Once we start, Tin sliding effortlessly through the ancient yoga forms while I follow more clumsily, I forget my protest. I forget that I was against this. There is something soothing and quiet in the graceful movement, and I feel my mind lighten, stretch, uncoiling and spooling out to touch everything around me. The sleepy horses, and the cooks in the kitchen, Larkin in his office—the Senator’s home is a hive of activity and minds so open and unprotected it is almost shocking. I drift along there, echoing Tin as he slips through the forms, and I feel almost whole.
It’s like being in a trance state, and when it ends, I feel a pang of loss and guilt—I had not even thought to look for Chosi.
“I want to teach you basic kuduva,” Tin announces in Common, and the peace I felt while practicing yoga vanishes. It’s easy to pick up the language—my psychic gifts help me, but I have to work at it. Leaving my commtrans behind was a good idea.
“Isn’t that what the cage fighters use over on Pente?” I ask, my stomach queasy.
He nods. “It’s savage, and it’s brutal, and it’s hard as hell to learn. But I think it’s best of the martial arts, for your physique. We want to work with your natural movements, and this will.”
Unsure, I simply stand there.
Tin guides me through basic movements—Novice Stance, Winds on the Water, Spiraling Silk, Wings of the Bee. “What you want to do,” he says, sweeping a practice stick around in the graceful arcing motion of Spiraling Silk, “is to make the motion natural. The Novice Stance should be your natural way of standing. Practice Winds when you’re alone, or dancing with Sadi. I want you to repeat them all, fifty times a morning, until you can do them without thinking.”
“You realize that is never going to happen,” I tell him, stumbling through Wings of the Bee.
Tin gives a short laugh. “Yeah, Zoe said the same thing to Brando once. Now she’s the best kuduva fighter in the household.”
“Stop it,” she protests mildly, and I jerk around to find Sadi and her younger sister watching us, sipping coffee. Zoe eyes me. “You have a natural gift for it. The wings, I think, help. Try spreading them when you do the third turn in Bee.”
I start the cycle again, and at the turn, my wings dip, spreading. They catch the air, keeping me balanced, and I glide through the turn I had stumbled over before. Zoe grins, a tiny smug smile, and looks at her older sister. “Not bad, hmm?”
“No, very nice,” Sadi says absently. “We should go soon. Porter is expecting us.”
“I’m staying here,” Tin says, tossing his practice stick aside. “I need some sleep, and the Senator asked for a meeting. Brando will be taking my place.”
“Tinex,” Sadi begins, alarmed.
But Tin has already grinned and begun backing away. “Enjoy your afternoon, Sadi. Juhan, work on your forms. I want to see some improvements tomorrow morning.”
He turns, jogging out of the shuttle bay, into the morning. Sadi curses, low and vicious, and Zoe cocks her head. “It can’t be that bad. It’s only one afternoon.”
Sadi gives the younger girl a disbelieving stare, and then turns to me. “Let’s go,” she growls at me, “and get the damn thing over with.”
Sadi is hiding in the dressing room.
I grit my teeth as the tailor—one of the Ceriua who specialize in beauty and appearance— sweeps around me, chittering under his breath while Sadi paces, worrying her nails. “Quit that. You’re giving me a headache,” I finally tell her, my voice tight. A throbbing has settled behind my eyes, and I wince as a surge of guilt washes through me before she drops her hand to her side. I’m experiencing her emotions, and that worries me. All Eleyi are psychic, and can feel emotion. But there are some, the strongest of our race, who experience it from every source, who are so gifted they leech thoughts and emotions without intention. Not many—most go mad and kill themselves or others, long before they can pass on their gift. And those who survive, retreat. Become hermits, hidden from the world.
“I like that,” she says, without looking at me. She stands on tiptoe, peering at the comm screen. Brando is sitting in the waiting room, almost asleep. The tailor adjusts something on his tablet, and the material around my neck constricts and I gag. I yank at it and the Ceriua chitters at me sharply.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
We’ve been here for three hours. I’m desperate to force Sadi out of my dressing room, back to picking out fabric and cuts. When she announced she had made her selections, I’m not sure who was more surprised: Brando or the host of Ceriua who ran the small clothier. Brando watched, an eyebrow raised in amusement as Sadi swept past him, into the dressing room where I was being measured, and refused to leave.
