by Lizzy Ford
“You’re okay with just leaving?”
“I want to be with him, and we think it’ll be better for us both in his home.”
“You’re okay with just leaving me?” Kiera asked with a frown.
“I don’t want to leave you! You’re my sister, as far as I’m concerned. I’d like for you to come with us. You said last night you’d go for a week, but you can stay with us for as long as you want.”
“That’s not really normal though,” Kiera said. “You show up on your in-laws’ doorstep with your friend in tow? I mean, this is supposed to be you starting your lives together, not hauling around your poor spinster of a friend who’s about to be abandoned.”
“You’re guilt tripping me already?” Evelyn grinned and tossed a paperback at Kiera.
“Abused spinster of a friend!”
“As Romas pointed out, you have no real life and nothing really to tie you down,” Evelyn said. “You can play video games and paint or draw from anywhere. They might appreciate artists more where he’s from.”
“I know very well what Rum-ass thinks of my life!” she retorted. “I take it this is his way of hooking me up with a man to keep me in line?”
“He’s got seven brothers,” Evelyn said. “I’ve seen pictures. Damn sexy bunch.”
“You seriously want me to go?”
“Of course, K. You like adventures, right?”
“Yes, but I’m happy here with my video games and painting,” Kiera reminded her.
“Well, you can do those things there. I’ll be there. And Romas. He’ll protect you from the bad people and spiders.”
“I don’t know,” Kiera said after a pause. “It seems weird, and I’d totally feel like the loser I pretend not to be if you have to take me with you. Can I just stay here and guard your house and cat for you?”
“I know it’s far, Kiera,” Evelyn said, frowning in disappointment. “Please just think about it some more? We’ll leave after the wedding, so you have a couple of days. At the very least, you’ll still come for a week?”
Kiera doubted she would change her mind but decided to humor her happy friend.
“Yes, I’ll go for a week. The rest is a lot to think about. I just got my first commission ever, and I think my displays at Kevin’s gallery are picking up interest. He said someone else is interested in commissioning a piece. I feel like I’m in a good place with all that,” Kiera said. “Where is Romas from exactly?”
“You’ve never heard of it.”
“One of those little Eastern European pocket-sized countries?”
“Pretty much,” Evelyn said vaguely.
“Wow. Are you really ready to use outhouses and haul your own water?”
“It’s actually a wealthy, highly advanced society,” Evelyn said with a chuckle. “We’ll have servants to haul our water for us.”
Kiera had suspected Romas to be independently wealthy by his complete lack of concern for being anywhere but with Evelyn for the last three months. He’d never mentioned working or making or missing appointments, and Evelyn had never mentioned his employment either. Confirmation of the fact was comforting; Evelyn would never have to worry about money again. And, hopefully, Evelyn never raised her rent, either.
“I’ll miss you,” Kiera said.
“Think about it! I’ve gotta go get ready. We’re going out in a little bit.”
Kiera rolled her eyes. There was a soft knock at the door. Evelyn bolted for the stairwell, unwilling to allow anyone but Kiera to see her without make-up, while Kiera went to the door. She let Romas in with a glare.
“Where are you taking Evelyn?” she demanded as the large man folded himself to sit on the couch. Romas’s gaze flickered over her in what she now knew to be amusement. The emotions were almost imperceptible, and it had taken her a long time of studying him to read him.
“Another day at home with your invisible friends?” he teased.
She crossed her arms and sat on the arm of the couch, pinning him with a withering look. She’d planned on spending her Thursday evening in a raid for World of Warcraft or building her galactic empire in Homeworld, which Romas never approved of. He didn’t believe she was interacting with real people and instead called the other online players invisible friends. She’d given up trying to convince him they were real.
“I’m taking her far, far away,” he said. “And you’re welcome— encouraged— to come.”
She softened at the inclusion. It was expected from Evelyn but not from the man himself.
“Why are you leaving so soon?” she asked.
