Beyond the Red

by Ava Jae

  “Oh.”

  “Oh? Is it not the same with the redbloods?”

  I reach up to run a hand through my hair—wait, I don’t have hair—and drop my hand awkwardly at my side. “Forget it.”

  She nods, then turns away and steps toward the door. “Follow me.”

  Kora leads me through the winding red pathways—surprisingly empty of guards—out into the desert heat, then back over the cool, stony flooring inside. A flight of stairs up, then another down, and too many turns to count later, she pushes open an elaborate set of enormous red-webbed white stone doors. We enter a large room with a floating desk to the side, four long windows with a view into some kinduv colorful private garden, and a set of double glass doors leading to a sitting area just outside the garden. Built-in bookshelves line the walls and a hovering curtained bed large enough for six people is pressed against the western wall, piled high with red pillows. Across from the bed is a wall-sized mirror, giving the illusion that the room is twice as big.

  A bedroom. Her bedroom.

  I’m standing in the queen’s bedroom.

  A flicker of movement on her bed, and my heart jolts. The crimson pillows aren’t pillows—it’s a ten-foot-long wildcat, watching me with pale blue eyes. A tuft of fur sits between its twitching ears, disappearing down the back of its head in a ridge of longer fur, and two teeth as thick as my fist protrude from its mouth. I’ve heard about the wildcats before. They roam the desert in perfect camouflage, their sand-colored fur making it all too easy for them to blend—and they’ve been known to pick off scouts or people stupid enough to wander away from camp alone. Meet a wildcat in the desert, and you better make peace with your maker quick, because it’s likely to be the last thing you’ll ever see.

  And Kora’s got one hanging out in her room. Its long tail thumps beside one of its massive paws as it licks its lips and levels its unblinking gaze on me. But if the deadly animal lounging on her hovering bed is a problem, she doesn’t show it.

  The bed dips slightly as the wildcat rolls over onto its back, swaying back and forth in a slowing rocking motion. Is it normal for the bed to shift like that, or is it just because the cat is so blazing heavy? Does it sway like that during sex, or does it have some kinduv stabilizer? A rocking bed would be kinduv—

  Blazing suns. What am I thinking? For stars’ sake, focus.

  Kora steps to a set of drawers beside her bed and rummages through the contents. After many awkward minutes of silence, she turns around and hands me a small black case, about the length of my pinky finger. “When my medic revealed your eyes to my brother and me, I asked her to make this in secret. I want you to use it.”

  I glance at the case. Back to the cat. “I take it that’s not a reason for concern?” I nod at the ten-foot-long accessory.

  Kora glances at the wildcat. “What, Iro? Naï, he’s harmless.” She smiles and sits on her bed, and my face warms slightly as it sways back and forth again. Stars above, I need to stop thinking about floating bed sex. She wraps her arms around the beast’s neck and buries her face in his fur, like it’s a giant stuffed animal and not a man-eating monster. She’s voiding insane. Or suicidal.

  But she’s smiling. “Isn’t that right, Iro? You wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  A deep rumbling rolls from its throat, and the wildcat licks her cheek, so maybe the cat’s just really stupid. She grins and ruffles the tuft between its ears. “See? Harmless.”

  I’m not convinced, but she’s hugging the blazing thing so I guess it’s not a concern, at least right now. I open the case. Inside are two small compartments with two tiny droppers—one filled with a swirling silver fluid that looks almost like liquid metal, and the other with a clear liquid.

  The clear stuff looks harmless enough, but the silver fluid is roiling on its own. Like it’s alive. Cold drips down my chest and into my stomach.

  “Is this what I think it is?”

  “They’ll hide your eyes,” Kora says. “Only three people know about them, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  I look at her. “These are nanites.”

  She nods.

  “You really think I’m going to use this when the last batch of nanites you used on me nearly blinded me?”

  “I think you don’t have an option. And besides, these are different. You don’t inject them—they dissolve onto your iris and change the color superficially. If you want to remove them at any time, you drip the dissolving fluid into your eyes and they’ll wash out immediately.”

