Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
My revenge is the inevitable slow creep of winter
Shohari
“I AM taking a turn around the garden with my betrothed.”
My bones prickled at Rokharu’s words, but the guards nodded in deference, and the feeling dissipated as quickly as it came.
We took a sedate pace from the main hub of the house, and he shifted closer, his breath warm on my ear ridge. “Can we get to the gardens this way?”
He smelled of the city, not fresh hillside air, and I tried not to lean away. “Yes. We have about five minutes before Mother learns of my change of heart and gets suspicious. Let’s see where my crew are.”
Garrison, Airida, and the shaa’ith should be long back on the Dorimisa, so once I’d found Paiata and Muzati, we could leave—forever.
They weren’t in the kitchens. I wanted to explore deeper in the house, but we had to get to the gardens lest we raise suspicions.
“I’m going back to Mother,” I said.
Rokharu stopped. “I thought you needed to find your crew.”
“I do. But they should be here. They’re not, which means something’s wrong.”
“And you being under armed guard did not hint at this?” He raised his brows, a sparkle in his eyes.
It would be too familiar, too un-Orithian, to punch him in the arm. But I thought about it.
“I had an inkling,” I said dryly. “Come, let us pretend to give her what she wants and find out where my crew are.”
I smiled, but it didn’t linger because of him. No, I could just imagine Garrison saying something similar. Gods, I missed him. I needed this all to be done, needed to leave.
We could leave, I realised. This would work. Rokharu’s aid had to signify something.
And then what?
I’d not dreamed of love, not since I was young. I’d lived without hope for so long, I didn’t know what to do with my new reality.
It all rushed in with my next breath, choking me up, filling me with life, so full of possibility, it flooded me in a beautiful rush of joy.
We’re going to win, mitsha.
We swept into the room in a rustle of polymer silks and crisp boots.
“Hello, Mother. Would you like to gloat now?”
Mother raised her furious face from her wrist-comm.
She stared at my arm, linked with Rokharu’s, and narrowed her eyes.
As if seeking any trickery, Mother examined his face too.
“I will gloat after I have found out why you brought an alien creature to Orith. And why it was in the woods with your brother.”
When I realised what she meant, I clenched back a growl. Fear nipped at me, threatened to take over, but the bond smoothed it away. I knew, deep in my bones, Garrison wasn’t hurt, though they screamed to have my mate by my side.
Regardless, worry must have shown in my face because she continued, “Do not concern yourself. It is safe in the cell.”
It took all my control to keep my face neutral and my headspines still. She had Garrison. We didn’t have Airida. Had nothing gone right?
The bond soothed my rising panic, and I heaved a breath. “Where is my brother?”
“I’m here.” Airida stepped out of the adjoining room, our steward Kimivha on one side, Father on the other.
I drank him in. Skinnier than last I’d seen him, and his face had more of a pallor. But his eyes were bright, and he gave me a small tilt of his head.
“What is this about, Shohari?” Father said. “He won’t tell us anything.”
Nothing about the plan was as intended, but we had to plough on—even though my only ally in the room was a male I thought I’d despise, one who didn’t know what was about to happen.
I hooked one of the swirling adornments off my dress, teasing off the microslab hidden there. “You wish to know why I am here, Mother? Play this.”
Her brows furrowed.
“I’d play it myself,” I said, “but I find myself without my wrist-comm.”
She huffed in disdain but slunk towards me, snatching the tiny data chip from my fingers. As soon as she placed it in the dock, a holodisplay shimmered to life on the wall.
Me, flanked by Tokoran and Daiytak.
My hologram spoke. “My name is Shohari mai Tasra, captain of the trading ship Dorimisa. My companions are hybrids known as shaa’ith. As is my brother, who my parents keep secluded within their enclave home.”
Mother paled. “What is the meaning of this?”
I forced a sweet smile. “Shall I play it again? Or did I not enunciate enough for you?”
Her pinched expression deepened, but she said nothing.
“It means your games are over, Mother. No more hiding. No more drugging. Airida doesn’t have any kind of genetic condition other than having some shaa genes.” I sent a silent apology to my brother for telling him this way.
I didn’t want to believe Mother’s doubt was genuine, but her headspines sank, her knees bowed, and even her tense fury faded.
She looked old, I realised. Old and tired, the bitterness and manipulation she’d nurtured all these years written in every sour line on her face. I felt nothing for her but pity.
“He does have a condition,” she said, her voice low. “He is ill. The doctors ran tests.”
