by Lili Zander
All we have to do is get off this planet.
All I have to do is abandon the innocent citizens of Nestri to the LoreLords’ machinations.
I sigh out loud. Lani shifts next to me. “What’s the matter?” she asks, her voice sleepy.
“Nothing,” I murmur.
She snorts and sits up in bed. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to wake you up.”
“I’m awake now.” She touches my shoulder. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
“I feel like I’m running away, abandoning the people of Nestri to their fate.” I stare into the darkness. “A thousand years ago, I actively destroyed their civilization. At least then, I had the excuse that I was following orders.” Not that it helps me sleep at night. “This time, it’s on me.”
“Bullshit,” she says at once, her voice indignant. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. You’re not responsible for this war. This is on the LoreLords.”
“Should I ignore what’s happening, Lani? In their mad race for power, the LoreLords are trying to divide the population. They’re pitting Okaki versus Zorahn. That’s what this absurd accusation is about. They think I’m Zorahn; they’re blaming me of blowing up a ship with fifty supposedly innocent merchants on it, and all for what purpose? So that they can whip up anti-Zorahn sentiment.”
“To what point?”
“There are a lot of Zorahn on Nestri,” I reply tiredly. “All the LoreLords have to do is incite a few race riots. Then, in a couple of weeks, the LoreLords will round the Zorahn up into camps. For their own protection, of course.”
“Concentration camps.” Lani’s eyes go round. “They won’t get away with it, will they?” Her shoulders slump. “Never mind, don’t answer that. Do you think people know what’s happening?”
“Why do you think this village is on high alert? Everyone knows what’s going on, but nobody will say it out loud, because nobody wants to put a target on their back. The LoreLords have solidified control of most of Nestri’s media. I checked. For the last couple of weeks, the most popular show has been a historical drama about the Draekon Conqueror, a tool of the Zorahn Empire, destroying the noble Okaki civilization. The propaganda efforts have already begun.”
“So you’re famous, that’s what you’re saying?” She gives me a wan smile. “And the battalion that was murdered, how did they play into this?”
“They would have moved to stop the LoreLords.” I run my hands through my hair. I still don’t know why First is involved. What is the real reason he’s interested in Nestri? Every instinct tells me it’s not for the cinnacar. “Now, thanks to First, they can’t.”
“Well, fuck.” She chews on her lower lip. “What a disaster.” She’s silent for a long moment. “Basically, the Empire won’t be able to move against the LoreLords because of all the Zorahn who live here? Damn.”
“That’s what the LoreLords are counting on.” I grimace. “They think they’ve figured out the perfect plan. Unfortunately, they’re wrong. The Empire does not give in to blackmail. Lenox is ruthless, and his Spymaster, Ru’vi, is even more so. They will not cede to the LoreLords’ demands. They would rather blow Nestri apart.”
She swallows hard. “Can they do that? Blow a planet up, I mean?”
“Not in one shot. But they will bring every High Cruiser in their armada to bear. They will throw battalion after battalion of Zoraken at Nestri. Thousands of innocent people will die.”
She wraps her arm around my shoulders. “I know how much this sucks,” she says quietly. “It feels like something like this happens on Earth every fifty years or so. As soon as one generation forgets the cost of war, we repeat the mistakes of the past. Everyone thinks it’s never going to happen, even when all the warning signs are there. It’s amazing what people will ignore. How much rot will grow in the darkness.”
Rot growing in the darkness. I stare at her, the germ of an idea shimmering just out of reach. “Say more.”
She frowns. “Well, a big part of the reason the LoreLords can get away with this is because they have control of the media, right?” She frowns. “We have a saying at home. Sunlight is the best disinfectant. If people saw what they were doing, they would be less susceptible to the LoreLords’ power grab.”
That’s it. Thank you, Lani. I’ve got it. A way out of this impasse. There’s no guarantee that it will succeed, but it’s something I can do, and this way, at least I won’t be sitting around, feeling helpless about the oncoming war. “I have a plan,” I say slowly. “I need your help.”
“Whatever you need,” she says readily. “What do you want me to do?”
