by Cara Bristol
His relief stung. Beauty had little purpose, so why it should matter that he’d been displeased by her scars, she could not say. Only it did. “No, you would not want me to be ugly,” she agreed in a small voice.
“You would never be ugly to me.” He shook his head. “Your other burns are better, too?”
“Yes.” The blisters and scars on her arms and chest were fading as fast as the ones on her face.
“Come here then.” He enveloped her in a hard, tight hug. Anika snuggled into it as if she could burrow inside him, and he responded with a squeeze. For a long moment, they held each other.
“Have you heard anything of Perce?” she asked.
“Yes. He has been cleared of all allegations. Commander Dak has related Perce will remain as interim Commander until a new Alpha can be voted in. He implied there will be a new procedure for choosing Alphas in the future.
“Other than the High Council?” she lifted her head from his chest and frowned. “How else would they do it?”
“He said something about provincial citizens voting for their next commander.”
Anika gaped at him. “What do the people know about who would be suitable?” How could they be trusted with such import? Would they not be tempted to further their individual aspirations rather than do what was right for Parseon? How would they ever agree on who to choose? She could envision acrimonious disagreements between factions who favored a different Alpha. Would one group accept the results if the other side won or would bloodshed ensue?
“It sounds problematic,” she said. But if she could vote, she would pick somebody kind. An Alpha of courage and compassion. One who cared more about the welfare of the citizens than power or personal wealth. Maybe one who did not adhere so rigidly to the established social caste, who allowed for betas like Urazi to strive for and attain alpha status. Who believed females had worth beyond breeding.
“Well, it is Dak’s problem,” Urazi said. “And Marlix’s and Ilian’s. They are what remain of the High Council, and they will draft the changes. It will take many, many years for Parseon to transform, but the progeny of the future will know a different Parseon.”
His chest rose and fell on a satisfied sigh. “We did our part. I do not doubt the alliance’s invasion would have toppled Qalin, but we did it, Anika. We did it!”
“You did it. You killed Qalin. You are a warrior.” She was proud of him. Urazi had defeated the most notorious Alpha of Parseon!
“We acted together. I don’t think I could have won if the beta had attacked me, too. You are a warrioress.”
Anika smiled, warmed by his praise. Warrioress. She tasted the word on her tongue. Warrioress.
“And let us not forget you killed the Veronian, too,” Urazi said.
“I would rather forget the Veronian.” Of everything she’d experienced, that had been the worst.
Urazi rested his cheek atop her head. She could feel his beard pricking her skull. “We are alive.”
The greatest triumph of all. “You erred in your prediction only one of us would survive,” she replied cheekily, affected by the headiness of success, of survival. Not too long ago, she would not have dared point out a male’s mistake. But she had earned the right to speak her mind with Urazi. She could not revert to the way things had been. She had to stop running and stand and fight like a warrior. A warrioress! “Marlix is not going to be happy with me.”
“No.” Urazi sounded grim now. “But we must return.”
“What if he tries to send me to Ilian?” It had been bad enough to be shackled to a male she did not choose—but to have that happen when she wanted another would be untenable. She would lose her freedom and the joy of her heart.
Urazi set his mouth into a determined line. “I will employ all my persuasive powers to convince him otherwise.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Skytrams operated again, but had been reserved for the movement of ordnance and guard personnel, so Anika and Urazi were forced to use a conveyance once more. She didn’t mind, even though it meant weeks in transit as opposed to a few hours. Though eager to return to the province she considered home, she did not relish the confrontation awaiting them, so she was not opposed to delaying arrival.
Though Dak hadn’t mentioned it, Anika assumed he’d informed Marlix of their intended return. The Alpha had ensured they carried necessary provisions to see them through their journey and presented them with a document of passage confirming their identification and right to travel in case they were stopped by alliance forces.
The return ride evoked different emotions than the outbound journey. Though beset by equal parts anticipation and dread as well as the exigency to remain vigilant against residual threats by vagabonds or rebel forces who may not have learned of the war’s conclusion, if Anika thought to characterize the journey overall, she would have said intimate.
