Alsea Rising: The Seventh Star (Chronicles of Alsea Book 10)

by Fletcher DeLancey

  Lhyn had not let her sleep in, she was not on leave, and last night was not a dream, as her sore muscles proved.

  Familiar voices drifted in from the dining area, correcting one of her assumptions: Lhyn had let her sleep. She was out there right now, chatting with Salomen. But Andira . . .

  She turned her head.

  Andira was watching with a soft smile, her eyes glowing in the light. “Good morning,” she said, reaching out to clasp their hands.

  “Is it still morning?”

  “Barely. I refuse to feel guilty about it.”

  “How long have Lhyn and Salomen been here?”

  “I don’t know. I woke up earlier and those were already there.” She pointed to the bench by the closet, now housing a neat stack of clothing. “I’m glad one of us remembered that I didn’t have any other clothes.”

  Ekatya regarded the innocuous stack with dismay. Salomen had brought it for her bondmate. She had been in this room and seen them together, sleeping like the dead.

  “It’s all right,” Andira said.

  “I know. I’m trying not to feel like we’ve been caught.”

  “There’s no need. Salomen is a holcat in the curing shed windowsill.”

  That was a new one. “A holcat surrounded by more than she can eat?”

  “A sated, satisfied creature basking in the sun and contemplating what pleasure she’ll give herself next.” Andira fixed her with a pointed look. “I have rarely felt Salomen this kind of happy. Uncomplicated. Unalloyed by background concerns. Simply, deeply, blissfully content. She’s happy for herself and for all of us. Don’t bring a shadow to it by thinking you or I deserve any degree of shame.”

  “I don’t.” Wincing, Ekatya corrected herself. “I know intellectually that I shouldn’t. But I also come from a culture that would tell me we’ve both betrayed our bondmates.”

  “While they betrayed us?”

  The simple question brought her up short. “No. I’d never think of it that way. I’d judge myself, not Lhyn.”

  “And she would rightly call you a hypocrite.” Andira softened her words with a kiss. “Let’s join our bondmates for mornmeal. Or midmeal, which we’re closer to. Then we can Share and put your mind at ease.”

  They showered together, an act that should have been more erotic than it was. But Ekatya could not forget who was waiting for them, and Andira made no attempt to touch her. This felt more like shipmates washing off in the locker room than lovers after a glorious night of passion. She mourned it, but could not behave nor think any differently.

  Dried and dressed, they walked into the dining room and were greeted by two knowing grins.

  “And we thought we slept in,” Salomen teased. “You set a record.”

  Andira shook her head. “How soon they forget. The second day of our bonding break?”

  “Oh, yes, that’s right. That was a long night.” Salomen stood, a glass of juice in her hand. “Drink this and kiss me, in that order.”

  Lhyn had risen at the same time and was offering a glass to Ekatya, who accepted gratefully.

  “Was she this bossy with you?” Andira asked Lhyn.

  Ekatya choked on her drink. How could she be so casual about it?

  “Only part of the time.” Lhyn seemed equally at ease. “The rest of the time, she was sweet and giving. Very concerned about my comfort.”

  “I’m only bossy with stubborn warriors.” Salomen swept Andira into an embrace. “Good morning, tyrina,” she murmured.

  Ekatya turned away from their intimacy and found herself enveloped in Lhyn’s arms.

  “Stop that,” Lhyn whispered. “Or I’ll be forced to write a paper on the cross-cultural ramifications of swapping spouses between species.”

  The laugh came out of nowhere, a bubbling release born of relief. Lhyn was still Lhyn, and why would she have expected anything different?

  She held on, burying her nose in Lhyn’s throat and inhaling the familiarity of her fragrance. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Did you think that would change overnight?”

  “No, but in all my imaginings of last night, I never got around to imagining this morning.”

  “That might be a good thing. Knowing you, you’d have worried yourself sick over it.”

  They took their usual seats around the table and served themselves from the generous array of options. Lhyn and Salomen had not yet eaten, a consideration that left Ekatya in a confusing blend of gratitude and guilt. Fortunately, the conversation steered away from the reality-bending event horizon of last night, enabling her to enjoy the meal.

