The Starlight Rite

by Sinclair Cherise

  Over the past few years, Dain had realized he was caught in the same quandary as many men in the Arewell and Zarain kinlines. In the early days of isolation, the two families had bred intensely for strength and leadership and had inadvertently introduced a trait for dominance. Like his cousins, Dain wanted—needed—a submissive woman in his bed. But, by Cernun’s spear, he really disliked timid women. His kinline valued bravery.

  On Nexus, only a weak woman would ever give up control. So he was caught in a dilemma. Where did one find someone who was submissive in bed and strong outside of it?

  And what if one found such a person, and she turned out to be a liar and a thief?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mella spent the next day running back and forth from the gardens to the house. As Quenoll cut flowers—mostly blue, with some white for variety—he handed them over, instructing her to fill the vases on the tiny altars scattered everywhere, inside and out.

  “Why not yellow or red?” she asked him on her fifth trip.

  He gave her an appalled look. “You can’t use Cernun’s or Mardun’s colors during Artema’s Days.”

  “Oh. Of course,” Mella said politely, taking the basket of blooms. If Artema was the name of the god here, then who were Cernun and Mardo or Marda or whatever?

  Later, she kneaded dough for a special herb bread while Ida concocted a delicacy called festival cake filled with fruit and nuts. Ida had another recipe for ThreeMoon cake with chocolate icing that she stated they’d prepare on LastDay. Apparently, there were five days to cook for.

  “Five days of partying?” Mella asked. Worse than Christmas on Earth.

  “Different kinds of parties on each day,” Blani said. “FirstDay is a family day, and on LastDay, each clan hosts a Starlight Rite.” She giggled and rolled her eyes at Ida. “This year I’m going with my cousins to the Pegoson Enclave in Port City. Mama wouldn’t let me go last festival on Cernun’s LastDay. She said I was too young for the things they do. Honestly, though, they’re not nearly as wild as some, like the Arewells.” She flushed. “Of course, the Pegosons are more…energetic than the Vulacans. Anyway, I’m looking forward to it.”

  Cernun’s LastDay? “Isn’t this called Artema’s LastDay?” Mella asked.

  “Yes, but there’s four festivals in a year.” Blani handed Mella a Nexan spice that smelled like cinnamon and oranges combined. “One for each season and god. The spring festival belongs to Artema, one of the twins.”

  “You have more than one god?” Mella asked carefully. Surely that was blasphemy.

  “Actually there be five, but only four have festivals. Cernun, the father, be god of winter and law. Herina, the mother, goddess of summer and fertility.” Ida scooped a spoon into the cake batter, tasted, then nodded approval. “Mardun be Artema’s twin, god of harvest and war.”

  How did they keep them all straight? “What about the fifth one? Why doesn’t he have a party?”

  Ida laughed and patted Mella’s shoulder. “There be no season for death. All souls pass through Ekatae’s realm and walk her sands on the way to their own god.”

  Sands? “Why the detour? Why not just go directly to…whatever god?”

  “Her desert scours your soul clean,” Blani said, her voice muffled as she dug through the tater bin.

  “Be a way to break ties to the mortal world,” Ida added. “Loves and longings must cast off be before returning to the god.”

  “If you’re bad, you walk the scorching sands for long and long, and you suffer until all your bad thoughts and memories are burned away.” Blani’s shudder wasn’t assumed. The girl believed what she said.

  Well, something new to think about. Every time she thought she understood these people, they twisted on her. Breeding? Several gods? Dear heavens. But it was an interesting idea: to walk through a desert until all sins seared away.

  Ida glanced at the timepiece on the wall. “Finish there quickly, Blani. Leave soon, we must.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “FirstDay is for close kin,” Blani said, popping a red cherly fruit in her mouth. “We’ll spend the rest of the day in the Hermest Kinhome in Port City.”

  “All the servants get today off to spend with their families, and tomorrow to be with their clan. Even the indentured slaves. So you can…” Blani stopped, her face puckered with distress. “But you don’t have family or anyone—”

  “I may not have family here,” Mella said lightly, “but I have friends. That makes me happy.” And it did, actually. After she’d married, she lost her childhood friends. Nathan’s doing. He hadn’t wanted her to have anyone of her own, she realized suddenly, and over the years, her friends had disappeared.