She and Urazi spoke often of their perils and the outcomes. Anika was gladdened that all of Qalin’s Veronians had been arrested and would be deported as soon as shuttle flights resumed, and that the captured breeders had been released—including Zala. She held no ill will toward the female, could not fault her for fighting for the very same freedom she herself had sought. Neither she nor Urazi had hesitated to take strong action, to do whatever it took to defend themselves. Zala had done the same.
Perce frequently featured as the subject of their discussions, and they reflected with gratitude, but also with amazement, that the young alpha had turned out honorable despite his lineage. He would serve Parseon well as Province One’s interim Alpha. Maybe someday he would be Alpha—if the citizens chose him. They debated what New Protocol and popular elections might mean to their planet. Exciting possibilities tangled with scary uncertainties. Parseon citizens had never had the power of choice before. How would they handle the responsibility?
Anika wondered if the promise of new freedoms would extend to females. It was an incredible, heady premise to contemplate. In her wildest dreams, Anika could not have imagined such an occurrence.
But while they speculated about distant events and possibilities, they avoided the hulking beast of the near future. New Protocol—which had yet to be implemented or defined, would have little effect on Marlix’s decision. Anika had been pledged as a breeder to an Alpha. Duty and honor demanded her obedience.
Despite the uncertainty, the closeness and companionship she enjoyed with Urazi made the days feel almost halcyon, imbuing the air with expectation, as if spring had loosened winter’s icy grip. Her burns, mere shadows, continued to improve. If the jolting, rocking transport caused queasiness, and Urazi had to halt the conveyance a few times for her to retch over the side, by nightfall, nausea passed and passion consumed her. She and Urazi coupled with an urgency that left her breathless and spent. Small wonder weariness often claimed her mornings after.
But like sand dispersed by the wind, courage dwindled with the passage of time and distance. When she sighted the elevation tube to Marlix’s underground abode, she might have bolted if Urazi had not been holding her hand.
“It will be all right.” He squeezed her cold fingers.
She smiled wanly. He meant well, but he could not control the future, for it was out of their hands.
She’d faced and conquered many trials: Grogan, Icor, Qalin, the Veronian, yet Marlix’s decision filled her with the greatest dread of all, worsening the queasiness. Her mouth felt filled with seed fluff, drying her throat and hindering speech. If Marlix delivered her to Ilian….
“I will make it all right,” Urazi vowed.
He would do everything he could, but she feared it would not be enough. Marlix held all the power. They could deliver their best arguments and pleas, but in the end, all she could hope for was that her sibling had changed his mind.
They delivered the conveyance to the nearby stable and proceeded on foot to the portal, every step taking greater effort than the previous one. Before they could enter the elevation tube, its door slid open, and Tara bound
ed out, carrying a blue-swaddled bundle. “You’re here! You’re here!”
“Tara!” Misgivings receded under a joyful reunion. Laughing and crying, Anika ran to her, and they embraced, Tara with one arm as she held the baby with the other. The baby! Anika eased up on her hug, careful not to squash the little one.
When they separated, Tara greeted Urazi. “Kianiko.”
“Kianiko,” he replied. “It is good to see you. You look well.”
“Let’s go inside. You must tell me everything!” Tara beckoned. “I was so relieved to hear you were on your way home. Marlix intended to be here, but there’s even more to do now that the war is over. Getting services restored. Reconstruction. The design and implementation of New Protocol.” She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve heard about New Protocol haven’t you? Who would have thought….” Tara rambled on, but Anika focused on just a few words of the spiel. Marlix wasn’t home. They’d been granted a reprieve—a postponement Anika no longer wanted. For her peace of mind, she needed answers now. She flattened her palm against her churning stomach.
The door slid open, and they disembarked. Home. The abode looked the same as when she’d left. Nothing had changed—other than everything.
