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

by Fletcher DeLancey

  Ekatya looked up in alarm. “Andira—”

  “No, I refuse to stand by any longer. I understand the need for time, but they’re hurting you. I stood by and watched you hurt for a cycle. I won’t allow it now, not even from them.”

  “This is not what I want!” Ekatya stood abruptly, her chair juddering along the wooden floor. “You’re my family, my only family. I want all of you to—gah!” She gestured around the room, from its floor-to-ceiling windows to the creamy yellow walls reflecting an abundance of light. “Look at this place! It’s so beautiful and peaceful, and I need that, if you only knew—” She held up a hand, her head bent, then stalked to the back door. “I need a moment.”

  The door snapped shut behind her.

  Silence blanketed the room as they watched her stop on the other side, shoulders rising with a deep breath. She crossed the wooden deck to stare over the railing, a spike of awe marking the moment she saw the real view. Looking back over her shoulder, she caught Salomen’s eye and mouthed something.

  “She said, ‘Fucking Hades,’” Lhyn translated. “Is it my imagination, or is she actually standing over the river?”

  “It’s not your imagination. We cantilevered the deck.” Salomen took considerable pride in the breathtaking vista it offered. “Prime Builder Eroles said it would be a waste not to.”

  “I’d have to agree. And I think we’ve found Ekatya’s new favorite place.”

  “So far. You haven’t seen the rest of the house. She might find something else to love.”

  “She has a lot to love already,” Lhyn said with heavy meaning.

  Nikolay and Elanor did not respond, their eyes on Ekatya’s back.

  “I’ll refresh our shannel.” Salomen wanted distance from the relentless broadcast of three highly emotional Gaians.

  She was not to get it. Elanor followed her into the kitchen dome, examining the room with interest while Salomen set the pot beneath the shannel dispenser.

  “Ekatya can’t cook, you know.”

  The unexpected statement startled a smile from her. “Yes, I know. I’m the only cook in this family. This is my domain.” She leaned back, hands braced against the counter, and looked around with satisfaction. “I designed this from the ground up. It keeps everything I love about the kitchen dome at Hol-Opah and fixes all the shortcomings.” It still smelled new, freshly cut wood and tile sealant vying with shannel and the rich, organic scents drifting in through open windows.

  “You did a beautiful job. I’d enjoy working in here. Learning some Alsean recipes, if you wouldn’t mind teaching me?”

  “I would be glad for the company.”

  Elanor ran her finger across the leaf pattern of the hanging utensil rack. “Beautiful,” she murmured. Slowly, she walked along the curved counter, her fingertips tracing the stonework. “You see, you say that and I can only take it at face value. I can’t see past your eyes. Yet Ekatya asks me to believe that she doesn’t mind sharing Lhyn with you because you love her just as much.” Her eyes held the clarity of age and experience. “I’m sure you can understand why that might be difficult for me.”

  “No, I cannot. Do you not know or trust her? She’s telling you the truth.”

  “She’s telling us what she believes. Is it the truth? Only you know that.”

  The accusation was so unexpected that she did not immediately recognize it. No properly raised Alsean would stand in a host’s home and accuse her of lying.

  “Then you haven’t heard a word Ekatya or Lhyn have said,” she said shortly. “I’m not the only one who knows. That is the point of Sharing.”

  “Tyrina? Is everything all right?” Andira stood in the doorway, drawn by her simmering anger.

  “Fine. Elanor was taking this to the table.” She pulled the now-full shannel pot from the dispenser and held it out.

  With brisk movements, Elanor carried it across the kitchen and thrust it into Andira’s hands. “Would you mind carrying it out? We have a few more things to discuss.”

  Andira looked past her to Salomen, who hesitated before tilting her head in reluctant assent.

  “Very well. If you need me . . .”

  “You’ll know.” Salomen watched her go, appreciating the unfinished promise. She might be alone with Elanor, but she was never alone.

  Elanor returned with both hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. “I spoke out of turn. Forgive an old lady for allowing concern to override courtesy.”

