Kiera's Moon

by Lizzy Ford

  She started with a sketch of A’Ran and found she couldn’t focus on anything else. She drew him as she’d seen him in the morning, bare-chested and carrying a sword. She drew him as she’d seen him during their conversation the day before, the quietly fierce leader seated in his ship. She found herself sketching him as she’d seen him in the vision from what felt like years ago when they walked hand-in-hand on the dead planet.

  It was past dark fall when she finished, and she gazed at her last sketch, intrigued by it. It was what would happen if for some reason she didn’t go back to her own planet. A’Ran wasn’t as controlling as Romas, from what she knew of him, and she couldn’t help feeling as drawn to the picture in front of her as she was to the man himself.

  She wondered what life would be like with someone like him, or if he was so bound to duty, there was no room for real affection. She sketched the planet next and fell asleep at her desk.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Talal shook her awake far too early. She lifted her head from her desk and blinked, the first fingers of dawn rendering the light of the room grainy and grey.

  “My brother awaits you,” Talal said. She was glowing and refreshed, her clothes neat and her scent that of one who had recently bathed. Kiera groaned softly as she shifted. She ached as much from her workout the day before as falling asleep sitting with her sketchbook.

  “Why?”

  “He is to train you,” Talal said as she crossed to the clothing unit. “You shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

  “So early?” Kiera asked.

  “He will be occupied today,” Talal chided. “He favors you with his time.”

  She was cheerful as usual and brought Kiera a set of clean clothing. Kiera grimaced and rose, changing slowly before leaving her room for the training area. The morning was cool, the sky lightening. A’Ran awaited her with two swords looking alert, as if he’d been up long enough for his first cup of coffee to kick in. She felt sluggish in comparison. A’Ran’s eyes didn’t leave her as she tied her hair in a knot at the base of her neck. She dropped her arms and gave a long sigh, meeting his gaze.

  As if he sensed her irritation at the early hour, a look of amusement crossed his face, visible in the shift of his eyebrows. He wore light colors this day of tan, a shade that brought out the depth of honey in his skin. He handed her one sword. She accepted it. It felt heavier than usual already. She stretched again before settling into an awkward stance across from him.

  They sparred lightly until her body grew warm and her mind engaged. Kiera concentrated on her movements rather than the silent form across from her, intent on not looking like a fool in front of a master warrior. When concentrating on the weapons, it was also easier to keep from concentrating on him.

  Sparring lasted until the sky was clear of night’s blue, at which point he took the sword from her. Kiera watched him lean both weapons against the side of the dwelling before he returned.

  “Fighting stance,” he instructed.

  She shifted herself in compliance. He moved behind her, keeping within arm’s distance. He tested her balance and adjusted her stance before taking both wrists and moving her hands over her head.

  “This is the starting position for this form,” he told her.

  He released her and moved before her, back toward her. Kiera watched as he assumed the same position and shifted his stance into a new position. He waited, head twisted over her shoulder to see her. She echoed the movement. A’Ran turned to adjust her stance before returning to the same pose.

  The slow movements continued for an hour, with A’Ran pausing between each new one to adjust her stance as needed. She recognized the same routine from the previous day, only this time they moved through it without swords. When she returned to the starting position, her arms were shaking and her legs burning. A’Ran adjusted her one last time before stepping back and nodding.

  “This is the first weapons form warriors are taught,” he said.

  Kiera lowered her hands and wiped sweat from her forehead. A’Ran appeared none the worse for the session, but she was ready for a hot bath and a nap. He studied her, dark depths taking her in with quiet intensity she was not yet accustomed to. The training had been nothing but politely professional, as if she were another student. The ensuing silence, however, reminded her once more of their awkward status.

  “You may use the command center this afternoon,” he said.

  “You and the Council will be somewhere else?”

  A curt nod.

  “I assume it’s not a woman’s place at the Council.”

  “It is not,” he agreed. Before she could be irritated by his words, he continued, “We will discuss matters later.”

  “What matters?” Kiera asked. “Good matters? Bad matters?”

  “Are there bad matters to be discussed?” he asked, an edge to his voice. He raised an eyebrow, his chin lifting in what she recognized as a look very close to commanding.

  “I have nothing to discuss,” she said. “But if there are issues, I’d like to discuss them now.”

  “We will discuss matters later,” he said once again. “I find nothing alarming in what we will discuss. And I thought you had a matter you wished to tell me as well.”

  She frowned. She doubted anything would alarm this man if tricking a woman into wedding him and discovering the news of his sisters’ impending children did not. There were a great many things she could think of that would be dramatic issues to her. She wasn’t about to tell him what she’d overheard Ne’Rin say. No, telling him that she didn’t like his most trusted friend seemed … petty.

  “I go now to the Council,” he said, and strode to the swords. “I will send for you when I am ready.”

  Kiera grimaced at the distasteful wording. She said nothing as he disappeared into the house, wondering what surprises he had in store for her.

