Vengeance

by Amy Miles

  I smile up at her, knowing exactly how she must feel. Being part of such a small knit group back on Earth after the invasion left us dependent on each person. Everyone mattered. Everyone was vital. The human race was on the brink of destruction before I came into power, and I will see to it that if I ever return to my throne that I will set things right. Not just for my own people, but for the Faeus if possible too.

  “Well, it is nice to see that my friend’s claims are true. Your people truly are breathtaking.”

  Lurime glances away and I realize that the darkening of her cheeks gives evidence to her blush. “Why did he come here?” She asks, lifting her hair out of the way so that I could see her again.

  “For love,” I smile, wistfully. Eamon would do the same for me, if he knew how to find me. If he survived the battle I know without a doubt that he has been scouring the stars in search for me, waiting for some sign as to where I am. I must find a way to signal him. Perhaps I can speak with Bastien about that tomorrow. Surely our new hosts have the equipment to send out a message so that we can be located.

  I blink and realize that she is staring at me. Laughing, I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I do that sometimes. Daydreams seem to be the only way to get through the day sometimes.”

  She nods. “But you have your man with you.”

  “Who? Bastien?” I clasp my hands over my stomach. “No. He is not my man.”

  Not in any sense of the word. After we spoke earlier in the day he refused to acknowledge me anymore. He tried to sleep but grew restless too easily. He flipped through his book but I knew he wasn’t really looking at it. Not long after he locked himself in the bathroom to get washed up I fell asleep. I don’t remember hearing him leave, but it bothers me that he did. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I can’t have him thinking that I can just live a lie.

  Do I love Bastien? I know that I do. At least a large part of me does, but that doesn’t change my feelings for Eamon. He is my rightful husband. He is the father of my children. Bastien made his choice and no matter how much it must hurt him, he has to accept that, one way or another.

  “Lie back, please.” She tries to clear her throat but is wracked by a small coughing fit.

  “Are you sick?” I ask.

  “It is nothing to worry about.” Lurime grabs a pillow and eases it behind my back, helping me to sink down so that I can prop up my leg. A month ago, and definitely all the time before that, I would have been mortified at exposing myself in such a way to a complete stranger. Even now I feel some discomfort, but the nearer I draw to birth the more I long for anything to help speed up the process.

  Her touch is light as a feather and refreshingly cool. Her examination is over much sooner than I would have thought. She helps adjust my dress, a welcome addition to my wardrobe since my pants are no longer an option, as they began to split down the seams only a week ago. She makes sure that I am fully covered before she moves toward my leg. She smirks as I jerk away from her touch.

  “The pain you feel now will be a welcome one once your children decide to come.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I mutter, forcing myself to relax as she deftly changes my soiled bandage. I did my best to wrap it after I settled into Bastien’s room but most things are too difficult to manage around the girth of my stomach. Bastien tried to help me but managed to be far more clumsy than I would have thought. “That makes me feel so much better.”

  She chuckles and gently pats my leg. I blink, surprised to find that she is already done and I have done nothing more than grit my teeth in pain. “Really?”

  “You are healing nicely.” She gently lays my leg back onto the bed and covers me with a blanket. She comes to the head of my bed and grasps my arm, assisting me into an upright position so that I can lean back against a stack of pillows, easing the pressure on my back.

  “How did you get to be so good at this? Are you a midwife on your planet?”

  Lurime looks away, turning to grab a bowl and cloth. She sinks down beside me and dips the cloth into the water, gently dabbing at my forehead. “My mother was a Briathi, a healer. She taught me her ways, though I won’t admit to liking her training very much.” A softened smile graces her lips at the memory. “She was a hard woman to please, but when I did, her smile would light up the room. I worked hard for her. Healed many illnesses. Watched many births. When I was brought here, my skills became useful.”

  “How so?” I grunt as I try to shift. She instantly reaches for me and stuffs another pillow behind my back. The pressure eases and I breathe a sigh of relief. “I don’t see many women around in need of your services.”

