CHAPTER SIX
Talal shook her awake far too early. She lifted her head from her desk and blinked, the first fingers of dawn rendering the light of the room grainy and grey.
“My brother awaits you,” Talal said. She was glowing and refreshed, her clothes neat and her scent that of one who had recently bathed. Kiera groaned softly as she shifted. She ached as much from her workout the day before as falling asleep sitting with her sketchbook.
“Why?”
“He is to train you,” Talal said as she crossed to the clothing unit. “You shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
“So early?” Kiera asked.
“He will be occupied today,” Talal chided. “He favors you with his time.”
She was cheerful as usual and brought Kiera a set of clean clothing. Kiera grimaced and rose, changing slowly before leaving her room for the training area. The morning was cool, the sky lightening. A’Ran awaited her with two swords looking alert, as if he’d been up long enough for his first cup of coffee to kick in. She felt sluggish in comparison. A’Ran’s eyes didn’t leave her as she tied her hair in a knot at the base of her neck. She dropped her arms and gave a long sigh, meeting his gaze.
As if he sensed her irritation at the early hour, a look of amusement crossed his face, visible in the shift of his eyebrows. He wore light colors this day of tan, a shade that brought out the depth of honey in his skin. He handed her one sword. She accepted it. It felt heavier than usual already. She stretched again before settling into an awkward stance across from him.
They sparred lightly until her body grew warm and her mind engaged. Kiera concentrated on her movements rather than the silent form across from her, intent on not looking like a fool in front of a master warrior. When concentrating on the weapons, it was also easier to keep from concentrating on him.
Sparring lasted until the sky was clear of night’s blue, at which point he took the sword from her. Kiera watched him lean both weapons against the side of the dwelling before he returned.
“Fighting stance,” he instructed.
She shifted herself in compliance. He moved behind her, keeping within arm’s distance. He tested her balance and adjusted her stance before taking both wrists and moving her hands over her head.
“This is the starting position for this form,” he told her.
He released her and moved before her, back toward her. Kiera watched as he assumed the same position and shifted his stance into a new position. He waited, head twisted over her shoulder to see her. She echoed the movement. A’Ran turned to adjust her stance before returning to the same pose.
The slow movements continued for an hour, with A’Ran pausing between each new one to adjust her stance as needed. She recognized the same routine from the previous day, only this time they moved through it without swords. When she returned to the starting position, her arms were shaking and her legs burning. A’Ran adjusted her one last time before stepping back and nodding.
“This is the first weapons form warriors are taught,” he said.
Kiera lowered her hands and wiped sweat from her forehead. A’Ran appeared none the worse for the session, but she was ready for a hot bath and a nap. He studied her, dark depths taking her in with quiet intensity she was not yet accustomed to. The training had been nothing but politely professional, as if she were another student. The ensuing silence, however, reminded her once more of their awkward status.
“You may use the command center this afternoon,” he said.
“You and the Council will be somewhere else?”
A curt nod.
“I assume it’s not a woman’s place at the Council.”
“It is not,” he agreed. Before she could be irritated by his words, he continued, “We will discuss matters later.”
“What matters?” Kiera asked. “Good matters? Bad matters?”
“Are there bad matters to be discussed?” he asked, an edge to his voice. He raised an eyebrow, his chin lifting in what she recognized as a look very close to commanding.
“I have nothing to discuss,” she said. “But if there are issues, I’d like to discuss them now.”
“We will discuss matters later,” he said once again. “I find nothing alarming in what we will discuss. And I thought you had a matter you wished to tell me as well.”
She frowned. She doubted anything would alarm this man if tricking a woman into wedding him and discovering the news of his sisters’ impending children did not. There were a great many things she could think of that would be dramatic issues to her. She wasn’t about to tell him what she’d overheard Ne’Rin say. No, telling him that she didn’t like his most trusted friend seemed … petty.
“I go now to the Council,” he said, and strode to the swords. “I will send for you when I am ready.”
Kiera grimaced at the distasteful wording. She said nothing as he disappeared into the house, wondering what surprises he had in store for her.
