Beyond the Red

by Ava Jae

  “You know people will recognize you even with the mask.” I wrap the fabric around my head with my free hand.

  “It’s not meant to be a disguise, desert boy. I thought you’d have figured that much out.”

  I take a sharp breath. Grin. “We’re going into the desert?”

  She laughs, and though I can’t see her lips, her smile reaches up to her eyes. “Well, I didn’t dress us for heat and sand to play costume.”

  I swing the bag over my shoulder. Bounce on my toes. “What are we waiting for?”

  “Hold on. We’re riding Iro?”

  Kora sits on the giant cat like this is a perfectly normal method of transportation and grins at me. “What—don’t tell me you’ve never ridden a kazim before.”

  “Sure.” I eye the cat. “We Nomads ride kazim every set before breakfast.”

  She laughs and offers me a hand. “It’s entirely safe. I promise.”

  I grumble and take her hand as I swing my leg over the cat and hoist myself onto his back. The muscle and fur between my legs is uncomfortable, to say the least, and there’s nothing to grab. What am I supposed to do—grip with my legs?

  Kora snickers and leans forward, holding onto Iro’s neck. “You can take my waist, Eros.”

  Well. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

  I scoot forward and gently place my hands on her waist. Her skin is just as soft as it looks.

  Kora’s hand clasps over mine, and she drags my hand over to her navel. Warmth fills me and my breath catches in my throat as she twists back to look at me. She’s smirking again. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

  “You don’t have to be delicate, Eros.”

  My lips part before I can stop them and heat attacks my face. “What?”

  Her smirk widens. “You’re going to fall off if you don’t hold on.”

  Oh. Right. Obviously. I shut my mouth, lean forward, and wrap my arms around her stomach. She smells slightly sweet, like the fruity body wash I accidentally used the first time I bathed. It smells way better on her.

  “Ready?” she asks, and I nod. I’m starting to wish I’d sealed my jacket now, because my bare stomach is pressed tightly against her bare lower back, and the skin-on-skin contact is a thousand miniature lightning bolts jumping between us. We are way too close for her not to notice a slip in control.

  The almost-incident back in her room was humiliating enough. I am not going to embarrass myself.

  We bolt out of the gates faster than I thought possible, and not embarrassing myself isn’t a top priority anymore—holding on for dear life is. For a terrifying fifteen breaths, as the world races past us, I’m sure I’m going to fall. But then I get used to the rhythm of Iro’s movements over the ground, and I start to relax. Even enjoy it, somewhat. I’m riding a kazim. Day never would have believed this.

  Soon the tall white walls are a line in the distance, and we skirt around the edge of the city with its gleaming white buildings for what feels like moments, then the air is hot and dry and the world is an ocean of endless red sand. We don’t ride for long, but at Iro’s shocking speed, we don’t really need to. He slows down by a patch of thick, tube-like prickleplants and after we climb off, slices one in two with his claws. I guess the poison on the prickly blue skin that can kill a human in less than an hour doesn’t affect him, because he digs right in to the hollow center, lapping up the cool water stored inside.

  I kick my sandals off and bury my toes in the soft desert. Not enough. I strip off the jacket and fall back into the sand. Kora laughs as the powder poofs around my head and coats my face, but I don’t mind. The smooth warm sand on my skin, the suns on my chest, the baked air on my tongue—I close my eyes and, for a mo, it’s almost like home. Iro seems to like it, too—once he’s finished drinking, he buries his face in the sand and presses against the powder, his tail swishing happily.

  “I can bury you two here, if you’d like,” Kora teases, nudging my side with her foot.

  “Don’t tempt me.” I sit up and unwrap the scarf. Sand pours off my shoulders and I resist the urge to lie down again. “So why are we here?”

  “It’s the only place I can get away from prying eyes. Last thing I needed was some guard witnessing you and me sparring.”

  “Sparring?” I hesitate. “For whose benefit?”

  Kora unwraps her mask and stretches her arms over her head. “Don’t worry, desert boy, I’ll go easy on you, being that it’s your first time and all.”

  I stand and dust myself off. “I think we both know this isn’t my first time.”

