Taken to Voraxia

by Elizabeth Stephens

  I pull the swatch of xin beast fur draped over my left shoulder and quickly switch it over her. It was little more than a sash hanging against my chest, but the plush white nearly swallows her torso.

  “My strength is your strength. Let it cover you.” I reach for the belt at my waist and unbuckle it. I grab the heavy black hide of my covering cloth and wrap it over the xin beast fur, using the belt to keep the materials in place.

  I stand back from her, bare now, just as she began this ceremony, and say, “Everything that was once mine, is now yours.”

  She makes the pleasure expression in a way that is not scripted into this part of the ceremony, but that makes me make the pleasure expression too. As I do, her lips only broaden until I can see a flash of pearlescent teeth, and pink warm tongue.

  I want her tongue on mine. My xora bucks and she nearly makes the pleasure sound, but manages to marshal it in the final moment when she looks away from me.

  She bows, her sand-colored curls dripping across her shoulders and back, titillating her breasts. “You honor me, Xiveri mate,” she replies again in Voraxian.

  “As you honor me.”

  She offers me her hand. I take it. And there is a charge between our skin that is not unlike the chest explosion I felt — and still feel — or the explosion she would have created had she attached her copper filament to the reien farrn energy source in the experiment she created. Such an invention is not one I would have thought to create, had I been in her place.

  “Now, you honor your people. All of Voraxia gathers here for you.”

  She squeezes my hand very slightly and offers me a strange expression — a blink, but with only one of her eyes. I do not understand this action, but the curve of her mouth suggests to me that this is another of her pleasure expressions, or a complement to it, and I am satisfied.

  “I’m ready, Raku,” she says, but in her eyes I see her say something else.

  In her eyes, she calls me Xoran.

  14

  Miari

  Xoran’s palm against mine is the only thing keeping me anchored to reality as hundreds of faces in as many shades of color swim before my eyes. So many black eyes — but also eyes in blue and orange and green and purple and grey and every combination in between — meet mine.

  I stare straight back, unflinchingly, as I was coached to do by Xoran and by the female who came to help me prepare for the ceremony. The female who I only found out was Xoran’s mom after I confessed to her that I’d hurt his feelings. But she was sympathetic, and understanding and kind and so helpful.

  She told me that I should do something to let him know that I don’t hate him, that I might even, just maybe…care for him, even if it’s only the beginning of something greater. I’m sure after our last conversation that he doesn’t think I do.

  I asked her what a Voraxian would like. She told me that I shouldn’t do something just because I think a Voraxian would like it. She told me I should honor him in the way that I want to honor him. In a human way, even. So that’s just what I did.

  But now, as I take the small, cloth-wrapped bundle from Tri'Herion with a whispered thanks, I feel a little dumb. He’s the king of this quadrant of the cosmos. What’s he going to want with the little trinket I built for him?

  It doesn’t help that Xoran’s glaring at the package in my hands like it insulted his honor, and when I turn towards him, that glare switches over my shoulder to Tri'Herion like he did much the same.

  Xoran’s ridges are colorless, but I get the impression he isn’t happy when he glares at the package once again. Luckily, another Voraxian presents herself just then and Xoran and I are pulled the rest of the way around the valley.

  Finally, after what feels like hours, we’re back at the smooth, white wooden chairs that sit side-by-side, overlooking the festivities as they commence in force. From the treeline, there are huge, rectangular tables that look like they’re made out of the same white wood our chairs are. Placed in no particular order, they litter the valley grounds and soon, are stacked high with brightly colored foods I can put no names to but am eager to taste, if they have anything on the goop.

  Voraxians emerge from the werro trees at the valley perimeter carrying white wooden instruments — some look like drums, but most have huge horns and others great bulbous bases, some stretched with string, others with hide, others with metal bits that clang in the slightest breeze or sing with the most subtle movement.

  All in all, when they start a collective chorus, the beats and melodies that burst forward are brilliant and exotic, unlike anything I’ve ever heard.