I kept my face impassive. “No, Mother. Either you’re lying, or the doctors are lying.”
“It is preposterous that he… what you said. Absolutely horrific. Impossible.”
I peered at her, studying her face. She really didn’t know. She really thought he had a genetic condition.
Where were the others? Tokki and Daiytak were supposed to be here for this part.
We all stilled as the staccato thuds of weapons fire resonated from deeper in the house. My mind blanked out with apprehension.
Yet as I stalled, Mother gathered herself together. “Guards!”
Rokharu stepped from my side. “Madame, keep your guards with you. You should remain protected. Let me investigate.” He gave my arm a squeeze and thrust his hand at one of the mercenaries. “You there, give me your weapon.”
He was a diplomat, I recalled. Used to being obeyed—and it showed.
Armed with a military blaster, he left, and I had to trust he didn’t mean to use it.
The gunfire had stopped, and all we could hear was the dull murmur of angry voices. Birds singing outside in the gardens. Footsteps.
Rokharu burst back into the room, not one pale headspine out of control. “The prisoners have escaped,” he said. “But they want to talk. Madame mai Tasra, I recommend you hear what they have to say.”
He glanced at the holo on the wall, and I had to hope the shaa’ith were on their way.
I didn’t trust Mother not to send the guards in, but she flashed him a scant smile. “Thank you, Master fei Sinla. Very well. Guards, remain alert.”
Rokharu returned to my side but kept his blaster trained on the door.
Feeling sick but keeping up the charade, I placed my hand back on his arm. My heart pounded as the reassuring clomp of station boots drew closer, and familiar faces came cautiously through the doorway, weapons ready.
I let out my breath in a rush. Gods, it was good to see my crew—my extended crew, all five of them—armed and unharmed. When I let my eyes rest on Garrison, alive and safe, I swallowed thickly.
My mate.
He gave me a nod but didn’t give anything else away, his face emotionless as he regarded Rokharu.
My bones sang for him, but there was no time.
I wrenched my gaze to where the guards stood, blasters drawn.
“Put your weapons down. You’re outgunned, and she doesn’t pay you enough to die for her.
” Hesitation played out on their faces, and I took a step towards them.
“I assure you, if you wish to act with integrity, you will put your blasters down and listen to what we have to say. You’ll realise I’m right, then you’ll forget what you heard. ”
I let my eyes drift over to Garrison again. Strong, confident, beautiful. It was only now he was here I realised how much being separated from him had hurt. Like a part of me being outside my body. Like my soul screaming in my bones.
I swayed on unsteady legs and caught a ragged breath.
Skyk.
This was love, wasn’t it?
I’d pushed Garrison away to protect myself, and I’d fallen for him regardless.
My clarity is the foundation that makes broken things whole.
Enough, now. Enough hurting him. Or me.
I reclaimed my arm from Rokharu, held his eyes for a moment, before turning to my human, my mate, my love. “Come here, mitsha.” My voice broke.
A sunbeam of a smile lit his face before it shuttered again, all business, as he stepped into the space Rokharu made for him.
I nodded at my crew and caught the rifle Tokki threw at me. “The proof of it is right in front of you, Mother.”
Tokki and Daiytak marched forwards, their Reserve-standard rapid fire assault blasters trained on the guards, who took a few steps back.
Mother paled. “Who are you?” She glanced back to the holoscreen. “You’re—”
“We are the shaa’ith.” Tokki’s voice rang sharp and clear, emphasising both syllables so nobody was in any doubt as to his meaning. “As is your son.”
Mother made a choked sound and slid towards her mate.
Next to Airida, Father swung his head, horror written across his features. “You keep saying that, but it’s ludicrous.”
“Not as ludicrous as me having a genetic disorder.” Tokki paced the room, his rifle held ready, while everyone else remained transfixed by the spectacle.
“I have personally rescued dozens of shaa’ith from the colonies in the uninhabitable zone.
Nine years ago, I was one of them. I, too, spent my life thinking I was deformed, kept weak by the medication I didn’t need.
“Do I look weak now? Does she?” He jabbed a hand at Daiytak, and stormed up to my parents. “It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not, Marsyi and Sekra mai Tasra. It only matters what others think of you, isn’t that right?”
Mother’s headspines flattened, turning even more ashen. “What are you saying?”
“We have broadcasts ready to go out across the region, telling everyone of our existence and advising that many families have so-called deformed children who are anything but. That the so-called care colonies are not much more than miserable prisons.” Tokki enunciated each word with well-earned repugnance.