  She smiles devilishly. “That first time doesn’t count—I wasn’t trying.”

  “Oh sure,” I say with a laugh, but she trains her smile on me.

  Kora bounces. Stretches her legs. Steps back into a comfortable stance and raises her fists. “Well, let’s see what you’ve got.”

  “I don’t want to hit you.”

  “You’re not going to.”

  “A little overconfident, are we?” I shift into a basic stance. “Last chance to change your mind.”

  “What’s wrong, Eros? Afraid you’re going to be beaten by a woman?”

  I feign right and kick at her head—she ducks under my leg and her foot slams into my spine. I stumble a step forward and spin back in time to narrowly miss her heel to my nose. I lean back to duck out of the way and she slams into my midsection. Sand explodes around us as we wrestle for the top position, but she’s stronger than she looks and it takes more effort than I expected to pin her down. Sweat drips between my shoulder blades and my muscles burn as I press her neck into the sand—not hard enough to cut off any air, but enough to show I could.

  “Okay.” I gasp for air. “You’re better than I thou—”

  She thrusts her right hip up, slams her hand into the crook of my elbow, and throws her whole weight against me. I tumble into the sand and her hand grabs the back of my head as her weight settles on my back. Hot breath rolls over the side of my face as she brings her lips to my ear.

  “What were you saying?” she says with a breathy laugh. “I think it started with ‘Kora just made me look like an amateur.’”

  I try to shift into a better position, but she’s got my arms pinned beneath my body so it’s not as easy as it sounds. I’m actually stuck. I dig my fingers into the sand and push some into my palms. Sigh and relax my shoulders. “Blazing suns, Kora. Do you even need me for protection?”

  She laughs. Her weight shifts just slightly back and the pressure on my neck lessens. It’s all I need. I twist hard, throwing her off, and jump to my feet. She recovers quickly and snaps to her feet, but the moment she faces me, I throw the sand in her face and tackle her down. This time I’m careful—I pin down her ankles and wrists. She squirms and spits muddy sand, then laughs. “That was cheating. You pretended to give up and threw sand.”

  “No such thing as cheating in a real fight. No rules, either.”

  “Fair enough.” She smiles at me, and…. we are…. really close. The tips of our noses are inches apart and I’m on top of her. In the sand. Half-naked.

  Heat floods my system and every skin-to-skin point of contact hums—her bare stomach on mine, her fingers on my palms, our ankles, feet, and wrists pressed together in the sand. My heart is racing and our lips are so close I can taste her warm breath. The spice of some kinduv perfume wafts through my nose, mixed with the sweet scent of her skin. Her soft breasts are pressed against my chest and, if I leaned forward, just a little, our lips would meet and—

  Fuck. There’s no hiding my body’s response to her—not when we’re so close. I sit up and lean away, my face flaming. Gulp. “We’re um … we’re done, right?”

  Her smile fades and she nods. She must’ve noticed my slip-up—I mean, I was on top of her for stars’ sake—but she doesn’t mention it, thank the sands. “Sha. Thank you, Eros.”

  There’s a mob of those floating black orbs—which I’m realizing might be cameras, as well as annoying talking things—a
nd a sea of ports outside of the palace gates when we arrive. It takes no small amount of maneuvering and no less than fifty guards to let us in without a reporter or an orb slipping in. I’m glad the jacket covers some of my skin and the scarf covers my ears as well as most of my face, because I can only imagine what a picture of Kora with a half-blood on Iro’s back would do to her image.

  Then again, there isn’t much we can do about the faded markings on my bare skin. I guess we’ll just have to hope no one notices.

  Kora leads Iro right up to the front of the palace and slides off at the bottom of the steps. She pulls the scarf off her nose and mouth and turns on the nearest guard.

  “What in Kala’s name is going on and why wasn’t I alerted?”