  I frown at the case. Bite my lip. “So you’re not going to hand me over to the High Royals?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. But until I do, you’ll use that if you want a chance to live.”

  I close the case. “Why am I here? You didn’t have to bring me to your room to change my eye color.”

  A slight smile slides across her lips and she sits up and crosses her legs. Her skirt slides high on her thighs, and it takes more than a handful of effort to yank my eyes away from the bare spot on her toned upper thigh.

  “You’re sharp,” she says.

  “I’m not an idiot, more like.”

  She taps her fingers on her leg. Maybe she’s doing it on purpose. Did she catch me staring? I make a point to look at her eyes and not her breasts or sculpted stomach. Finally, she says, “My personal guard was killed in a recent attempt on my life.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  If she noticed the sarcasm dripping from my condolences, she doesn’t show it. “He wasn’t truly loyal to me, but that’s besides the point.”

  I wait for her to continue, but then she doesn’t. “What is your point?”

  She arches an eyebrow. “Perhaps you’re not as sharp as I thought.”

  “You’re not going to ask me to be your personal guard, so I think it’s fair I’m confused about where you’re going with this.”

  Kora slides off her bed and steps right up to me again. It takes a lot more concentration to keep my eyes on her face now that I’ve noticed the rest of her not unattractive body. There must be something seriously wrong with me. She’s a fucken murderer for stars’ sake,—she burned my home to the ground and killed half my family. No amount of nice curves, round breasts, or gorgeous eyes can change that.

  “Why do you say I wouldn’t ask you?” she says, watching me. I make a point not to notice her long dark eyelashes and full lips. Wait. Shit.

  “You can’t be serious. You don’t need me to answer that.”

  “Humor me.”

  I search her face for a smile, or a hint of a joke or trick, but she looks disturbingly serious. Instead of hidden laughter, her eyes glint with something else—curiosity? “I’m a half-blood. And a slave. And according to your brother, not worth the air I breathe.”

  “I never said I agreed with my brother.”

  “You don’t have to—it’s the one thing humans and Sepharon agree on. Half-bloods are a genetic perversion that shouldn’t exist. Humans and Sepharon aren’t meant to blend.”

  “And yet, here you are …” She reaches out and traces the thicker line of the light markings on my collarbone. Her touch sends a warm rush into my stomach and a chill over my skin—what is she doing? I suppress a shudder. I hope to the moons that the white powder on my face hides the heat on my cheeks. “You know, the kara bath doesn’t suit you. You’ll be taking normal baths from now on.” Her gaze runs over my neck and back up to my face. “And I’ll have you grow your hair out. The plucked look is rather odd on you.”

  I stare. “You’re serious.”

  “As poison, I’m afraid.” She steps away from me and sits on the edge of her bed again. It sways. I pretend not to notice. “My guards are no longer loyal to me. It’s no secret they would much rather see a man on the throne—they think I cheated Dima of the crown.” She shrugs. “You dislike my guard as much as I do, you’re trained for combat, and I have little doubt in my mind that anyone else would try to buy your loyalty.”

  I cross my arms. “And i
f I decline?”

  She grins so sharply it’s a wonder she doesn’t cut herself. “Well, that’ll make my decision much easier then.”

  My fingers clench into fists. “Decision?”

  “Of whether or not to report you to the Sirae family, of course. I’m afraid you know too much to be anything less than my personal servant.” I scowl, but her smile softens. “Threats aside, you’re not going to get a better offer, Eros. As my personal guard, you’ll have much more comfortable sleeping quarters, some privacy, and a sense of individuality. I’ll keep you well fed and clothed and you won’t have to subject yourself to the menial, humiliating work that my brother is sure to assign you. Pledge your loyalty to me, and I will do everything in my power to keep your secret safe.”

  As much as I want to hate her for cornering me with this bizarre offer, she’s right—this is better than anything I could have hoped for. I should be grateful. I should be thanking her.

  But despite her generosity, she’s still the girl who ordered the massacre of my camp. She oversaw the slaughter of hundreds of people. The enslavement of dozens of women and children. And now she wants me to save her. Now she wants me to protect her.