  “What does your age have to do with it?”

  Wry amusement sparked the air. “Well, that’s the first time that hasn’t worked. You’re a straight speaker; I like that.” The sparks melded into resolve. “Let’s be straight with one another. Ekatya is telling an impossible story that gives her everything she wants. Lhyn, bless her, she’s so starved for love that she might see more than is there. I came in here to ask you, away from the others, if you’d be willing to Share with me. Show me how you feel about this.”

  Aghast, Salomen could only stare.

  In the continued silence, Elanor’s confidence wavered. “Have I offended in some way?”

  “Offended? You want me to engage in an intimate act to prove myself!” Never in her adult life had she been so insulted. “If you cannot see the offense in that, I don’t have the words to express it. When Lhyn told you she loved Ekatya, did you ask her to join with you to prove it?”

  Elanor stepped back in a cold flash of horror, mortification following close behind. “No! No, I didn’t mean it that way. Lhyn said Sharing isn’t unusual amongst family members, and I thought—I’m sorry, I haven’t said this right.”

  “I can hardly imagine a right way of saying that,” Salomen snapped.

  “Hades on fire, Ekatya will be so upset with me.” Elanor rubbed her cheeks, then folded her hands and bent her head over them, regret rising like steam from shannel. She looked smaller in this pose, uncertainty draining the crackling energy that made her so like her granddaughter.

  With a surge of determination, she crossed her arms, one hand cupping an elbow. “I sincerely apologize. Lhyn did say that Sharing is even more intimate than joining. But she also said she’s done it with Lanaril, and I saw all of you do it at the bonding ceremony. I didn’t realize—it’s not like anything we do. Will you let me explain?”

  No anger could withstand the overpowering broadcast of remorse, or the flood of relief unleashed by Salomen’s nod. Elanor managed a crooked smile before turning toward the eastern window.

  Hol-Opah’s kitchen windows were small and faced northeast, providing little natural light. Salomen had designed her new kitchen dome with one large window over the prep area, looking south into the canyon, and the tall east window looking down the length of the deck. Both offered the light she prized, while one allowed a precious additional benefit: a view of her family outside.

  Two were there now. Ekatya remained at the railing, one foot propped on the bottom rail and her forearms resting on the top. Beside her, Andira matched her position, standing so near that their shoulders touched.

  “Sometimes I forget she’s not my child,” Elanor said. “I’ve raised her since birth. First with the help of her parents, when they were home on leave. Then alone with Nikolay after they died. I lost my daughter, but she left part of her soul behind. A beautiful, sparkling part who grew up to surpass all of us.”

  She crossed to the window and rested a hand against the glass. “Ekatya does not love easily. She was a lieutenant the last time she brought someone home. Before Lhyn, we were convinced she was bonded to her career. For her to say she loves Andira—that’s not in question.”

  Then what was? Salomen wondered.

  “And for our sweet, hyper-rational Lhyn to say she can’t break this down and catalogue it? That’s love, short and simple. Then Andira lost her temper with us for hurting Ekatya. I didn’t realize we had, but she was right.” Satisfaction danced along her skin. “Ekatya has always been the defender. Never the one protected, except by us. I don’t know A
ndira well, but that—” A blunt fingernail tapped the window. “I recognize that, even on an alien.”

  Retracing her steps, she looked up with her weighted stare. “I don’t see it in you. All this talk of balance and equal bonds—how equal are you in this? Do you love Lhyn the way she loves you, or are you making the best of it? Your bondmate is in love with another woman.”

  With a start, Salomen understood the true impetus behind that offensive request. “I’m the one you’re worried about?”

  “You’re the one I can’t see. If you can’t maintain this, then it all falls apart and everyone gets hurt.”

  “Great Mother,” she said blankly. When had she last misinterpreted emotions to such a profound degree? “Thank you for your concern, but I’m not good at making the best of things that wound me. I tend to fight back.”

  “Did you fight against this?”

