by Desiree Hunt
When he reaches for my hand, I let him take it without any attempt to avoid the grip of his good hand around my hand and wrist. Then, when he moves, I move too. We’re running before I’ve even had a chance to process everything that has happened… and everything that is happening.
“Brokk?” It’s all I need to say to get the man to tell me why I’ve gone from chasing my would-be killer to running away from everyone.
“I have a way home for you, my lady, but we have little time.”
Home! … Home. Something’s wrong. I don’t feel as happy as I should. I want this, don’t I? Of course I want it! I don’t want to be trapped here! I don’t want to live a life someone else has designed for me! But, I feel the truth behind all those thoughts and all those words. A part of me does not want to leave. In fact, my heart is sad and heavy, and I wish that one of my shoes would break so that I’d fall. At least then I could pause in this headlong race to escape a world that is threatening—even with all of its wonders—to become my prison.
I have to go… I’ve sacrificed too much to become a pawn in somebody else’s bigger game. I have to.
I focus my effort and match Brokk’s ground-eating run, step for step. I don’t slow him down. I don’t try to stop him.
It’s time to go home.
Chapter 16
Volex
The room slowly clears of its electrical rage as Mother exits the ballroom on her way to address the man who poisoned Ivar. As for the young woman who had screamed as Ivar downed the defiled contents of the goblet intended for Aisha’s consumption, she is backed into a corner by a circle of guards who both hold her hostage and hold her enraged parents at bay.
“Keep breathing, brother,” I say, looking down into Ivar’s grey-white face as I stroke his temple in an effort to soothe him.
His head is in my lap, and it is with wide, round eyes and gasps taken through an exaggeratedly opened mouth that Ivar sucks in air convulsively in short bursts. He looks as if he is drowning within the very air he’s breathing. From head to toe, his entire body is rigid, and his back is bowed off the floor.
I’m not ready for this. I don’t want to be the crown-prince. Ever. I don’t want this. I want my brother! He’s always been the shield between me and… everything. He’s shielded me from Mother’s wrath. He’s shielded me from having to grow up. He’s shielded me from having to care about anyone but myself. He’s never had that luxury. Now, if he leaves me, I won’t have it either.
But, that’s not why I want him to live. I want him to live because he’s my brother. I’d trade all the shielding to keep him in my life. I’d take on every burden. All of it. I just need him to be alright. I need him to live.
The shuffle of movement and the heavy stampede of feet pull my attention away from Ivar’s desperate fight to cling to life. Through the parting crowd appear a collection of men and women dressed in the iridescent silver uniforms of medics. Upon seeing them, it’s my turn to choke and gasp for air as relief fueled tears sting my eyes.
“You’re going to be okay, Ivar,” I say. With my thumb I brush away a tear that has fallen from my eye to land on his cheek. When the medics converge on us, I’m quickly edged away from Ivar, and it makes my heart ache in a way that I’ve never known before as a fear sets in that I have touched my living brother for the last time in my life.
“Please live,” I whisper as the heads, shoulders and backs of the medics block my ability to even see him.
I wave to the guards who have the girl cornered, and with a firm, unyielding grip, they march her past her parents and the now silent party revelers to stand before the medics to face the barrage of questions they lobby at her. Her reticent silence earns her a harsh slap from her now furious mother, and as she begins to talk, I say a quiet thanks to the gods that my brother has a chance at getting the help he needs.
Aisha…
It’s like a whisper in my mind. I ignore that it sounds like one of those fat little cherubs.
They’re gods. I knew it. They’re fucking gods masquerading as fat, little, evil, old babies so that they can muck around in the lives of us mortals.
Yet, the sound of her name in my head has my feet moving. I can do nothing more for Ivar now, and, in fact, my forced presence could hinder his chance at survival by impeding the work of the people trying to save him.
With every step I take, my feet move faster until I find myself running before I’ve even reached the ballroom door. Out in the hallway, next to the ballroom door, stand two guards. Both look disheveled.
“Tell me what happened?” I ask, forcing my body to adopt the voice of royal command. It’s a resonate quality that can fill a room with even the sound of a whisper, and I take note of how the guards stand up a little taller and how their chests swell with pride at being addressed so formally.
“We apprehended the assailant, and he is being interrogated now by the Queen,” the older of the two answers.
“And did you see a tall woman—not of our kind—dressed in white?”
“Yes, Sire. The assailant stabbed at her with a long bladed knife”—blood drains from my face and I am suddenly unsteady on my feet—“but General Brokk defended her. She appeared unharmed when she left.”
“She left?” My voice loses its resonance and gains more of a squeak. The impact on the guards morale is immediate. In the minutest way, their posture softens and their chests deflate. No longer are they being addressed by a royal. Instead, they are being addressed by the over privileged son of the Queen, and it no longer honors them to speak with me.
“Yes, Sire,” the guard continues, as is his duty. “The last I saw of her she was running down the hallway with her hand in General Brokk’s.”
“Was he forcing her to go with him?” I ask, hoping.
“No, Sire. It did not appear so, but they were running.”
My heart sinks.
