“You know that’s not what I mean.”
Gwen leaned in, pressing a soft leg between Ari’s. “You really can’t think of any way to solve this dilemma?” she’d asked, followed by a more challenging, “You’re still afraid of me.”
“I’m terrified,” Ari had said, the words tumbling, pouring over Gwen’s lips as she kissed a line down her jaw. “You rile me up. You always have. But I’m not afraid of your body.” She proved it with her hands, her mouth, her limbs shaking until some nitwit turned the gravity off—only for them to discover that being pressed together in the air was even sweeter than the bed.
Hours later the pile of their clothes had seemed like a piece of art. Ari stared at it, took a picture with her watch. Then she turned to Gwen’s sleeping form and edged closer. The queen’s pretenses disappeared when she was asleep. And now, Ari knew, when she was making love.
“Four times,” Ari said to the state department official. “It was exquisite. I can give you the play-by-play.”
“Not necessary.” The woman went back to the tablet. Gwen gave Ari an exasperated look that left Ari staring at Gwen’s mouth—reliving the special talents of those lips.
“Born on Troy?” the woman asked Gwen, breaking their moment. “Welcome home.”
Ari’s desire flipped over into surprise. “I thought you were born on Lionel.”
Gwen shifted in her seat and gave the woman a polite smile.
Oh, shit. Had Ari just given them away?
“No worries, honey,” the woman said. “In my experience, the marriage is more legit if there are a few secrets. Otherwise it seems like you’ve been quizzing each other.” Ari’s nerves eased but didn’t back off all the way. The woman kept reading and then looked at Ari. “Your birthplace is listed as Ketch.”
Ari tried a smile. “That’s gotta be the star center on the bingo board, am I right?”
The woman sprang out of the room as if she were fleeing Merlin’s bizarre magic. In the corner, a red light went off soundlessly, and Ari heard the door lock in several places.
“What the—”
Gwen smiled at the red light. “Don’t say anything, baby girl.”
Ari ached to stand or pace, but Gwen kept her cool smile on the red light, holding Ari’s hand tightly. Ari leaned back to Gwen’s ear. “Did you just ‘baby girl’ me?”
“Too cutesy?” Gwen asked.
“The jury’s still out. Buttercups.”
“Vetoed.”
“Understood.”
Despite having spent a week trading pieces of their histories, sharing scars, and shedding clothes, this closeness felt new. It was highlighted by their fear. “Ari… listen,” Gwen said, her words breathy, small. “We might have to deal with the Administrator. I’d hoped he wouldn’t take notice, but…”
“The Mercer CEO?” Ari shot sideways out of her chair as anger, accusation, and rampant fear flamed through her body. “Gwen, he knows—”
“Stop,” she whispered.
“—where my parents are locked up. He—”
Gwen tugged on the front of her shirt, with that Damnit, Ari look. They were kissing so fast Ari’s internal fire sizzled. At first, it was a tender heat, but then the desperation of this entire trip built until Ari was holding Gwen as close as possible.
Gwen’s face nuzzled against Ari’s ear. “We can’t let him know what we want. He’ll use it against us. Trust me.”
Gwen pulled back, her brown eyes bright, her lips flushed red. “Aren’t we giving him a show?” she announced in the direction of the warning light. “Enjoying this with popcorn, Administrator?”
Ari felt sick at the idea of someone watching them. Not just someone. The man who ran the most powerful company in the galaxy—and therefore the universe. The door unlocked, and Ari reached emptily at the spot over her shoulder where Excalibur should be.
Gwen and Ari followed the flashing lights along the wall to an elevator on the dizzying top floor of a skyscraper. The Administrator’s office was a circular room made entirely of windows, the décor solidly Mercer white with bold black accents.
Ari had heard stories about the Mercer Company’s CEO over the years—and of course seen his face in his innumerable ads—but none of that prepared her for this meeting. He lounged across a couch, middle-aged with long limbs, his skin as white as if he had been grown in a tank of bleach. He was nondescript in the face, the body, the clothes. His hair was a white-blond thatch, oddly sparse. If Ari had tried to draw him, she would have managed a stick figure and given up.
