Kiera's Moon

by Lizzy Ford

  “Nishani, you don’t determine what we discuss,” he growled. Her eyes flew to his once more.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, but with a tremor of uncertainty. He waited. She looked away before he did but refused to crack. He shifted tactics.

  “This … game, you do very well at it.”

  “I like it,” she said. “Today was difficult, but normally I do much better.”

  “Today it was on training mode,” he said, and reached forward, activating it. He touched a few buttons to take it off training mode. The quiet, uneventful scene on the frontier appeared. He stood and moved to take her place, nudging her aside. Nishani rose as he slid into the seat before the console.

  “Training mode?” she repeated.

  “You understand ground and space battles?”

  “Yes.” She drew closer until he could feel her presence at his back.

  “This is the current battle situation. It’s been quiet due to the cease-fire called by the Council,” he explained. He flicked buttons, zooming and expanding the scenes and adjusting it until it was as he preferred it: spinning faster than normal with alternating close-ups of each major battle.

  “I’ve been winning up until today,” she said. “I don’t always understand all the parts. These are large ships, these smaller fighter ships.”

  “There are three levels of fighter ships.”

  “I figured that out by the size and speed.”

  “You know the parts of each ship and can configure the ships’ systems?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s not an easy task to learn. Each one has its own specific codes and specifications. I am impressed you learned it.”

  She was quiet as he flipped through the individual configurations of each kind of ship, from transport to logistic to the hulking carrier ships. He switched to the ground battle and hastened through the size, position, and make-up of each of the major ground armies.

  “Why do I have the feeling this isn’t a game?” she asked in a hushed voice.

  “It is not.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Strategic battle planning. You’ve been sending me updates daily,” he said. Disbelief spread across her face.

  “It’s real? But I annihilated the planet when I first started!”

  “I approve the plans before they are released,” he said. “I’ve not had to alter the last several you’ve sent. Judging by the training program, you’ve reached my level already.”

  “So I’m helping?” she asked skeptically.

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll take me with you to battle?”

  “No,” he said firmly.

  “But if I’m helping you here, couldn’t I be more helpful up there?”

  He gave her a warning look.

  “I’m really as good as you are?” she asked.

  “You’ll soon be better.”

  “I can’t wait to tell Ne’Rin!” she exclaimed. “You’ve been bested by a mere woman!”

  “You’ve not bested me yet, woman,” he growled. “I will announce to the Council that you are being appointed the battle planner for Anshan. I will be here only another few moon-cycles and will work with you to teach you the different units and their capabilities. If I am satisfied, I’ll turn over the planning completely to you.”

  “No approvals needed?”

  “No approvals needed.”

  To his surprise, she was grinning, her multi-hued eyes glowing. He hadn’t thought she would be so eager, given her skill at avoiding all her regular nishani duties.

  “Thank you!” She looked younger than Talal, and he wondered what her age might have been. He restrained the urge to reach out to her. She wasn’t yet at the level where she would feel comfortable with his touch. He returned to the console and turned it off.

  “I saw your sister,” he said.

  “Sister? You saw Evey?” nishani demanded. “When? Is she here?”

  “She is well, in her home.”

  Nishani waited. When he did not continue, she sat down impatiently, facing him.

  “When did you see her?”

  “A day ago.” He was purposely vague, enjoying the fact that her full attention was on him. He rose and turned to go. Nishani followed and gripped his forearm with both of her small, soft hands.

  “A’Ran, wait!” she commanded. “You can’t start a conversation like that and leave! How is Evelyn?”

  She released him when he turned, and he gazed down at her, eyebrow raised. A familiar look of determination was on her upturned face.

  “She is well, nishani,” he stated. “She sent your gifts and said to convey her news of a child.”

  “Evey’s having a baby? How wonderful! Does she seem happy? What about Romas? Will he let her visit soon?”

  “Romas is not likely to allow that, nishani,” he responded. “Our clans are still on the verge of war.”

  “Because of what I did?”

  “Because of what I did. I knew the risk.”

  She frowned. He turned and approached the door again, interested when she followed.

  “A’Ran, if helping me drew you into another war, why did you do it?”

  “It was meant to be,” he answered. He slowed his brisk stride for her to draw and keep abreast.

  “What was? Stealing me and making me a nishani?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you feel we were meant to be,” she clarified.

  “I feel nothing, nishani. I know it to be true. I believe you feel it, too. It’s the bond between an Anshan dhjan and his mate. We are bound together and to the planet, which will only come back to life when we return.”

  *

  Like from my vision. His weren’t the words she expected to hear. She walked beside him, pensive. He didn’t regret what he had done, even if it plunged his war-beleaguered people into another war.

  “Why are we bound together?” she pushed.

  “Perhaps because you are so small,” he said with a trace of amusement.

  “I’m perfectly average on my planet,” she said. “Seriously, why did you feel the need to drag me across the galaxy? Aren’t there other women you could take as nishani?”

  He ceased walking and gripped her by both arms, maneuvering her to stand before him. She looked up at him, awed once again by his size. She could feel his body heat and felt pinned beneath the intensity of his gaze.