  “You killed my people.”

  She sighs and looks at her feet. Digs her fingers into the blankets. “I am sorry,” she says softly, “truly, for the pain I’ve caused you. My soldiers made decisions I did not consent to, but unfortunately I had little choice.”

  A rush of heat flares through my center. She’s the blazing queen and she didn’t have a choice? What does she take me for? “Everyone has a choice.”

  Kora inhales deeply. Looks up at me. There’s something wrong with her eyes—they’re kinduv shiny like—no. No voiding way. She is not going to sit there and try to make me feel bad for her.

  “A group of your rebels tried to kill me. They succeeded in murdering my parents and hundreds of my people.”

  Her eyes are doing that stupid glistening thing. She believes it, but she’s delusional, because that never happened. I shake my head. “We never—”

  “Three cycles ago at my coronation, a group of rebels planted several bombs at the Temple d’Elja. It took three cycles to track down the bombers, but we did several sunsets ago—to your encampment.”

  I clench my fists. “I would know if we’d planned that kind of attack.”

  “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, but I’ve done it in the name of protecting my people. You would do the same, would you not?” She looks at me again, and it’s clear that she knows the answer. She’s already seen me do as much. “I’m willing to overlook your transgressions, but I need you to extend me the same courtesy. I need you to pledge to protect me with your life.”

  I bite my lip. Force the heat down into my stomach. Take a breath. What would my family do? Day would’ve attacked her the moment he entered her room. He would have ended her life and tracked down Dima while he had the chance. He would have thrown his life away in the name of protecting his loved ones.

  But not Nol. Nol would tell me to think clearly, to think with my heart and my mind simultaneously. He would ask me to consider what options I have that don’t involve violence. He would ask me to do everything I could to protect my people in the most diplomatic way possible.

  I’m not Day, but I’m not Nol, either. And yet, considering their choices helps me make mine.

  “I’ll agree under two conditions.”

  Kora nods. “And what are your conditions?”

  I straighten my shoulders. “You’ll swear to me that you’ll stop searching for my people. You’ll allow them to recover and live out the rest of their lives in peace.”

  She pauses. “As long as my life, or my people, are not threatened by yours, I agree. Next?”

  This one will be trickier, but I say it as confidently as I can manage. “You’ll flush the nanites from the women and children who you enslaved from my camp and release them.”

  She hesitates. Purses her lips. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

  “Not sure you can, or not sure you want to?”

  “I—”

  “You’re the queen, aren’t you? I was under the impression everyone has to do what you say without question.”

  “They do, but—”

  “Then I don’t see what the problem is. Agree to cleanse and release them, and I’ll pledge to you right now.”

  Kora bites the corner of her lip. Taps her fingers on her leg. “The court and council will be very displeased.”

  “If you’d rather deal with a displeased Sirae Court when you tell them I exist and find someone else willing to keep you on the throne and protect you …” I shrug and try to look apathetic, but to be honest, if she did choose to report me and use someone else, I’d be dead.

  She arches an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you had a preference as to who held the throne.”

  “I didn’t. Until I met your brother.”

  She smirks. “He’s a bit difficult to get along with.”

  I snort. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “Fine. I accept your terms.”

  “You do?”

  Kora nods, steps over to her dresser, and rifles through the drawers. After a moment she pulls out a shimmering gold scarf and steps in front of me. “Do you know how to pledge?” My hesitation is all the answer she needs, and she nods again. “Kneel.”

  I obey, and she takes my right hand in her left and wraps the scarf around her arm, over our clasped hands, and tightly onto my forearm. She does it swiftly, like it’s been ingrained in her muscle memory. How many others have pledged their allegiance to her? Finally, when the scarf runs out, she tucks the end beneath a loop and meets my eyes.

  “This golden fabric is representative of the holy oath you are making. Just as the cloth binds us, your oath to me binds us together until death. Do you swear this to be true?”

