by Jayne Faith
Lana let go of my hand to link her elbow with mine, pressing close to my side as if huddling against a frigid winter wind. Mother took my other elbow.
I forced my face into a neutral mask and locked my eyes on the ground a few feet ahead of us. It was half an hour from sunset and the low-angled dwindling light of the sun made our shadows stretch out in a diagonal in front of us. Three walking shadows pulling ahead and to our left, as if trying to coax us to turn that way.
But that wasn’t where we were headed. I lifted my eyes to the horizon and trained them onto the gentle V between two low foothills. At the base of that V, the overlords would open the portal to Calisto.
A shock of worry shot through me. Would Mother be able to walk all the way to the portal? Perhaps I should have asked Rand if his father could take her in their car.
But her footsteps kept up with mine and Lana’s, and her breaths were quiet and even with no hint of wheezing. The walk, unlike the steep path up to the pavilion, was over nearly level ground. I sensed that she needed to make it on the power of her own two feet, so I let that worry slip away.
I heard the shuffle of shoes all around us, the murmur of low voices, but didn’t care to look around or identify anyone nearby. The only people who mattered at all were the two at my sides.
I lowered my eyelids for a moment, trying to take in the sensations of the cooling evening breeze, the earthy scent of alfalfa harvested from a nearby field, the way the dry ground gritted under my shoes. The exact feel of being on Earthenfell.
I opened my eyes to the deepening colors of the sunset. Would there be a sunset on Calisto? If there were, would I ever be allowed to watch it?
“I will write you, as often as I’m allowed,” Lana said, and I started at the sound of her voice.
I tipped my head toward hers, and we leaned into each other for a moment. “Thank you,” I whispered. I’d forgotten that letters could be sent from Earthenfell to the departed Obligates. But I would not be permitted to write back.
The voices and sounds of movement around us thickened as we neared the site of the portal, and I finally glanced around. The faces around me were familiar yet strange, as if my mind were already trying to condition me to the idea that soon I would no longer be one of them.
The crowd slowed, and we slowed with it. I gave myself a mental shake, remembering that I could not hang back as I had six months ago, six months before that, twice a year for as long as I could recall. I forced my feet forward. Mother, Lana, and I threaded through the throng as I aimed us at the point of the V between hills that had looked like gently rolling bumps from a distance but closer up loomed tall enough to blot out much of the sky.
The crowd parted as people turned and saw me in my black dress. A few touched my shoulder or offered a quick word of praise.
At the front edge of the crowd, I stopped. A very old concrete bridge with two crumbling levels and exposed girders joined the two sides of the ravine.
During the spring rains, the ravine filled with water that rushed to meet the river that flowed along the edge of town. At the spring Departure six months ago, when I’d stood back in the crowd as the Obligates passed over the bridge, the rushing sound of the water had added a majestic element to the ceremony. But in the fall season, the ravine was only a darkened muddy line cutting through the hills.
The Selection Controller, again with her hair in a neat gray-streaked bun, stood on the ground near the bridge. She took something from the pocket of her dress—a timepiece—and glanced at it.
The low murmurs in the crowd began to fade. Mother’s arm was trembling against mine. I found her hand and held it tightly. On my other side, Lana drew herself up tall and took a deep breath.
On the edge of my vision, I saw someone’s face turned toward me and felt the weight of a gaze. I looked past Lana to see Rand standing solemnly with his arms in front of him, one hand clasped over the back of the other as if he were about to bow his head in prayer.
His eyes seemed to burn into mine, and his lips trembled. When I realized he was on the verge of tears, I quickly looked away, focusing on the Selection Controller. As when he’d left me late last night, an uneasy sensation twisted through my stomach, perhaps lingering guilt that I did not feel for him what he felt for me.
The Controller raised one arm above her head, signaling for quiet. “The sun has set and the time has come for the Obligates to begin their service. Obligates, please approach.”
There was some shifting as young black-clad men and women separated themselves from the crowd. I sucked in a ragged breath as my hands gripped Lana’s and my mother’s so hard I must have hurt them. But they did not wince or try to pull away.
It was time.
I let go, turned to Mother, and folded my arms around her thin shoulders.
“Never forget how dearly I love you, Maya,” she whispered.
“I love you too, Mother.” I choked out the words, my mouth against her hair. I wanted to say more, but all the words in the universe would fall short of what was truly in my heart.
I turned to Lana. “My twin, my other half,” I said, my cheek pressing against her wet one. “Be strong and know that I’m always with you.”
“I’m always with you,” Lana said fiercely. “I love you, dear sister, as much as a human heart can love.”
“I love you, too.”
And then I let go, turned my back to them, and went to join the other Obligates.
I couldn’t breathe. My lungs felt stuffed with wadded paper, my throat too tight to allow air to pass through. The other Obligates were forming a half-circle around the Controller. Someone gently bumped my right elbow, and I looked over, dazed.
Orion nodded at me. I nodded back, and my chest loosened enough to draw a trembling breath.
The sixteen Earth Bearers who had been waiting off to the side filed into the half circle, one standing in front of each of us. They held simple glass jars filled with rich brown soil. In unison, they stretched out their arms, presenting the jars to us.