  “You are too bold, nishani,” he chided once more.

  His grip was warm and firm, as it had been the day he prevented her from falling on her face in front of Romas’s relations. She felt the familiar, core-deep connection, the one intimate enough for her body to respond, as he held her gaze. Her breathing quickened, and she sought to break the entrancing spell before she began mewling like a cat at his feet.

  “I think I deserve an explanation,” she breathed. A’Ran’s grip tightened before falling from her. He made no move to walk away.

  “The babes my sisters carry will be the first birthed to Anshan in over seven sun-cycles,” he said. “A dhjan’s mate is bound to his people, to his birthright as he is. From the dhjan comes strength, prosperity, stability. From the dhjan nishani comes growth, birth, restoration. If a dhjan chooses incorrectly, his world suffers. If a dhjan chooses well, his world flourishes.”

  “Wow,” she murmured. “I guess that means …” … you’ll never let me go home. She frowned without finishing the sentence. He waited. “You aren’t upset with your sisters?”

  “They disobeyed me,” he said firmly. “Despite the assurance that you will return health and life to my people.”

  “Glad to do my duty,” she said.

  “There will come a day when you must choose between duty to Anshan— and your people— and duty to yourself,” he said. “It is the same choice I made.”

  She didn’t want that burden. She wanted to go home, though a part of her had told her upon meeting this fierce warrior her that she’d never go home again. She met his g
aze, wondering if any part of him was capable of affection or if she’d wither like a dried-out flower. She couldn’t imagine spending her life with a man who viewed her as nothing more than a duty. Evelyn was right: she was too emotional for such an existence.

  Yet she knew, even if this were her fate, the man before her would always treat her as he had: respectfully, honorably, dutifully.

  “What is it?” he asked as she gazed at him.

  “I’m not like you, A’Ran,” she found herself saying. “Or your women.”

  “I know this.”

  “No, I mean, I’m nothing like you! Your duty is all you really seem focused on.”

  “You will learn.”

  “I don’t know that I want to learn,” she said, troubled. “If I must learn to be dutiful from you, what will you learn from me, or am I expected to be the only one to compromise?”

  He faced her fully, studying her for a long moment.

  “What would you have me learn?” he asked in the same wary tone.

  Affection. Love. Things a man battling for his planet neither had time for nor needed. They seemed like silly emotions when compared to the enormity of his task, and yet, she didn’t think she could survive without them.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I won’t keep you any longer.”

  And she walked away without another word, confused as to why she had wanted him to say there was more to why he chose her than because it was his duty. She wanted him to say he felt the same thing when he looked at her as she did when she looked at him.

  A’Ran’s penetrating gaze nearly burnt a hole through her shoulder blades.

  She didn’t have much time alone to mull their conversation or her troubled thoughts. Ne’Rin sent for her less than an hour later with vague explanations of meeting a visitor. Kiera hid a second translator in her pocket and exited the sprawling house to join him. He turned on his heel as soon as she appeared and strode toward the small area beneath a tree where spacecraft traditionally hovered to release their occupants.

  Unwilling to appease the man she didn’t like, she made no effort to match his pace. She trailed instead, eyes on the much smaller craft hovering near the tree. It was a single occupant transport ship whose passenger stood several feet from it and looked familiar from a distance.

  She heard the runner before she saw him and watched as one of the warriors breezed past her toward Ne’Rin. He caught Ne’Rin before he met the visitor, and the two stopped. She approached, but Ne’Rin headed back to her with the messenger.

  “Wait here. Do not greet him,” Ne’Rin commanded her.

  She rolled her eyes. He started past her, then paused, returning to her side to remove the translator from her ear. She said nothing and turned to watch them jog back to the house. Satisfied they were gone, she withdrew the spare in her pocket, placed it at her earlobe, and moved forward to greet the visitor.

  The guest watched her as she approached, and she recognized the distinct features of A’Ran’s family. He was much older with a full head of silver hair, a similar shade of dark eyes, and a lean build. His gaze was just as intense, his brow low, but his features not as heavy as A’Ran’s.

  She didn’t doubt he was a relative. She paused before him, resisting the instinct to stick out her hand for a handshake. The guest was relaxed, his penetrating gaze calm and weary.

  “May the suns long grace you, gentle lady,” he said in a quiet, gravelly voice.

  “And you,” she responded. “May I escort you inside?”

  He inclined his head. They started toward the house.

  “I’m Kiera,” she said.

  “I am Mansr. Normally I am greeted by a member of my clan.” There was weariness in his voice that disarmed any offense he felt.

  “Where are you coming from?” she asked.

  “From Anshan central.”

  “Where there’s a war?” She looked at him more closely. “Is this what tires you?”

  “Yes to both, gentle lady,” he said. “I bring news to the dhjan of his people.”

  “The cease-fire must make it easier to travel,” she observed, recalling the enemy positions around the spacecraft launch sites. “I believe your regular launch sites have been well covered by the enemy. You may not have made it out otherwise.”

  Surprised, he looked at her more fully.

  “How are … the people?” she asked. “Aside from the battles.”