  I find myself beaming as Xoran helps me into my chair and takes his own. I wonder why he doesn’t seem as content as I feel, if there’s something bothering him, if it’s me. After the way we left things, I wouldn’t blame him.

  He bared his soul and I just stood there like an idiot. I needed time to think, and now that I have, I want to make it right — but if he’s in a bad mood, or if now isn’t the right time, I don’t want to make it worse. I’m about to ask him what’s bothering him, but his black gaze whips to me first.

  “You will tell me if you found everything in our home to your liking,” he says. Our house. Our. House. That one word renders me utterly speechless.

  I fumble for a moment, and then blurt, “Everything in our house is exactly perfect. I um…I moved some stuff around in the guest house. I remember you saying you didn’t really use it often, so I kind of started tinkering around in there. But don’t worry, I can put everything back the way it was…”

  Xoran nods slowly, then frowns. “The house is yours as much as it is my own. You are free to make changes to it.” He pauses, and after a brief silence, grunts, “Did you do this tinkering on your own?”

  I shake my head, hair twisting with the cool breeze. Out from under the cover of the werro treetops, it’s cooler and I’m grateful for the coverings Xoran placed over me.

  “Tri'Herion helped a little. But no, it’s mostly me. I showed him something that he likes a lot. I um…well, I kind of am hoping you might be okay with me working with his team and the other xub'Herions, if it doesn’t get in the way of my duties as Rakukanna, of course.”

  I notice a faint smear of color surface in Xoran’s brow, but it fades just as quickly. An eerie, startling copper. He doesn’t look at me as he says, “I do not dictate your actions. As I have said before, you are not my slave. Voraxia does not keep slaves. It is an ancient Dra’Kesh practice that was abolished when they were absorbed into the federation. So even if I might call you by your slave name, it does not denote your role. You are still Rakukanna. Still my equal. Still capable of deciding your own path independent of my own.”

  I feel my cheeks warm. So, he is still pissed about our last conversation. Very pissed. I swallow and am careful in choosing my words.

  “I am happy to hear that. But if it’s all the same to you, Xoran, I’d like my path to also be yours. For us to travel together.”

  Xoran stiffens and watches me without blinking. He doesn’t speak. On his other side, a young Voraxian boy approaches and hands him a huge goblet.

  I start when a soft voice whispers, “Rakukanna.”

  I turn to see a young girl holding a similar goblet towards me. I take it from her with a quick thanks in Voraxian, which I’m pretty sure is pronounced Stree-vay-yuh-ah. The girl blinks at me and smiles and giggles just a little bit before scurrying away.

  “Was that wrong?” I say with a smile.

  “Stree’vay yah,” Xoran says and his mouth twitches. He glances again at the package in my lap. “It means, honored one. You honor her greatly by using this term. She is but a youth, one called Maru. She still carries the name of her youth and has not yet been honored with a title.”

  “That’s not a reason not to honor her. Even children have honor. Even slaves.”

  Xoran doesn’t answer right away. He just lifts his cup and bows his head. I mimic the gesture and take a sip from the rock chalice when he
does. The outside of the rock is roughhewn, but the inside is smooth.

  “I would be pleased for our paths to align,” he says as he sets his goblet down onto the wide arm of the chair. Still, I feel nervous. His words contradict his body language. He’s so closed.

  “Me too,” I answer. “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “There will be many tasks to undertake as Rakukanna, particularly in your stewardship of the human colony.” He cocks his head towards the bustling throngs of singing, laughing, shouting, drinking, eating people.

  I look up and my heart, which already floated so light in my chest, threatens to bound into the sky, taking me with it. “Svera!”

  Like by some magic, Svera steps through the crowd wearing a pale gold head wrap and an ankle-length tunic — the only person here with their chest covered. The lovely cloth brings out the brown in her skin and the flecks of green in her eyes.

  I jerk up, but Xoran’s heavy fingers circle my wrist. He holds me gently, a lightness to his touch that gives me the impression he’s restraining himself admirably, but that it’s not what he wants. What he wants is something else… I know what he wants.