I grasped my jar in both hands, gripping hard to try to stop the quaking of my arms. The Controller was reciting the short rite about the jars of soil, the offerings we would take to the overlords on Calisto.
And then the Controller was leading us up a short, worn path to the edge of the lower level of the bridge. She stopped and pointed, indicating the first Obligate in line, a short young man, should keep walking across the bridge.
My eyes blurred and I blinked tears away. Clutching my jar—the only thing I was allowed to take with me from Earthenfell besides the clothes I wore and the nearly twenty years of memories of my life there—I followed the Obligate in front of me.
Ahead, the shimmering light of the portal, like sunlight kissing a wind-dappled pond, beckoned us to Calisto.
7
Toric
I WENT OUT to my widest balcony just as the larger of Calisto’s two suns winked its last light over the edge of the horizon and dipped out of sight. This balcony adjoined my bed chamber and overlooked my family’s private gardens, which were filled with exquisite replicas of old Earth trees and flowering plants. Beyond the garden wall, I could see the portal pad where the young Earthens—the Offered—would come from Earthenfell.
As soon as I saw movement at the portal, I honed my focus there. Earlier, I’d been informed that this offering of Earthens included ten women and six men.
The first figure through the portal was a young man, short and with flopping brown hair. Even from a distance, I could sense his anxiety and doubt. The next was a woman with voluptuous curves and blonde ringlets that bounced around her shoulders. She emanated determination, and I would have bet my finest silk robe that she was one of those who had received training, an Offered who had long been pre-selected by her clan. Then there was another young woman, petite with dark olive skin and medium brown hair whose energy was drawn tight like the strings of a mandola. She was unremarkable except that I sensed she was innocent—a virgin.
> The fourth Offered through the portal drew my attention before my eyes even had a chance to focus on her. My breath caught in my throat.
Her energy was . . . fascinating. Complex. It was fractured, turbulent, and danced on the surface of her being as if unaware of the great depth of space it could explore. Like a fish that swam only in the top few inches of the sea, oblivious to the vast caves, reefs, delicacies, and dangers that existed below.
This woman with her raven waves of hair, straight back, and stoic expression possessed an energy unlike any of the dozens of Earthenfell women I’d encountered in the years since I’d ascended to the Lordship. I didn’t know yet what it meant, but it made my pulse race. She was also an innocent, but her energy was not completely innocent—there was a dark edge to it, something I suspected she herself wasn’t even aware of.
She was a study in contrasts. A heavenly being, but with a reservoir of darkness. An innocent with a deep capacity for seduction. A slave girl who was filled with purpose. I’d never sensed so much about an Earthen Offered, never in so much detail.
A dark angel.
That was the image her energy brought to my mind.
The old Earth religion of angels and demons, Heaven and Hell, God above and Devil below, had faded from practice many centuries back, but part of my spiritual training had included its texts. The parts about the angels had always captivated me.
I tried to examine the other Offered coming through, but my eyes kept going back to the dark-haired woman. I wished I could see her up close, read what was in her eyes.
My fingers clenched around the railing of the balcony. I would formally receive the Earthen Offered soon, after they got their implants, but that was hours away. I needed to feel this young woman’s energy up close. The throbbing of desire deep in my core seemed to urge me on.
I whirled and hurried back into my chambers, and then stopped short at the sight of Victor, my primary servant. He was smoothing fresh cotton sheets over my bed, the rumpled ones from my afternoon tryst—this time with gentle Mee-Young, as I’d temporarily sought reprieve from Sytoria’s whips—piled on the floor. His back was to me and he gave no indication that he’d heard me come in, though I suspected he was perfectly aware that I stood here. This was one of the things that had earned him the position of primary among my personal servants—not only did he anticipate my needs as if he could read my mind, he knew when to look away or to give me a moment to collect myself.
I went to the carved teakwood cart where the linen curtains on one side of the balcony billowed in the breeze that swept in through the open balcony doors. I poured myself a tumbler of ginger lily and bergamine-infused water and then set the pitcher down noisily on purpose.
As I sipped, I angled my body away from Victor so he couldn’t see that I was partially aroused. I wasn’t hiding out of modesty. For some reason, I didn’t want him—or anyone—to know how strongly the dark angel’s energy had affected me.
“May I fetch something, or perhaps someone, for you, my Lord?”
I looked over my shoulder. Victor stood at the foot of my made bed, the dirty linens gathered in his arms.
“I need nothing at the moment,” I said. “I’ll be going out soon.”
Victor inclined his head and turned to go.
“Ah, one thing,” I said. He paused at the door, waiting. I pretended to think for a moment. “Have Darafina waiting for my return.”
He inclined his head again, his expression remaining studiously neutral, and then slipped from my bed chamber and closed the door behind him.
I’d tried to make it sound as if I’d picked Darafina on a whim, but out of all the women in my harem, she was the only one with hair nearly the color of the dark angel’s. I’d never been particularly attracted to Darafina before, but now the thought of her hair spread out over the crisp linens on the pillows . . .
