The Ophelia Prophecy

by Sharon Lynn Fisher

  “Come home, Augustus.” This was an order, not a plea.

  She saw Pax’s jaw set, and her heart thumped with fear of what they were setting in motion.

  “Meet with Rebelión. Recognize that they—that we—have legitimate concerns, and let the people weigh in on it as well. Then I’ll come home.” Pax hesitated before adding, “The time for stonewalling on these issues has passed, Dad. Since that prophecy locked down the city, Rebelión’s base of supporters has grown. Ignoring their voices can only hurt us.”

  “You’ve got it wrong, Augustus. Threats from within—disloyalty, and dissension within our own house—have the greatest potential to hurt us. You’ll hear from me soon.”

  Pax tossed the tablet on the sofa with a frustrated sigh. “I suppose that went about as well as I expected.”

  “What will happen now?” she asked him.

  “He’ll think about what I said. Hopefully calm down and reconsider.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” asked Micah.

  Pax met the question with an expression of resignation. “We have to be ready for anything. I think you should go back to the lab. Is it possible for us to be in contact? I’d like to know if any rumors drift your direction.”

  Nodding, Micah rose to his feet. “I want to check in with Cleo first, but I’m due back soon. I’ll contact you when I get there. I don’t think we should talk through the network. I communicate with Harker through the surveillance flies—no reason we can’t do the same. I can configure it to wipe its data if it’s accessed by anyone but you.”

  “It’ll be slow,” replied Pax, “but I don’t want to risk exposing you.”

  “We can use it for now. I’ll try to work out something else.”

  Micah turned to her, and on impulse she rose and put her arms around his neck. The stretching caused her back to sting—she’d practically forgotten the injury—but the second-skin stayed in place.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said, smiling. “It must be a huge relief to know your father is safe.”

  “It is. Thank you for keeping him out of trouble.”

  He hugged her, murmuring, “We’ll see you again soon.”

  As he left them, Pax poured an amber-colored steaming liquid into a clear glass embellished with a ring of leaves and flowers. “Do you want tea?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  She lifted the glass by a gold handle. The tea was not unlike the infusions of herbs and flowers they drank at home—sweet and minty, but also with a hint of something bitter and grassy.

  Pax poured another cup for himself. “I had to chase you down, get in a fistfight, and almost get killed before you hugged me like that,” he observed, eyeing her over the rim of his cup.

  “Well, Micah and I didn’t start out as enemies. I’ve always known where I stand with him.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  Pax shook his head. “Nothing.”

  He picked up the tablet again and sank back in his chair, manipulating the screen idly while he drank his tea.

  She was inexperienced with men, no point in denying it. She was pretty sure Pax had gotten the idea Micah had become fond of her in more than a friendly way, and that had not occurred to her. The possibility was flattering, and interesting. He was handsome and kind. She felt comfortable around him—he treated her as an equal.

  These realizations pulled at her mood. She had no regrets about what had passed between her and Pax, and she knew she had not imagined their growing bond. But she’d begun to feel anxiety about how things would have to change once he was back at the Alhambra. About how he would change, and his attitude toward her.

  He’d promised not to hold her against her will, but what would staying with him mean? She had a vision of herself shut away in a room much like this one, her only occupation to wait for the prince’s coming and going. Subject to the scrutiny and approval of the amir.

  “I won’t be your mistress,” she said in a low voice.

  * * *

  His eyes lifted from the display, locking onto hers. The discussion was inevitable, but he’d hoped to delay it until things had been settled with his father.

  “I haven’t asked you to,” he said.

  A dart struck his heart as she dropped her gaze. He realized his reply could be misinterpreted.

  “No,” she agreed.

  He sat up, replacing the tablet on the table and folding his hands.

  “You’re thinking about what my father said.”

  “I am.”

  “That’s fair. But is this the right time to talk about this?”

  She studied his face, hesitating.

  “Do you love me?” he asked.

  She flinched. “I…”

  “You don’t know how you feel. Neither do I.” He clenched his jaw against his heart’s accusation that he’d just told a lie. “I’ve told you that I won’t trap you, or let anyone harm you. Can that be enough for now, until we have a better idea what we’re facing?”

  “Okay,” she breathed. She tried to sink back on the sofa, but remembered her injury and sat up. She rose and walked to the shrine, studying the little statue of Gregoire. Finally she raised her eyes to the view.

  He’d intended to go back to his messages, but instead he watched her, sensing around the edges of her figure, feeling the chillier air radiating his direction.

  “It’s beautiful here,” she murmured, straining toward a lighter tone. “The perfect temperature. And the air doesn’t suck the moisture out of your skin.”

  “What do you think of the city?” he asked, allowing her the change of subject.

  “It’s beyond anything I imagined. All the buildings at home look the same. Solar panels. Rain collection pipes and barrels. Paths made of broken concrete. Sand-colored siding.”

  He smiled. “We always appreciate what’s different. I find the simplicity of Sanctuary refreshing. It’s so peaceful and orderly. Very little mechanization. You all have gardens and chickens. The rock cairns in the square are amazing.”