  *

  A’Ran listened to the Council members, uneasy. The Council had been excessively cooperative the past two days, a sign he didn’t like. Ne’Rin sat to his right at the largest table within the command center with the Council members arranged by rank to his left.

  He didn’t like the politicking that accompanied any Council meeting, but he had to be patient with men who might be willing to help him. Today his gaze fell to the white-eyed, small man that had addressed nishani the prior day. While he had given them permission to speak to her, he found opportunists distasteful, however loyal they were. Jetr met his gaze with a small smile and deferential bow of his head. A’Ran responded by tipping his chin, and Jetr’s attention returned to Opal, who had been speaking too long already.

  Jetr was one of the only champions A’Ran had on the Council. A’Ran forced his attention away, certain that this ally was as true as any despite his haste in addressing nishani.

  Anyone addressing nishani irritated him. It was abnormal in Anshan, even if her society held no such apparent boundaries. He’d spoken to his sisters in depth and learned quickly just how different she was, their tales ranging from those that ought to anger him to those that amused him. He understood better the tension between Ne’Rin and nishani after several hesitant stories from Talal of their discussions. Nishani had a tongue and habits that shocked all three sisters and did nothing short of aggravate Ne’Rin.

  He suspected Ne’Rin didn’t care for nishani. Having been raised to serve his dhjan within the boundaries imposed on him, Ne’Rin would have little patience with one who trounced the boundaries that should have been emplaced upon her.

  A’Ran hadn’t yet addressed Ne’Rin’s own failing, that of impregnating his sister without making her a nishani first. It was very unlike his friend and second-in-command to allow his control to slip in such a drastic way. He hadn’t yet discovered who Talal’s mysterious man was. It was part of the reason he wished to speak to nishani later that day.

  If he had it his way, the woman would rarely leave his side. Despite her oddities, she drew him with her large eyes and quick wit. Even though he’d
just met her, the bond between them was as strong as his father told him it would be. He wanted to gauge her ability with the strategic battle planning and measure just how intelligent his nishani was. If she proved to be as he suspected she was, she might find herself the first woman in his society given the official position of strategy battle planner, a position traditionally held by the dhjan alone.

  Opal, the head of the Council, rose gracefully, pulling A’Ran from his thoughts. He and the others followed his lead.

  “We will meet after we dine this evening,” Opal said.

  The men withdrew. Ne’Rin caught A’Ran’s eye and nodded toward the door. A’Ran gave a curt nod. His second had training for the day.

  “A’Ran, a word,” Jetr said as he prepared to leave. He waited for the others to file out of the command center. Jetr crossed to the door and closed it before asking, “Have you given any thought to what I warned you of a few weeks ago?”

  A’Ran wiped his mouth, already uneasy with the topic. He trusted Jetr as much as he dared trust anyone.

  “I only ask because my own personal guards— who, with your permission, keep an eye on the moon— have had transmissions from Anshan that did not come from your commanders,” Jetr said very carefully.

  A’Ran crossed his arms, more hesitant to consider his second in command— and closest friend— being a traitor now that his sister was involved with Ne’Rin.

  “We traced the communications to be from the personal communications device of the man who claims to be dhjan of Anshan,” Jetr continued when he did not speak. “Ne’Rin has been talking to his father, A’Ran.”

  A’Ran pushed himself away from the table he leaned against and paced, thoughts turning to Gage, who would bear Ne’Rin’s child. He remembered the look on Ne’Rin’s face fifteen sun-cycles ago, when they’d learned what happened. No, Ne’Rin hadn’t been a traitor then. Something had changed him.

  He’d lost faith in A’Ran. Maybe he missed his home, or maybe he was convinced that what the Council often said— that the Yirkin and remaining Anshans could live in peace together— was true.

  “I cannot act until I am certain,” he said at last, his mood darkening.

  “If you hesitate too long, you risk your life and those of your sisters.”

  “Ne’Rin wouldn’t …” kill innocents as his father did. He couldn’t speak the words. His father’s most trusted advisor had done the unthinkable, and yet, Ne’Rin had borne all the sacrifices that A’Ran had by coming with him.

  “You were no real threat to them without your nishani, but now, you can rally your people behind you with the promise of healing the planet. And the Council will help you build allies,” Jetr said.

  “My forefathers rigged the mines on the planet to explode. I’ve thought more than once I’d like to set them off.” A’Ran bit off the words.

  “Your forefathers were barbarians. Their threat is taught to us diplomats as an extreme negotiating tactic. They wouldn’t destroy their world any more than you would.”

  A’Ran said nothing, aware his forefathers had never made a threat they didn’t intend to execute. The mines were rigged, and he’d never wanted to think he’d need to destroy his home in order to rid it of the blight affecting it. But to know even his most trusted advisor had lost faith in him enough to consort with the man who slaughtered his parents …

  “We’ll talk later,” he said, disturbed. Jetr said nothing but offered a small bow of his head.

  Leaving the command center for his quarters, he glanced out the windows as he strode through the compound. It was mid-afternoon already, another day wasted with the Council rather than concentrating on preparing for battle. Part of him knew the Council was stalling him for that reason, though whether they did so to hinder his efforts or to maintain the appearance of their power over him, he wasn’t sure.

