Kiera's Moon

by Lizzy Ford

  Mansr’s presence could not have come at a worse time. With repairs for his armies commandeering the last of the Anshan ore he had to trade or sell, he wouldn’t be able to afford to feed his people and fight a war. Yet both must be done. There was always the Council, and the only ally A’Ran still had. Assistance might come from their direction, but any favor from the Council would cost him dearly in another way. Restless, A’Ran rose and paced.

  “She fears me, Uncle,” he said with difficulty. “She’s not ready to take her place.”

  “Nishani was brave with me.”

  “It was not her choice to come here.”

  “What choice does a woman have?”

  “She is not like ours.” He glanced at his uncle, bemused. “Her thoughts and actions are hers alone. I have not the time to spend with her.”

  “The fate of your people relies on you bonding her to Anshan.”

  “The fate of my people will not matter if they do not live through the war!” A’Ran snapped.

  “You are dhjan, but you are also a man, nephew,” Mansr said. “Your responsibility cannot always be to your people. Is there no part of you that desires this woman as a man does, as more than a key to save your people?”

  “First you ask me to send her to the center of the battle and now you wish me to take my time with her?” A’Ran shook his head. “You cannot have both, uncle. There is not time for both.”

  “You avoid my question,” Mansr insisted. “You can be a man, a ruler, and a battle commander, A’Ran.”

  “Battle commander first.” A’Ran sat once more, calming. Mansr grew grave and leaned forward.

  “Son, you are not complete without her. Anshan is not complete and will never heal without her. You may battle all you wish, but you will never win until the balance is struck, until Anshan has its nishani, and its nishani is on the planet. You have forgotten how to be anyone but a battle commander.”

  “There has been only war as long as I can remember. Anshan needs her, but she can’t stay where it’s so unsafe, and she isn’t adapting the way she should be,” A’Ran said.

  “Maybe you must change just as she must. You must grow beyond your role as a battle commander, if you want her to accept her place.”

  A’Ran frowned at the truth in his uncle’s words.

  “And there must be a solution to the Yirkin,” Mansr said. “Qatwal has supported you before.”

  “Her sister is wed to the son of a Qatwal dhjan,” A’Ran said. “The Qatwal disowns her, yet seeks to battle me as well for the affront.”

  “Qatwal has always been full of itself, but they may still aid you,” Mansr said. “She does not look like one of theirs.”

  “She is not,” A’Ran affirmed. “She is from even further.”

  “She’s beautiful, like your sister’s dolls.”

  “Talal has not had dolls in sun-cycles, Uncle,” A’Ran replied. “But yes, she is.”

  “I forget you are all grown sometimes. Do you not ever wish to have a family, to be as happy as your father was so long ago?”

  His words struck A’Ran hard. His chest clenched, and he found himself holding his breath. He closed his eyes, recalling how happy he and his sisters were before the war. He recalled his mother, her heavy features nonetheless made beautiful by her radiant smile as she swung a waist-high Talal around.

  It was his favorite memory, that which preceded his abrupt knowledge of war and the world at large. He sat with his sisters and mother beneath a brilliant sky atop the small rise overlooking Anshan Palace with its white columns and myriad of windows. Cats wrestled and played around them while D’Ryn’s strict oversight of his and Gage’s actions could not be shaken.

  The memory was achingly beautiful, and he remembered seeing his war-weary father approach from the house. His whole face had changed upon seeing his nishani and children, had gone from tired to hopeful.

  A’Ran hissed as he released his breath and opened his eyes. A distant light was in Mansr’s eyes, a faded glow about his face.

  “I remember, before Anshan fell,” Mansr whispered.

  A’Ran made no response, unable to quell the tremor deep within him. At the age of fourteen sun-cycles, before he reached manhood, he had lost all but his sisters, been proclaimed dhjan of a planet he couldn’t even visit, and made battle commander of a war he knew nothing of.

  Since then, he’d known nothing but war, been driven by nothing but revenge, fury, and the elusive glimmer of hope that he might one day feel as he had sitting with his mother and sisters on that hill above his rightful home.

  It would never be the same, could never be the same. As he mulled his uncle’s words, the scene in his mind altered and shifted. What if it were his nishani on the hill with his sisters? What if she looked upon him as his mother had his father, with adoration and love?

  He rejected the thought. It was too fanciful to look so far ahead when he needed to determine how to prevent his people from starving. Nonetheless, he was disturbed far more than he recalled being in many sun-cycles. He’d tried to block all memories of a happier time for fear he’d never see such times again.

  “I will find the payment for food,” he said.

  His uncle looked deflated and even more haggard. “I cannot stay long.”

  “I know, Uncle.” He shook himself mentally to refocus on the dire circumstances before him but was unable to force the thought of Kiera from his mind. “Go and rest, Uncle. I know you get little enough as it is.”

  “A final warning, A’Ran. The dhjan nishani must willingly accept her place at your side and her role in helping the planet. If she does not, the planet will die.”

  A’Ran despised the words the moment he heard them. She was beyond his control, and so was her choice of whether or not to accept her place.