  She nodded. “Once, when I thought Ekatya was a threat. That was probably heard all over the State House. I went home to Hol-Opah—”

  “Andira swears that’s why there was a summer windstorm that day,” Lhyn said from the doorway. “The next time you were that angry, the autumn rains began a tick later. You have to admit, the coincidence is remarkable.”

  Her presence was like sunlight brightening a shadowy corner. Salomen smiled into the warmth. “You’re the one who says a data set of two is useless.”

  “Under normal circumstances, sure. Since when are our circumstances normal?” She crossed the kitchen in five long strides and settled against the counter, hip to hip with Salomen. “She’s not a victim, Elanor. Those two would never have gotten past their honor if she hadn’t pushed them together.”

  “Hoi! I didn’t act alone.”

  “I did give Ekatya a few nudges,” she conceded.

  “And Andira.”

  “True, but not until—um. That night.” Her voice dropped. “That was a memorable conversation.”

  “That was a memorable night.” Lost in green eyes and vivid memories, Salomen nearly forgot the third person in the room.

  “On second thought, I don’t think Sharing would be a good idea,” Elanor announced.

  Salomen had the courtesy to refrain from laughing at her, but the reminder of that night did give her a possible solution.

  “Perhaps I can share something else that may help,” she said. “I’ve been having nightmares since the battle.”

  Lhyn’s surprise showed on her face. She knew Salomen had not told anyone else of this issue. There seemed little point when the classification of battle details meant she could never explain what was so unsettling about the dreams. But Elanor didn’t need to know details.

  “I dream that I’m on the Voloth flagship,” she continued. “Alone. I can see them destroying Alsea, and I know that if Andira, Lhyn, and Ekatya were there with me, we could stop them. But Andira and Lhyn are here, dying. Ekatya is on her ship, dying. It’s my fault because I didn’t bring them with me. I stand there helpless, watching everything and everyone I love burn.”

  “That sounds horrific,” Elanor said sympathetically. “But why would it be your responsibility to stop it all?”

  “That isn’t important. The point is, it’s a dream about catastrophic failure and loss, and it wakes me sweating and terrified every time.”

  Andira had thought she would have nightmares about the captain who died while she was deep inside him, or the commodore’s headless body, or the three other deaths she had witnessed. Disturbing as those memories were, they paled next to her experience on the Path of the Return. Alone in her despair, knowing that she had failed and all of Alsea would pay the price—that had settled into a part of her psyche that sent tendrils to the surface at least thrice per nineday, though it was gradually improving.

  “But a tyree bond is a physiological connection to your partner,” she continued. “Andira wakes at the same time I do, because she senses my distress. By the time I get my eyes open, she has me in a warmron. I wake terrified, but it only lasts for a piptick before I’m surrounded by her emotional presence. No nightmare can stand against that kind of bone-deep certainty.” She saw Elanor’s lack of comprehension and added, “When Lhyn and I sealed our bond, we also sealed that physiological connection.”

  “I woke when she did,” Lhyn said. “For about two pipticks, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to do what Andira could.” Pride and love shone in her eyes when she looked at Salomen. “But we’d talked about it before. I pulled her head to my chest and surrounded her physically. I can’t project, but I have long arms and legs—”

  “And your scent,” Salomen put in. One thing she had learned from her separation training was how vitally important both scent and touch were to the instinctive part of her brain. “My body recognized your scent, your skin, before I was fully awake.” She turned to Elanor. “I don’t know what kind of proof you need. But there are only two people in this universe who could pull me from those nightmares so quickly.”

  “Ah,” Elanor said after a moment of silence. “I think I understand.”

  38

  Sanctuary

  Elanor’s understanding did not translate into acceptance, but she was willing to reserve judgment. Lhyn had somehow brought Nikolay to a similar place. With the strain thus reduced, Salomen and Andira led their long-delayed house tour, unleashing what they had awaited since the first brick was laid: the transparent delight from Lhyn and Ekatya at seeing their new home. Lhyn fell instantly in love with the upstairs room reserved for her office, in particular its window seat and built-in bookshelves, while Ekatya was speechless to find their bedroom full of niches housing plants from the Caphenon—a blending of Fleet and Alsean tradition. Both rooms were otherwise left undecorated, as was the bathroom on their side of the upstairs.