“He won’t bite,” I finally mutter.
Sadi shoots me a dirty look. “You never know with Brando.”
The tips of her ears are red, and she ducks away from my gaze, toying nervously with the fabric the Ceriua has discarded. A throat clears outside the tiny dressing room, and she jumps. Her alarm hits me like a spike, straight in my throbbing temple. I groan, staggering, and the Ceriua props me up with a low, sympathetic chitter.
“Please, Sadi,” I gasp, and she looks at me, at the effect her emotions have had on me. Shock spirals through her, me, and I hiss a low curse. Her eyes slip closed as she takes a deep breath, and then a cool wall of indifference settles around her, a defense I am used to in her. I shiver at the absence of emotion.
“What is it, Brando?” she calls.
There is a heartbeat—two—of silence before: “The Senator will need me, eventually. Wrap it up, Ms. Renult.”
She bares her teeth at the formal appellation, but doesn’t respond. A quick glance at me, scanning the suit I’m wearing. Then, to the tailor: “Can you have this suit ready by tomorrow afternoon?”
The little Other nods, and begins helping me out of the half-assembled garments.
“The others will be two, three days,” he chitters.
She smiles, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, darling. You’re a gem.”
She turns to me, an eyebrow arched, and I stare at her patiently as the tailor disrobes me and she flushes. “I suppose I’ll wait with Brando, while you…” She turns away, letting her sentence die, and I stifle a laugh as I redress quickly.
I knew being with Brando would be difficult, but I did not expect it to turn my strong, independent owner into a scared little girl. It shocks me and my head is screaming from the onslaught of Sadi’s emotions. I want nothing but to hide in a cool, dark room. Instead, I have promised her lunch and a public appearance.
They are arguing about it when I emerge, dressed. “You need to quit playing,” Brando says quietly. “You don’t realize how much you’re hurting your father.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answers, voice calm. All traces of her worry and fear in the dressing room are gone, as if they had never been.
Brando smiles at her, a humorless grimace. “You forget, Sadi. I am me. You are you. I know better.”
She pales at his words, and I step up behind her, letting my psyche brush her comfortingly as I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her into me. She relaxes without thinking, and I lean down, feathering a kiss over her cheek before I look at Brando. “So, are we going to eat?”
Brando’s face is blank when I look back up, but I can feel the current of anger that edges his mind and I suppress a shiver. He leads the way out of the tiny shop, moving with liquid grace through the crowded streets, finding a path effortlessly for Sadi. I follow, my hand clasped in hers. I can feel my people around us, and I’m startled to see so many of them walking behind their owners, heads ducked to stare at the ground as their multi-colored wings draw attention they are so desperate to avoid.
One looks up, catching my disgust. His eyes flick to my hand in Sadi’s and for some reason, shame burns through me. I let go, tucking mine into my pocket as I follow her and Brando.
When we reach the outdoor cafe, he melts into the shadows,
quiet and unobtrusive as we sit and laugh, and are seen.
I twist the silk knot at my throat, and Sadi reaches up, pulling my hand down. Her emotions are choked down but I can feel the hum of nervous energy filling the house, making my back teeth ache. I growl and she narrows her eyes. -This isn’t the time for an attitude,- she says, her voice ricocheting in my head.
-Sorry, lady. This is not my forte.-
-There will be Eleyi there, even if you can’t see them. You can’t think about anything but us.- She tucks her hand in the crook of my arm, leaning into me, and I stiffen. -Will it help to know we’ll be leaving soon?-
-The dinner? Not really.- I take a deep breath, forcing my anger down as we start down the hall.
-No.- She hesitates, then says quickly, -Daddy wants to go to the auction houses. We’ll be returning with him. Tin thinks we can find more information there, about Chosi.-
A cold sweat breaks out, and I stumble to a halt, Sadi cursing as she snags her dress on her heels. -How will you keep this secret at the auction houses? Your father will find out you bought me.-
She smiles, and we step into the brilliantly lit room, swept into a swirl of soft music and conversation. -After tonight, it won’t matter, darling.-
For a heartbeat, I wonder what she means, and then, like a tidal wave, the emotions of the aristocracy—of the Interplanetary Senate—crash over me.
