Chapter 1 Jasmine
Jasmine
The upside of being awake early was that it gave you plenty of time to think. That was also the downside.
Thinking too much brought nothing but worry, or worse yet, hope. And hope was something I rarely afforded myself, and certainly not today. Not when the Vandar were coming.
I frowned as I kneaded the pliant ball of bread dough, trying not to think about anything but the task at hand. Push, fold, turn, push again. The rhythm was second nature to me, even when my mind was hazy from sleep and my body was weary from so many hours on my feet.
Outside the bakery's frost-webbed windows, the colony of Lexxona slept under a perpetual blanket of ice and snow, the kind of cold that bit through thick wool and burrowed in your bones.
I was grateful for the heat of the ovens at my back, the warmth radiating through the kitchen and making me almost forget that I was living on a frozen rock that never thawed.
That was the only good thing about Lexxona, really.
It was too cold, too remote, and too barren for the Zagrath Empire to care much about.
The Imperial soldiers who collected our taxes came less and less frequently, even though the visits still brought the same thinly veiled threats, and the same leering looks at any woman who made the mistake of crossing their path.
But at least they didn't stay long. The cold drove them back to their warm ships and warmer posts as quickly as their greed allowed.
Rumor had it the Zagrath were stretched thin, weakened by the attempts to rebuild an Empire that had been torn apart by the Vandar a decade ago.
From what I'd heard, although admittedly only from Imperial forces, the Vandar were worse than the Zagrath.
More brutal. More savage. More unpredictable. More dangerous in every way.
Considering what the Zagrath had done to my family, I had a hard time believing anyone could be worse.
I pressed the heel of my hand harder into the dough, working out the memory of my parents being dragged away in the night for seditious activity.
The Zagrath had called it justice, despite the lack of trial or evidence, which meant, in my book, anyone fighting the Zagrath was on the right side of the conflict.
The enemy of my enemy might not be my friend, but I wouldn’t stand in their way.
And, today, I'd finally get to see the Vandar for myself.
The back of my neck prickled at the thought. After all the dark, furtive stories I’d heard about alien raiders who flew in hordes of ships that could vanish as quickly as they appeared, they would be walking among us. But not as invaders. As allies.
I snorted a laugh at this. An alliance, the colony leaders called it.
The raiders would give us protection from the Empire and an end to their taxes, although no one had been entirely clear on what they would ask in return.
That's why everyone in the colony was being summoned to the town square later to hear the grand announcement.
“More men making decisions without bothering to ask our input,” I grumbled as I flopped the dough into a greased pan.
The colonial council hadn't included a single woman in their negotiations, despite the fact that we made up over half the population and would have to live with whatever bargain they'd struck. As I wiped my hands on the front of my apron, I told myself that it wouldn’t matter. We’d dealt with bad deals with Empires before.
The corners of my mouth twitched. If the terms were bad enough, the Vandar would have the pleasure of dealing with our resistance. They could ask the Zagrath how much they enjoyed having their ships sabotaged and their supplies stolen.
Behind me, the door to the back stairs creaked open, letting in a draft of cold air that sent a shiver skating down my spine.
"Do we have to bake today?" Kaya shuffled in, still in her thick pajamas with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her dark hair stuck up at odd angles, and she was squinting against even the dim kitchen lights. "It's the day the Vandar arrive.”
“Don’t go thaw-soft on me.” I rolled another round of dough from its proofing basket onto the wooden counter, knowing that my sister would hate the implication that she wasn’t a hard worker. "It's a day like any other. Bread doesn't bake itself, and people still need to eat."
"But the Vandar—"
"Are still warriors who can't be trusted." I fixed my youngest sister with a warning look. "Don't get romantic ideas about them, Kaya. I don't care how exotic or exciting they seem. They're raiders. Criminals. Dangerous."
“That’s only what the Zagrath think because the Vandar beat them.”
“Well, the Zagrath came back, didn’t they?”
My sister muttered something about the Zagrath being insects then sighed. “I thought you liked freedom fighters.”
I motioned for her to take over kneading the dough. “That’s you romanticizing dangerous raiders again.”
Kaya rolled her eyes but moved to the counter. "You think everyone is dangerous."
"That's because everyone is dangerous." I started measuring flour for the next batch. "Where's Brielle?"
"Where do you think?"
As if summoned by the mention of her name, the middle of my two sisters drifted through the doorway, her gaze riveted to a book and her free hand on the wall to guide her.
She was still in her nightgown and bathrobe, barefoot on the cold floor, completely oblivious to anything that wasn't contained between the worn leather covers.
"Bri," I said. Nothing. "Brielle."
"Just one more chapter," she murmured, turning a page without looking up.
Kaya caught my eye, and we exchanged a look. With Brielle, it was never just one more chapter.
I grabbed a dishtowel from the counter and tossed it at her head. It landed perfectly on her open book.
Brielle jerked, startled, blinking up at me like she'd just remembered where she was. "Wha—?” An apologetic laugh. "Sorry. I'm here. I'm helping."
She closed the book reluctantly, tucked it into the front of her bathrobe, and tied on an apron, still yawning. "But if you knew what was about to happen to Princess Sarella in this chapter, you wouldn't make me stop. She's just discovered that her betrothed is actually—"
I sighed, thinking that my sister was the only person I knew who stored books within their clothing. “I need you to focus on reality, Bri. Not fantasy."
"If reality is staying on this frozen colony forever," Brielle muttered, reaching for the block of butter, "then no thank you. At least Princess Sarella gets to go on adventures."
I didn't have the energy to argue with my sisters again.
We'd had this conversation a hundred times.
Kaya was always dreaming of romance, Brielle was always dreaming of adventure, and I was trying to keep us all alive and fed and far from Imperial jail cells.
The balancing act was exhausting, but there was no one else to do it since our parents were long gone.
I combined the ingredients for the sweet buns, my hands moving automatically. “Promise me that you’ll keep your heads down today. Stay out of trouble. That's all I'm asking."
Kaya laughed, kneading the bread dough with less vigor than I would have liked. "You mean keep our heads down like you keep yours down by running a resistance out of our bakery?"
My hands stilled in the flour. The kitchen went quiet, except for the hiss of the ovens.
Slowly, I turned to face my sisters. "I don't—"
"Jasmine." Kaya held up a sticky palm to stop my protest. "We're not stupid."
"We've heard you talking with Skye,” Brielle added, moving to stand beside Kaya in a united front. “No one is that interested in the comings and goings of Imperial ships.”
"Plus," Kaya said, "you think we don't notice when you slip out after we've gone to bed?"
“Or that the next morning something has always happened to an Imperial ship or their supplies?”
My heart slammed against my ribs. If my sisters had seen through my careful subterfuge, who else had noticed? I'd been so careful, so meticulous about maintaining the facade of being just a harmless baker. Or so I’d thought.
Brielle's expression softened. "It's okay, Jas. We're not going to tell anyone."
"We want to help," Kaya added.
I opened my mouth, though I had no idea how I was going to tell them that the last thing I wanted was to put them in danger, even when I’d clearly been risking their safety the entire time.
But before I could form words, before I could delve into what would certainly be an argument for the ages, the bells on the bakery's front door chimed.
We weren't open yet. We wouldn't be for another hour. A fact everyone in the colony knew.
Through the frosted glass door, I could make out a tall silhouette. I tried to swallow but my throat had gone bone dry. The figure outside was too large to be anyone from the colony, which meant. . .
The door opened the rest of the way, bringing in a blast of icy air and the largest man I'd ever seen. Correction. Not a man.
A Vandar.