  “Prime Crafter Bylwytin said it’s not your space unless you can make your own choices,” Salomen said as they stood inside Lhyn’s office.

  “The Prime Builder and Crafter? How many Primes were involved in this?” Ekatya asked.

  Salomen held up four fingers. “Prime Merchant Stasinal made sure we had the best materials and fast deliveries. Prime Producer Arabisar helped with the initial clearing and landscape design. I only asked for recommendations, but they jumped in themselves. They enjoyed working on something that didn’t involve politics.”

  “And had swift, tangible results,” Andira added. “You wouldn’t believe how quickly this went from bare rock to a complete house.”

  Salomen glanced out the window, a familiar itching in her palms. “There hasn’t been time to work on the landscaping, but I have plans for this moon.”

  They hadn’t fully decorated the downstairs either, with the exceptions of the kitchen dome and guest room. When Ekatya protested that she was career Fleet and didn’t know how to decorate, Andira pointed out that she did know how to make decisions. “Bylwytin will be here in six days,” she added. “She’s bringing a specialist. They’re looking forward to working with all of us.”

  “Your heads of government know?” Nikolay asked incredulously. His sweeping gesture encompassed the four of them.

  “We’re sonsales, Gramps. We can’t hide how we feel. I’m not Andira’s little secret.”

  “I’m not a little anything,” Lhyn said, instantly defusing the tension.

  After the tour, Salomen found her alone in her new office. “For someone who claims to be a social misfit, you’re certainly smoothing the path today,” she observed.

  Lhyn folded herself onto the window seat. “You mean after I blew it up? My stars, this is comfortable. I may never get out of it. And I’m only a social misfit in the Protectorate. Not here.”

  “No, not here.” Salomen slipped in beside her. “How is it that you’re the calmest one in the house?”

  “I like Nikolay and Elanor, very much. But I don’t need their approval.” With a delighted grin, she swung her legs up and rested them across Salomen’s lap. Even at full stretch, her toes did not touch the other side. “Oh, look at
that. It’s wide enough for me! You did that, didn’t you?”

  “Of course. I also made the kitchen counters the right height for me.” Her hands fell naturally into place. “Fahla, I missed this. Being able to touch you.”

  “Me too. Did you know this house has five bedrooms upstairs? And one downstairs? That’s four guest rooms.”

  “I did notice that, yes.”

  “Are we planning to have that many guests?”

  “We’re planning to have that many children.”

  “I don’t think Ekatya or I can help you with that.”

  Salomen laughed; she had missed this easy connection more than the touching. “You can help more than you imagine. You may even want to add to it, in which case our children will have to share rooms. Rahel says Commander Lokomorra would be an excellent sperm donor for Gaians.”

  “Mm.” Lhyn wiggled into a more reclined position. “That might take some convincing. For me, at least. Have you heard from her?”

  “No, but I don’t expect to. Not for the next few days. Which reminds me, did you hear that four of the divine tyree couples had accidental pregnancies last moon?”

  “No! A twenty-six percent rate? That’s staggering!”

  “They’re staggered, that’s certain. None of them had an inkling. Though it shouldn’t have surprised anyone, given the compulsion we were all under.”

  “Did you—?”

  She shook her head. “We were careful. But even with all the joining, neither of us reached that point. Andira wore herself to a dull edge after the battle, and I’ve been either in the fields or overseeing this. Our hormones certainly hit the right levels, but they didn’t have a chance to stay there. Thank Fahla; we’re not ready yet. Next cycle, I hope.”

  They fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying the simple happiness of being together without hiding. Salomen was thinking they should probably rejoin the others when Lhyn’s emotional signature shifted to a slightly darker hue.