My first instinct is to say no. These are the people who have held my mother for over a decade. Who would likely execute her if Zomah bid them to. Let them freeze on the surface where they fall.
But I have been an executioner. I know it’s not as simple as good and evil.
“Treat them if you can. We’ll judge them later.” We’ll judge them when we see how they treat my Alara. Will they acknowledge her as the choice of the goddess? Or will they dismiss her because she’s a terrakin? Will they fight for her or against her?
I catch a glimpse of Delphie training with Aqen and Y’len when I go to the pits to work with the warriors who will be part of the exchange. She’s so focused, she doesn’t notice me on the other side of the room. Though she laughs and talks with the twoapprentices in between bouts, during their practice fights, she’s intent on building her skills. Her dedication makes me proud. The thin glint of gold across her forehead makes me proud, too.
I catch her eye halfway through my training session, and we share a smile. It is fleeting; both of us attend to our tasks, knowing we will have lastmeal together in a few hours.
“They will look like your brothers, standing opposite you,” I tell the less experienced apprentices, the ones who have not seen real conflict. Even my most experienced warriors are my age, too young to have served in the Frathik Wars. They’ve done assassin work, bodyguard jobs, or been Emperor’s guards, but none have been soldiers, so this is for their ears, too. “When I faced the priests of the Eye on Irra, I searched their dark hoods for familiar faces. I hoped they’d see me as a fellow Irran and show mercy or reason. They did not. Their swords fell like rain on the grasslands.”
“They all fight one-handed?” an apprentice asks.
“Most of them. Some carry both swords and knives,” I add, thinking of Lyro. A murmur ripples through the group as they discuss how that changes their strategy. “Our goal is to avoid fighting. You will not draw your blades unless I give the word. But when I do, be prepared to meet a worthy foe. For sparring today, you will fight in groups of three. Two with swords against one with knives. Match up and get started. You five, come with me.”
I motion to the burliest of the apprentices and take them to the epylium storage area in the mines and leave them with the head miner to familiarize them with the crates and how to handle the delicate ore safely. By the time I finish my healing regimen, monitoring the comm logs, and the rest of my daily tasks, it’s nearly time for lastmeal.
I’ve been looking forward to it all day, I realize, this time I’ve set aside for my mate. Today we have fresh kvik from the latesttransport, so I add some grilled skewers to the tray and take it to our quarters, where Delphie is waiting for me.
She lights up when she sees the tray of food. “That smells amazing! Did you make it?”
I laugh as I hand her one of the skewers. “Yes, I burned it myself.”
She tears into it with enthusiasm, her blunt teeth doing a decent job of shredding the meat. “You’re selling yourself short. This is great, Nik. What’d you put on it?”
I name off the spices, knowing she won’t recognize them, but I promise to show her them another time. “Do you like to cook?” I ask.
“Not really. But I don’t mind it, either. I like big gatherings, and I like feeding my friends, so I know a few recipes. My specialty on Earth was potato salad, but I only learned to make it so I didn’t have to eat other people’s. They’re always trying to ruin things with kale.” She makes a good-natured face to indicate her disgust. I don’t know what kale is, but from her expression I get the sense it’s like kuresh. I’d probably like it.
“I want to try your terrakin food. We’ll find the ingredients you need for thispo-tay-tohsalad after the hostage exchange.”
“Sure,” she says cheerfully, taking another kvik skewer from the tray. “It’ll be the best potato salad you’ve ever had because it’s the only potato salad you’ve ever had.”
“Everything about you is the best I’ve ever had. I don’t have to try anyone else’s to know that.” I settle on the bed to eat my own lastmeal, enjoying the playful banter of our conversation. I tell her about my day and she tells me about hers. We kiss. We go spar in the pits until she’s tired, and then I carry her to our quarters on my back. We shower together, fuck, sleep. The next day, we do it again.
It feels so...normal. It doesn’t hurt.
This is how it should be when people love each other.
It’s how it would be, without the specter of the priests hanging over us. But they are now,literally. On the fourth day after our joining, the reflective black pyramid of the Eye appears in the skies of Usuri, visible only as a triangular absence of stars without using a telescope.
I show Delphie standing in the patch of stones outside the upper airlock, circling her with my arms to adjust the lens. She shivers when the space station comes into focus, and I know it’s not due to cold, because she’s wearing at least six layers of furs and a hat at my insistence. “That’s them?”
“Yes.”
“Can they see us?”
“Probably.”
“Good,” she says, surprising me. She takes a step to the side, so she’s not blocked by the telescope, and holds up both fists to the sky, extending her gloved middle fingers. “I hope they seethis.”
A chuckle rolls out of me at her nonsense gesture. “What are you doing with your hands? Waving tiny swords? Is this a gesture of intimidation on your planet?”
She giggles. “Yes? Well, no, it means... fuck off, I guess. Fuck you.”
“The priests are celibate.”
She snorts. “One, no they’re not. They’re definitely fucking up there. Two, it’s more of an expression than actual instructions. It means like...go away. Get out of my life. I don’t respect you or your opinions.”