  “You must look beyond yourself to find a way to win her, A’Ran, or the planet is lost.”

  Mansr offered no other advice but rose and bowed once more before striding to the door. A’Ran returned to his battle loss assessments. Mansr’s words had all been true. The more he considered them, the more he realized that he didn’t know how to be anyone but a battle commander. He’d never considered it a fault before. Nishani wasn’t the only problem; he was, too.

  *

  Though he was physically engaged in swordplay, Kiera sensed A’Ran’s distraction the next morning as they sparred. He spoke even less than normal. His touch was mechanical and instructional, his attention elsewhere. She wasn’t eager to draw his undivided attention, but his distance struck her as unusual, if not yet another rejection. She lowered her sword long before the sky lightened. His attention shifted to her.

  “We don’t have to do this today,” she said.

  A’Ran straightened, his piercing gaze on her. His thick form was tense, his features implacable. Talal’s assessment of there being something wrong returned to her.

  “You seem to have other matters on your mind,” Kiera prodded. “I don’t want to keep you from anything.”

  “What is it you fear of me?” he demanded, lowering his sword and pacing closer to her.

  Surprised, she said nothing. He took a step closer. She retreated a step, regretting drawing his intensity. A’Ran compelled the sword into the ground deep enough for it to remain upright when he released it. He leaned forward and took her sword, driving it into the ground as well.

  “Are we doing training forms?” she asked as he returned his dark stare to her.

  “No.”

  “We’re done?” she asked.

  “No.”

  The odd tension was between them again, and she wondered what it was about her abductor that made her blood burn, especially when he was so unapproachable.

  “So,” she murmured, “we’re just going to stand out here and stare at each other all morning? If so, I can think of better things to do.”

  A’Ran’s gaze swept over her, making her skin tingle with awareness.

  “Well, I’m off then,” she said, and turn
ed to leave.

  “Stay.” The command was sharp. Kiera grimaced.

  “I’m not a dog, and I want to accomplish something today,” she muttered. “If you aren’t going to train me and are just going to stare at me, I’m doing something else with my time.”

  “I leave soon.” His words made her pause in the doorway, and she faced him, frowning.

  “I expected you to go soon.”

  A’Ran moved toward her again, stopping outside of arms’ reach.

  “You and your duties,” she added. I’m just another one of them. She stiffened at the reality and couldn’t decide if it were good to keep the distance between them or if she really wanted more. If there were something more between them, would he ever entertain letting her go home?

  “Travel well,” she said, and turned away again.

  She walked towards her quarters, uncertain why his departure bothered her. She expected to be left behind many more times. He joined her, and she glanced up at him.

  “There is a feast tonight,” he told her.

  “Very well. What’s the occasion?”

  “War and our mating. The heads of the clans also in exile will come to meet you.”

  “Really?” She stopped to face him. He was tense again.

  “I will also announce you as the supreme battle strategist. I would be honored if you chose to attend.”

  She searched his fierce features. She suspected both meeting the clan heads and the announcement to be big deals for a people with such rigid traditions, but A’Ran looked as if he were discussing the whereabouts of her translator.

  “I’ll be happy to be there,” she said at last.

  He nodded curtly, as if expecting the response. He turned and walked down another corridor. Kiera watched him, troubled by their morning interaction. The feast must be important, and his attempt to request her attendance— rather than demand it— impressed her.

  “A’Ran,” she called hesitantly. “I know you’re busy, but …”

  He stopped and turned, his gaze on her again, distracting her. She shook her head to focus her thoughts.

  “I made something I want to show you. If you have time.”

  He didn’t exactly leap to follow her. When he didn’t object either, she started toward her room. He trailed, as if uncertain he wanted to follow at all. She waved her band in front of the access pad to her room and entered, crossing to grab her sketch book. She sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the spot beside her, nervous about showing him her art.

  “You may not like it,” she said. “And I’ll admit, a lot of these are you. You can just ignore them, if you want.”

  A shiver ran through her as he sat close enough for their bodies to brush. He took the sketch pad she handed him and awkwardly pushed the pages around, unaccustomed to a book. She opened the cover for him to show the first drawing she’d done of him. Stone-faced, he stared at it, and her face grew warm at his lack of response.

  “I have a better one,” she said, and turned to the second drawing. He didn’t respond. She turned a few more pages, until he rested a hand on hers to keep her from turning. Her face flamed hot as she saw the image from her vision: the two of them holding hands while gazing at each other adoringly and walking on the cracked planet. She tugged her hand free to turn the page quickly. He left his hand in place, preventing her.

  “You did this?” he asked at last in a hushed tone.

  “I did all of them. It’s what I do on my planet. I draw and paint,” she said, flustered as his gaze stayed on the drawing of them holding hands. “That’s not a good one. I can show you more.”

  “No.”

  She searched his face, unable to read him or his response.

  “This …” He trailed off, a small frown on his face. “I want this.”

  Her heart fluttered at his words, and she grew excited about him wanting the type of relationship like she’d drawn, until she saw him fumbling with the page as if to pull it free.

  “Here, let me,” she said. She took the book from him and carefully pulled the page free. “It’s not my best. You don’t want another one?”