  The Xanaxana is liquid heat, spilling and spewing through me, and when I look into Xoran’s knowing face I nearly black out when the Xanaxana surges through my stomach and chest and thighs and lower lips. He did this. He did this for her. He did this for me.

  “Rakukanna!” Svera rushes up to me, stopping just short of my knees. She drops to one of her own and nods at both me and Xoran before rising again.

  I don’t know how I’m supposed to stay in my seat and finally don’t bother. I break free of Xoran’s grip, lurch up and throw my arms around her neck and we both devolve into a fit of laughter.

  “I can’t believe you’re here.” I bury my face in her neck and hair covering for the length of an inhale before pulling back.

  “Raku invited us,” she says on a laugh.

  “I can’t believe it.”

  She grins and as I look her over, she seems just as bright as ever. Healthy, but more than that, she seems so sure. Not the youngest of our friend group, a colony oucast, but a woman who has seen oceans and crossed them, who has discovered worlds.

  “Hexa, Raku invited us. He said that until the trial, I am still a guest of the Rakukanna so it would be wrong of me not to be in attendance. Plus, I doubt Krisxox would have been happy if he’d missed the party, even if he did have to take me as his date.” She laughs and over her shoulder I see the Dra’Kesh with the same flowing white hair I had on the ship.

  She leans towards me, conspiratorially. “There were a number of women who came by his home and solicited an invitation from him to your Rakukanna ceremony. But he had to tell them that he’s babysitting me instead. It was frankly, hilarious. Also, very ick.” She makes a face. “So many women…”

  “Oh stars. Just the male for you then, isn’t he?”

  She palms her forehead and releases a heavy breath that makes me laugh. “It has taken some…adjustment.”

  “Are you okay though? In all seriousness? Is he treating you right?”

  “Yes, he is. He obviously doesn’t like me, but that’s okay. I’d rather him not like me than like me too much, if you know what I mean.” I don’t know if she means to, but she glances at Xoran as she says that.

  “The place he lives is awesome,” she continues, “Going outside alone is terrifying. Qath is essentially, a hot, sticky wilderness. The weather is dramatic, to say the least and everything is mammoth — the plants, the trees, the insects, the creatures. Terrifying creatures howl almost the entire lunar. I didn’t sleep for the first few, but I’m starting to get used to them. It’s strange but, I feel closer to God in Qath. Water falls from the sky there. They call it rain. It’s…unbelievable.”

  “Water from the sky? Giant insects?” I shudder. “That sounds…insane.”

  Svera laughs. “It really is.”

  “But Krisxox. You’re living alone with him. Isn’t that against the Tri-God religion?”

  Svera makes a face and crosses her arms tight over her chest. “It is. I don’t like it, but I don’t have much of a choice.”

  “You do. I could speak to Xoran. He assigned you to Krisxox because he’s convinced that Krisxox is the best warrior for the job. I’m sure there’s another to rival him in skill though. Maybe a female.”

  “Maybe.” We both look towards Krisxox, who has moved to Xoran’s side and speaks to him in low tones. His gaze, like Xoran’s, still flicks over to us every few moments. “He is a bit of a brute, but he hasn’t done anything untoward. He’s kept his distance. And he refuses to get a translator, which annoyed me at first, but it’s actually helping my Dra’Kesh along. I’ve even learned a few Voraxian words too.”

  “I’m serious, Svera. I can ask…” A Rakukanna doesn’t ask permission. “I mean, I can get you a new guard. You don’t need to be made uncomfortable during your time here.”

  Svera shrugs. “It’s really alright. He’s kept true to his word. He hasn’t let anything hurt me. If we can somehow work out a more separate sleeping arrangement then everything would be perfect. Well…as perfect as can be when waiting to be tried in an alien court.”

  I grab her shoulder and give her a little shake. “How are you smiling right now? This is serious.”

  She laughs. “Because of you. You’re glowing. I was going to ask if you were okay but…” Her gaze flashes down my torso, bare beneath the hide and plush, soft fur that swaddles me, and her cheeks flare a wild and illustrious pink. “I see you’ve already adapted to the wardrobe.”