* * * * *
A’Ran listened to the Council members, uneasy. The Council had been excessively cooperative the past two days, a sign he didn’t like. Ne’Rin sat to his right at the largest table within the command center with the Council members arranged by rank to his left.
He didn’t like the politicking that accompanied any Council meeting, but he had to be patient with men who might be willing to help him. Today his gaze fell to the white-eyed, small man that had addressed nishani the prior day. While he had given them permission to speak to her, he found opportunists distasteful, however loyal they were. Jetr met his gaze with a small smile and deferential bow of his head. A’Ran responded by tipping his chin, and Jetr’s attention returned to Opal, who had been speaking too long already.
Jetr was one of the only champions A’Ran had on the Council. A’Ran forced his attention away, certain that this ally was as true as any despite his haste in addressing nishani.
Anyone addressing nishani irritated him. It was abnormal in Anshan, even if her society held no such apparent boundaries. He’d spoken to his sisters in depth and learned quickly just how different she was, their tales ranging from those that ought to anger him to those that amused him. He understood better the tension between Ne’Rin and nishani after several hesitant stories from Talal of their discussions. Nishani had a tongue and habits that shocked all three sisters and did nothing short of aggravate Ne’Rin.
He suspected Ne’Rin didn’t care for nishani. Having been raised to serve his dhjan within the boundaries imposed on him, Ne’Rin would have little patience with one who trounced the boundaries that should have been emplaced upon her.
A’Ran hadn’t yet addressed Ne’Rin’s own failing, that of impregnating his sister without making her a nishani first. It was very unlike his friend and second-in-command to allow his control to slip in such a drastic way. He hadn’t yet discovered who Talal’s mysterious man was. It was part of the reason he wished to speak to nishani later that day.
If he had it his way, the woman would rarely leave his side. Despite her oddities, she drew him with her large eyes and quick wit. Even though he’d just met her, the bond between them was as strong as his father told him it would be. He wanted to gauge her ability with the strategic battle planning and measure just how intelligent his nishani was. If she proved to be as he suspected she was, she might find herself the first woman in his society given the official position of strategy battle planner, a position traditionally held by the dhjan alone.
Opal, the head of the Council, rose gracefully, pulling A’Ran from his thoughts. He and the others followed his lead.
“We will meet after we dine this evening,” Opal said.
The men withdrew. Ne’Rin caught A’Ran’s eye and nodded toward the door. A’Ran gave a curt nod. His second had training for the day.
“A’Ran, a word,” Jetr said as he prepared to leave. He waited for the others to file out of the command center. Jetr crossed to the door and closed it before asking, “Have you given any thought to what I warned you of a few weeks ago?”
A’Ran wiped his mouth, already uneasy with the topic. He trusted Jetr as much as he dared trust anyone.
“I only ask because my own personal guards—who, with your permission, keep an eye on the moon—have had transmissions from Anshan that did not come from your commanders,” Jetr said very carefully.
A’Ran crossed his arms, more hesitant to consider his second in command—and closest friend—being a traitor now that his sister was involved with Ne’Rin.
“We traced the communications to be from the personal communications device of the man who claims to be dhjan of Anshan,” Jetr continued when he did not speak. “Ne’Rin has been talking to his father, A’Ran.”
A’Ran pushed himself away from the table he leaned against and paced, thoughts turning to Gage, who would bear Ne’Rin’s child. He remembered the look on Ne’Rin’s face fifteen sun-cycles ago, when they’d learned what happened. No, Ne’Rin hadn’t been a traitor then. Something had changed him.
He’d lost faith in A’Ran. Maybe he missed his home, or maybe he was convinced that what the Council often said—that the Yirkin and remaining Anshans could live in peace together—was true.
“I cannot act until I am certain,” he said at last, his mood darkening.
“If you hesitate too long, you risk your life and those of your sisters.”
“Ne’Rin wouldn’t …” kill innocents as his father did. He couldn’t speak the words. His father’s most trusted advisor had done the unthinkable, and yet, Ne’Rin had borne all the sacrifices that A’Ran had by coming with him.