  “No.” I hear the sound of water dripping as she wrings the cloth again in her hands before placing it across my brow. She draws back to cup her hand to her mouth, covering over another raspy cough. I can smell a light floral scent and breathe deep, discovering a peaceful calm has begun to settle over me. “I usually tend to the victims.”

  “Victims?” My eyes flutter open though with far more difficulty than before and I realize that she has placed something in the water that makes me drowsy. “What victims?”

  “The Symaica. The snake people.”

  “Is that what they are called?” I yawn and feel my eyes growing heavy. “I never knew…”

  Lurime leans in close, her fingers deftly picking up strands of hair from my face and shifting them away. “These Symaica are a peaceful people. They do no harm to us.”

  I try to open my eyes again but find it easier to keep them closed. “They kidnap people.”

  “They are only following orders,” she whispers.

  “Orders?” I hear a slight buzzing in my ear. Not like a bee of Earth but something soft and pleasant. Like the sound of waves lapping against the shore or a crackling of fire. “Whose orders?”

  “The Duturi.”

  I focus all of my efforts on opening my eyes now. “The Duturi are all dead,” I say, slurring some of the words.

  Lurime’s face becomes a blur before my eyes as she shakes her head. She turns her head to the side and coughs twice into her hand before she places her fingers along the ridge of my eyebrows and slides them down, sealing my eyes closed. Then she leans in and whisper into my ear. “No, sweet child. They are not.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  I feel groggy when I wake the next morning but I am surprisingly aware of only a minimal amount of pain. When Bastien arrives with a tray of steaming food I don’t snub my nose at it for the first time since hoisting myself aboard this rocking vehicle. Instead I tear into the mystery meat with enough gusto to even bring a smile to his face. With juices running down my fingers and chin, I laugh and slowly lower the meat back to the plate.

  “Sorry,” I pause to wipe myself clean on a small towel he brought for me. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

  “It’s fine. I’m sure you are going to go through several changes as your due date gets closer.”

  The tension in his voice pains me. I know that I’m the cause for it, but as hard as I try to convince myself otherwise, I know that I’m not in the wrong. Whether Bastien likes it or not, my mind will not change. No matter what my feelings for him may have once been, I am bound by my vows.

  He turns and heads toward the door. “You’re leaving again?”

  Bastien has taken to leaving me for extended periods of time. Something I would never have expected from him. I frown, reminded once more of the changes that I have seen in him since he returned to me. He has never spoken of the things he must have done to survive. I can’t even imagine how he managed to talk Hendrix into moving an entire army across this filthy swamp in order to find me. It must have been one heck of a rousing speech!

  His shoulders stiffen and for a moment I think that he might turn back, even if only to look at me, but he doesn’t. He presses his hand to the keypad. A bright green light scans his prints and the doors hisses open and then shuts behind him once more. I shove aside my food, suddenly no longer hungry.

  I know th
at he is angry with me but why does he leave? I just wanted him to back off, not be so in my face about his feelings, but I still need him. Now more than ever. Doesn’t he know that?

  As I consider his action I realize that I have to think past my own needs and remember that he is hurting. He tried to leave, to let me live my life and he came back to help me. By doing so he tore off the barely healed scab over his wounded heart, and he has been left sickened with worry and grief for two months. Can I really blame him for needing space to sort things out in his mind?

  Leaving my partially eaten meal on the tray, I grab for my walking stick and plant my foot firmly on the floor. I take several calming breaths, knowing that the instant I try to rise my knee will begin to buckle under the weight. I place one hand upon my belly and then lift.

  I grin in triumph as I rise to my full height and manage to gain my balance all on my own. “See,” I grunt, hopping to adjust the stick under my arm. “This isn’t so bad.”