“We’d like to start afresh, preferably in the place we intend to raise half a dozen unruly kids,” he said.
“You’re really okay with me going for a week? I won’t interfere with any honeymoon plans?”
“Of course we want you there. I think you’d be happy in my … country.”
“So you can find me a man?” she challenged, raising an eyebrow.
“I’ve got several in mind.”
“It’s very nice of you,” she said with an unladylike snort that made him grimace. “But I don’t think … it doesn’t make sense for me to go. I’d feel like a third wheel.”
“Third wheel?”
Kiera sought an explanation, recalling he was not familiar with most slang despite his mastery of English.
“Out of place,” she explained. “As in, there are the two of you being lovey-dovey and happy, and me hanging out by the bushes.”
This drew a smile.
“You are not a third wheel by the bushes,” Romas assured her. “You would be treated like a queen at my home. You’re a guest, and if you happened to be hooked onto a good man, so be it.”
“Hooked up with a good man,” she corrected. “Thank you, but I don’t need to be hooked up.”
“You’ll come,” he said. “And I’ll find you a man. My oldest brother Kisolm needs a woman. He might object to you, but I can convince him to take you.”
He hadn’t uttered anything so stupid in a long time, after she yelled at him for talking like that. She couldn’t help wondering if Evelyn really understood that going to his home country would mean she’d hear this kind of nonsense all the time. She marched out of the room.
“Evelyn! That man is here!” she shouted up the stairwell, and disappeared into her studio. She flipped on her computer and tossed her shoes next to the couch. Her latest painting— another seaside depiction of Fisherman’s Wharf— leaned against one wall, ready to be delivered to Kevin’s shop. Several minutes later, Evelyn’s footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs.
Kiera shook her head, perplexed by their odd invitation to stay with them. Evelyn made it sound permanent, as though Kiera would just pick up and leave for another country. Her gaze went to her desk, and she realized she didn’t even have a passport. She might have to wait a few weeks just to visit.
She relaxed into the comfortable black desk chair in front of her computer, wondering if Romas had told Evelyn of the half a dozen kids he expected.
*
A’Ran l’Anshantuwei, the exiled dhjan— king— of the planet Anshan, looked over the three women before him, each a specimen of perfection to her people. He turned away from them, his gaze going upward and peering through the skylight in his spacious battle command center.
No one but the dhjan could understand that choosing a lifemate wasn’t so simple. The dhjan nishani— king’s lifemate— would complete the circle of Anshan’s life force. Her presence would make the rivers run with water again and bring new life to the dying planet. If he were allowed to pick his mate, he’d have chosen long ago and saved his planet. But the planet chose for him, according to what his father told him long ago.
He met the gaze of his only ally, Jetr, a man from a distant galaxy who had been an ally of Anshan for three generations. The small man waited next to A’Ran’s trusted second-in-command, Ne’Rin, whose sister was one of the three before him. Ne’Rin was a man whose forefathers had been chief advisors to
the dhjan dynasty since Anshan’s inception and had served A’Ran’s family for a millennium. Jetr and Ne’Rin were both patient and hopeful, and A’Ran steeled himself to tell them what he must.
None of the three beauties was she, or he’d know. His own mother had been far from beautiful, and his father had told him the signs he’d found the right woman were unmistakable. The earth would drop from beneath his feet and the sun pierce his soul. He felt nothing like this when he looked at the three women.
Like his sisters and advisors, he was losing faith that his nishani existed. He was thirty-two sun-cycles, beyond the age when his forefathers had found their lifemates. Half the population of his planet had been decimated by famine and war, and for all he knew, his intended was among them. The Planetary Council, his second-in-command, even his sister, had paraded women through his home every time he returned from a battle. His lifemate simply wasn’t there.
“None of them,” A’Ran said. His second-in-command frowned but escorted the women out.
The dhjan had known nothing but war for over half his life, since exiled with his sisters to the tiny moon across the galaxy from his home of Anshan. It was the smallest moon in the Five Galaxies, the section of space under the influence of the meddling Planetary Council. He’d continue the war until he won back his planet and birthright by force, then find another way to heal his planet.