“You were no real threat to them without your nishani, but now, you can rally your people behind you with the promise of healing the planet. And the Council will help you build allies,” Jetr said.
“My forefathers rigged the mines on the planet to explode. I’ve thought more than once I’d like to set them off.” A’Ran bit off the words.
“Your forefathers were barbarians. Their threat is taught to us diplomats as an extreme negotiating tactic. They wouldn’t destroy their world any more than you would.”
A’Ran said nothing, aware his forefathers had never made a threat they didn’t intend to execute. The mines were rigged, and he’d never wanted to think he’d need to destroy his home in order to rid it of the blight affecting it. But to know even his most trusted advisor had lost faith in him enough to consort with the man who slaughtered his parents …
“We’ll talk later,” he said, disturbed. Jetr said nothing but offered a small bow of his head.
Leaving the command center for his quarters, he glanced out the windows as he strode through the compound. It was mid-afternoon already, another day wasted with the Council rather than concentrating on preparing for battle. Part of him knew the Council was stalling him for that reason, though whether they did so to hinder his efforts or to maintain the appearance of their power over him, he wasn’t sure.
He reached his quarters and opened the link to the command center, pausing before it to see nishani had already entered. She had her odd gifts with her and sat at the battle planner. He sat at the table opposite his bed and touched several glowing buttons on the table before him. The land and space battle sprung up before him and began to spin. He took in everything, noting the enemies had begun to encroach upon the neutral territory agreed upon in the cease-fire. He disabled the real-time mechanism, engaged the training program, and returned to the point where battle had been when nishani last adjusted the strategy.
He was curious to see how she would react. With there being no current battle, there was nothing to test her. He programmed the computer to respond in training cycle mode and glanced at the communication link again.
Nishani put her gifts aside and crossed her legs in her seat before flicking on the battle planner. Ne’Rin might possess the ability to plan, but it would take him days to do what A’Ran and nishani could do within moments.
Nishani studied the scene before her. Both hands rested in her lap as she studied it for two full rotations. He took in her perfect features once more, impressed again with his choice. Beauty hadn’t been a requirement for a nishani, and his own mother had been far from beautiful. He had waited for the signs his father warned him against, intending to take on whatever woman that brought him. That nishani was beautiful was no great disappointment to him!
She was strong for a woman as well, which she’d revealed during their two training sessions. She possessed promising coordination and ability to learn at least the basics of the warrior’s trade, skills no other nishani had ever needed. Initially fearing her to be brittle by her reaction to the world around her, A’Ran was more assured of her ability to withstand the changes in her life. She was tough but expressive, a combination he found odd but promising.
She shouldn’t have to be tough, and if he hadn’t failed his people several sun-cycles before, he’d never think twice about training her for battle. But she might need to know how to defend herself. His mother never needed to learn. No nishani in his bloodline had learned to defend herself or been exiled from her planet. And no nishani in his bloodline had failed to produce an heir the first year.
She had to learn to fight, and he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to touch her as a man did his mate. If she were any woman from his planet, he would never have hesitated to take her to his bed, as he should. She hadn’t protested to his touch during training. Neither had she sought him in any way since his return. She was scared of him still, and he knew it was their bond as dhjan and nishani that frightened her.
He watched her over the viewer. Nishani started with small adjustments to the battle before her, as if testing for the results of her decisions. She grew bolder quickly. He watched as her decisions turned from thoughtful to instant as she reacted to the battle. Her position at the table shifted as the program grew more complex; she dropped her feet to the ground and leaned forward, taking in the rapidly changing situation.
He leaned closer as well, watching. Nishani was not only brilliant, but she was fast in her work. As quickly as the computer tossed a challenge before her, she countered and matched it. He watched for quite a while, until the model reached a level that had taken him years of apprenticeship under his father to achieve.
It didn’t seem possible that anyone could learn so fast. In the end, the computer might win, but he suspected nishani would not lose the second round. He took a long breath and relaxed, satisfied with his choice once more. As hard as it would be to push her closer to the mold of what a nishani would be, it would be well worth it.