  I take one step and then another. I’m nearly halfway around the end of my bed when a shooting pain rips through my stomach. I double over, crying out as my leg gives way and I spill to the floor, my only thought to protect my babies. I take the brunt of the fall on my side, slamming my temple into the ground. Tears erupt from my eyes as I bit down on my lower lip to still my cries. My walking stick clatters to the floor and rolls under the bed and out of reach.

  Curling my legs up into my stomach I clench my eyes shut, trying to focus on my breathing around the pain. It is intense, as if someone has plunged a knife right through my abdomen. I grasp the covers, pulling them down onto the floor. I wad up a bit of the fabric and shove it between teeth, biting down hard as a low groan rises in my throat.

  Help me! I know that I should scream for help verbally but the pain is too great. I fear that if I remove the gag I will bite down through my tongue and choke.

  Seconds drag into minutes, perhaps longer, and I come close to blacking out as the waves of pain come fast and hard. So quickly that I struggle to breathe evenly. I can feel my muscles pulling and contracting.

  I hear a knock at my door nearest my head but it sounds hollow in my ears. A voice calls out but my grunts of pain mask it. Only the shift of air upon my face makes me realize that someone has entered the room. Small, cool hands press against my belly and I beat their hands away.

  “No,” the voice cries. I feel myself being turned. The blanket is pulled from between my teeth and shoved under my head. The lower half of it runs down the length of my body and curls under my good leg, tying my legs together at the thigh. “Illyria, listen to me. You must not push. Do you understand me? Do not push!”

  I blink against the pain, trying to see who hovers over me. Although I can’t make out the details of her face I know it is Lurime. “It hurts.”

  She presses a cool hand to my face. “You’re burning up. Hold on. I’ll be right back.”

  “No!” I scream, flailing to grasp a hold of her. Tears sting my eyes as I feel her move away. “Don’t leave me,” I whimper.

  She grips my shoulder with a firm, reassuring hold. A small eruption of coughs escape her lips but she manages a tight smile. “I’m right here. I just need to get you a drink.”

  I try to nod, to let her know that I understood her but I can’t. Another jolt of pain takes my breath away and all I can focus on is remembering to breathe.

  Why can’t I push? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? My head rolls back and forth as I fight against the need to push.

  “Here,” I feel something solid press against my lips as she lifts my head. “You must drink this.”

  I try to swallow the cold liquid but it tastes rancid. I choke, spluttering as the fluid gushes into my mouth. Lurime holds my head steady, forcing me to drink the liquid. When I’ve downed the last drop she slowly eases me back onto the makeshift pillow.

  I can feel the potent waters slipping through my chest, turning my stomach to ice. I begin to shiver, my teeth chattering as the pain begins to abate. Lurime holds my hand as time inches past, gently stroking it. She hums a beautiful tune, all the while cradling me beside her.

  Ever so slowly the pains fade completely, leaving me exhausted but able to breathe again. I look up at her and smile my gratitude. “You stayed with me.”

  “Of course I did. No one could have left you in such a state.” She tsks and rubs a cloth across my forehead.

  “Bastien did,” I mutter, knowing that he should have been here. Not out there. Not with those strangers. Her fingers stiffen against the cloth that rests on my forehead and I look up at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “What did you call him?”

  I frown. “Bastien. That is his name.” Lurime’s lips purse tightly enough for them to turn a royal blue. I try to push up to my elbows but she easily overcomes me. “Why do you look so surprised? Don’t you know his name by now?”

  The lavender tint to her eyes darkens before she can look away from me. A ripple of unease settles over me. “Lurime?”

  “I cannot say,” she whispers. Slowly she rises. I turn my head to the side to watch as she slips into the bathroom and begins to clean out the bowl. She dips the rag into fresh water and wrings it dry. She is methodical in her duties. So much that I begin to suspect that she is attempting to delay.

  “What do you know?” I ask. I can hear the pleading tone in my voice but don’t try to mask it. Nor do I feel a need to excuse it. Not after what I just went through.

  “What did you eat?” She asks without turning to look at me. Her shoulders shudder with another cough. This one seems more of a tickle against her throat rather than a full on cough.

