Chapter 6
Oljin
M y Alara’s name is Rose, and her teeth are like a row of petals, with rounded blunt edges in the front and grinding surfaces in the back. One set even has points like ours.
“Omnivore,” Saana says smugly. “Like us. The goddess wouldn’t send you a queen you couldn’t feed.”
“I think she wants to eat me ,” I say ruefully, shaking my hand where the deep impression of her teeth remain. She even broke the skin, my fierce little queen.
“Well, what did you expect?” Saana asks archly. “If you woke up with some strange male’s fingers in your mouth, you’d bite him, too.”
“I’d do more than that.”
“She did what she could.” Saana looks at Rose, her expression pitying. “See? Just that took everything out of her. I worry she will not be able to eat enough to save herself. I’d better start cooking. Let her rest until the food is ready, Oljin,” she adds, as though she can see inside my thoughts.
“I want her to understand who I am. Who she is to me.”
Saana’s skin turns the pinky-brown of maternal love. “No one can blame you for wanting to know your queen. But she needs to heal first.”
My impatience is searing me from the inside. “How long do you think it will it take?”
She shrugs. “Alioth knows. Some wounds take a day. Some a season. Some longer. ”
I watch my Alara sleep, her eyes moving under the thin skin of her lids, dark circles drawn under her eyes. She is beautiful, fragile, vulnerable. I want to fix her, and I can’t. I can’t even speak to her.
“I can’t wait forever.” The priests certainly won’t wait forever. Nor will Irra’s enemies. Our weakness without a Jara on the throne is already drawing them like flies. Some even say the Frathik delegation is not here to broker trade but to plan their future conquest.
Saana snorts as she begins pounding tili to separate the grains from the fluffy seed-heads, the muted sound of the stone adding a rhythmic quality to her words. “You have the power of a warrior and the quick mind of a scholar, but now you must learn the patience of a farmer. Wait until the time is right to harvest the fields, or all your efforts will be wasted, Jara.”
I jolt in surprise when she calls me Jara. Though I’ve yearned for the title, the reminder that I will have to rule this planet still comes as a shock. The goddess has chosen me . It is a heavier weight than I expected.
“Perhaps you should be my advisor alongside Pravil.”
Saana laughs as though I’m joking, pausing her work to shake the loosened grain into a cookpot. “I’m too set in my ways to live in the cliffs. I need grass under my feet. You will have to make do with my son if you’re foolish enough to choose him.”
“I’ll be a lucky Jara if he has half your wisdom.”
“Don’t distract me with your flattery, greenling. Stay out of my way so I can cook for my queen,” she scolds, but her skin lights up blue and green. She shoos me away to resume her pounding .
She’s happy and grateful. I should feel the same, having found my Alara. But Rose is a sveli that doesn’t quite fit. A mysterious species and so sick, barely able to speak and swallow. Unable to walk on her own. Is this what a queen looks like? How can she possibly rule a planet?
“Don’t question the goddess’s gift,” Saana says from the cooking area. “You insult her with your doubts.”
“How do you read my thoughts?”
“It’s all over your skin.”
Saana’s right. My Alara is the goddess’s gift. Who am I to question it or fear the consequences? My only mandate is to follow my heart and its commands.
It says the place for me is at Rose’s side. In fact, that is not enough. I need her in my arms.
She doesn’t wake when I gather her up, take her place on the pallet, and rearrange her slight form on top of me. Now, the ugly doubt in my chest dissolves. The sveli fits like this. I am strong and she is weak, so I’ll carry her.
“You are not as soft as the furs,” Saana mutters over her cookpot, but there is an amused warmth to her complaint. She’s happy for me. Happy for Irra.
I am, too.
I can’t sleep, so instead I listen to my Alara’s shallow, labored breaths, soaking in her scent, my confidence growing. She will strengthen, and we will learn each other’s unfamiliar tongues. Then we’ll take the throne and rule together.
She stirs a few hours later, long after the star has set, and Saana comes to deliver another dose of her herbal concoction. This time, Rose takes it without complaint, licking the last of the herbs from her lips .