22
Lani
Sarvin, the Okaki in charge of the village’s security, had told us that the LoreLords were sending soldiers from their personal guard to fetch Ruhan to Nestri Prime.
So, when we head outside the next morning, I’m prepared for a lot of well-armed Okaki. What I’m not ready for is the wall of people in front of us, all shouting questions at the top of their voices. More than a hundred tennis-ball shaped things hanging in mid-air, and when we emerge, all of them dive toward us.
I’m definitely not ready for that.
For a split-second, my heart stutters in panic. Have the LoreLords incited a mob? Is this crowd here to kill us? Then Ruhan steps protectively in front of me, his shoulders set. “Turn your cameras off,” he snarls.
I connect the dots. The tennis balls must be the cameras he’s talking about, which would mean that the Okaki yelling at us are reporters.
Great. Just flipping great. I’m far away from home, literally on the other side of the galaxy, and I’ve got paparazzi. Kill me now.
“You’ve been accused of a high crime,” a reporter responds to Ruhan. “The cameras stay on.”
My Draekon’s eyes flash fire, and he looks as angry as I’ve ever seen him. “I’ve been accused of a High Crime, and according to the Nevis Proclamation, I’m no longer entitled to anonymity. But my companion has not been accused of anything. The laws of the High Empire are very clear. You. Cannot. Film. Her.”
For a split-second, I wonder why Ruhan’s being so protective about my privacy, and then I connect the dots. It’s unlikely that anyone in front of us will recognize me as human. But if I’m filmed, and the clip is broadcast all over the Empire, then the odds of someone in power realizing who I am goes up dramatically. No wonder Ruhan’s pissed off.
“Fine, fine,” another reporter says, sounding annoyed. “Audio feed only for the biped.” This Okaki has blue-green markings, and his coloration reminds me of Devnik, Gervil’s second-in-command, the Okaki pirate that wanted to chop off my leg and eat it because it looked tasty. Ugh. Even the thought of him makes me shudder.
A third reporter, this time with tentacles so light they’re almost white, speaks up. “What species are you?” he asks me.
“She doesn’t have to answer any of your questions,” Ruhan snarls again. “Leave her alone. Do I need to quote more Empire law at you?”
“Can you?” I murmur under my breath. “Never mind, you probably can. You’re full of surprises.”
I would have sworn I spoke too softly for anyone to be able to hear, but Ruhan’s eyes twinkle, and his lips quirk into his trademark smile.
His grin is so familiar that it makes my heart stutter. I’ve known Ruhan for less than a week, and already, he feels like he’s an integral part of my life.
This is insane, Lani.
It really is. I count the days in my head. On Day One, Ruhan walked past my prison cell and winked at me. Then, a few hours later, he’d barged into my cell, told me that the Konar was on a collision course with a Class A destroyer, unlocked the door with Blue’s help, and hustled me on an escape shuttle.
My lips twitch as I recall our first exchange. He’d shown up with Mardex, who I’d recognized. I was convinced Ruhan was there to harm me. “You might decide to eat me,” I’d announced, and I’d declined his help.
He’d laughed at me, wicked a
nd soft and oh-so-tempting, and told me that he’d be happy to eat me.
Typical Ruhan. Always ready with an outrageous innuendo, and it’s designed so that you don’t notice the incredible competence with which he does everything. And when I say everything, that’s exactly what I mean. Even if I were inclined to forget, my sore muscles this morning would remind me how good he is. In bed. Under the shower. Against the wall in the middle of the night. It’s a miracle I can even walk this morning.
Later that day, we’d spent a few terrifying hours in the small escape pod, followed by our harrowing descent into Nestri. Then there’d been that first night in the tent…
My cheeks heat. Oh God. I’d really only really known Ruhan for less than a day when I let him— fuck that, let’s be real, I practically begged him—finger me and make me come.
The next night, we’d done a whole lot more than that. And now he feels essential, and that’s more than a little terrifying.