  Despite standing heads and shoulders above her, the guard looks terrified. His eyes dart to me, then back to her. “E-el Avra, I believe ken Kaï said he had notified you of—”

  Kora marches up the steps and I follow in silence. She throws open the front doors, rips the scarf off her head, and throws it at me. “I’m going to kill him! He purposely failed to notify me of whatever—I’ll wring his neck, I swear to Kala—” She spins on her heel and starts down the hallway toward the dining room, where voices and laughter slide under the doorway. Four guards in strange black and gold long-skirt uniforms I’ve never seen before stand on either side of the doors. I consider stopping her—I mean, we just came out of the desert and we smell just as sweaty as we look, and stars and suns know who’s in there or who these black-clad guards are. But then I see her clenched fists and the murder in her eyes. I keep my mouth shut.

  I’d rather take on the entire army than get in Kora’s way right now.

  Despite their somewhat intimidating presence, they must recognize Kora because they say nothing when she throws the doors open and marches into the room. The chatter cuts off, leaving only the slight scrape of utensils against plates, as two men look up at us from their overflowing plates. The first is Dima, but the second … He wears a similar black uniform with golden trim, but his is sleeveless and show his heavily tattooed arms. None of that tells me who he is or why he’s here.

  His eyes do, though.

  Because the centers of his irises are a thick ring of gold.

  My breath catches when I see his eyes. The golden centers can only mean one thing—someone has betrayed me and revealed Eros to the Sirae Court. And I know just the bastard.

  But I can’t react, not here, not now in front Serek, ken Sira-kaï.

  “Well,” Dima says, “look who decided to join us.”

  My face burns, but I’m not sure if it’s anger or embarrassment that sets my blood boiling. I bow low and clench my fists. “Sira-kaï, I apologize for my tardiness. I was not informed of your arrival.” I shoot a quick glare at Dima, but he just smiles pleasantly back at me. How I want to rip those lips off his handsome face.

  Serek stands and smiles, and something about him disarms me. Black wavy hair curls around his ears and Kala’s mark runs in an unusual pattern on his deep suns-bronzed skin—parallel and intersecting perpendicular lines race across his body, all at heavily slanted angles. From what I can see, nearly all of his markings are filled in with black text—from the splitting lines meeting at a point at the center of his neck, to the long lines reaching over his toned arms and down to his fingertips. But what catches me most is his smile. His grin echoes in his magnetic eyes and lights up his whole face. “Miscommunications are common in my brother’s court as well, ol Avra. Truly, it is I who should be apologizing—I should have given fair warning before arriving.”

  Somehow I doubt the message would have reached me with or without warning, but I don’t say that. “Not to worry. I’ll …” I’m dressed in sweaty desert clothes. Coated in sand. Standing in front of ken Sira-kaï, who hasn’t looked at Eros yet, who is still smiling at me like I’m not a sweaty, disgusting, embarrassing mess of an Avra. I clear my throat. “I should wash up. I will return, Sira-kaï. I do apologize …”

  “Take your time,” the kaï says. He’s still smiling, though it’s a softer, patient kind of smile. “And please, call me Serek.”

  “He’s going to kill me,” Eros says the moment my bedroom door closes behind us. “Your brother’s told him about me and he’s going to execute me.”

  I shake my head. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll talk to him—we’ll work something out. I gave you my word—”

  “You have to let me—”

  I grab his shoulders and Eros stutters. His gaze dips to my fingertips on his skin, then back to me. The bump in his throat bobs as he swallows and I can see his pulse racing in his neck. He’s scared and I’m to blame. I never should have allowed Dima to enter the room when Neja revealed his eyes. I’ve endangered him with carelessness, and if he dies now …

  Naï. I won’t let him die.

  “Kora …” he begins softly, but I cut him off.

  “I swear to you, Eros, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. If the time comes and there is no other way, I will release you, but doing so early will bring extra attention to you and your people, especially considering I just released sixty redbloods last term. If I release you, as well, people will ask questions.” I force a thin smile. “Besides, we don’t know for sure that’s why he’s here. I haven’t spoken to him yet … maybe this is about something else.”

  He takes a breath, pulls his shoulders back, and clears his throat. “We both know this isn’t a coincidence.”

  I can’t argue with him; not two nights ago I had that argument with Dima after the attack—worse, Eros humiliated him—and now Serek is here. On the off chance Dima hasn’t told Serek about Eros, the threat is clear.