  “Some meat. A drink. Some bread but it tasted a bit off so I only had a bite of two.”

  Lurime leans over the sink, her palms pressed hard into the silver bowl. Her gossamer hair falls about her face, concealing her from my sight. “You must not eat anything unless I bring it to you.”

  “No.” She turns, wide eyed with surprise at my flat refusal. “Not unless you tell me what is happening. I have a right to know.”

  She rushes back to my side, dipping down beside me. “Do not test me on this one, Illyria. If you do you will face grave consequences. Remember what I told you last night. The Duturi are not dead.”

  With the utmost of care, Lurime helps me rise, careful to fully support my stomach as she helps me to the edge of the bed. Instead of risking the walk around to the side of the bed, she helps me to scoot backward until I am resting against my pillows once more.

  As she places a hand upon my wrist, closing her eyes to listen to my pulse I notice a black stain around her nails, seeping under them. I frown, confused by its presence. I just watched her clean her hands. How could she still have dirt under her nails?

  “Where did you get your cough from?” I ask. “You seem perfectly healthy apart from that.”

  She shrugs, not opening her eyes. “Strange planet. New illnesses. You pick up a thing or two.”

  I’m not buying it. Her explanation seems too smooth. Too practiced.

  “My friend once told me about the mines, about the slaves that are sent deep into the layers of earth. He told me of the way the soil would leach into your skin, a permanent stain.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she mutters, reaffirming her grip on my hand.

  “He also told me about how that same sediment has a tendency to settle in people’s lungs. Horrible stuff. Makes you get this hacking cough that just never goes away.”

  She opens her eyes and stares at me. Her expression is unreadable but her eyes are not.

  “I saw him die,” I whisper as she turns to gather her things and starts to leave. She pauses, her hand outstretched toward the door. “He was knelt down before me, trying to change out my bandages. I don’t even remember what we were talking about. I just knew that I felt safe with him. Then I saw something shift in his eyes as he fell forward into my lap and I knew that he was gone. Even before I felt the blood soaking through his shirt and into mi
ne. I knew Hyde was dead.”

  “Hyde?” Her voice sounds so small I barely hear her question. Her entire body seems wound as tight as a coil. “Hyde is dead?”

  The pain ripping through her voice makes my eyes close shut with regret. “I’m so sorry for your loss...Thesa.”

  The girl falls to her knees, her wings droop low to the floor. The contents of her bag spill out, rolling in all directions. She presses a hand against the solid metal surface of the door as her shoulders quake. Her whimpers tear at my heart and I know, without a doubt, that she is the one Hyde was searching for.

  She wipes her nose, fighting to still her cries. I wish that I could go to her, to help her, but I am incapable of moving. “He came for me a few months back. Found me in the mines. I wanted to go with him, to be free but he begged me to stay just a little longer. At the time I wondered how he could turn his back on us, but now I know.”

  Thesa looks at me from over her shoulder. “He sent me here, told me to call myself Lurime after my mother. He figured if anyone ever questioned my lineage too deeply they would see that she was a healer and leave it at that. We are a rare commodity in this part of the galaxy.” She pauses, sucking in a calming breath. When she speaks again she sounds slightly more in control. “Hyde sent me to these people for one reason: to ensure that you escape if you should ever be taken.”

  I blinked, surprised by her blunt admission. “I don’t understand. Why would I want to escape? Bastien says these are good people.”

  Thesa snorts. “You have seen only what he allows you to see. It’s easy to pull off because you are confined. If you were free to walk about I suspect that you would be confined to chains, chained to some wall where you could be watched at all times. Perhaps if they had found you a couple months ago that would have been your fate, but Hyde hid you well.”

  She rises onto her knees, turning to look at me with pleading eyes. I can see her pain, see the torment I have caused her by speaking of Hyde’s death, but there is also great strength in her. “Hyde is not who they said he is. He is a good man. Surely you know this if you spent any time with him.”