twenty-three
Mira was getting some of the best sleep of her life, and it was because, for the first time since leaving prison, she didn’t have to sleep beside her mother.
Joiya wasn’t there half the time. Or, if she returned, it was so late that Mira was already asleep.
Love that for us. Mira enjoyed the privacy now that she had some lovely memories to reflect on late at night.
Just a few doors down was her beloved Sulim, her sweet soulmate who may have shared a bed with a man, but Mira knew the truth.
And she was grateful that her mother had plenty to occupy herself with around there, not that Mira was interested in the integral parts of Joiya and Ramaron’s research. Nor was she interested in what else they were doing, since Joiya was seriously gone for half the week.
Honestly, the fewer eyes on Mira, the better.
She was a busy woman, after all. Very busy getting into trouble with the future Lady of the house whenever she could get away with it.
Everyone now knew that Sulim and Mira were “close” friends.
It wasn’t unusual for them to get up early and have breakfast together before going for a walk to Sulim’s loft, where they made the most of being alone before returning to the house to their respective tasks.
Sulim had a house she was learning to run, and Mira sometimes joined the others in town for more mental stimulation.
The few times she tried to help with their research, however, she nearly went insane trying to understand esoteric metaphysics that seemed to come naturally to them.
Then again, she did not consider “philosophical debates” one of her hobbies—and her mother could go for hours.
The trick, of course, was to evade detection that she was having a romantic relationship, but that was easy enough with so much chaos in the house. Yet…
Wouldn’t it be nice if it didn’t have to be a secret? If the two of them could canoodle and cuddle in public without manifesting an apocalyptic storm?
“It’d be a mess,” Mira told her lover as they had tea in the barn loft.
Sulim was afflicted with a monthly malady that left her feeling as sexual as a piece of roadkill, but that didn’t stop them from holding hands on the table while the sun streamed through the small window.
“My mother and her side of the family wouldn’t care, but my father’s? We couldn’t go anywhere near my natal home. My grandmother, Great Dame Dunsman, would lose her shit. She already hates that I’m queer, but among our kind,
same-sex love between julah is treated differently from that between julah and humans.”
“I’d think they’d prefer you to be with a human, since we die before they can blink.”
Mira didn’t like to be reminded of this.
Already, the past several weeks had flown by in that same blink.
“It depends on the family. Like, my mother’s side truly does not care if I’m cavorting with a man, woman, human, julah. They don’t even care if you’re married, as long as you’re not going to create an annoying scandal. In fact, there’s a tradition of the men in my family, especially,
marrying humans and moving to some settlement on the Estate until they—”
“Settlement?”
Another thing Mira had forgotten she might have to explain!
“When you’ve got big families like mine, but only one large piece of land to house them, not everyone can live in the main house you think of when you hear julah estate. That’s for the Master and Lady’s family, their favorites, and the people who work there every day.
Every family handles genetic sprawl differently, but House Lerenan has multiple settlements on our property. It helps that we’re next to a mountain that we used to mine. And when a lot of your family travels in theatrical troupes,
they’re fine with living in townhouses and apartments when back on their home planet.”
“Wow. What do the Dunsmans do?”
“Ugh. Well, if they can’t convince you to go live in one of the cities away from them or, even better, out in the Federation among the humans you clearly love so much, you live in one of our villas. There are some standalone homes and little clusters of cottages around Dunsman Estate,
but only because some Lady in some previous generation didn’t like living in the main house with her husband.”
“What do the Marlows do?”
Mira had a feeling Sulim only asked that because that was the other name she knew off the top of her head.
“Same as the Lerenans, really. They live on the other side of the same mountain range, you know. Only Marlow Estate is a part of the Great Forest, so there are some clearings for camping and more permanent living. The Marlows also have quiet art cottages you can rent for long-term retreats,
if you’re from outside the family.”
“And inside it?”
“Oh, if you’re a member of the family, even a hybrid, you’re taken care of for life. They’ll find a room for you, at least. And something for you to do if you can’t keep busy.”
“Sounds nice.”
Mira shrugged. “Yahzen is the most collectivist of societies, but it’s because we live for thousands of years. You can have petty rivalries or outright dislike a member of your family, but life will be miserable if you can’t be cordial or court harmony. But there’s also the image factor.