She made her choice, and it wasn’t me. She wants Brokk.
But still, my feet move of their own accord. They carry me in the direction that the guard indicated that the pair had gone.
Where did they go? To his guest rooms? No, that didn’t feel right.
Why were they running? I consider the layout of the palace and consider the direction that they were going. The answer shoots through me with a jolt.
The royal voyage chamber!
I break into a hard sprint. Brokk is stronger than me, but I’m faster. Even if he were carrying Aisha, I should be able to gain ground on them.
Corridors whiz by and people become a blur.
Is he taking her to his home or sending her somewhere else? Is he sending her back to her world? Does he somehow know its location?
I sort through all of the possibilities, including reaching the royal voyage chamber only to find it empty. That fear has my feet moving faster so that soon my thighs and lungs are burning, but I don’t slow down.
I can’t lose Aisha or Ivar. I can’t… I refuse to lose either one of them. I won’t let it happen. I’ll do anything!
It takes every ounce of my effort to maintain my racing speed the entire distance to the voyage chamber. When I do reach it, as my hand presses into the door to open it, my rapidly beating heart is poised for heartbreak if I find it empty, but stepping inside of the darkened room reveals the mammoth-sized Brokk just in the process of stepping away the control panel and my more-beautiful-than-ever Aisha standing at the edge of the star field.
The room’s air shimmers as a swirling vortex of blues and whites forms behind her and then grows large enough to easily walk into. It is the wormhole used for travel by my people dating back in time nearly as far as our history reaches.
Aisha’s hair and dress react to the vortex, reaching for it, but I see the hesitation in her eyes as she locks her gaze on me.
Her beauty grows more brilliant every time I see her, and now is no exception. I am a done man. I’m finished. There’s nothing left for me in the court of love without her. Those fat little bastards were righ
t—she is my soulmate. I feel it. I know it. I feel how my soul felt flat without her, but now it’s as if she gives me shape. She gives me depth.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brokk reach into his pocket and pull out a small, spherical orb. Absence of light makes it dark, a kind of darkness that cannot be altered by either of our two suns. I’ve never seen something of its kind before as such things are forbidden, but I’ve heard about them.
Even as Brokk rears back his arm in preparation of throwing the orb, my arms reach out to stop him. It’s an empty gesture from where I stand almost twenty feet away, but I can’t help myself.
“Nooo!”
My scream goes unnoticed as a deterrent, and the small orb shoots from Brokk’s hand to pierce the vortex at Aisha’s back.
There is a sharp explosion, and then it feels as if the entire room jerks sideways even though I know nothing has moved. Behind Aisha the swirling blues and whites cloud to darkness as the vortex created by the voyage chamber is transformed into a black hole.
I leap for her but instead find myself slammed and pinned against the wall with Brokk’s hand wrapped around my neck.
“She’s not your plaything,” Brokk growls. “Let her go.”
“You’re mad! That thing won’t take her home. She won’t even be in this dimension!”
“She’ll be with the Jumpers.”
“Pirates!” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “They’ll kill her!”
“Admiral Nu-che owes me.”
“Admiral Nu-che is wanted for treason!”
“He can get her home before three days pass,” Brokk menaces, leaning in, and for a moment I think he’s going to crush my throat. Digging my fingers into his grip, I push against him with all my might and gain the smallest of separations between him and me, but the advantage is a false hope that’s taken away when Brokk leans his shoulder into the effort of holding me in place.
“Aisha!” I choke out. “Don’t do this. I’ll get you home. Not safe, Aisha. They are dimension hoppers. Not safe!” It’s all I can manage to get out past Brokk’s grip, but I see her hesitate as she throws a worried glance behind her at the black hole that’s pulling at her on the atomic level. I can feel its effects even from where where I am.
“Don’t you have enough toys?” Brokk sneers.
“I love her!
Brokk’s eyes flare wide, filled with shock and surprise.
“She’s my other half, Brokk. I love her.”
Brokk looks from me to Aisha and back again. “By what fates is that amazing creature your other half?”
“Celestial Mates—the cherubs—found her. My soulmate.”
Brokk looks temporarily mollified, yet I feel as if he’s ripped my throat out when he yanks his hand away. “Those fat bastards,” Brokk growls. “Always messing.” He rolls his giant shoulders and then looks from me to her. Then, he eyes me as if he’s trying to decide if he should pummel me into a meat-pulp or embrace me like a best friend. Both of those outcomes are equally frightening.
“They found her for you?” he asks, a conspiratorial quality in his voice.
I nod my head as I rub my throat, aware that Aisha is still standing before the great eye of the dimension ripping hole.
“Make your bid, boy,” Brokk says, stepping aside. “But whether the lady comes or goes—it’s her choice, not yours.”
I nod again to show my understanding and acceptance of the General’s terms and then make my way to stand before Aisha. There, I drop to my knees.
“Aisha, please don’t leave.”
Chapter 17
Aisha
I won’t lie, I am scared witless by the huge, gaping maw that’s swirling behind me. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before, and I feel as if it’s stretching me like pulled rubber. I feel as if my body is being elongated. My front half facing away from the thing feels fine, but my back half feels as if it wants to be in the Bermuda Triangle. It’s the oddest sensation of being in two places at once—and it feels wrong.