I’ve gone all my life without entanglement. For a while in high school, my best friend Emika and her boyfriend Kevin had a very on-again, off-again relationship. I was there when Emika would pout, rage, and write angry texts—she wasn’t a crier, thank heavens, otherwise, I’d have really lost my mind—and there was a part of me that would wonder what it would feel like to be so invested in someone. People fell in and out of love all around me, in high school, in college, in Brooklyn, and I was always able to hold myself separate from messy emotions. I’d discovered at a very young age that to feel was to be hurt, and I’d absorbed the lesson.
All the rules seem to fly out of the window where Ruhan is concerned. I should be panicking. I should be building walls and taking steps to protect my heart.
Instead, I more or less agreed to move in with him. I agreed to move in with a guy—an alien who changes into a dragon—I’ve known for less than seven days.
I regret nothing. Instead, for the first time in my life, I’m truly excited by what lies ahead.
A reporter raises his voice, and I jerk my attention back to the scene in front of me. An Okaki is embroiled in a loud argument with Ruhan, and Ruhan’s retorting with a precise recitation of every Empire law the reporter is breaking, and my God, instead of finding it boring, I’m ridiculously turned on by Ruhan’s competence.
After five more minutes of back-and-forth, the reporters give up and agree to blur my image in their feeds. Ruhan doesn’t take their assurances at face value. His expression takes on the blank look he gets when he’s communicating with Blue, which he seems to be able to do without a comm. Speaking of Blue, I look around for the techbot, but of course, he’s well-hidden. He must be close enough to monitor the signals though, because Ruhan finally nods. “Fine,” he says curtly, stepping aside.
Our plan involves me getting a message to the LoreLords. Yesterday, during our planning session, I’d realized something that could have become a fatal flaw. “I speak English,” I’d said. “I don’t speak Zor, and I don’t speak Oka. The Okaki on the Konar fixed the tech to understand me. So far on Nestri, you’ve been translating for me, and/or hacking into people’s embedded translators so we can communicate. But the LoreLords’ soldiers won’t have any idea what I’m saying.”
“Good catch,” he’d said. “Thank you, I’d forgotten about that. I’ll work something up with Blue.” He’d started to explain the process by which he could hack into dozens of translators at once, and then he’d taken in my mystified expression, and he’d smiled ruefully. “You look exactly like Kadir or Fourth,” he says. “They’ll ask me a question about engines, I’ll start to answer, and they’ll get a mesmerized look on their faces. Forget the details; I’ll handle it.”
“Sounds good to me.” It isn’t as if I’m not interested in the details, because I am. But when Ruhan talks technology with me, it feels like he’s a professor at an Ivy League school, and I feel like one of the kids in my kindergarten class.
I wait for Ruhan’s signal. The reporters resume shouting questions at him. It’s all variants of the same thing. Why did Ruhan attack the Oxani? Does he feel guilt for ending the lives of the crew on that poor, doomed ship? Who’s his companion, and how am I involved with this? Blah blah blah. After a few minutes of this, an Okaki soldier slithers up, the white and black tabard marking him as one of the LoreLords’ guards. “Wrap it up, we’re almost done,” he says to the journalists. “You have five more minutes.”
Ruhan’s theory is correct then. The reporters are here with the sanction of the LoreLords. Everything’s being set up to fan tension between Zorahn and Okaki. Every breathless story about how terrible Ruhan’s crimes are and what an evil person he is takes Nestri one step closer to war.
The Okaki soldier barely finishes his warning when a high-pitched whine fills the air. I turn to Ruhan, eyebrow raised. Is this it?
He nods, and then winks at me.
Typical.
Okay, I’m good to go. I wait for the next time a reporter asks Ruhan who I am and how I’m connected to him, and then I step forward. “Why don’t you ask me that question?”
That’s not really fair. I know why the journalists have been asking Ruhan questions instead of me, and that has a lot to do with the way he glowers every time one of them even looks in my direction.
The hapless journalist who asked Ruhan the question turns toward me, his tentacles twitching. “Who are you?” he asks. “How are you connected to this criminal?”