  She should have known better. Salomen was merely waiting for her to finish.

  “I see you’ve learned how to mark an Alsean,” she said, nodding toward Andira. “Were you as fascinated by her throat ridges as Lhyn was by mine?”

  “Fucking Hades.” Ekatya dropped her face into her hands, burning with embarrassment.

  Andira laughed, disloyal dokker that she was. “I’m guessing not quite as fascinated, but close.”

  Ekatya eyed her through her fingers.

  “To be fair—and accurate—I’ve seen Salomen’s throat ridges before,” Lhyn said.

  “You have?” Andira gaped at her bondmate. “She brought out your throat ridges and you didn’t join until last night? And you talk about me denying myself!”

  Salomen sipped her shannel with a contented smile. “It shouldn’t surprise you that Lhyn is thorough in her data gathering. Or that we would wait until you two were ready. The benefit is that she already knew what to do with everything above the waist. So did I.”

  Lhyn was preening. Ekatya lifted her head, watching in amazement.

  “But she didn’t mark you,” Andira observed.

  “I can’t,” Lhyn said. “I’ve tried. It takes too much pressure, and I can’t treat Salomen that way.”

  “Not even if she wants it?”

  “I don’t want anything that would cause her distress,” Salomen said.

  “She senses it,” Lhyn added. “It never gets to the point of me being distressed. Merely sensing my reluctance kills her arousal. It’s fascinating, really. We come from a culture where good joinings don’t happen without open discussions, self-knowledge, and enough confidence to say no. Or a partner who’s both experienced and exceptionally skilled at reading body cues. But you have a powerful additional source of knowledge and a feedback system we lack. It makes your physical and cultural experience of sexuality different from the foundation up. Our first times, we fumble around trying to figure out what we like and what our partners like. Assuming our partner even cares, that is.”

  “I still cannot imagine that,” Salomen interjected. “Being able to take pleasure in a joining when your partner does not.”

  “Nor can I.” Andira reached for the shannel pot and refilled her cup. “We do still fumble in our early experiences, though. Tyrina?”

  “Thank you.” Salomen held out her cup. “She knows. I told her that story.”

  “Yes, so I know your use of ‘we’ is only accurate on the societal level.” Lhyn raised her eyebrows. “Your first time was perfect. Salomen says you don’t represent the norm. But she also says it doesn’t take long for the fumblings to resolve into mutually satisfying joinings. One or two experiences and you’re set. It can take us cycles.”

  “Tencycles, in some cases.” Ekatya felt safer with this generalized discussion.

  “Horrifying thought.” Salomen tapped the side of her throat. “You didn’t answer my question. Trying to avoid it?”

  “Yes.” As the others laughed, she acknowledged that avoidance would not save her. “All right, fine, they’re incredible. Exotic and hot as—”

  “A black rock on a summer day,” Lhyn finished. “I know. Whew!” She fanned her face, and Ekatya had to pull the shannel cup away from her mouth or risk blowing it all over the table. Lhyn grinned, delighted with the results of her performance.

  When the shannel was gone, they loaded up th
e dish cart for later collection and retired to the living area. Lhyn set out the cushions, Ekatya unsealed her shirt, and soon they were deep in the Sharing she had wanted for the last moon.

  It took mere pipticks to confirm Andira’s words: Salomen was happy in a way Ekatya had rarely felt. Discharging the burden of her role in orbital defense was probably a significant part of that, but it was obvious that she found great joy in loving Lhyn and knowing that Andira and Ekatya were no longer holding back.

  Lhyn was equally happy, vibrating with the thrill of new discoveries and basking in a kind of love she had barely believed could happen to her once, let alone twice. Her radiance burned off any residual doubts Ekatya might have harbored.

  Andira’s emotions were familiar after last night’s multiple Sharings, but Ekatya would never tire of sensing such exhilarated freedom and open-hearted love. That she was a cause of one and a recipient of the other was still astounding.

  “You deserve it,” Salomen said. “So does she. So do we all.”

