  “Shh, little bird,” he said, moving his hand around to the sore spot at the base of her skull, carefully probing the area with his fingertips. “This, unfortunately, is necessary.” He sat back and considered her, his eyes narrowing. “I need you to promise me something.”

  She swallowed. “What?” she croaked. How long had she been unconscious? “I don’t understand.”

  “You must promise me you will tell nobody what happened between us on Jahanamu.”

  “Why?”

  “That is not your concern, but your life is worth nothing if the emperor hears of it, and if you speak of it to anyone, anyone at all, Teyrn will hear of it.”

  She had a vague memory of what he’d done to her and didn’t want to dredge up the details—yet she certainly had no ambition to become an object of interest to the Emperor Teyrn. Whatever was said about the Heir, his father was a thousand times worse. If she had to choose, and it seemed she did, she would pick the son. “Okay.”