“Are you hungry? Dinner will be served soon, but I can have Nibor prepare a snack. Or do you want to shower and knock the dust off? Your old quarters are ready for you,” Tara prattled on in an uncharacteristic manner. Was she nervous too? She was not only Marlix’s breeder and wife, she was also his confidant. Perhaps he had shared his intentions with her.
Anika’s stomach rebelled at the mention of food. She grimaced and swallowed. “I am not hungry, but thank you.”
Urazi regarded Tara. “When do you expect Marlix?”
“Any time. For sure by dinner.” Tara bent over the swaddled bundle and made an odd cooing noise. “Isn’t that right, sweetie? Seppa will home soon. Yes, he will.” Then she nuzzled the tiny forehead and nose.
Terrans! Anika shook her head at the outrageous display. Maybe the strange doting behavior wasn’t common to humans, but to Tara herself. Despite her nervous queasiness, Anika was amused, and noticed Urazi smothering a grin. Parseons did not coddle their offspring in such a silly manner.
With a start, Anika realized she hadn’t caught more than a glimpse of Marlix’s son. “May I see?” she asked.
“Of course!” Rather than draw back the blanket, Tara gently shoved the baby into Anika’s arms. “Support the head. Like this.” Tara adjusted Anika’s hold. The baby stared up at her, and in his tiny features, Anika recognized Marlix’s amber eyes and a miniature replica of his lips. But the child bore Tara’s impudent nose, stubborn chin, and long eyelashes.
Urazi stood behind her and peered at the baby. “It is attractive for an infant.” He clucked his finger under its jaw.
Anika’s stomach fluttered with a strange surge of longing, and, for a moment, she imagined the child was theirs. Without thinking, her head swooped, and she almost kissed the child like Tara had done, but caught herself and affected a pretense of inhaling the infant’s unexpected sweet scent.
“Does the diaper need to be changed?” Tara asked.
“No. It is fine.” The child’s smell increased the yearning. Anika tilted her head and peered at Tara. “So tell me…who won? Am I holding Arak or Ramon?”
“Neither!” Tara’s triumphant grin spread from ear to ear. “Her name is Ramona!” She chortled.
“You had a female?” Anika‘s gaze flew between Tara and the baby.
“Marlix was so insistent he was having a son, we just assumed.” Tara touched the blanket as cerulean as the sky and shrugged. “I knitted a bunch of blue things.”
“Blue is for males?”
Tara nodded. “And pink is for girls.” She straightened the tiny banded pink bow Ramona wore on her bald head. “It’s kind of a traditional thing parents do with babies so you can tell the gender.”
“How did Marlix react to having a female?” For Tara’s sake, Anika hoped the son of her sire had the wherewithal to withhold expressing disappointment.
“He fell in love with her the moment he saw her—although he did accuse me of having a girl so I could get my way about the name.” She giggled. “Maybe I did.” Then she sobered. “He did not believe me when I informed him the male sperm determines the sex until I called the med tech to confirm it.”
“It does?” Anika and Urazi spoke at once.
“You didn’t know either?” Tara gaped at them and shook her head, muttering something unflattering about Parseons.
“If you will excuse me, I will go clean up.” Urazi checked with Tara. “You will let me know when Marlix arrives?”
“Oh you’ll know it,” Tara said. “But, yes, I’ll come get you.”
Urazi regarded Anika with concern. “I will be fine,” she assured him and handed Ramona back to Tara.
Urazi left, and Tara led Anika to a sitting room. Ramona fussed, and after they settled in, Tara undid the top of her breeder shift to allow Ramona to nurse.
Anika pressed a hand to her fluttery stomach. She felt close to tears. The unexpected yearning coupled with the distress over possibly losing Urazi wreaked havoc with her self-control. I must face my fears. I am a warrioress! I battled a Veronian!
Anika took a breath. “Is Marlix very angry?”
Tara made a face and nodded. “Mostly he worries. He sent guards to search for you, and when they couldn’t find you—he was beside himself.”
A warrioress did not duck from the truth. “Does he still intend to send me to Commander Ilian?”