“I think you prefer war, my friend,” Jetr said with his gentle humor.
“You know well the bond between the lifemate and the planet. Without her, the rivers are dry, the women are barren, and the mines produce no ore,” A’Ran replied, then added pointedly, “And the Planetary Council interferes with everything you try to do to reclaim what’s rightfully yours.”
“You’ve refused women from every Council member’s family. It’s no wonder they don’t favor you.”
“It has nothing to do with that, Jetr, as you know,” he said. “They want the ore only Anshan can produce but don’t understand why there will be none until I claim my lifemate.”
“In the meantime, you’ve driven up a debt to them,” Jetr reminded him.
“The Council has a selective memory,” A’Ran said in irritation. “Every ship, every weapon they own, came from Anshan ore.”
“True,” Jetr said. “But until they choose to remember that, they ask another favor of you, their last.”
“I’ve heard this before, Jetr,” A’Ran said.
“I brokered this one.”
A’Ran waited, observing the tiny man with white eyes. Jetr, the only Council member he trusted, had been an ally for three generations of his family without appearing to age. He wore heavy clothing, as if easily chilled, and moved with the smoothness of a warrior. There was a time when A’Ran would’ve scoffed at Jetr’s mention of a favor. That time passed with the suffering of his people and the ability of the Council to coerce all his allies but one to leave his side.
He had to repay the odious debt to the Council. Only then would he be free of their interference and maybe even gain the support of some of their members.
“The Council wants an end to the millennia-old blood war between Anshan and Qatwal,” Jetr said. “You have the dominant armies in this galaxy, and the other civilizations in your solar system are sick of the war. The ruler of Tri’trij has vacated his planet and lives on colonies outside the solar system. Too much of the on-again, off-again war has impacted your neighbors.”
“And it is up to me to broker a peace deal with Qatwal,” A’Ran said. “I have no planet, half an army, no food or water for my people, and I must broker a peace deal.”
“I’m not saying I agree, just that it must be done,” Jetr said. “And if you do this, the Council will leave you alone.”
“A peace deal depends on two parties, not one,” A’Ran reminded him.
“If they refuse, they refuse. But we will work with them to come to some sort of terms. Peace will benefit the solar system, and your neighbors will be happy.”
“My neighbors will be fortunate if I don’t destroy them next. They stood aside while my planet was overrun by the Council-sanctioned vagrant Yirkin forces!”
“Not sanctioned, just not prevented,” Jetr corrected. “The Yirkin are wanderers. The Council wants nothing to do with them and views the presence of your father’s betrayer and your people on the planet as a sign the Yirkin are willing to share your planet rather than take it over.”
There is no negotiating with the Yirkin scum or my father’s killer, A’Ran thought but held his tongue, aware his only ally believed himself right in this. His attention turned to the odious favor.
He thought for a long moment, knowing no peace treaty could be reached with Qatwal. Their war was passive-aggressive rather than open, consisting of Qatwal making his ore ships disappear and then reappear without the ore or his affront at the last Council meeting, where A’Ran had Kisolm, the man who would be dhjan, imprisoned in his quarters and miss the Council’s final vote on who would maintain distribution rights to the ore only Anshan possessed. A’Ran won the vote by one.
He’d done his part to agitate Kisolm and received every bit as much as he’d given. They’d trained together on one of the Council’s neutral planets and ended up rivals in everything.
“I’ll do it, Jetr, for you, not the Council. You swear the Council will consider my debt to them repaid?” he asked.
“I swear it. Peace cannot be underestimated, A’Ran. Several members, including Qatwal, may be willing to aid you in regaining your planet after you’ve reached a peace treaty.”
“If they do, it will be to steal my ore. I’ll do this and go back to war. I’ve given up on finding a nishani for my planet.”