  He reached his quarters and opened the link to the command center, pausing before it to see nishani had already entered. She had her odd gifts with her and sat at the battle planner. He sat at the table opposite his bed and touched several glowing buttons on the table before him. The land and space battle sprung up before him and began to spin. He took in everything, noting the enemies had begun to encroach upon the neutral territory agreed upon in the cease-fire. He disabled the real-time mechanism, engaged the training program, and returned to the point where battle had been when nishani last adjusted the strategy.

  He was curious to see how she would react. With there being no current battle, there was nothing to test her. He programmed the computer to respond in training cycle mode and glanced at the communication link again.

  Nishani put her gifts aside and crossed her legs in her seat before flicking on the battle planner. Ne’Rin might possess the ability to plan, but it would take him days to do what A’Ran and nishani could do within moments.

  Nishani studied the scene before her. Both hands rested in her lap as she studied it for two full rotations. He took in her perfect features once more, impressed again with his choice. Beauty hadn’t been a requirement for a nishani, and his own mother had been far from beautiful. He had waited for the signs his father warned him against, intending to take on whatever woman that brought him. That nishani was beautiful was no great disappointment to him!

  She was strong for a woman as well, which she’d revealed during their two training sessions. She possessed promising coordination and ability to learn at least the basics of the warrior’s trade, skills no other nishani had ever needed. Initially fearing her to be brittle by her reaction to the world around her, A’Ran was more assured of her ability to withstand the changes in her life. She was tough but expressive, a combination he found odd but promising.

  She shouldn’t have to be tough, and if he hadn’t failed his people several sun-cycles before, he’d never think twice about training her for battle. But she might need to know how to defend herself. His mother never needed to learn. No nishani in his bloodline had learned to defend herself or been exiled from her planet. And no nishani in his bloodline had failed to produce an heir the first year.

  She had to learn to fight, and he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to touch her as a man did his mate. If she were any woman from his planet, he would never have hesitated to take her to his bed, as he should. She hadn’t protested to his touch during training. Neither had she sought him in any way since his return. She was scared of him still, and he knew it was their bond as dhjan and nishani that frightened her.

  He watched her over the viewer. Nishani started with small adjustments to the battle before her, as if testing for the results of her decisions. She grew bolder quickly. He watched as her decisions turned from thoughtful to instant as she reacted to the battle. Her position at the table shifted as the program grew more complex; she dropped her feet to the ground and leaned forward, taking in the rapidly changing situation.

  He leaned closer as well, watching. Nishani was not only brilliant, but she was fast in her work. As quickly as the computer tossed a challenge before her, she countered and matched it. He watched for quite a while, until the model reached a level that had taken him years of apprenticeship under his father to achieve.

  It didn’t seem possible that anyone could learn so fast. In the end, the computer might win, but he suspected nishani would not lose the second round. He took a long breath and relaxed, satisfied with his choice once more. As hard as it would be to push her closer to the mold of what a nishani would be, it would be well worth it.

  He turned both machines off and left his quarters for the command center. Nishani was concentrating too hard to notice him when he entered. He approached and stood a short distance behind her, watching once more.

  She was murmuring in a frustrated tone. Her small, shapely form grew tenser and closer to the computer as the levels increased. A’Ran shifted forward as well to see. In the end, she made a drastic over-calculation and lost the ground battle. Nishani pounded a fist on the table and made a loud sound that was most likely a curse
on her planet. It did not translate, and neither did it sound like it could be anything else. He chose to overlook the idea of his nishani cursing like a man at battle.

  “You did well,” he said. Nishani jerked and twisted to face him. Her features were flushed, her eyes large.

  “Have you been here long?” she asked.

  “Long enough.”

  Nishani at once looked uncertain again, her frame tense. She shifted her body to face him, but he moved to her side and sat on the bench a safe distance from her. She continued to watch him.

  “You’re taking a break from the Council?”

  “How long have you been using this device?” He ignored her question, focused on her for the moment.

  “I have your permission,” she reminded him, eyes narrowing.

  “I know.”

  “Since you left,” she responded. “Against Ne’Rin’s wishes.”

  “You must defer to him in my absence as you do me,” he reminded her. One eyebrow rose in challenge, and her jaw clenched. “Rather, more so than you do me, given your usual behavior.”

  She feigned ignoring him, though he saw the flush of her face grow deeper. He recalled her outburst at him the previous day.

  “I’m not comfortable around Ne’Rin,” she admitted.

  “You’re not comfortable around me.”

  “This is different,” she insisted. She paused, as if searching for the right words, then continued. “It’s just an instinct I have about him.”

  “Instinct?” A’Ran prodded. “This guides your judgment on him?”

  “Yes, of course, on everything,” she said. “Like this game. I don’t think when I’m using it. I feel what should happen next.”

  “What is this instinct about Ne’Rin?” he continued, alerted by her words.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.