He held up a bowl that had been resting in his lap. “Pretzels, not popcorn. What do we win for stumping you? Your planet? How about that awesome crown?”
When Gwen did little more than tighten her grip on Ari’s hand, the Administrator shot up and crossed the room. “We kid, we kid.” He hugged Gwen as if they were old friends, and Ari ached to dismantle the embrace with her bare hands.
Gwen allowed him to touch her and then breathed through her nose. “How lovely of you to drag me up here once again.”
“Oh, my sweet and spicy Gweneviere. Tell us you missed us.”
“No, thank you.”
His eyes twinkled as he turned to Ari. “Ara Azar, how delighted we are to find you still living. And married to my favorite monarch! Should we discuss celebrity power couple names or let something emerge organically?”
Ari felt slapped.
Azar.
Her bones knew that name. Her heart did, as well.
Only her head was behind.
“How do you…” Ari started, trying to find the words.
Gwen bristled whole-bodily, tugging them to the couches to sit while Ari’s mind stroked every single letter of Azar as if it were the greatest gift she’d ever been given… but that meant she was in debt to Mercer, which did not feel right. Her eyes dropped to the wooden coffee table, an elaborate chessboard embedded in its polished finish.
The Administrator lounged across the opposite couch. “Ara, please continue. You were going to say, ‘How do you know my family name?’ And we were going to say,” he sat up, cold, dark eyes suddenly piercing, “from your mother’s ship. Not your incarcerated adoptive mothers’ ship. The first mother. Such a determined heart, that one.” He leaned back again, seemingly bored. “But we won’t say any more, so don’t bother asking.”
Ari’s heart hammered so loudly she couldn’t think straight. He was talking about her mother like he knew her. Like maybe she was still alive. Was she in one of Mercer’s compounds, too? Was she a political prisoner here on Troy?
“We are only here for two reasons,” Gwen said, making a grab for control of the conversation, looking keenly aware that it had slipped away. “One, you promised hydration shipments, and you haven’t delivered. You have been late this past year, but this month’s cycle you’ve been flat-out hovering in the atmosphere, refusing to land.”
“Us? Personally, we never hover. Bad for the lower back.”
“You know what I mean. What do I have to do to get Mercer to keep its word?”
“Sign over the planet,” he said. Gwen snarled, and Ari gripped her wife’s elbow. “We’ll let you remain figurehead. You can even pretend to pass laws and whatnot.”
“You know my answer,” she said.
“As you wish. A few more weeks of dehydration and your people will hand over the planet willingly. For their troubles, we’ll give each of them enough water for their own swimming pool. Two-day shipping on all aboveground pools.” He held up a finger. “For a limited time, of course.”
Ari leaned in, wanting to help Gwen. “What does Mercer have against Lionel?”
“Mercer?” the Administrator said as if he’d never heard the word before. “Mercer is a corporation, my dear rogue Ketchan. We sell things and solve problems; we do not have enemies.” His eyes turned from Ari to Gwen, hardening. “But we do have customers who become loyal friends. Troy is such a friend. The same friendship Lionel has rejected repeatedly, and as you know, Troy i
s angry that it can’t vent its overpopulated cities to Lionel, a largely underused planet.”
“My people,” Gwen interrupted, “require space to breathe, live, have families, and—”
“Ride robotic horses like medieval jesters? Wear cheap tin and call it armor?” He licked his lips, savoring his attack. “Or how about bow to a queen because they’re too ignorant to figure out democracy?”
Gwen steamed. Ari didn’t know that a person could actually do that, but she was certain that if she placed a hand on Gwen’s arm, it would burn. “I’m fairly certain it’s not a democracy if every electable politician is already living in Mercer’s pocket.”
The Administrator waved his hand. “Trivial points. Troy would like Lionel to be punished until you comply. Mercer is not your real problem. The overcrowded galaxy is.”
Ari scowled and swiped the black king piece from the board. “Chess? That’s not even bad-guy original. Don’t you know that evil empires are overdone?”
