"I'm sorry," she gasps between heaves. "I'm being dramatic?—"
"You don’t need to explain,” I say, my hand sliding lower to soothe her trembling muscles. "You just got married naked in front of three hundred people who see you as either property or as a galactic symbol of revolution. You're allowed to be sick."
"The media will have a field day," she manages. "Eve Eden, too delicate for her own wedding—had to leave early to be sick.”
"The media will say what we pay them to say," Lorian says firmly. "And what we're paying them to say is that you were radiant, brave, and a testament to human resilience."
"Is that what I am?"
"Among other things." I help her sit back once the nausea passes, unable to stop my thumb from stroking the soft skin of her wrist. "You're also our wife now."
“And your prisoner for ten years," she says quietly. I know she’s worried about what happened before.
“Yes, ten years under our protection with the title ‘prisoner’ while we dismantle every law that made this possible," I correct. “Remember, you can’t be tried again for the same crime while serving out your sentence.”
For the first time in a long time, she smiles, understanding. “Why didn’t you say?—?”
Lorian points to the ceiling.
“But we can't dismantle an entire galactic structure?—"
"Watch us," Lorian says. "We're very rich and very motivated. And now we have a woman by our side to deal with on-planet politics. You’ll be amazed by what those things can accomplish together."
She looks between us, and I see a spark of the woman who once stood in our office refusing to be cowed. "You're serious. You're actually going to try to change everything."
“No, we’re not going to try to change everything,” I say. “We're going to succeed. Together, we're going to remake this corner of the galaxy."
"Together," she repeats, testing the word. “It feels like a lot.”
“It is,” I say, “but is there anything else you would rather do now that you know you can do something?”
She shakes her head and then wretches again as I rub her back.
“It’s a lot,” I say, “but soon you’ll settle with the power for the greater good.”
“And I daresay,” Lorian adds, “you’ll be good at the galactic game.”
78
COMING HOME, EVE
I wake wrappedin my alien husbands’ strong arms. Since they liberated me from their childhood home, they’ve not touched me beyond the comfort of their presence.
The silky sheets smell of Lorian’s incense mixed with Rafe’s cleaner scent of petrichor soap.
Outside our massive window, there is an unobstructed view of the galaxy, and I think about how far I am from Earth. And wonder if I will always be this content being away from my birthplace. Happy in this alien place with my alien husbands.
An ambient blue glow from the room's recessed lighting reflects off my husbands’ grey skin, making Rafe and Lorian look almost ethereal in sleep. And, in this moment, I can’t ever imagine not being content here.
My eye catches on the book Ambassador Tiro gave me on Rafe’s bedside table, and I quietly reach over and grab it. It seems surreal to have such an old paperback book here in the Celestial Spire, on the other side of the galaxy. But then again, I left with my e-reader. Before e-readers were invented human women probably left with theirfavorite paperbacks. So I can’t be too surprised that a copy of this is kicking around the galaxy.
I open the front cover. A name is written at the top in cursive. The pages are worn and yellow. It’s not a name a I recognize, and for a moment, I wonder what happened to that woman. Is she still alive? Out here in the galaxy too?
I turn the next page, the copyright.It’s odd that it looks almost exactly like the copy I had when I lived at St. Catherine’s. I turn the next page. The title page. I read it, and then almost drop the book from surprise when I see the handwritten note addressed to me, inEnglish.
My heart stops, and I immediately close the book. Then I open it again. I run my fingers over the writing.
How?