  “Nothing like this temple,” she replied.

  He couldn’t help feeling he’d failed to give her what she’d asked of him. She was uncomfortable with unanswered questions, just as he was. But there was no way he could predict what would happen to them. Even if he could bring his father to the table with Rebelión, he’d still be a long way from persuading him to recognize Asha as anything other than his mistress.

  And why would she want that? There was no question of chemistry, or sexual compatibility. He had sensed the potential for the passion that had erupted the night before. But offering herself to him in that way … it was no indication of anything other than a need for release that matched his own.

  “I hope they’re all right there,” she said softly. “It feels so far away.”

  The drifting quality of her voice worried him, and wrung his heart. She was feeling alone.

  “When all this is over I’ll take you back. If you want to go back.”

  Her form stiffened. “No. I haven’t changed my mind about that.”

  He knew she was thinking of her mother’s betrayals. “Maybe you’d like them to know you’re safe. Maybe there are people you’d like to see, even if just to say good-bye.”

  “Yes. Maybe.” She raised a hand and brushed her cheek.

  * * *

  In the street below, Asha spotted a creature with brightly colored wings, like Cleo’s. Brighter even—gold and pink with a brilliant green dot in the center.

  Another tear slipped down her cheek, and she swiped at it. The ongoing strain of the last few days was getting to her, but it was more than that—finally her heart was breaking over her mother. Beyond the first ten years of Asha’s life they hadn’t been close, but Miriam had loved her fiercely. Her overprotectiveness had grated when Asha hit adolescence, and she had grown closer to her father. He understood her—gave her room to make her own d
ecisions. Her own mistakes.

  But it was finally sinking in that she might never see her mother again.

  How had she ended up here, caught up in events so much bigger than herself and her small, broken family? And yet even for Pax it was the same—his own family drama driving events that had the potential to cause such dramatic changes to their world.

  She wasn’t small, and she wouldn’t let the amir make her feel like she was. She might not be the amir’s daughter, but her mother was arguably the highest-ranking human left on the planet. Her father had formed an alliance with a powerful opposition group. She herself had taken huge risks to find him, and to undermine their enemy. She’d brokered a deal to save the amir’s son.

  In some ways she was still behaving like Pax’s prisoner, and however she might feel about him, that had to stop.

  Suddenly his arms came around her waist. “How is your back?” he asked, embracing her gently.

  Closing her eyes, she melted against him. This is not helping.

  “Much better,” she whispered.

  “I’m glad. I wish we weren’t in the middle of all this. I wish I could take you into the city. There are so many things I’d like you to see.”

  “You must hate being trapped here like this.”

  He gave a breathy laugh. His lips grazed her ear and she shivered. “I’d happily spend a month shut up in here with you, if I believed everyone would leave us alone.”

  The warmth in her chest spread out to the rest of her body. She turned to face him. “But they won’t.”

  He bent, brushing his lips against hers. She pressed close to him, and he murmured, “No, they won’t.”

  He tried to kiss her again, fingers sliding up her ribs to her breasts. But she pulled back, hands splaying against his chest.

  “What happens if Micah and the others get what they want? If DAB-lab stops controlling reproduction, what will that mean for the Manti and the humans in confinement?”

  His brow wrinked as he considered. “I think eventually there’d be no distinction between us. There’d be no more camps. No more required genetic testing.”

  “So they’d mix in with you here in Granada?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if they wanted to leave? Would your father let them? And what happens to the people in Sanctuary?”

  His frown lines deepened. “You’re asking questions I can’t answer with any certainty.”

  “I’m asking questions you need to think about before you meet with your father.”

  His gaze moved to the windows as he considered what she’d said. “You’re right. I had no time to prepare for this. We’ll have to figure it out as we go. I can’t make you any promises right now. I wish I could.”

  He raised his hands, fingers brushing her cheeks, and she pulled him close, drawing a sigh from him. She realized she was still slave to a fractured personality, straining for her independence one moment, holding on to him the next. Was it possible for her to have it all? To accomplish her original objectives in coming here, and hold on to Pax?

  He was no better off. Instinct drawing him to her, while his enemies and his father, even his own sense of loyalty, threatened to pull them apart.

  “I give you my word that whatever happens you’ll have a choice,” he continued. “I won’t let the lab have you. If I go back to the Alhambra, I won’t ask you to go with me. If you need to disappear out of the city, I’ll help you. I need you to trust me for now. Trust that I’m not going to forget about you, or try to force you into a position that will make you unhappy. I respect you too much for that. Do you believe me?”

  Her heart lodged too high in her throat to form words. She nodded.

  Respect, not love, a cruel voice inside her observed. But she needed his respect more than his love if she and her father were to survive. Love could not be trusted. If she doubted that, she could ask her father and mother.

  He sighed and released her, sliding his hands up to knead his shoulders. She knew they wouldn’t be able to take much of this waiting, especially with the constant strain of watching for treachery from Cleo.