“I am a storyteller,” I proclaim dramatically, ignoring the second question. “I have traveled far and wide, collecting tales and gathering truth. I can tell you stories of strange and powerful magics, of creatures that live in bottles and in oil lamps and grant wishes to those that free them. I can tell you about shoes that will force you to dance, about flying carpets and swords with the power to anoint kings.”
The crowd falls silent. Everyone stares at me with rapt attention. Yes, these are hardened reporters, but they are also Okaki, and the Okaki venerate their storytellers.
“I have journeyed to the ends of the galaxy,” I continue, lying through my teeth. “Everywhere I go, people clamor to hear my tales, and they tell me their own.” I stare at the assembled crowd. “They tell me their secrets.”
“Secrets?” A reporter asks, his voice cynical.
I hold his gaze. “Yes, secrets. Including the answer to a question that generations of LoreLords have asked.”
Whispers break out among the crowd. I can feel their curiosity as if it were a tangible object. Perfect. Now that I have their attention…
“I will tell you what it is that the LoreLords seek. But before that, I have just one question of my own.”
Ruhan gives me a sharp look. So far, I’ve followed his plan faithfully, but this isn’t part of it. I’m veering off-script.
Yeah, sorry about that, buddy.
“Gervil accused Ruhan of blowing up his ship,” I say clearly. “But do you know that Gervil isn’t the honest merchant he claims to be? Do you know he’s a pirate?”
“That’s a lie,” a voice in the back shouts. “A baseless accusation.”
“Is it?” I can’t see who challenged me, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to convince the entire group of journalists. I just need to sway one of them. “Gervil was the captain of the Konar. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? I was held captive there for three months.”
My voice is steady, but inside, I’m a bundle of nerves. The soldier frowns at me and picks up his comm. Any moment now, he’s going to cut me off. I speed up. “The day after I came on board, the Konar attacked the Shalasa, a ship carrying supplies to the Coter star system. There were no survivors. Two days later, they mounted a raid on the island settlement of Yfle, stole their supply of rare Rhodia hides, and fenced it in the Ciras Exchange.”
Thank heavens I pay attention. I go through each and every crime Gervil and his crew committed while I was on board. “Talk to the settlers in Yfle,” I tell the reporters in front of me. “Talk to the survivors.” I stare at them col
dly. “Don’t just swallow the LoreLords’ lies. Do your jobs. Investigate. Find out the truth.”
The soldier moves forward menacingly. “That’s enough,” he snaps, stepping between the reporters and me. “No more questions.”
But the swarm of journalists is not so easily dismissed. “What is the question that generations of LoreLords have asked?” they demand.
“A thousand years ago, a man walked into the LoreLords’ shrine on Nestri Prime. He murdered the LoreLords, then he emerged into the early dawn. He shifted into a crimson dragon and rained terror on the Okaki.” I take a deep breath. “I know who the Draekon Conqueror was. I know where he came from, and most importantly, I know that his line survives. I know where his descendants live.”
It’s as if I’ve dropped a bomb in the middle of the crowd. For a second, everyone is perfectly quiet as my words penetrate, and then the spell shatters. They scream follow-up questions at me, a wave of noise that I instinctively flinch from. Instantly, Ruhan is there at my back, solid and reassuring. “You went off-script, Lani,” he growls.
Before I can explain, the soldier snaps something into his comm. Five skimmers pull up in front of us. Okaki Soldiers glide out of them, their tentacles banded with weapons. Two of them grab Ruhan’s hands and move them behind his back, and then they lock his arms into a brace, wrist-to-elbow.
Sarvin, Drobal’s lead security guy, slides forward. “That seems unnecessary,” he protests. “The prisoner is not violent.”
The lead soldier, the one in the black-and-white tabard, snaps his head in Sarvin’s direction. “Did someone ask your opinion?” he says icily. “Get the prisoner out of here.”
The same pair of soldiers shove Ruhan into the central skimmer. I make to follow him, and another Okaki soldier steps in front of me. “We have orders to bring the Zorahn male to Nestri Prime,” he says. “Not you. You are not charged with a crime. You’re not wanted.”