  “Words for Fahla,” Andira agreed. “We’ve walked a difficult road to be here. What we have, we’ve earned.”

  In their Shared unity, they were of one accord. By the time they let go and returned to their individuality, Ekatya felt weightless. She hardly knew what to do with herself. When was the last time she’d had no deadlines, no conflicts of duty and loyalty, no overwhelming concerns about her future or that of her loved ones?

  When had she last felt this free of guilt or doubt?

  “Come for a run with me,” Andira said. “You need it.”

  A tentick later, she was running beneath the great trees of the State House grounds, burning off the energy that fizzed beneath her skin. It was so much sweeter than running in a ship’s exercise room, and the company was beyond compare.

  She gasped for air, driven to her aerobic limits, and still felt like laughing.

  “Your emotional signature is like a fusion reactor.” Andira glanced over with a grin, her breathing deep and even. “It makes me want to run faster.”

  “Please don’t. I’m already close to death.”

  Andira’s laughter forced her to stop, giving Ekatya a welcome reprieve. Their pace upon resuming was far more reasonable.

  “I keep thinking I could have had this all along,” Ekatya said as they walked their cooldown circuit. “If I hadn’t left. I wouldn’t have had to get here the hard way. Lhyn wouldn’t have been tortured, you wouldn’t have gone through the trauma of a broken tyree bond, I wouldn’t have spent one cycle under Sholokhov’s thumb and another under Greve’s . . . but then I think of all the things we gained.”

  “It had to happen this way,” Andira agreed. “For all that I wish we could erase some of those events, they brought us here today. Would I have challenged Salomen if you were here? I might have been too caught in wanting you. Without her, I wouldn’t have survived Shantu.”

  “Rahel would never have met her.” Ekatya was morbidly fascinated by the alternative path. “Shantu would be Lancer, and Rahel would be his Chief Guardian instead of saving Alsea with Candini.”

  “Candini wouldn’t be here, either. Shantu would never have put a Gaian in charge of our fighters. And without you up there in the Phoenix, we might have lost Alsea in the first wave of missiles.”

  “We could have lost it even with me up there. The divine tyree unit wouldn’t have Salomen. She’d still be untrained and unaware of her true power.”

  “Even if I had met her and everything else was the same, it wouldn’t have worked without you and Lhyn. You wouldn’t know about your own powers had Lhyn not been tortured. You might have discovered them eventually, but I doubt you’d be this far along in their development.”

  “It’s enough to make me think Lanaril has a point.” Ekatya wiped the sweat from her face.

  “She usually does. Here’s another one. Had you not left, you wouldn’t have recruited Alejandra. She wouldn’t be on the fourteenth floor right now, making Micah happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

  Ekatya tilted her head back, admiring the towering domes of the State House as they approached. “And finally healing from a wound she’s carried more than half her life. Stars and Shippers, I hate the idea of being a kasmet piece in someone’s game. But I can’t argue with where we are today.”

  “We’re in a wonderful place today. This way.” Andira led her down a side path to a small clearing she hadn’t known existed. A fountain plashed and burbled in the center, its wide, flat edge an invitation to sit.

  It felt like a metaphor for all she had missed before now.

  “Will I cause offense by dunking my head?” she asked.

  Andira’s answer was to plunge her own head beneath the surface. When she pulled out, it was with a twist that sent cold water splattering across Ekatya’s chest.

  “Gah!” Ekatya leaped at her, catching her by surprise. The ensuing wrestling match nearly ended with both of them in the fountain, hindered by helpless laughter. At last they gave up, leaning on each other to catch their breath before collapsing onto the fountain’s edge. Ekatya dunked her head and made sure she withdrew with a proper sweep of wet hair, but Andira had turned away. The water hit her shoulders and back, not even causing a flinch.

  “Feel better?” she asked.

  “Much.” Ekatya wiped her face and squeezed the excess water from her hair, smiling at the way Andira watched her every move. “I feel like I’m on a bonding break.”

  “I think we’re allowed to feel that way. Salomen certainly does.”

  “That makes this so much easier. You knowing what Salomen feels.”