Which brings us back to dating humans versus other julah…”
Mira explained that what it really boiled down to was a family’s relationship to image and honor.
Some, like the Dunsmans, were so stuck up and by-the-rules that they couldn’t even entertain love matches among their own cohort without someone fainting and being convinced that the end was nigh.
Then there were others, like the Lerenans, who were more egalitarian between classes.
Because, despite what Sulim might have gleaned from her studies into the julah, they had their own familial hierarchy on Yahzen.
At any given time, there were only about twenty families out of a hundred who ruled the world. It could change any generation.
“So, families in the top twenty percent are more likely to clutch their collars at your dating a human…”
“Let alone one of the same sex.”
“But you can’t even get me pregnant! Or vice versa!”
Mira laughed. “Thank the Void.”
For the first time in her life, Mira loved sharing her world and culture with someone else.
Sulim knew how to ask intelligent questions, and her cursory studies of julah culture suggested that she’d probably enjoy a visit one day, if someone could swing the visa for a legal visit.
Otherwise, it’s the down and dirty trick of teleporting them straight to an Estate and smuggling them back out in the morning.
That was how half of the Lerenan hybrid children were conceived.
Sulim then asked her to read more of Orleah!
to her, which Mira had slowly been doing over the past two weeks.
As much fun as it was to watch Sulim struggle through a language she didn’t really know, it was more fun reading it out loud to her and then translating the best passages.
Besides, if they couldn’t make love right now, what was just as good?
I could live like this for a long time. Mira knew that the affair ate away at Sulim, who still didn’t know how to tell her husband she was in love with someone else, but was it so bad? Stealing moments for themselves like this?
Her only regret was that they couldn’t share a bed at night. Even if Sulim could steal away from her marital bed, there was no guarantee that Joiya wouldn’t return in the early hours of the morning and be quite annoyed by it.
That night, as Mira slipped away into a dreamless sleep—alone—she was suddenly shaken awake by a male hand.
“The hell?” She batted it away as she rolled back, pushing her thick hair out of her face and attempting to see who loomed over her. “What’s going on?”
It was Ramaron, barely dressed in his loungewear with only a travel coat over his clothes. “Your mother sent me to get you. She wants you at the town Temple as soon as I can bring you.”
Mira pushed herself up, wide awake. “What’s wrong? What happened to Ma?”
“Nothing.” Ramaron pursed his lips, as if he wanted to say more before reconsidering. “There’s something she wants to show you. Come on. I’m cold.”
Mira wasn’t wearing pants and only her tunic top, forcing Ramaron to turn around as she grabbed pants and a brassiere as quickly as possible. She forewent socks and instead slid her feet into the house sandals she had brought with her.
As soon as she was ready, Ramaron took her hand and teleported them back to Harksplit.
“You’re right—it’s cold.” Mira hadn’t worn a coat, and Ramaron brought them to the main entrance of the Temple, where the heat hadn’t been on for hours.
“Before we go in there,” Ramaron said, referring to his apartment in the back. “Promise me you won’t make a scene. I’m just the messenger. Or delivery boy, if you will.”
“What’s going on, exactly?” Mira asked, attempting not to shiver.
They began the walk toward his apartment door. “One of your mother’s whims.”
That could have meant anything from a surprise birthday party to demanding that they spend the next five hours putting together a jigsaw puzzle.
No, Mira certainly hadn’t anticipated the new guest sitting at Ramaron’s dining table, his Temple white loungewear the only thing marking him as someone she might immediately recognize.
Not the long blond hair, blindingly fair skin, or the self-important look that both Joiya and Ramaron had been in love with for over a thousand years—for some confounding reason.
“Ba…” Mira could only stare at her father, who sat barefoot, one leg over the other, and his hands in his lap as he slightly turned toward the room.
His hair was pulled back into his usual perfunctory ponytail, and if he was bothered by the research-induced mess in Ramaron’s temporary apartment, he did not let on. “What are you doing here?”
Joiya approached, smiling as she took her daughter’s arm. “Isn’t it wonderful that your father could visit? Oh, I couldn’t let the opportunity for you two to see each other slip by.”