  A part of me rebels at those words—until death. But what did I expect? I’m a slave now, and will be for the rest of my life—the tattoo on my arm makes that clear enough. Sweat beads the back of my neck and, for a terrifying moment, my hand goes slick against hers. But considering where I am, where I will be for the rest of my life, this is the best I could hope for. I squeeze a little tighter and say,

  “Sha.”

  If she notices my clammy palm, she doesn’t comment. Instead she reaches into her skirt and pulls out a knife from stars know where, spreads the loops of the scarf over the top of my hand, and slices my skin. My breath catches in my throat, and I resist the urge to pull away—not that I could if I wanted to—and she releases the fabric and watches as it soaks up my dark, purple-red blood. She waits until my blood has leaked down the sides of my hand and has dripped onto the edges of hers before speaking.

  “Repeat after me: I, Eros of the Eljan Vastlands, swear on my lifeblood and the fate of my afterdeath to serve and protect Kora Mikale Nel d’Elja to the end of my life, or until she freely releases me.”

  In my mind, Day jerks to the side and crumples in the sand. My parents’ clasped hands and the burning tents and tiny bodies littering the sands flash across my eyes and stars alive, I hope I’m doing the right thing. I hope they wouldn’t hate me for this and see me as a traitor. Nausea rolls through me and a chill rushes over me, but I repeat her words.

  “If I break or fail my oath, I ask that Kala dishonor me and my descendants for eight generations, and I submit my afterdeath to the Void.”

  Maybe I’m a failure for agreeing to this. Maybe I deserve endless nothingness after I die. But I say it word for word, then Kora unwraps her arm and hand and winds the rest of the cloth over mine. “It is done. Wear the fabric until your hand heals, then you may remove it and do with it what you wish. You may rise.”

  I stand and stare at my stinging hand. She wrapped it pretty tight, so I’m not too worried about the bleeding, but will it leave a scar? A permanent sign of my allegiance to her, etched into my hand?

  I suppose it doesn’t matter. Scar or
not, I’ve just sworn my life away.

  “You’ll be given new clothes immediately, and you’ll sleep in my chambers.” My eyes shoot up at that last bit. She doesn’t notice at first—she’s examining my blood on her hand—but then she sees my stare and smirks. “You’ll have a bedroll. On the floor.”

  My face goes hot. “I knew that.”

  “I’m sure you did,” she says, sounding vaguely amused. “Now, you need a bath. No guard of mine will wear kara.”

  After scrubbing my skin clean of the waxy white layer stubbornly bleaching my body, I change into the new clothes Kora’s servants left folded beside the tub—a weird white pair of pants that looks like a knee-length skirt with pant legs sewn into the bottom and a red stripe along the legs, and a silver metal band to clasp just above my elbow. All of this is better than the white skirt I was wearing before, so I have no complaints.

  I step out of the bathroom, feeling more like myself in my bronzed skin—albeit, a pathetically hairless version of myself—and enter Kora’s chambers. Iro jumps off the bed and strolls right up to me, pressing against my side as he moves around me, swishing his tail. I stand still and try not to panic, but even on all fours, the blazing cat comes up to my chest, and beneath the soft, thick fur is all muscle. It could kill me in a mo.

  “Iro,” Kora calls with a slight laugh. “Come here. Don’t scare the poor man.”

  The cat trots over to her side, then flops down beside her. She’s waiting at her desk with a woman sitting across from an empty chair holding an inscribed metal band. I recognize the band—it’s the same one that burned the tattoo into my skin not twelve hours ago.

  Kora’s gaze slowly rolls over me, from head to foot, and something about the way she’s looking at me almost makes me feel dirty. A hint of a smile curves her lips. “Much better. Now sit.”

  I take the empty chair, and the woman clasps the band around my marked arm and slides it just under my current tattoo.

  “Is this really necessary?” I ask, and Kora raises an eyebrow.

  “Your body reads Servant of Elja. You are no longer a lowly servant; you are sworn to me. Now your skin will say as much.” She nods at the woman who runs her fingers over the surface of the band and taps a sequence into the surface. The edges glow red and my skin burns.