  As if he’d read her thoughts, he turned from the windows and started for the door. “I want to check the stairs. I’ll be back.”

  “I’ll go with you,” she said. Unsure as she was about her position, one thing she did know was she was no wounded bird, and she didn’t want him viewing her that way. There was no reason for him to bear the whole burden of watching out for them.

  And she didn’t want him going that far away from her.

  He stopped at the sitting area, bending over the remains of their breakfast, and picked up a fruit knife with a carved bone handle. He slipped it into his pocket.

  As he was turning again for the doorway, she reached for his arm.

  “I hope that you trust me. When I chose to come here as a sleeper, I didn’t understand how it would affect me. I thought I’d wake up and be the same. That it would all come back to me and I’d feel no different than before. It was naïve.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “It was brave. Not many people would make the same choice. Your father is lucky to have you. I have nothing but admiration for what you did.”

  Warming from the praise, she continued, “My point is I want you to believe me when I say I’m a different person now. I respect you too, and I feel safe by your side. I’ll never betray you again.”

  “Asha,” he breathed, “come here.” She flowed into his arms. “I trust you. With all my heart.”

  * * *

  The stairs were quiet, and no sounds drifted up to them from below, except for the occasional swish of the lift going up and down. It passed their floor once on the way to the roof, but otherwise kept to the lower floors. They stood near the shaft for several minutes, listening, and she wondered if he was hearing sounds she couldn’t.

  “All quiet?” she asked.

  He nodded. “It’s been the same every time I’ve checked. It almost scares me. I’ll be glad when we can work out something more secure.”

  “You think we’ll be here a long time?”

  “That depends on my father. If I don’t hear from him by this evening I’ll call him again. But I don’t intend to leave before he’s met with Rebelión. It could be weeks. Or months.”

  “That’s a long time to stay shut up in this temple.”

  “Indeed.” Pax turned, his gaze raking over her body, lighting fires in its wake. “We’ll have to think of a way to fill the time.”

  Smiling, she reached for the sash of her tunic, pulling the bow loose. The front fell open, and his lips parted. She watched the rise and fall of his chest.

  “Go to our chamber,” he ordered.

  She let the tunic slip off her shoulders and onto the floor. Then she pushed her pants past her hips and let them fall as well.

  “Why should I?”

  He stepped closer, his expression darkening in a way that was almost believable. “Because I told you to, and I’m not used to being disregarded.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured, trailing her fingers up her abdomen to her breast, rubbing lightly over one nipple. “Maybe it’s time to get you used to it.”

  She squealed as he suddenly lifted and slung her over his shoulder.

  “Fuck that,” he said, snatching up her sash from the floor before carrying her back to their room.

  Lowering her to the floor, he spun her and raised her arms over her head, using the sash to bind her wrists to the bedpost. Her heart pumped, breaths coming hard and ragged.

  “Now then,” he whispered into her ear, hands moving over her breasts, “spread your legs.”

  The rough way he spoke to her as his hands moved gently over her body triggered a frenzy of desire.

  “Did you hear me?” he demanded, suddenly pinching one nipple.

  She yelped and widened her stance.

  “That’s better.” He grasped her hips between his hands.

  It was too much for her. It was too much for them both. He p
ulled her hips up and back, sinking inside her as they both sighed from the smooth, satisfying sensation of him locking into position.

  He held still only a moment before he began pushing and pulling, so firm and insistent she felt her climax building faster than she’d expected. When his hand slid down from her breast to press between her legs, she went off with a sharp cry, ripples of pleasure caressing her inside and out, starting and finishing his response too, until they hung gasping together.

  “You’ve done something to me, Ash,” he panted. “You scare the hell out of me, you know that?”

  His use of the shortened version of her name made her feel something quite different than when Zee or her father used it.

  “I scare you?” she laughed, glancing at him over her shoulder. He kissed her cheek as he reached up and untied her hands. “Do you know Cleo called me soft and small?”

  Pax let out a bark of laughter. “She never was a very good judge of character.”

  Asha jumped at the sound of tinkling bells, and Pax straightened, closing his pants. “That’s a message,” he said.

  “Let’s go check.”

  They walked to the sitting area and he picked up the tablet.

  “Goddamn it.” He squeezed his eyes closed.

  “What’s happened?”

  He handed her the tablet, and she read the message on the screen:

  I’m sorry, Son, but this is your doing. You’ve forced my hand. There’s still time for you to stop this. I’ll see you there.

  “What does this mean?” asked Asha, going rigid with fear.

  Before Pax could answer, some large insect buzzed through a window, drawing her gaze. A surveillance fly.

  “Micah,” said Pax.

  The fly stopped midflight in front of him, hovering more like a bee, wings moving too fast to see. Two tiny red beams scanned Pax’s face. He flinched at first, but then held still. When the scan finished, the lights blinked off. He slipped his hand under the fly, and it dropped lifeless into his palm.

  He studied the little corpse—part animal, part mechanical—until he found a disk stuck to its armored underside. Prying it loose with a fingernail, he inserted it into a recess on the frame of the tablet. A window popped open.