  “Yes, friends you have, child.” Ida kissed her forehead.

  Blani sprang next, a whirling tornado, hugging Mella. “You can come with us to—”

  “Be not a silly podnat,” Ida said. “Himself won’t leave her to loneliness. As unshuline, she be part of the Zarain kinline unless other family be there for her.”

  “Of course, you’re right.” Blani’s troubled face cleared, and she beamed at Mella. “The kinae won’t let you be lonely.”

  “Very true.” The deep voice rumbled through the kitchen, shivering across Mella’s skin like a bass drum.

  Dain crossed the room, his bearing straight and his gait more even than she’d seen it in a while. He was using the cane less and less. “She will be welcomed in our kinline this FirstDay,” he told Blani before kissing Mella’s cheek. His masculine scent sent a thrill through her and weakened her legs. She clutched at his arm.

  Firm hands around her waist steadied her, at least until he leaned forward and whispered, “I enjoy having you on your knees before me, little Earther, but this is not the place.”

  The memory of kneeling between his legs, holding his…his shaft in her hands and licking… The kitchen suddenly felt very warm. And the wicked expression in his eyes only made it worse. She glared at him. His growling laugh made her insides quiver.

  He rubbed his knuckles gently across her cheek. “The family will gather for lastmeal early tonight, around five. We’ll all help cook”—he grinned at Ida—“whatever is left to prepare, and then eat together in the shade garden.”

  The talk of relatives and festivities had made her feel very lonely, Mella realized. But Dain hadn’t forgotten her. He’d come to find her, and she had someone with whom to share a holiday. Looking down, she blinked hard against the burning in her eyes. Who would have thought something like that could mean so much?

  * * *

  On the last day of festival, Dain came into Port City in response to a request. Two of his enforcers, Hanwell and Nilard, wanted him to check over their reports of Armelina Archer’s death and determine if they could call the case closed. Since Dain hadn’t officially returned to work, he had instructed them to meet him at a local restaurant for breakfast.

  To Dain’s disgust, the singer’s husband had arrived with the enforcers. Nathan Hamilton had grown increasingly demanding. Since Earth couldn’t process the woman’s inheritance until Port City filed the final report, his impatience was understandable—and very annoying.

  Even more annoying, some vid reporters had trailed the husband into the quiet restaurant. They’d eventually caused enough of a disturbance that the staff forced them to leave.

  Peace. Finally.

  Taking an occasional bite of his biscuits and baked greiet, Dain glanced through the investigators’ reports while his men and Hamilton conversed quietly.

  He flipped to the screen of data where the security vids displayed the alleged bomber. Medium height and weight, his face concealed by a hooded cape. Dain glanced over the bomb reports. The perpetrator had expertly placed the demolitions to destroy the ship and everything inside. The debris report showed nothing of concern. The… He frowned and scanned the list again. “Where is the biological report?”

  “Hasn’t come in yet,” Hanwell said, tapping his thick fingers on the table. �
��The lab’s backlogged. But there’s probably no real need for—”

  “No,” Dain cut him off, not wanting to dress down his man in front of others. “I require every report before I sign off on this.”

  “Of course, sir.” Hanwell’s mouth thinned at the unspoken rebuke.

  Dain leaned back in his chair as his instincts tickled up his spine like the feelers on a sandroach. Something was off. He glanced at the others.

  Although Archer’s husband appeared at ease, the muscles around his lips and eyes were tight, and he kept rubbing his fingers together. Definitely tense.

  Dain glanced at his enforcers. “You’ve had no success in finding the bomber?”

  Nilard, the more intellectual of the two partners, scowled. “We think he must have lifted off-planet in one of the holiday spaceliners.”

  Hanwell growled, “It’s the only explanation. The cowardly mounut isn’t here in Port City. We’ve checked everywhere.”