I set down my tumbler and planted my hands on the cart, leaning heavily enough to make it creak under my weight. Flashes of memories from my imprisonment suddenly tore through my mind. I gritted my teeth and groaned, remembering, as I had a million times before, the way my captors had forced torment and pleasure, pain and release, to mingle together in my body, my mind, my soul.
Blood pounded in my veins as I tried to breathe through the torrent of images and the force of my own unwanted desire. I focused instead on the dark angel. The golden skin of her face and bare arms. Her shining hair that nearly blended with the black dress she wore. The set of her chin, and the way her slender fingers held the offering jar.
To my deep relief and gratitude, those thoughts soothed the terrible images from my mind. My arousal was even stronger than before, but for once my mind was free of torment.
I straightened, tipped my head back, and breathed deeply, relishing in the rare experience of pure, untainted desire.
*
When I left my chambers, I tried to keep to the lesser-used passages of the palace, even taking some of the service hallways to avoid running into councilors, nobles, or others who might want to stop me for a word. Most of all, I wanted to avoid Jeric.
I wasn’t completely sure of the location of the servants’ medical facility and took a few wrong turns. Most of the servants I encountered had the grace to quickly stop and bow when they recognized me, averting their questioning glances.
The humid smell of soapy water and clean linens told me when I was near the palace laundry. Laughter and cheery chatter rang out freely from the washrooms. I slowed, enjoying the sounds of the women inside. When the workers caught sight of me, they silenced, their hands stilled, and they all curtsied. One of them, a young woman who looked barely old enough to hold such a position, peeked up at me from under her eyelashes and hid her face when she realized I was looking straight at her.
I kept on, but almost wished I could pause to eavesdrop on their conversation. I never truly knew what the people of Calisto thought of me. There were plenty of rumors that I was some sort of sexual deviant. The rumors would not have come from the Earthenfell women in my harem nor from the Earthenfell men who were my personal servants—their spinal implants ensured that—but everyone on Calisto knew of my abduction and something of the nature of my torture while I was in enemy hands.
The guards who stood outside the doors of my chambers were military-trained Calistans, as were the two guards who trailed me even now. Perhaps the guards spread rumors about me. It was odd to think that the Earthens who served here in the palace were likely the most loyal of all the servants due to their implants. If Calistans had implants, how many of them would be exposed as traitors or gossip mongers?
Again, I thought of my brother.
When I finally reached the servants’ medical facility, I realized I had no idea exactly what I would do next. I turned to the two bodyguards who had tailed me.
“Palovich,” I said, beckoning to the taller of the two guards. “Please inform the head of surgery that I wish to survey the new arrivals as soon as they are all in recovery.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
As soon as I said it, it sank in how unorthodox my request would appear, and how it could easily be used to fuel more rumors of my oddities. But Palovich was already through the doors.
The other guard, Calvin, swept his gaze around the bare portico, alert for any movement or sound. When one of the doors to the clinic swung outward, his posture didn’t change but his hand twitched on the side where his dagger and gun were holstered. A young Calistan woman, presumably a palace servant, towing a wide-eyed child of about three or four years old emerged. The woman flicked a pleasant smile my way and then stopped short with a double-take and curtsied, her chin pressed to her chest.
“My Lord,” she said and then raised her head. I nodded absently and looked away at a point in the distance. Over the years I’d discovered it was best to remain aloof with Calistan commoners. It was what they expected of their Lord, and it was simply easier to fulfill their expectation.
“Perhaps you’d prefer to wai
t over here,” Calvin said to me, gesturing to a replica of a rambling hedge at the corner of the facility. He went ahead of me to check around the corner and then nodded. “It’s clear.”
Feeling more than a little foolish, I concealed myself behind the fake plant where passersby wouldn’t seem me while Calvin watched for Palovich. As the minutes passed, I began to think that I’d made a mistake, that I should have just mustered the patience to wait until I formally received the new Offered.
Finally, Palovich returned. “My Lord, the Offered have their implants and are now in a recovery room.” He led me to the door and held it for me, and Calvin followed. “According to the head of surgery, they will be unconscious for another thirty minutes. He will take you to them.”
A distinguished-looking, reedy man in the tight-fitting white clothing of medical professionals waited for us in front of an empty reception counter. The waiting room was also vacant of patients. I felt a twinge of self-reproach at my early suspicions of the guards and my assumptions that they contributed to Calisto’s rumor mill. I’d have to remember to praise Palovich later for making sure the way was clear for my entry.
Without introducing himself, the doctor simply bowed and then turned to take us through the empty hallways. I suspected his cool demeanor was meant to express his disapproval of my visit or misgivings about my intentions with the Offered.
When he stopped outside a closed door, my pulse quickened. The dark angel was on the other side.
“Doctor,” I said. “Would you be so kind as to accompany me and describe the recovery process?”
The doctor blinked rapidly a couple of times, and then his expression relaxed a bit. “Of course, my Lord.”
I was almost certain I’d guessed his thoughts. He’d expected me to want time alone with the unconscious Offered.
Palovich and Calvin stationed themselves on either side of the door while I followed the doctor inside. I took in a slow breath, trying to calm the nervous anticipation that fluttered through my chest.