“I don’t know.” Tara glanced at her nursing baby then back at Anika. “Ramona has changed him. We have talked of you often, and during one of our discussions, I asked him which of the Alphas he would choose for Ramona.”
“What did he say?” Anika waited for Tara’s answer like her fate hinged on it.
“He snapped, ‘that is different!’ and stormed off.”
“Oh.” Hope plummeted. The situation was different. Ramona was half Terran, and the offspring his adored breeder, while Anika was his irritating sibling, an annoyance he’d inherited when her breeding arrangements had not worked out.
“No, I think it’s a good sign.”
As good a sign as catching wind of a Veronian. “Tell me what else has happened since I left.” Anika changed the subject.
“Me tell you?” Tara blinked and adjusted Ramona in her arms. “I knitted a lot a baby clothes in the wrong color. I gave birth to a daughter. Marlix commanded a war. The end. Now, tell me your story!” She eyed Anika’s feet. “You’re still wearing my boots, though they look like you’ve marched to hell and back in them. What all happened to you?” Tara’s gestured with a free hand. “Spill it! I know you were discovered in Qalin’s abode. How did you get there? I want details! Don’t leave anything out.”
“Well, to begin with, I joined a guerilla fighting force I thought supported the alliance—” Anika’s head swam as wave of nausea swept over her. Cupping her mouth, she dashed for the lavatory.
Uncertainty, anxiety, and dread erupted in a burst of sickness. Anika retched into the basin until her insides felt wrung out. She clung to the bowl, exhausted. She no longer rode the conveyance, and she’d been treated for her contact with the Veronian. Had there been residual toxins in her system, they would have flushed out by now. It is just nerves. As soon as the Ilian matter is settled, you will return to normal. But how could anyone get so ill so suddenly so often and live? Even when she was well, she did not feel like herself.
“Are you pregnant?”
Anika jumped, horrified to see Tara leaning against the chamber doorjamb, a witness to her weakness.
Anika wiped her mouth. “No, why would you say that?”
She gestured to the basin. “Have you been nauseated before this?”
“Every day, but it goes away by the evening.”
“Tired?”
Many days she had been so fatigued she had required assistance to b
oard the conveyance. Urazi had done the feleen’s share of the driving while she slept against his shoulder. “A little.”
Tara eyed her chest. “Your breasts sore? Getting larger?”
When she’d stopped binding her mammary glands, she’d thought they’d seemed bigger, but wasn’t certain. She was sure about the tenderness though. “Yes.”
“You and Urazi have been doing the nasty haven’t you?”
“We have experienced many nasty things. Cachinna, Veronians. Qalin.”
“That’s not what I meant. Have you and Urazi performed the horizontal tango?”
“Tango?” Anika frowned.
Tara sighed. “You are your brother’s sister. Have you and Urazi been having sex? You know, coupling—in a breeding way, not the Parseon way.”
Heat flooded Anika’s face, and she ducked her head.
“There you go! You’re pregnant. Encinta. Got a sweetcake in the oven.”
Anika did not understand what she meant by encinta or what baking sweetcakes had to do with anything, but she understood pregnant. She pressed her palms to her abdomen and stared down at herself. Was that a slight swell? More heat suffused her face. Urazi would be stunned to learn he might have a son. But pleased. Anika peeked at Ramona. Maybe I’m having a female. A secret little thrill raced through her. I will teach her to hunt and fight and shoot crossbows.
A baby! She and Urazi had conceived a baby! She almost felt like she could float away on a cloud of joy and wonder. She lifted her head and stared at Tara. “I think I am pregnant.”
Surely Marlix would not send her to Ilian now.
* * * *
A tense portent crackled over the eating chamber, warning of an impending storm. Urazi could feel the squall building, gaining force as they pretended to eat.
Marlix had stalked into his salon like a Commander on a mission, his gait long and purposeful. He’d stopped to kiss Tara and baby Ramona, then greeted Anika with an enveloping embrace. “I am glad you are home,” he said. “You and I will talk after we eat.” Talk meant he would deliver his edict.