He turned both machines off and left his quarters for the command center. Nishani was concentrating too hard to notice him when he entered. He approached and stood a short distance behind her, watching once more.
She was murmuring in a frustrated tone. Her small, shapely form grew tenser and closer to the computer as the levels increased. A’Ran shifted forward as well to see. In the end, she made a drastic over-calculation and lost the ground battle. Nishani pounded a fist on the table and made a loud sound that was most likely a curse on her planet. It did not translate, and neither did it sound like it could be anything else. He chose to overlook the idea of his nishani cursing like a man at battle.
“You did well,” he said. Nishani jerked and twisted to face him. Her features were flushed, her eyes large.
“Have you been here long?” she asked.
“Long enough.”
Nishani at once looked uncertain again, her frame tense. She shifted her body to face him, but he moved to her side and sat on the bench a safe distance from her. She continued to watch him.
“You’re taking a break from the Council?”
“How long have you been using this device?” He ignored her question, focused on her for the moment.
“I have your permission,” she reminded him, eyes narrowing.
“I know.”
“Since you left,” she responded. “Against Ne’Rin’s wishes.”
“You must defer to him in my absence as you do me,” he reminded her. One eyebrow rose in challenge, and her jaw clenched. “Rather, more so than you do me, given your usual behavior.”
She feigned ignoring him, though he saw the flush of her face grow deeper. He recalled her outburst at him the previous day.
“I’m not comfortable around Ne’Rin,” she admitted.
“You’re not comfortable around me.”
“This is different,” she insisted. She paused, as if searching for the right words, then continued. “It’s just an instinct I have about him.”
“Instinct?” A’Ran prodded. “This guides your judgment on him?”
“Yes, of course, on everything,” she said. “Like this game. I don’t think when I’m using it. I feel what should happen next.”
“What is this instinct about Ne’Rin?” he continued, alerted by her words.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
“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. ’Tis 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 gaze, 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.
Mansr’s presence could not have come at a worse time. With repairs for his armies commandeering the last of the Anshan ore he had to trade or sell, he wouldn’t be able to afford to feed his people and fight a war. Yet both must be done. There was always the Council, and the only ally A’Ran still had. Assistance might come from their direction, but any favor from the Council would cost him dearly in another way. Restless, A’Ran rose and paced.
“She fears me, Uncle,” he said with difficulty. “She’s not ready to take her place.”
“Nishani was brave with me.”
“It was not her choice to come here.”
“What choice does a woman have?”
“She is not like ours.” He glanced at his uncle, bemused. “Her thoughts and actions are hers alone. I have not the time to spend with her.”
“The fate of your people relies on you bonding her to Anshan.”
“The fate of my people will not matter if they do not live through the war!” A’Ran snapped.
“You are dhjan, but you are also a man, nephew,” Mansr said. “Your responsibility cannot always be to your people. Is there no part of you that desires this woman as a man does, as more than a key to save your people?”
“First you ask me to send her to the center of the battle and now you wish me to take my time with her?” A’Ran shook his head. “You cannot have both, uncle. There is not time for both.”
“You avoid my question,” Mansr insisted. “You can be a man, a ruler, and a battle commander, A’Ran.”
“Battle commander first.” A’Ran sat once more, calming. Mansr grew grave and leaned forward.
“Son, you are not complete without her. Anshan is not complete and will never heal without her. You may battle all you wish, but you will never win until the balance is struck, until Anshan has its nishani, and its nishani is on the planet. You have forgotten how to be anyone but a battle commander.”
“There has been only war as long as I can remember. Anshan needs her, but she can’t stay where it’s so unsafe, and she isn’t adapting the way she should be,” A’Ran said.
“Maybe you must change just as she must. You must grow beyond your role as a battle commander, if you want her to accept her place.”
A’Ran frowned at the truth in his uncle’s words.
“And there must be a solution to the Yirkin,” Mansr said. “Qatwal has supported you before.”