“ Open, open, your eyes open ,” she sings softly. It’s the same tune Saana sang for her, a greenling’s song, one meant for parents to sing to encourage their offspring to get up in the morning. Our words in her voice are the most thrilling thing I’ve heard since she said my name for the first time.
“Yes!” I almost shout, sitting up so she slides into the safety of my lap. She sings the line again, and I squeeze her gently, afraid to hurt her in my excitement.
“She remembers!” Saana says, sounding slightly awed. “She was barely conscious when I sang it.”
“Eyes open?” Rose asks, pointing to her mouth.
“No.” I cup her face, marveling at her delicate features, ones so similar to ours but distinctly different, too. Her rounded ears and flat teeth, her skin that doesn’t tell her secrets. I brush a thumb over her eyelids. “Eyes.” Then I touch her mouth, saying our word for it and demonstrating. “Open mouth. Closed mouth.”
“Mouth,” she repeats. She hinges her jaw and then says, “Open mouth.”
“Yes!”
“Open eyes,” she says, blinking her large, green-and-white ones that never quite seem to focus.
“ Yes .” With every new scrap of understanding we share, my pulse races faster.
“Yes,” she repeats. She touches my face with a trembling hand, making my heart skip a beat. “Oljin yes.”
My cock stiffens automatically at the sound of my name in my Alara’s voice. When she feels it rise beneath her, she instantly drops her hand from my face. Her weak muscles tighten into a rigid posture, and her expression shifts to something still and careful.
She doesn’t move away. She doesn’t try to escape. She just waits, expecting the worst from me. Why shouldn’t she? The universe has given her little else.
“No, Rose,” I tell her, lifting her just enough to set her to the side where she doesn’t have to feel my cock’s insistent pressure. I feel like I’m boiling to steam inside, but I will never ask this of her. Not unless she asks first.
Saana looks between us, nodding her approval. “Be a patient farmer. I will get her more food.”
It takes a little coaxing, a bowl of steamed grains and another silly song from Saana, but Rose eventually relaxes, smiling and repeating lines.
The bowl is full, thank Alioth
The bowl is full, thank your mother
The bowl is empty, thank your father
She’s as hungry for words as for lastmeal, gobbling up every one we can teach her: bowl, full, empty. It’s exhilarating how quickly she learns, so I give her more, putting object after object into her hands. Furs, cushion, knife.
It’s so fast and so slow at the same time. I want to pour my brain into hers so we can speak. I want to pour my heart into hers so she can know it, too.
Hand, basket, lantern.
Rose gamely repeats everything I say, touching each item in turn, only stumbling occasionally over the pronunciation. She’s an eager student, and I’m an eager teacher, so we quickly run out of things nearby to name.
Like a scholar, I return to the beginning of the scroll, holding out the bowl to test her.
“Bowl,” she says immediately, lighting up when I say yes . “Bowl full.”
“No. Empty bowl,” I correct.
“Empty bowl,” she whispers, handing it back to me. I replace it with the edge of a fur and wait. Her smile disappears as she strokes the soft texture in her lap. “Cushion?”
“ Fur .” I can’t keep the sharp disappointment out of my tone.
“Oljin.” Saana’s voice is heavy with reproof. “Leave her be for tonight. She needs to rest. A scholarly scolding will do her no good.”
She’s right. I’ve already lost sight of my patience. This will take time. I might not have it, but I must give it to her anyway. I start to draw away, but Rose grabs my wrist with her thin fingers, stopping me with the surprising strength of her grip.
“Oljin yes!” Rose flares at Saana, her cheeks flushing a dull red. She holds up the fur and shakes it. “Cushion no. Fur yes. Oljin yes !”
This fierce little female has teeth sharper than Alioth. This fierce little female could be queen.
Saana looks between us, shaking her head and laughing in disbelief at Rose’s determined defense of me. “Fine. Go ahead, then. Who am I to argue with the goddess?”