“This system is truly unique. I didn’t believe the planets died without the dhjan and his lifemate until I saw what happened to Anshan.”
A’Ran desperately needed allies, food, and water for his people. He clenched his jaw, his pain deep and hidden as he thought of his people and his planet. He fought hard to build alliances the Council destroyed, and bartered, cheated, and stole for the weaponry needed to defeat the invaders, the Yirkin, a sophisticated race whose goal was to claim as many planets as they could in their empire-building. It was the Yirkins’ first venture into their system, and they’d chosen Anshan, aided by traitors within his father’s government who were wooed with the promise of ruling their own planet.
“A’Ran, there is something else I must tell you.” Jetr’s voice grew quieter, and he drew near. “My warriors intercepted information from Anshan. Your father’s betrayer planted a traitor among those closest to you. I don’t know who, but I suspect Ne’Rin.”
“Ne’Rin?” A’Ran said, crossing his arms. “His father may have betrayed mine, but he has been loyal for all these years we’ve been exiled. He saved my sisters from his own father. If he could’ve saved my father and mother, he would’ve.”
“You must consider this a possibility. The whereabouts of this moon on which you claim exile have been leaked off-planet. My men intercepted it before it went to Anshan, just as they’ve intercepted other messages from Anshan directed to someone here.”
“There are hundreds of thousands of my warriors here,” A’Ran said. “Why do you think it’s Ne’Rin?”
“He has direct access to you and the most to gain. You forget: I am not a warrior bound by honor but a diplomat accustomed to undermining others,” Jetr replied. “Ne’Rin does his part to prevent you from suspecting him. As an observer, I can tell you there’s a great deal of motivation for someone in his position to betray you.”
The words stung. If they came from someone other than the man who’d supported his father and grandfather, he’d disregard the warning and have the messenger killed. But this was Jetr warning him. Jetr was stacking a new problem on a pile of other problems he couldn’t deal with.
“Brother?”
They both turned at the soft voice. His youngest sister, Talal, stood in the doorway to his war quarters, her gaze hope
ful.
“Not yet,” he said, aware of what misery he was bringing his sisters. They’d been praying that the last three women would yield his nishani.
His people’s hope had turned to desperation in the hands of the Yirkin when every sun-cycle passed and there was no nishani. From the dhjan came strength and stability; from the nishani, restoration and healing. His planet was dying without either, and many had begun to accept this was the planet’s fate. He was helpless to find her. He had to wait for the fates to bring his nishani to him.
Talal’s face fell, and he had no words to offer. He’d already broken promises of finding his lifemate by his thirtieth, his thirty-first, his thirty-second birthdays.
“I’ll think on what you’ve told me,” he said, turning to Jetr. “Promise you’ll barter my freedom if Qatwali imprisons me on this peace mission.”
“I’ll do my best. If that doesn’t work, I’ll take your sisters to my planet,” Jetr answered. “It’s all I can offer.”
A’Ran nodded in agreement, knowing it was the best he could do. He had a feeling Kisolm, the crown prince of Qatwal, would not even hear him out but would view his attempt to barter peace as a sign of weakness and keep him as a trophy.
“Talal, send Ne’Rin to the practice fields.”
His sister hurried away. Jetr bowed his head, sensing the dismissal. A’Ran left the command center for the practice fields, the area behind the dwelling where his men fought. He stepped into the bright sunlight and withdrew one of hundreds of grey swords housed in small racks along the back side of the dwelling. The field was empty, his men preparing for another space battle.
He hefted the curved sword and marveled at the grey metal. Only the ore on Anshan could produce the metal that was not only unbreakable but easily molded. All the spaceships, computers, and weapons within the Five Galaxies were made from ore from Anshan mines— even the swords, the only weapons sanctioned by the Planetary Council as fair and appropriate for man-to-man combat. The Council disallowed lasers or other advanced weapons, instead opting for the traditional weapons of their ancestors, and the only weapons some planets with their crude civilizations in the nearby galaxies used.