  “You can know how Lhyn feels as soon as you ask her.”

  “True. And if I have any doubts, they’re gone when we Share.” She planted her hands on the warm stone and leaned back, eyeing the Guards who stood at a discreet distance. “Did I just compromise your reputation?”

  Andira’s hesitation set off all her alarms.

  “What? What happened?”

  “Calm down.” Andira reached for her hand. “You’re going to need more than one day of relaxation, that much is clear. You’re still hypervigilant.”

  “You didn’t answer the question.”

  “I was trying to decide how to approach it.” She nodded toward the Guards. “They know. The moment Lhyn joined our link at Blacksun Base, every divine tyree knew about her and Salomen. So did all the Guards watching over us. By the time that battle ended, they knew about you and me as well. Healer Wellernal knew when he joined. Then he had to move Lhyn into the room with us at the healing center, and all the staff knew. You have no front, so every Guard who has seen us this morning knows. And everyone we passed in the corridors. It won’t be possible to keep this a secret.”

  “Then I am compromising your reputation.” Her fear was rising, shadows of Greve and his traps darkening her spiraling thoughts—

  Which came to an abrupt halt when Andira kissed her, in full view of the Guards and anyone else who might be in visual range.

  Ekatya stared at her in shock. “What are you doing?”

  “Stopping you. And showing you.” She had not let go, her hand still cradling the back of Ekatya’s wet head. “It’s all right, I promise. I’ve already discussed this with the High Council and my communications advisor.”

  “You what!”

  “Did you hear the part where I said we cannot keep this a secret?”

  “Yes, but the High Council?” She needed to dunk her head again. No, she needed to dunk her whole body.

  “Ekatya, please. Calm yourself. I’m not in danger.”

  “It feels like you are!” She was breathing hard, unable to accept that they were out here in public, acting freely. As if they had nothing to hide. She had done nothing but hide, for so long, with the stakes so high . . .

  “Ekatya! Will you let me help?”

  Her nod was instinctive. She hadn’t fully processed the question.

  Then she closed her eyes as warm comfort spread through he
r body, weighting her limbs and liquifying her muscles. The razor-edged fear disintegrated, leaving fatigue in its wake.

  “Shek,” she mumbled. “I could sleep right here.”

  “I’ll hold you if you do. I’m so sorry, bana.”

  “Bana?” Her language chip provided the translation, but she had never heard Andira use the endearment before. Not with Salomen and certainly not with her.

  “I won’t call you that if you don’t like it. It just slipped out.”

  “No, I like it.” Her eyelids weighed ten kilos each. “What happened?”

  “You had a minor panic attack. Small enough that a projection stopped it.”

  She dropped her head to Andira’s shoulder, indulging herself in the protective embrace. “I’ve never had one before.”

  “Goddess above. You withstood an entire cycle of Greve’s water wheel torture and never broke. One thought that I might be compromised and you went over the edge.” Andira pressed a kiss against her temple. “You have an Alsean heart in a Gaian body,” she murmured. “You and Lhyn both. I’m sorry, Ekatya, truly. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “It’s not your fault. You tried to tell me. Let me go.”

  Andira released her, immediately and without question, and she let herself fall backward into the water. Her legs were still on the edge, anchoring her while the rest plunged into a welcome shock of cold.

  She floated in sudden isolation, hearing only the muted thunder of water falling into the pool and letting it wash away the lassitude of Andira’s projection. It had certainly stopped her spiraling terror, but it was also an injection of foreign emotion. She wanted to be herself.

  Her pulse beat in her ears, slowing with the cold and her returning control. She floated longer than necessary, trying to push away the embarrassment at having a panic attack in front of the single strongest woman she knew. It didn’t help to know that Andira felt that, too.

  When she was ready, she held out a hand. Her eyes were still closed, but she trusted.

  Her hand was clasped instantly, and Andira hauled her up.

  Squeezing water from her hair for the second time, she said, “I’m all right. Just mortified.” Which was deeply hypocritical of her, after all the times she had told Lhyn not to feel ashamed of her attacks.