There is a quiet hum of curiosity, the sharp flash of female appreciation that makes me want to fidget. And below that, there is anger. Furious and hot, hitting like small ripples, the anger gathers force and momentum until it’s a gale, battering me.
The IPS is outraged that an Eleyi is here with one of their own, the daughter of a Senator hanging on his arm, expecting to be recognized as more than chattel—a tool to be used and discarded.
And they don’t care enough to hide their opinion.
Sadi pauses, a bright smile on her face, and I can feel the eyes being drawn to us. The room sprawls before us, opulent and lovely, thick with Others and laughing humans. A staff of servers glides through the crowd, bearing delicate flutes of sparkling cider. Candlelight glitters off jewels and decadent fabric and bright colors. It’s almost too much to take in.
The Senator sees her from where he is standing, talking to a Mar’et Senator—a minor planet but valuable for trade—and he smiles her at, beckoning. Sadi steers us that way, and we drift through the crowd, trailed by whispers and anger. And Tinex.
Even here, now, Sadiene is protected. Perhaps especially so.
“Father, the gala is lovely,” she says, kissing his cheek. “And Senator Kel’taen. It’s been far too long.”
The Mar’etan is staring at me, a mixture of fascination and disgust slowly coating his psyche. Deliberately, I fan my wings, the diaphanous jewel-toned membrane sparkling in the lowlights. The Senator flinches back and Sadi’s voice rings out, sharply. “Senator Kel’taen. May I introduce my consort, Juhan’tr of Eleyiar?”
He can’t quite cover his revulsion as his gaze darts to Sadi, her eyes hard and demanding. “P-pleased, pleased to meet you, Juhan’tr.”
I’m tempted to extend a hand, but I merely nod and fold my wings back. The room seems to release a collective breath and Sadi smiles again, finally. “Juhan saved my life, did you know?”
I squeeze her hand on my arm, and she smiles up at me, shiny and adoring. I want to shake her off, shake off all the eyes on us. She’s telling the story, the one we came up with, and I force myself to focus on her, on the bright spot of her voice. Force myself to wrap my arms around her, pulling her against my body as she laughs and flirts, her manner light and playful. I add a little of my own manipulation, lulling her into the act even further. There is the lure of her emotions, addictively sweet, blending with mine until I struggle to tell what is real and what is not.
“Shall we sit?” Senator Harvine asks, finally, smiling at his daughter.
Sadi’s grip on my arm tightens, and I let her feel my flare of pain. She loosens her grip a tiny bit. -Sorry. This is where we’ll have the most trouble.-
I know, even without her warning. The IPS is moving toward the dining room, to the long table set with tiny pots of floating flowers and candles. Long-stemmed glasses and Jentr-made crystal plates. Carved cherry wood chairs and linen napkins—both have to be synthetic. Even a Senator of Harvine’s means doesn’t have that kind of wealth.
And above and below the extravagant beauty, like a discordant note in a beautiful song, is the buzz of anger. So much anger that for a heartbeat, I stumble. I can feel their eyes—Sadi’s worry and Brando’s spike of interest, the IPS watching with hungry intent, Sadi’s hot desire twisting with my psyche.
So I use it.
As I straighten, I tug Sadi closer and lean down to kiss her. It’s the first time I’ve initiated contact like this, and as my lips ghost over hers, gentle and exploring, I feel a breath of hesitation before she responds, deepens the kiss. She twists into my embrace, natural and seductive. Her emotions push at me, pulling me deeper, and for a heartbeat—an eternity—the anger of the IPS fades into white noise.
Her hand on my arm is tugging as she nibbles my bottom lip, and the combination throws me. I sway. Instinctively, my wings spread, maintaining my balance.
A hiss, low and outraged, jerks us free of each other. A Senator is glaring, trembling with rage as he watches us.
“Is something wrong, Senator Xates?” Harvine asks, voice casual as he sits back in his chair.