  “No.”

  He folded it in fourths, rose, and strode away, leaving her alone. She stared after him, uncertain what to think.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A’Ran went to his quarters, the thin sheet of what felt like a leaf in his hand. He unfolded it only when in the safety of his locked room and sat it down on the desk to stare at it.

  He’d never seen art of this kind, only the statues of his father’s court and the multi-hued strands used to decorate homes. The depiction was of him, and her, and Anshan, though how she knew Anshan, he didn’t know. He was more interested in them holding hands and the look on her face, one of admiration.

  His face, however, was blank. She either hadn’t completed the art form, or she didn’t know what he looked like when he was content.

  Neither did he. Mansr’s words returned to him, those that wanted him to be something other than a warrior. He cared for his sisters; they were his blood relations. He’d never cared for another woman in the way his father had loved his mother. He’d granted favors to women as a way of releasing his frustration, but never with any real affection— just physical need. The concept of something more was as foreign to him as peace, and yet he wanted the image on the leaf to be real. He found himself wanting his nishani to gaze at him as she did in the image. He wanted them to be on Anshan together and bring peace and life to the dying planet.

  He wanted there to be something more than war. It was what nishani asked him the day prior: if she learned duty, what would he learn? She knew what the answer was, but hadn’t spoken it. If she learned duty, then he must learn this.

  He raised the leaf again, unable to take his eyes off it.

  “A’Ran?” Jetr’s voice came over the communicator.

  “Yes.”

  “The Council awaits you.”

  “I will be there soon,” he said, and lowered the leaf.

  She must choose Anshan. Mansr’s words returned to him. She wouldn’t, not if he couldn’t become the man on the leaf. He’d hoped she would adjust to his world on her own, never suspecting he’d need to change himself. In the past few days, he’d learned just how unready he was to be the lifemate of his own nishani. Disturbed, he folded the leaf and placed it in his pocket.

  He carried it with him to the long, pointless Council meeting, to his afternoon sparring session with Jetr, to the banquet and introduction of his nishani to the clan leaders. He began to think his own actions had cost him the choice he’d yet to give her: to stay forever or return to her planet.

  He watched her throughout the night’s activities, seeking to judge whether Mansr’s parting words were true. He wanted to believe the woman he— and Anshan— chose would in turn choose them, but he began to see what Ne’Rin and Mansr had warned him of: she was not one of theirs and would not accept the duties she knew nothing about. Mansr’s parting warning, that she must voluntarily accept her role and Anshan as her home, had struck him as odd, for why would she not when he honored her with the greatest honor ever bestowed upon a non-ruling Anshan?

  Only now was he beginning to understand that her staying depended less on duty and honor and more on him.

  Emotions of all kinds played across her face as the night progressed. She greeted the room full of people with apprehension, her interaction with his sisters with pleasure, her introduction to the clan leaders and her position of master battle planner with both excitement and awe. In between her interactions with people and the spotlight, she watched the world with worry and thoughtfulness. Her frown deepened when she looked at Ne’Rin, and her gaze grew intense and considering when she regarded him.

  With a sense of deep dread, he felt for the first time that the role he expected of her may not be a role she chose to fulfill.

  She doesn’t know her place. She’s too different, A’Ran, Ne’Rin had said.

  She must choose Anshan
of her own will¸ Mansr had reminded him.

  That he might lose her was not a thought he had entertained before. It was not possible that any man could take her or that there was any place she could go that he could not find her. The only possibility— that she might choose to leave— hadn’t crossed his mind. It’d never happened in the history of Anshan that a nishani turned down her position. And yet, this evening, the possibility was as obvious as it had not been that morning.

  Another tension was in the air of the banquet. The Council members were restless, with messengers discreetly pacing in and out of the room throughout the evening. HiHiHis own messengers brought him vague news of unrest from the battlefront and news of there being new opponents at the battle. He suspected the Council members knew more and that this night of relative peace was the last he would know for a very long time.

  When the evening moved into night, nishani appeared too sleepy to stand and took a seat beside D’Ryn. A’Ran approached her then, knowing his journey in the morning would delay the conversation they needed to have.

  Nishani followed him from the bustling, warm banquet room to the cool courtyard in front of the house beneath a full sky of suns. He motioned for her to sit but remained standing. She looked at him curiously, and he rolled his shoulders back, prepping himself physically for the verbal discussion to come.

  “Nishani, have you enjoyed the evening?”

  “Yes, thank you. I met all your Council members. I didn’t like Ulri but the others were good.”

  “I travel tomorrow morning with my counselors. It will be some time before I return.”

  “And you still won’t take me with you?” she asked again.

  “No, nishani,” he said quietly. “I go to Anshan.”

  “I thought I was supposed to go to Anshan.”

  “Someday,” he said. “Do you know why?”

  “To save your people and your planet. Then you could send me home, and Ne’Rin could pick you a new nishani that he likes.”

  A’Ran absorbed her words, which fell hard upon his ears. He met her gaze, and she shifted at his intensity.

  “What is it?” she asked with a sigh. “What have I said wrong this time?”