  Dain nodded and turned to Armelina Archer’s husband, trying to get a good read on him. “Nathan Hamilton, do you have anything to add? The notes you brought from the stalker on Earth certainly point toward him being the murderer.”

  The man’s face twisted in a grief-stricken pattern. “You’ve heard everything I know. If—”

  Water suddenly flooded across the table, and everyone shoved back to avoid the deluge.

  “By Ekatae’s jackals,” Hanwell cursed. “The glass slipped right out of my hand. I’m a clumsy regstal.”

  The accident had broken Dain’s concentration. He wanted to leave anyway, before Nathan Hamilton started pushing. Again. As the waitress hurried over with cloths, Dain rose and told his men, “Continue searching for the bomber. And have a copy of the biological report sent to my office when it comes in. At that point, I can close the case.”

  His men nodded their agreement. Dain tilted his head to Hamilton. “Good day, sir.”

  * * *

  “Look, there’s himself.” Hands occupied with peeling a tater, Ida jerked her chin toward the tiny vid in the corner of the kitchen.

  Sitting beside Blanesta, Mella glanced over, and her heart jumped. Dain sat at a table in a restaurant. Wasn’t that funny how he wasn’t nearly as handsome as some men, but it didn’t seem to matter? And even on the tiny viewer, he looked powerful.

  She propped her chin in her hand. Part of it was his bearing: soldier straight, broad shoulders held back, every move controlled. And part of it was his face. His features were strong and hard. Even his lips were… She remembered how those firm lips felt against her skin, her breasts, her…

  Her body awoke as if someone had snapped their fingers, humming with increased sensitivity. With need.

  Honestly, how ridiculous. She picked the knife up and resumed chopping carrots. Carrots. All the frontier planets had unique fruits and vegetables, but all had remnants of Earth stock too. On cool, moist Maliden, they still had broccoli. Here on Nexus, potatoes and carrots survived. The carrots were slightly purple in color, but recognizable nonetheless.

  “Aw, he looks heartbroken.” Blanesta tore greens into small pieces, her gaze fixed on the display.

  “Heartbroken?” Dain heartbroken? Mella frowned at the vid, and her breath clogged in her throat.

  Nathan. The monster sat at Dain’s table, laughing at something Dain had said. On each side of Dain were the two enforcers who had killed Cap and Johnnie and Pard—who had tried to kill her.

  Oh Prophet.

  “Mella! You’re bleeding.” Blanesta dropped the greens and jumped to her feet.

  Mella looked down. She’d gashed her palm open with the knife. Blood splattered the table. She hadn’t even felt it.

  “Goodness, child.” Ida bustled over and pressed a clean napkin to the cut. “Blanesta, fetch you the injury kit.”

  A few minutes later, with the slice across her hand glued shut and bandaged, Mella tried to choke down the tea Ida insisted on giving her. What should I do? She shivered, earning herself a worried look from Ida. “Mella, maybe—”

  “I’m fine.” Mella forced a smile. While Ida had tended her cut, the news had moved on to other matters. The latest in the Port City scandals, the increase in feral animals. “Why was Dain on television?” Why was he with Nathan?

  “I bet he’s investigating that poor singer’s death.” Blanesta bounced in her chair. “Sometimes he’ll tell us about the stuff he’s working on. Remember, Ida, when he directed the hunt for those terrorists?”

  Coldness grew in Mella’s stomach, chilling all the way up into her chest. “Directed the hunt? I thought he worked here, taking care of the estate business.”

  “Oh, he be here because the doctor won’t let him return to work.” Ida scooped the greens into the pot. “He be head of Planetary Security. That be why the enclave is well protected.”

  Blanesta smiled proudly. “He’s in charge of every enforcer on Nexus. He knows everything.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  She’d apparently turned so white that Ida had insisted she go lie down. Mella hadn’t resisted. Now she paced back and forth in her room.

  How could I be so blind? Again. She’d felt so safe with Dain, ignoring the fact that he owned her, ignoring that he’d coupled with her. Or maybe because of those things. He understood her better than anyone had since her family had died. She’d started to trust him.

  But he was a cop—an enforcer like the murderers. Horror twisted her stomach until nausea rolled through her in waves. What were the chances he hadn’t known about Nathan’s plan?