“Her sister is wed to the son of a Qatwal dhjan,” A’Ran said. “The Qatwal disowns her, yet seeks to battle me as well for the affront.”
“Qatwal has always been full of itself, but they may still aid you,” Mansr said. “She does not look like one of theirs.”
“She is not,” A’Ran affirmed. “She is from even further.”
“She’s beautiful, like your sister’s dolls.”
“Talal has not had dolls in sun-cycles, Uncle,” A’Ran replied. “But yes, she is.”
“I forget you are all grown sometimes. Do you not ever wish to have a family, to be as happy as your father was so long ago?”
His words struck A’Ran hard. His chest clenched, and he found himself holding his breath. He closed his eyes, recalling how happy he and his sisters were before the war. He recalled his mother, her heavy features nonetheless made beautiful by her radiant smile as she swung a waist-high Talal around.
It was his favorite memory, that which preceded his abrupt knowledge of war and the world at large. He sat with his sisters and mother beneath a brilliant sky atop the small rise overlooking Anshan Palace with its white columns and myriad of windows. Cats wrestled and played around them while D’Ryn’s strict oversight of his and Gage’s actions could not be shaken.
The memory was achingly beautiful, and he remembered seeing his war-weary father approach from the house. His whole face had changed upon seeing his nishani and children, had gone from tired to hopeful.
A’Ran hissed as he released his breath and opened his eyes. A distant light was in Mansr’s eyes, a faded glow about his face.
“I remember, before Anshan fell,” Mansr whispered.
A’Ran made no response, unable to quell the tremor deep within him. At the age of fourteen sun-cycles, before he reached manhood, he had lost all but his sisters, been proclaimed dhjan of a planet he couldn’t even visit, and made battle commander of a war he knew nothing of.
Since then, he’d known nothing but war, been driven by nothing but revenge, fury, and the elusive glimmer of hope that he might one day feel as he had sitting with his mother and sisters on that hill above his rightful home.
It would never be the same, could never be the same. As he mulled his uncle’s words, the scene in his mind altered and shifted. What if it were his nishani on the hill with his sisters? What if she looked upon him as his mother had his father, with adoration and love?
He rejected the thought. It was too fanciful to look so far ahead when he needed to determine how to prevent his people from starving. Nonetheless, he was disturbed far more than he recalled being in many sun-cycles. He’d tried to block all memories of a happier time for fear he’d never see such times again.
“I will find the payment for food,” he said.
His uncle looked deflated and even more haggard. “I cannot stay long.”
“I know, Uncle.” He shook himself mentally to refocus on the dire circumstances before him but was unable to force the thought of Kiera from his mind. “Go and rest, Uncle. I know you get little enough as it is.”
“A final warning, A’Ran. The dhjan nishani must willingly accept her place at your side and her role in helping the planet. If she does not, the planet will die.”
A’Ran despised the words the moment he heard them. She was beyond his control, and so was her choice of whether or not to accept her place.
“You must look beyond yourself to find a way to win her, A’Ran, or the planet is lost.”
Mansr offered no other advice but rose and bowed once more before striding to the door. A’Ran returned to his battle loss assessments. Mansr’s words had all been true. The more he considered them, the more he realized that he didn’t know how to be anyone but a battle commander. He’d never considered it a fault before. Nishani wasn’t the only problem; he was, too.
* * *
Though he was physically engaged in swordplay, Kiera sensed A’Ran’s distraction the next morning as they sparred. He spoke even less than normal. His touch was mechanical and instructional, his attention elsewhere. She wasn’t eager to draw his undivided attention, but his distance struck her as unusual, if not yet another rejection. She lowered her sword long before the sky lightened. His attention shifted to her.
“We don’t have to do this today,” she said.
A’Ran straightened, his piercing gaze on her. His thick form was tense, his features implacable. Talal’s assessment of there being something wrong returned to her.
“You seem to have other matters on your mind,” Kiera prodded. “I don’t want to keep you from anything.”
“What is it you fear of me?” he demanded, lowering his sword and pacing closer to her.