The Administrator leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Finally, someone who gets us. It’s boring to make people suffer. Good thing we don’t have to do that all the time. We’re the white team. The good guys.” He moved a white pawn. “We connect galaxies’ worth of goods to people in need. There are even planets where we are God.” Ari tried to drop the black king, but the Administrator stole it out of her hand.
“Of course, we’re also the bad guys when we need to be. You see, Ara, we’re black and white. Right and wrong. And that never gets boring. What games you can play when you’re both sides! Showing people what they need, and convincing them you’re the only one who can possibly provide it. I’m sure you remember when we had to play bad guy and shut off Ketch beneath that barrier. Then again, they really had that coming. So much loquacious resistance. ‘Mercer is evil. Band together, trade openly, provide for each other, blah blah.’ It’s much better this way, with them keeping to their own planet. You’re the only one out here, causing trouble.”
Gwen pulled Ari back by the shoulder, away from the Administrator’s slathered-on smile. “She’s my wife. You can’t touch her.”
“Sadly, Troy is under the impression that this marriage is a sham. They’re in the process of rejecting it. But not all is lost! Gweneviere, you are free to return to Lionel. The water will arrive soonish. And Ara, you’re going to stay right here on Troy for a spell. Be our guest. Let us figure out what you… remember… about your dear old home planet.”
Remember?
“Enough,” Gwen said, her voice strong and yet scratchy. “First, you’re going to make sure Troy signs off on our marriage. Then you’re going to have the water delivered, or I’ll sue. And interplanetary lawsuits kill the economy.”
This was Gwen’s strongest threat, but Ari could tell he wasn’t fazed. In fact, the Administrator looked newly pleased. He nearly giggled. “You may have one of those things. Not both. The water or the marriage. How’s that for good and bad?”
Gwen’s body tensed, her breath shallow and quick. People would die if she picked Ari. Ari might die if she picked Lionel, leaving her in the hands of Mercer. Gwen looked at Ari, her desperation damn near heartbreaking. “Ari, I…”
She was going to pick the planet. She had to. Ari understood, but her mind felt tight and swift. She looked down at the coffee table. Made of wood. Actual wood. And from her time spent on Heritage’s observation deck in that stupid rubber knight suit, she knew there was only one planet where you could get wood. “Old Earth,” Ari whispered.
A dead pause, and then the Administrator asked, “What about it?”
Gwen snapped to look at Ari, concerned. Intrigued.
“Nice table,” Ari said, her tone cutting. “Imported?”
“Naturally,” the Administrator said, all humor vanished.
“Recently?” she asked. “How does Troy feel about your side project?” She was bluffing, but a voice inside said, Trust yourself. “After all, there are, what? Hundreds of restrictions involved in a retired planet’s preservation.”
“You can’t blackmail Mercer, my darling Ketchan. What proof could you even have?”
“There’s an entire planet of proof. Or has Mercer grown so overconfident that you’ve forgotten where we all came from?” She scrolled two-fingered down her watch face and projected the video of the leveling machinery consuming half-dead trees.
“That’s plenty, thank you.” The Administrator placed his small hand over her arm, stunting the image, while his nondescript eyes took on a flinty edge. “Lionel can have its water. You can have your little fake marriage. Happy?”
Gwen was looking at Ari like she’d never seen her before. Ari pulled Gwen to her feet, crossing to the exit, but his voice stopped them at the door.
“Ladies, before you go, we have an offer that you will, of course, refuse, and yet it will be such a good offer that neither of you will forget it. For as long as you live in your cinder-block castle on your little medieval bubble land, you’ll wonder what could have been.”
Gwen tugged on Ari’s arm. “Don’t listen.”
“As much water as you can store, whenever you want it,” he called after them. “And you can keep the planet. No Mercer strings attached. You, Ara, can give your adoptive parents back to your brother, unharmed. Well, as unharmed as they’ve managed to remain. Prison is no picnic, after all. You could even fetch them today, if you like. Which would be ideal. I hear there’s some sort of plague going around the cell block on Urite.”
Ari pulled out of Gwen’s hand to face the Administrator. “What price?”