I move to step away from Sadi, feeling the rising anger in the room, and Xates’ words stop me cold. “You have always loved them, supported them. But you have never taken a leech into your household. Yet now your daughter shares a bed with one? Have you no shame?”
Harvine’s eyes darken and outrage washes over me—from Brando. Startled, I struggle not to glance at the quiet bodyguard. Sadi steps forward, causing Xates to skitter back a step.
“Who shares my bed is not your concern, Senator. Juhan isn’t a slave. And this isn’t a cybertulre feed. Let’s not act like it is.”
“This is unnatural and an abomination,” Xates spits.
“Have a care, Senator,” Harvine warns softly. “This is still my home and daughter that you insult.”
The other senator sneers. “Perhaps you should control her behavior so it gives no cause for embarrassment.”
He turns without a word, stalking from the lavish dining room. Several Senators watch him, uneasy and anxious. Brando motions for Tin, and the bodyguard hurries to the door, whispering with the extra security.
I allow Sadi to tug me away, amusement coloring her psyche. Already the heat from the kiss is fading, leaving me in a wash of chilly anger and reserved distance. Sadi sinks into a chair and with no other option, I sit down next to her.
Across from us is the Bterean Senator. It’s a lush planet with brilliant forests and soaring mountains and untamed oceans. The races—a long-lived people—united into an empire that joined the IPS fifty years ago when the current emperor ascended the throne. Rumor has it that she shared the Bterean Emperor’s bed for two years before she was disgraced and sent from the empire to the IPS. Her hand trembles as she reaches for her glass of wine—a dark red from the vineyards of New Earth. At her side is a Pente who is watching me with avid interest. Curious, I brush his psyche. There is no hostility there, just a detached sort of interest that makes my skin prickle.
“You met Miss Renult off-planet?” the Pente asks, and there is a hitch in conversation before it swells around us with artificial brightness.
“I met her on Faculatas.” I toy with my fork. Why is he asking?
“I heard, yes. I find it curious, since there was no vid feed of you together there. Sadi” she stiffens at the informal use of her name—“is quite the darling of the cybertulres.”
“Obviously, they don’t record her every move,” I say, giving him a razor-thin smile.
“Mhmm. Remind me, why were you on Faculatas? Most Eleyi prefer the...safety
...of Eleyiar.”
I breathe a laugh, quietly bitter. “Eleyiar hasn’t been safe in centuries, and I am not most Eleyi. I want more than the treetops and waiting for slavers.”
The lie sets off an ache in my chest. It’s not true. I never wanted anything more than Chosi and the trees. I shove the thought down before it fully forms, leaving only a trace of longing in my psyche.
The Pente’s eyes unfocus for a moment and then he smiles. “You must miss it. Eleyiar.”
A cold anger washes over me as I suddenly understand. Even though they are not present, —he, like most of the Senators, is using Eleyi to pick out emotions. I shake with fury and slam walls around my mind, so forcefully it ruffles my wings and causes Sadi to shift next to me.
“Of course I do,” I say, my voice quiet. Around me, conversation falters into silence. “But you know that. Tell me, why are you afraid of an Eleyi with a daughter of the IPS? That is what you’re afraid of, isn’t it?”
The Pente smiles, slowly, shaking his head. “That is why your people will never be accepted as equals. It is too easy for you to steal our thoughts, our emotions. You should learn control.”
“Don’t confuse yourself. I have no lack of control. I take what I want, just as your slave does.”
“You’ll be killed for your inexperience if you don’t learn the rules the IPS lives by,” the Pente says casually.
I focus, forcing my mind into Common, and send my thoughts to all of them. Every damn IPS member sitting here, every escort murmuring and speculating. -Do not mistake inexperience for unintelligence. I may not know your game, but I am smart enough to beat you at it.-
A few glasses shatter down the table and several minds are suddenly gone, locked behind strong mental walls—walls I could breach, if I wanted. I feel the shock and surprise from a few Eleyi minds as they realize just how strong I am. Smiling a tight, savage smile, I stand and give Chosi a neat, court bow, catching her hand and brushing a kiss there. And then I leave them.
Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) Page 11