Yet, the man on his knees before me—with the vow that he loves me still fresh on his lips—scares me even more.
Wars have been fought for love, dynasties have crumbled, and countless women have surrendered their independence and dreams in the name of it. But, I just want to be me. The whole thing is so rushed. Where are my moments of wondering if the boy likes me, whether or not he’ll call, where he’ll take me to dinner, and what our first kiss goodnight will be like?
He can’t love me. We just met today.
The words don’t feel true, though. I can see it in his face. He’s all in. He believes what he’s saying—not that that makes it any more true.
Behind me, as horrifying as it looks, is my chance at going home… of getting my old life back.
What am I saying? How can I go back to my old life after I’ve seen all of this? How can I go back to smelling like french fries and flipping burgers and being treated like an afterthought, wanna-be by the world?
…And he loves me. He really loves me.
I glance at Brokk but his stoic oversight offers no help. It’s all up to me—stay or go—I can never blame the outcome on someone else.
“Aisha,” Volex says, lifting his hands in offer to me to take, “I love you. Stay with me a little while, please. Let me show you how amazing your life could be here. I’ll get you home, I promise, but give me the chance to get you there safely. Not like this.” He takes a deep breath and then stands, still holding his hands out to me. “Or let me come with you, but don’t do this alone. Let me do what I can to protect you in your journey home.”
My mouth drops open in surprise. “What about Ivar? Is he…?”
“He is alive, or at least he was when I left him, but there’s nothing more I can do to keep him safe and well. I can do that for you, though. Please let me come with you.”
The Queen would lose both her children in one night.
“Volex”—I shake my head—“you can’t do that to your mother. I can’t do that to her either.”
“Then stay, Aisha,” he says, taking a step forward. As he moves closer to the black hole behind me, the edges of his person blur. It’s as if he’s not completely whole standing so close to it.
I finally reach out to him to take his offered hands, and he steps even closer. As soon as we touch, I gasp. My eyes are wide with dismay as I look down at where our hands join. It’s as if the boundaries between our hands has slipped away. It’s no longer his flesh and my flesh. It’s our flesh.
Lifting my gaze to meet his as he steps closer, I accept him as his mouth lowers to claim mine. There, on the threshold of infinity, I feel my body and his body become one. I feel our souls touch, and I know—I know—that we will forever be intertwined no matter where in the universe he is or I am. In the most literal sense of the word, we have become one.
When Volex finally pulls away, stepping out of reach of the vortex’s pull yet with the tips of his fingers hooked with mine, it’s a silent question.
Do I stay or do I go?
Inside of me, it is like my soul has been enveloped in winter. I feel cold, alone and isolated without him inside of me… and I wonder if he feels the same. If he does, I can’t tell, yet he’s here. He’s doing and saying all the right things.
But what does he want?
The words are a warning knell in my head. No matter how good he feels, I have to ask myself that. Too many times people make the wrong choice just because the one asking the question feels good to them. They make choices they would have never made. They make choices they regret.
“You promise you’ll help me find my way home? You promise to make it a now-priority and not something you’ll do someday?”
“I swear it to you. May General Brokk use me as cannon fodder on the front lines of his army if I don’t.”
Brokk grunted and nodded. “That’s a deal, lad.”
I close my eyes. The promise of home pulls at my back, but Volex and my future are at my front. He d
oesn’t need to know that yet, though. He doesn’t know that he’s quickly becoming my all and eclipsing everything else. He doesn’t need to know he’s gaining that type of power over me.
Taking a deep breath, I step.
Forward.
The pull and promise of home leaves my back, and my heart weeps with its loss, not fully believing that I’ll ever again get the chance to go home. But as I take another step, it’s to find myself wrapped in Volex’s strong arms, and slowly my idea of where home is gains a new description.
We hold each other tight with his chin on top of my head and my temple pressed into his chest until an awkward throat clearing interrupts our lover’s embrace.
I lift my gaze in time to see Brokk back at the controls, and I turn around to find the enormous hole narrowing until it’s only the size of a pin prick. Then, it’s gone altogether.
I feel numb, but Volex’s kiss atop my head renews me.
“Aisha,” he says, taking my hands in his and pulling away far enough to be able to gaze down on me. “Thank you for staying. Thank you for giving me a chance to keep my word to you.”
I nod, and then I think of what brought us to this moment. “How is Ivar?”
Volex’s expression tightens with worry and he shakes his head. “I hope that he is better than when I left him in the hands of the medics. If not…” He shakes his head.
I would have died. That poison would have killed me. Instead, it killed my maybe someday step-mother’s other son. She’s going to hate me forever.
“Can we go see him?”
“I’d like that,” Volex smiles.
Before we leave, I break away from holding hands with Volex to throw myself into Brokk’s arms. “Thank you for all you did for me tonight.” I then gather his injured hand in both of mine and turn it first palm up and then palm down to examine it. I can see where the knife split the skin, but there’s no longer any blood. There’s not even any swelling.