I wasn’t exaggerating when I told her I prayed between her thighs. I begged the goddess for mercy. I complained about her extraordinary gift, questioned her wisdom. I cursed her generosity because no matter how much I have of my Alara, I will always want more.
My greed is my gratitude, I suppose.
Firstmeal is hurried.
“Lovely,” Rose says, looking Lena’s wrinkled, too-large sveli up and down. “He’s taking good care of you, I see.”
“He brought me a bunch of stuff, so I don’t need this anymore.” Lena hands her the patched old sveli jacket, her cheeks flaming pink as she passes the folded garment. I took good care of her, indeed, if that’s where her mind went. “Thanks for loaning it to me.”
Rose pats it fondly. “Glad I had an extra. Hopefully when the new treaty goes into effect, trade will open up more.”
Lena glances at me questioningly, like I have anything to do with Five Planet trade treaties. I shrug, and she lets it go.
While Rose and Lena turn the focus of their conversation to the Turning, my uncle’s appraising gaze keeps slipping to me over the rim of him nomo cup. I’m sure he can smell her on me, and that should be enough answer for whatever question is in his mind.
“Have you claimed her yet?” he finally asks. Lena, who can’t help overhearing since she’s seated right next to me, giggles self-consciously. It’s a grating sound, her embarrassment.
“Why would I bind her to me forever?” I shoot back, schooling my tone to something near boredom. I don’t miss my mate’s wounded expression in my peripheral vision. “I have nothing to offer. No planet. No title.”
“That doesn’t matter to me,” Lena interjects.
“It should.” An Alara rules a planet. She has the respect and adoration of her people. The goddess’s teeth are sharp indeed if she means I should overthrow one of my brothers. So sharp they’ll cut my throat, because there’s no way I could do it. Any attempt would be suicide without an army at my back. Even with one.
Oljin frowns. “You have a title. You’re a Prince of the Five Planets.”
“Let them argue. We have better things to talk about,” Rose murmurs, drawing Lena away under the pretense of her Turning schedule that she has pinned on one wall.
Oljin stares at me, frowning.
“I’m the Prince of Nothing,” I say to Oljin. “There’s no point. Where can I make a home for her? Will she come live with me among the priests?”
“Look around.” He motions angrily to the small, outdated room. “My Alara should rule the Five Planets, and instead she rotted in space for decades before following me here to R’Hiza. She’s the Empress of Rags, Nephew, and still she smiles. She eats this garbage and smiles.” He pushes away the mealy cakes that accompany our nomo with a disgusted look.
“I promised her an easy life someday. A valith in the grasslands, a little herd of braxa, a kvik in a pen to feed us in the lean months. For decades, I have promised her this, and for just as long I have broken this promise. Look at her.” He points across the room, his lips trembling with the effort of holding back his pigment. Rose notices and beams, her eyes only for him.“See? She smiles. The only thing that would stop her smile is if I did something stupid like leave her.”
The Empress of Rags links her arm with Lena’s and motions for us to follow them out. Watching their backs ahead of us, Lena’s slim and straight next to Rose’s stooped and round, is like a glimpse into the future. One I don’t want.
Lena deserves more than Oljin has given Rose. She should have finer things, garments that fit her in colors that bloom as brightly as her cheeks. Food that tastes good. Air that isn’t recycled through dirty filters. She deserves a planet.
“You should have stayed to fight instead of running away,” I tell Oljin.
“Greenling,” he scoffs, his own patched sveli hanging on his frame. “I did not tell you this because I was wrong to sacrifice a planet for her. I told you this because I wasright. If you cannot see that, you seenothing.”
My vision darkens around the edges as my pigment roils. If I had my blades, he would not speak to me this way. He’s at the whim of the Frathiks, stuck in a ramshackle base on the ghost planet, rationing food, and he thinks I have things to learn from him?
He could learn fromme. I would not have been so cowardly, had I the chance to rule Irra. I would have raised an army, hired mercenaries, made deals with the priests. I would have done anything to give my Alara what she deserved.
I still could, I realize with a jolt. There is an army at my fingertips if I make peace with Zomah.
Surely the High Priest’s plans for Lena would change if he knew she was my Alara. What is she but proof that the Eye is as valued by the goddess as each of the Five Planets? He might despise her species, but he would love the legitimacy she bestowed.
Pandering to him until I can kill him will only cost my soul. Small price as I have little of it left.
My heart quickens at the possibility. I’m already making mental lists of the priests I’d have to convince, those who could be bribed to support me, those who must be discredited. The lists are short, fewer than a dozen on each side. Most priests are as good as kvik-in-cloaks, willing to follow whoever hits them with a stick or dangles a bunch of kuresh leaves in front of them.
I’m so obsessed with my new plan that the Turning tasks fly by. I tend my rows, obediently turning each egg on the chime, absentmindedly answering Lena when she chatters at me, all the while engrossed in my machinations.
I don’t even care when my disinterest means she switches her attention to Harl, and they laugh and joke between turns.