  “I’ve shown you that I trust you. Now I need you to do the same. Can you trust me, Eros?”

  He bites his lip and watches me for a long moment. I hold my breath—will he not answer, or worse, refuse?—but then he nods.

  “Thank you,” I say. “Now we have to distract a kaï.”

  I stare at the stone-tiled ceiling as Anja—who ignores me like everyone else—dresses Kora. I don’t know what under the suns could be taking them so blazing long, but I don’t really care.

  Kora asked me to trust her, and I do. I trust she’ll try to keep my head on my shoulders. I also trust she’ll let me know if my only chance is to run. But if I get the chance early, I may have to take it. Anything if it means breathing a little longer.

  The thought of leaving bothers me more than I ever thought it would. I miss the desert—no amount of nice food and cooled air will make me forget the endless sands, open air, and heat of the suns on my skin. But the past few weeks have been more than bearable, and today in the desert with Kora … I almost forgot I’m not supposed to be enjoying myself. That I’m just a slave and she’s the queen of pureblooded Eljan Sepharon. She’ll always be the symbol of everything I cannot be, of everything I don’t want to be.

  And yet, part of me wants to stay. Because sure, people still hate me here, but sometimes I think Kora doesn’t. Sometimes I think maybe she sees me, maybe she can look past my ears, almost-markings, and weirdly colored blood. Maybe she doesn’t care that I shouldn’t be here, that I shouldn’t exist, that no one like me should exist. No one outside of my family has ever looked at me like that. Not the people I grew up with, not the women whose freedom I negotiated. They’ll never see me that way, and yet sometimes I think Kora does.

  And I’m not sure why or how. But with half my family gone, it’s something I’ll never have again if I leave.

  Then again, do I really have it now? It’s not like I can have Kora—she’s going to up and marry some Sepharon royal. I can never have Kora—I can never have anyone, because who would want to be with a dirty half-blood like me? The humans and Sepharon hate me equally, and worse, now I’m a slave. Half-bloods don’t get happy endings, and half-blood slaves don’t even get to think about a future.

  Maybe Kora sees me as more than a slave now, but that’s not going to last
as soon as she has someone else. Someone she can actually be with.

  Someone she actually cares about.

  “Eros.”

  Kora’s voice snaps me back to the present and I pull my gaze away from the ceiling. She’s wearing a shimmering black dress cut in all the right places. It hugs her curves like a second skin, dips low on her back to a point that meets at the base of her spine, and glimmers under the light as she twirls in front of me and smiles. Stars. She looks incredible.

  “What do you think? Sufficiently distracting?”

  My mouth has gone dry. I nod once. Lick my lips. “What are you distracting from?”

  She arches an eyebrow and gives me a meaningful look: What do you think?

  Right. She’s distracting from me. Of course.

  “I think if he looks anywhere except you, he might as well meet up with Daven.”

  She smiles. “Good. Now, are you going to escort me to the dining hall or not?”

  Dinner passes without incident, thank Kala. I pull out all the stops and throw every smile and batted eye I can manage without being obvious, and truth be told, it’s easier than I thought it’d be. Unlike my brother, Serek is a pleasant conversationalist, and I find, much to my relief, that I rarely have to force a laugh.

  We eat fruit-glazed fish imported from the southern coast served with crisp blue and purple Inaran vegetables, and we spend a considerable amount of time exchanging stories and smiles as the frozen desserts melt into white stone bowls. Afterward, Serek asks if I’d like to accompany him outside. I, of course, oblige and tell Eros to take Iro to my room and ensure my chambers remain undisturbed—mostly to get him away from Serek.

  The night warmth is wonderful on my skin after sitting in the overly cooled dining hall. Although I don’t think he’s been here before, Serek leads me to the gardens, and soon we’re surrounded by the glowing moonflowers and miniature night birds hopping from flower to flower, branch to leaf. Serek sits in front of our grandest fountain—a white stone structure with eight tall spires of violet bottom-lit water. The glowing water fills the garden with a warm golden light that accentuates Serek’s eyes.