  “War-torn and weary.”

  “I would like to travel there.”

  “It is not a place for one such as you.”

  She looked up at him, unable to determine his tone. His face was unreadable, but the skin around his eyes had softened with warmth.

  “I think I could help,” she said. “And I can take care of myself.”

  Sort of, she added. If what A’Ran said was true, her presence would stop the suffering of his people. Maybe, just maybe, after that happened, he would let her go home.

  “Is the Council still in residence?” he asked.

  “Yes. A’Ran is with them most of the day,” she said absently. “How far is Anshan?”

  “Two turns of the sun.”

  “Will you stay long?”

  “I cannot,” he stated, his gaze growing distant. “I have a duty to the people. I will address the dhjan and leave.”

  Her intent gaze lingered on him as they reached the house. The etchings of age, pain, and sorrow were upon his brow and cheeks. She sensed the unseen scars of war and strife, the price of Anshan’s struggle, buried deep beneath the surface of the hardened man before her.

  “Worry not, gentle lady,” he said, aware of her scrutiny.

  Kiera flushed and looked away. They stepped into the cooler house, and her attention was caught by Talal, who froze in mid-stride along her path toward the northern wing.

  “Uncle,” Talal managed, and gave a formal bow. Her eyes went to Kiera in surprise.

  “Niece.” He returned the bow.

  “I will guide you immediately to the dhjan,” Talal said with apprehension and another bow.

  Her unusually swift stride outdistanced both of them. A’Ran’s uncle remained at Kiera’s pace. He was quiet, and her thoughts wandered to Anshan and her alleged, vague duty to the people. How did one save a planet, and how long would it take?

  “You may enter, uncle,” Talal said, and stopped in front of the war quarters. “Nishani, come with me.”

  Before she could move, Kiera’s arm was caught by the man beside her. She gazed up at him questioningly.

  “Nishani?” he echoed, his eyes on Talal. Kiera watched Talal smile and bob another bow. His dark eyes dropped to Kiera’s features.

  “I am honored,” he said, and bowed his head.

  “Come, nishani.” Talal took her arm before she could reply. Kiera went, looking back once to see Mansr staring hard after her.

  “Nishani, you are not to greet alone!” Talal chided her as they marched down the hall.

  “It wasn’t right to leave him standing in the sun all day!” Kiera replied. “What does your uncle do on the planet?”

  “He controls the ground armies. If he is here, he has no good news.”

  Kiera debated how he could have worse news, curious about the man and the war. They nearly reached the women’s wing when the strange little Council member with white eyes called out to her.

  “Nishani!”

  She and Talal both turned as he approached. He gave Talal a short bow she took as dismissal, then waited for her to pad out of sight. Kiera waited for him to speak, wanting to hide somewhere until she could think straight.

  “How are you, nishani?” Jetr asked.

  “Fine, thanks.”

  “I apologize if I am being too direct. I have a concern to discuss with you.”

  “Okay.”

  “My warriors have intercepted a message that may reference you as an intended victim. It seems there are people in this house who do not favor you as a nishani and who may seek to harm you.”

>   Her thoughts went to Ne’Rin. He didn’t like her, but she wondered how far he’d go, especially since A’Ran trusted him so much.

  “I will warn the dhjan as well, but I wanted you to be aware. Your people are very unlike those on Anshan. Considering this, I felt it right to tell you,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she managed, uncertain how to respond to a vague threat from a stranger. “I’ll be careful.”

  He appeared satisfied, bowed, and walked away. Suddenly feeling alone and vulnerable in the wide hallway, she returned to her room and locked the door, her mind going to the visitor as she tried not to think about Ne’Rin wanting to hurt her.

  *

  “You did not tell me about her.”

  A’Ran didn’t have to guess which her his uncle spoke of. He remained seated before a viewer listing the losses from the most current battle.

  “If you’re here, the crops failed,” he said.

  “And the mines give us nothing we can use to barter for more food and water,” his uncle added.

  A’Ran dropped his feet from the table and rose to face his uncle. Mansr appeared more haggard every time they met. His uncle bowed.

  “The people are already starving. They cannot await the results of another planting,” A’Ran mused.

  “They cannot, nephew.” Mansr’s scratchy voice was soft. A’Ran’s gaze rested on him for a long moment. Mansr awaited a response.

  “You met nishani.”

  “I did. Did you await the signs?” Mansr’s voice was too casual, too even.

  “I did,” A’Ran said. “Unfortunately, my lifemate knows nothing of Anshan or even the Five Galaxies. She understands nothing of our traditions.”

  “Surely women have mates where she is from.”

  “Her world is very different, uncle.”

  “She belongs on Anshan. Maybe then she’ll see what she must do,” Mansr said.

  “It’s too dangerous for her on Anshan,” A’Ran replied. “She couldn’t survive if anything happened, and every Yirkin warrior on the planet would be looking for her, once they hear she exists.”

  “She is yours, and it’s your decision, though I think she is stronger than you think,” Mansr said. “If it were her decision, she would come.”

  “It is not her decision,” he said darkly.