  I laugh and, pivoting my body away from Xoran so he won’t be able to hear or read my lips if he tries, I confess, “I think I’m starting to actually like Raku.”

  “I saw you during the ceremony. I know.” She wrinkles her nose. “But are you sure? After what he made you do, aren’t you…” She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t need to.

  My mouth opens and I consider trying to explain to her that I don’t feel forced. That the pact was just that, a pact. A trade. And that we won’t be making anymore trades and that I’m hoping, because of that, we’ll be able to start over on an even, equal foundation.

  Instead, I just say, “Yes.”

  Svera blinks brightly. “Really? Are you sure Miari?”

  “I think we’re starting to understand each other, and what we need from each other to get over our differences. I think we can actually even…” I swallow hard and glance over my shoulder at him. I whisper, “we might be able to…I don’t know…make this work.”

  Svera claps a hand over her mouth comically in a way that makes me laugh even harder, but before she can ask a follow up, I quickly redirect. “I’ve even started building again, and I want you to have access to a holoscreen so we can talk, even when you’re on Qath, for however long you’ll be there, and then back on the colony.”

  “Will that be acceptable? I’m still a traitor in his eyes…” Svera’s hazel gaze is hesitant. She bites her bottom lip. I take her hand, surprised by how soft it is compared to Xoran’s and the other Voraxians — and how used to that roughness I’ve gotten.

  “According to him, I have just as much of a right to make decisions around here as he does. If I say you get a holoscreen, then you get a holoscreen. And even then, he was the one who invited you here. I didn’t ask him to do that.”

  Her eyebrows lift and her full, pale pink lips quirk up. “Really?”

  “Really really.” I smile because even though I know that answer would never in a thousand years appease Kiki, everyone really is good in Svera’s eyes.

  “Well that’s something, at least. He must really like you too then.”

  “Yes, I think so. Stars, I’m sure of it.”

  “And Kiki? How is she?”

  “She’s still in the merillian tub. They say she might be there for a few more solars, maybe even more. It’s slow work, the merillian, but when she gets out she’ll be totally healed up. I ge
t reports from a young girl that comes by called Tet Tet whenever anything changes. I didn’t ask for that either. She just showed up the other morning. Said Raku sent her.”

  The molten gold in my chest rattles and shivers. Svera must notice because she’s staring at my chest, but when I glance at her, she quickly looks away.

  Her blush is back full force and I laugh again, wondering how horrified her mother and father would be if they could see me here now, tits out, standing at the side of a Voraxian. Feeling strangely proud.

  “Well, I’m happy that you’re making the most of it and that you’re…getting along.”

  “I know it’s weird to think, but he’s been kind, and whatever this thing is inside that made him act like such a madman in the beginning…I’m starting to feel it too. It’s a wild sensation. Hard to resist, even if I wanted to. And I don’t so much. Not anymore.”

  Svera shakes her head, reaches forward and grips my shoulders. “Trust your insides. They will guide you.”

  “I thought you were going to tell me that God will guide me,” I tease.

  She only smiles, that beautiful, soft smile she seems to wear perpetually. “He will. God is everywhere.”

  “Svera, come,” Krisxox barks and the way he pronounces her name makes me beam. The way his tongue rips through the R and hisses the V so severely turns the name into something provocative and sensual.

  Svera scowls. “Rude brute,” she mutters.

  Laughter bellows out of me so hard I nearly choke on it. I have never in all my Earth cycles heard Svera come close to insulting anyone. Perhaps she really is a new woman.

  “I love you,” I tell her.

  “I love you more,” she whispers back.

  Hugging her one last time, I wish her well and watch as she and Krisxox make their way back to the crowd. Her nose is scrunched and he’s looking down at her with colors flashing in his ridges in pulses. I think they’re annoyed pulses. But I could be wrong.

  I turn to Xoran and move to stand directly in front of him. I’m all jittery now as I glance at my package, still lying in my seat where put it. I meet his gaze, watch him inhale, inhale myself and smell his spicy musk on the breeze. It draws me forward in a way that can only be described as an enchantment. I am fully enchanted by him.