Surprised, she said nothing. He took a step closer. She retreated a step, regretting drawing his intensity. A’Ran compelled the sword into the ground deep enough for it to remain upright when he released it. He leaned forward and took her sword, driving it into the ground as well.
“Are we doing training forms?” she asked as he returned his dark stare to her.
“No.”
“We’re done?” she asked.
“No.”
The odd tension was between them again, and she wondered what it was about her abductor that made her blood burn, especially when he was so unapproachable.
“So,” she murmured, “we’re just going to stand out here and stare at each other all morning? If so, I can think of better things to do.”
A’Ran’s gaze swept over her, making her skin tingle with awareness.
“Well, I’m off then,” she said, and turned to leave.
“Stay.” The command was sharp. Kiera grimaced.
“I’m not a dog, and I want to accomplish something today,” she muttered. “If you aren’t going to train me and are just going to stare at me, I’m doing something else with my time.”
“I leave soon.” His words made her pause in the doorway, and she faced him, frowning.
“I expected you to go soon.”
A’Ran moved toward her again, stopping outside of arms’ reach.
“You and your duties,” she added. I’m just another one of them. She stiffened at the reality and couldn’t decide if it were good to keep the distance between them or if she really wanted more. If there were something more between them, would he ever entertain letting her go home?
“Travel well,” she said, and turned away again.
She walked towards her quarters, uncertain why his departure bothered her. She expected to be left behind many more times. He joined her, and she glanced up at him.
“There is a feast tonight,” he told her.
“Very well. What’s the occasion?”
“War and our mating. The heads of the clans also in exile will come to meet you.”
“Really?” She stopped to face him. He was tense again.
“I will also announce you as the supreme battle strategist. I would be honored if you chose to attend.”
She searched his fierce features. She suspected both meeting the clan heads and the announcement to be big deals for a people with such rigid traditions, but A’Ran looked as if he were discussing the whereabouts of her translator.
“I’ll be happy to be there,” she said at last.
He nodded curtly, as if expecting the response. He turned and walked down another corridor. Kiera watched him, troubled by their morning interaction. The feast must be important, and his attempt to request her attendance—rather than demand it—impressed her.
“A’Ran,” she called hesitantly. “I know you’re busy, but …”
He stopped and turned, his gaze on her again, distracting her. She shook her head to focus her thoughts.
“I made something I want to show you. If you have time.”
He didn’t exactly leap to follow her. When he didn’t object either, she started toward her room. He trailed, as if uncertain he wanted to follow at all. She waved her band in front of the access pad to her room and entered, crossing to grab her sketch book. She sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the spot beside her, nervous about showing him her art.
“You may not like it,” she said. “And I’ll admit, a lot of these are you. You can just ignore them, if you want.”
A shiver ran through her as he sat close enough for their bodies to brush. He took the sketch pad she handed him and awkwardly pushed the pages around, unaccustomed to a book. She opened the cover for him to show the first drawing she’d done of him. Stone-faced, he stared at it, and her face grew warm at his lack of response.
“I have a better one,” she said, and turned to the second drawing. He didn’t respond. She turned a few more pages, until he rested a hand on hers to keep her from turning. Her face flamed hot as she saw the image from her vision: the two of them holding hands while gazing at each other adoringly and walking on the cracked planet. She tugged her hand free to turn the page quickly. He left his hand in place, preventing her.
“You did this?” he asked at last in a hushed tone.
“I did all of them. It’s what I do on my planet. I draw and paint,” she said, flustered as his gaze stayed on the drawing of them holding hands. “That’s not a good one. I can show you more.”
“No.”
She searched his face, unable to read him or his response.
“This …” He trailed off, a small frown on his face. “I want this.”
Her heart fluttered at his words, and she grew excited about him wanting the type of relationship like she’d drawn, until she saw him fumbling with the page as if to pull it free.
“Here, let me,” she said. She took the book from him and carefully pulled the page free. “It’s not my best. You don’t want another one?”
“No.”
He folded it in fourths, rose, and strode away, leaving her alone. She stared after him, uncertain what to think.