“Just you.” He smiled. “Just you for a whole planet and your only surviving mothers.”
Ari saw through the Administrator’s words. Her first mother—the one he’d started this whole conversation teasing her about—was dead, and he knew how, when, why…
Ari’s mind burst with sudden memories. Explosions. Their spaceship was exploding, and she was alone, locked in a part of the ship far away from everyone she loved…
Where was the rest of that memory? What had happened before?
She grasped into the darkness and came up empty.
Gwen hauled Ari into the glass elevator with its panoramic, sinking view of Troy’s capital city.
Ari was still dazed, trying to process the burst of memory and the Administrator’s terrible offer. “Gwen, what if he’s telling the—”
“No.” Gwen paused the elevator, and they froze midair. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not have our first lover’s quarrel be about whether I should trade you in like a set of steak knives.” She took a deep, shaking breath. “I know you’re new to leading people, but you don’t make deals with a company like Mercer. You move to the other side of the galaxy and scratch out a living without them. You’re Ketchan, for crying out loud, Ari. Your people invented giving Mercer the middle finger. And what was that business about Old Earth?”
“Long story,” Ari said. “That was… I was just trying to make him fear the truth.”
“We have to get back to Lionel.” Gwen reached for the button, but Ari caught her hand.
“Gwen, what if there is a plague on Urite? What if my…” only surviving “… parents are about to die? We have to save them.”
“A prison break? Ari! Imagine what they’d do to my planet if I was associated with a prison break.” Her brown eyes were fiery, and if Ari hadn’t been steaming as well, she might have been entranced by how certain her wife always seemed. No matter what. Gwen knew her path. Her home. Ari would give just about anything for an ounce of that certainty.
Gwen’s fire quieted as she looked at Ari’s pained face. “Don’t take this as me condoning anything, but why don’t you talk to Merlin? Isn’t he your go-to man for all things illegal and outrageous? Perhaps he can wiggle his fingers and transport them to a safer place.”
At that moment, across the city, the sky exploded with fireworks.
Ari groaned. “Speak of the devil.”
“He’s shooti
ng fireworks off in the city?” she yelled, hitting the elevator button.
“He can’t help it,” Ari said. “Dramatic soul.”
Once at ground level, they found Jordan and filed out of the state department. A crowd had gathered around Excalibur, the sword still stabbed through the center of the square. They were taking turns tugging on it. Beefy people, kids, old and young. Ari pushed through to the center, elbowing aside a muscled woman who would have given Jordan a run for her money.
Ari lifted Excalibur, drawing the point toward the fake sky easily. She was instantly relieved by the weight of the steel, how strong and eternal and unerringly good this blade felt in her hands. The crowd hushed, fell back. They took her in strangely.
Ari’s heart drilled a ferocious beat. This was the moment she’d feared since her moms had sat her down and explained that she was never to leave Error without them. That she was never to tell anyone she was Ketchan or speak her native language. When little Ari asked why, Captain Mom had seemed close to tears, and Mom answered, “Because too many people believe that difference is the enemy of unity.”
Were they staring now because they knew Ari was Ketchan—or because she was wielding a mythical sword? And why did they look like they wanted her to do something?
Ari tilted her head back as she took in the mammoth statue of the Mercer Company logo’s gold M. They’d stolen that letter, copyrighted it. Made it symbolic for everything and nothing. Hollow and yet harrowing. Like telling a girl that her mother had a determined heart—but that it hadn’t saved her. Like teasing that same girl about how the women who had raised her were probably dying of plague at that very moment.
“Lady, being your wife… does that mean I can commit crimes without being charged?”
“Up to a point, yes,” Gwen said, pinching her lips together. “Why?”
Ari sealed both hands on Excalibur, swinging it over her head and crying out as she brought it around her body and through the giant leg of the M. The statue did nothing at first. But then it groaned. And gave way to its broken side, the metal falling in a way that made Ari grab Gwen and pull her to safety. When it had finally flattened itself and fallen silent in the courtyard, Ari found Jordan’s eyebrow hitched in a surprised and yet approving way.
Once & Future Page 11
