Chapter 8 #3
“Kira calls it a strategic retreat.”
“Jin.” The unmistakable command in Torvald’s voice brought Jin to a halt before he could push out of the door. “The day I lost you was the worst day in the entirety of my very long existence. Every moment since, I’ve prayed that the Mea’Ave protect you where I could not.”
Emotion choked Jin. In such a situation, he did the only thing he could.
He fled.
Dylan was waiting for him outside.
“Let’s go,” Jin announced, ignoring the oshota’s curious glance.
Stupid hormones. Such emotional outbursts never occurred while he was the J1N.
“Where are we going?” Dylan asked, smartly choosing not to comment on Jin’s reddened eyes.
“To pack.”
If they didn’t hurry, that pain in the ass Jin called a best friend would leave them behind without so much as a backward glance.
Kira
The ship was gone by the time Kira exited the palace with Finn and Talon at her side. With no alternative, they were left to walk back along the avenue. A trip that took close to half an hour.
The silence from the city felt ominous as she and her oshota kept an eye out for possible attack.
The sun was setting by the time they reached the foot of the fortress, bathing the city and everything around it in the color of flames as it sank below the ocean.
Spotting the small figure waiting for her on the avenue outside Roake’s barrier, Kira turned to address Finn and Talon. “Head inside. I’ll be there shortly.”
“You sure?” Finn asked.
“I don’t need backup for this.”
“Alright, but when you’re done, you should check in with our new friends. There have been some developments.”
With that mysterious statement, Finn waved at the person waiting for Kira before following Talon through the barrier. It let them through without obstruction. They disappeared through the giant arched doorways of the Fortress seconds later.
The girl, about seven or eight as humans measured it, straightened with an excited look on her face when Kira headed toward her. “Seon’yer.”
“No.” Kira did her best to ignore the hero worship on the girl’s doll-like face. “I mean it. Just no.”
Ziva pouted, her white-blonde hair brushing her shoulder as she cocked her head. “You promised.”
“I know I did.”
And Kira regretted it. At the time, she hadn’t seen much harm in agreeing to take Ziva as her yer’se, despite the girl being far too young and unversed in the ways of the universe.
Current events had shown her she shouldn’t have been so cavalier in her promises.
“Go home,” Kira ordered.
“I don’t have a home,” Ziva snapped in a rare display of bitterness that made Kira stop to really look at the girl. Ziva’s lower lip trembled. Her deep blue eyes were glassy with unshed tears that pricked at Kira’s cold, dead heart.
“You’re too young,” Kira tried.
Ziva notched her chin higher. “The shit storm that is life won’t wait for me to grow up. You said so yourself.”
“No, it won’t, will it?” Kira said, caving on a sigh.
It hadn’t for Kira and Jin. It wouldn’t for Ziva either.
“You know what the other Houses think of me, right? They call me insane.”
Ziva’s chin lifted as a proud expression settled on her features. “Lowering expectations before you strike. Exactly the sort of tactic I’d expect from my genius seon’yer.”
“Your ability at self-hypnosis is strong,” Kira noted.
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.” Kira considered the girl with no small amount of exasperation. “If you become my yer’se, they’ll call you much worse.”
Ziva wasn’t the niece of Roake’s Overlord. She didn’t have a Harlow there to threaten bodily harm to anyone who looked at her wrong. Nor did she have the weight of a House behind her. Kira was the worst person she could have chosen as her seon’yer. Pretty much anyone else would have been better.
“I’m prepared,” Ziva promised. “Besides, I’ll have you.”
“Oh, the misguided confidence of youth.”
Was Kira ever that young and arrogant?
Jin would probably have answered with a resounding yes. He’d point out that she’d been much worse. Brash to the point of stupidity even.
“My sins are coming home to roost,” Kira muttered in human standard as she studied the girl in front of her.
Ziva straightened, standing up as tall as she could and squaring her shoulders the same way a private in the space force might when under inspection.
She didn’t avoid Kira’s eyes, meeting her gaze firmly.
Despite the assurance she was trying to project, Kira could see the flare of uncertainty under Ziva’s facade. The fear of rejection she was trying to hide. Below that was a determination that Kira feared would lead the child to disaster.
“I’m not taking you with me. It’s too dangerous,” Kira warned.
“You said that last time.”
“It was true then; it’s just as true now.”
Kira rubbed her forefinger and thumb together as she considered the girl.
What to do? What to do?
“You really want this?” Kira asked.
One last out.
“I really do. More than anything I ever have.”
“Even if it means you can’t become Joule’s First later on?” Kira tested.
While unlikely, there was a chance that his future House would have a problem with a First who’d taken Kira as a seon’yer. Someone who’d grown up outside a House and among humans.
For the first time, Ziva faltered.
Kira was glad. If she’d answered hastily, Kira would have said no without hesitation.
The training Ziva was convinced she wanted wasn’t to be undertaken lightly. It took commitment and perseverance. Possibly to the point of letting all else go.
Kira had no way of predicting what was to come. If something went wrong, she didn’t want the girl crying to her later that she’d made a mistake. Once Ziva took Kira as her seon’yer, that was it. There was no taking a second one later.
Ziva’s steadfast gaze showed her choice.
“Fine—have it your way.” Kira held up a hand to forestall Ziva’s squeal of excitement. “But you’re still not coming with me.”
“But—”
“No.” Kira tapped the girl on her nose. “I’ll leave you with a training guide for you to follow while I’m gone.”
She’d modify the one she had Elena follow when her niece started training.
“I’m not going to be much help when it comes to your soul’s breath,” Kira confessed.
She was largely self-taught. Furthermore, their affinities lay in different branches. She wouldn’t even know where to begin. She might be able to give the girl pointers based on her experiences, but that was the extent of her capabilities. The rest would be up to Ziva.
Just as it had been up to Kira and the forty-three.
Maybe something spectacular would come out of the experiment. Or Ziva’s lack of knowledge would leave her ki crippled and useless.
Kira rubbed her forehead, trying not to feel like she was making a terrible mistake.
“My mother already taught me the basics of my ki’s affinity. I can research the rest myself. You’re the best fighter I’ve ever seen. Better than either of my parents. The things you can teach me are things I can’t get anywhere else,” Ziva said earnestly.
“I really hope you don’t regret this.”
“I won’t.”
“It’ll be hard. Harder than anything you’ve ever done,” Kira told her.
“I understand.”
Not yet but she would.
“Just know you can quit at any time. One word from you and we’re done.”
No one had offered her or the forty-three that luxury.
Like Elena when Kira told her the same thing, Ziva scowled. “Shouldn’t you be telling me that I have to finish what I start?”
“Not for this.”
What Kira would ask of the girl would push her to the edge both physically and mentally. It had to be her choice from beginning to end.
“I’m not going to quit,” Ziva grumped.
“We’ll see.”
Kira almost pitied the girl. She’d chosen the most difficult method to achieve her goals.
“This means I’m your yer’se, right?” Ziva asked with a quiet excitement.
“I guess so.”
She’d already made the promise after all.
Ziva pumped her fist. “Yes!”
“Glad that makes you happy.”
Because she was sure that the girl would be cursing Kira’s name and her entire family line before long.