  But…maybe he’d just gone to the restaurant to do his job. Checking on law stuff or something?

  She shook her head, anguish settling like a stone in her chest, as she remembered how he and Nathan had laughed together and how comfortable the enforcers had seemed with him. And they’d met in a restaurant—a social place—not at work. Face the facts. Dain and the men who’d murdered Cap and Pard and Johnnie were friends.

  Dain might even have set up the bombing. She swallowed hard. She’d coupled with him. Oh, please, no.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried not to cry. Even knowing what he might have done, she still wanted him. She craved his presence like a plant needed water to survive. But she mustn’t need him or want him. He is dead to me. Grief blossomed within her until her body ached with it.

  She squeezed her bandaged hand, the pain ripping through her grief. She didn’t have time for sadness, not if Dain and Nathan knew each other. Sooner or later, either he’d mention his slave named Mella or Nathan would give him a picture of her or—anything could happen.

  And then she’d die.

  Would Dain kill her with his own hands? Those hands that had stroked her body so tenderly. Would regret show in his dark eyes? Her legs crumpled, and she dropped to her knees, hunching over to hold her chest. Her heart felt torn, savaged into pieces.

  What was wrong with her that no one could—Dear Prophet, why couldn’t anyone love her? Why was she fighting so hard to stay alive, anyway? What in heaven’s name am I living for?

  The sob broke through her control, burning its way past her throat. She shook as more and more sobs came, and tears scalded her cheeks. Why, Prophet, why?

  The sound of footsteps pattering down the hall brought Mella back to herself. A tap on the door. She pressed her lips together, smothering…everything.

  Silence. As the footsteps tapped away, Canna’s high voice said, “She’s not here, Rebli.”

  With a moan, Mella pushed to her feet. Her body ached like she’d suffered a beating, and her eyes felt puffy. But she was alive, and she would stay that way. She could do no less—Cap and Pard and Johnnie were owed justice.

  And what of the others? What of the women in Nathan’s future who might possess something he wanted? And the people the enforcers should protect but harmed instead?

  She couldn’t walk away, but that meant she had to escape. Lifting her arm, she eyed the indenture bracelet. No tool around here would get it off, b
ut there remained one option. The person deep in the heart of Port City who would remove a bracelet for a price. Her stomach heaved, and she pressed her hands over her mouth. She knew the price the man would demand.

  She’d pay it.

  Nothing could come with her. Her mouth tightened. The holocard where Nathan told her he’d deliberately planned her murder was locked up with her clothing in the Indenture Hall. She’d not be able to use that for evidence. But it didn’t matter; she had no choice now.

  After walking across the room, she looked out the door into the enclosed courtyard. Like a prison within a prison. She couldn’t escape from the Zarain Enclave. Dain worked as head of Planetary Security. She huffed a bitter laugh. No wonder they’d caught her so easily when she’d tried to run.

  She’d have to leave from somewhere else. Anywhere else.

  * * *

  That evening, the house emptied except for the children and the very elderly nanny who had arrived to sit with them. Everyone else had gone off to the LastDay festivities. And everyone seemed very…excited. They all had sex at those LastDay parties; Mella had figured that much out.

  Lifting her chin for courage, she tapped on Dain’s door.

  “Come.”

  She stepped into the room. He’d already showered and donned black trousers and a black tunic embroidered with moons and stars in metallic silver thread. Unlike other clothing he wore, this tunic had no fastenings in front and displayed his darkly bronzed, muscular chest.

  “You’re leaving too?” she asked.

  “Yes, laria.” He walked over to her. “Our gods demand the attendance of every fertile person at the Starlight Rites.”

  “But…not me?” She forced herself to not retreat.

  He stroked her hair. “No. You’re not Nexan.”

  “No religious festival on Earth gets every person to attend.”

  “From what I understand, Earth’s deity doesn’t involve himself with his followers. Our gods are not so distant.” Dain’s mouth quirked. “In my childhood, I knew a man who didn’t join the rite. His prize horse would foal that night, and he didn’t want to leave.”