He is nothing. I can give her planets.
During my break, I’m not allowed to leave the hatchery, but I don’t care about that, either. I’m happy to eat ration bars on the floor and piss with supervision because my mind is somewhere else.
As the day drags on to the beat of the chimes, my plan resolves: Fix my ship. Take Lena to the Eye. Recruit an army. Kill Zomah. Defeat Lothan. Rule beside Lena as Emperor of the Five Planets. It is simple, each step leading to the next, and nearly faultless.
As Oljin said himself, I am very like my father.
I find the comparison less distasteful than it once was.
Settled by my decision, the room comes into focus again, and I’m newly aware that my body has grown weary after many hours of walking the rows and squatting to lift the eggs. My head aches and there’s a burn in every muscle.
I train hard on the Eye, as there’s little else to occupy me. My prayers are usually short and to the point, given that the goddesswould rather not hear them. If I am this exhausted, Lena must be suffering much more.
A chime sounds, irritating my senses, and I move to the next egg, eyes on Lena instead of my task as I circle it with my arms and heave it up a few inches so I can complete another few degrees of the Turn.
She grunts, straining hard to lift her egg long after I’ve finished mine, a dark triangular perspiration stain on the back of her sveli. She manages to adjust the position correctly, but barely in time for the next chime.
The next egg, she turns even slower, her knees wobbling so much, I’m afraid she might drop it. She’s late to the third. As soon as I finish mine, I cut between the rows to help her. We both lift it together, gently adjusting its position.
“Thank you,” she says, sounding embarrassed. The chime sounds.
“Wait for me,” I say over my shoulder, rushing back to my row. Lift, turn, run. We team-lift her egg successfully. Her face is even paler than usual, gray where it’s usually pink. She’s closer to collapse than I realized. “You need a break. Now.”
“It’s not my turn yet.” She smiles wanly. “I’m okay, really.”
Chime.
Run, lift, turn, run.
This time I don’t let her help, even though she flutters and fusses around me.
“You can’t do both sections. You’ll wear out.”
“Shut up and rest.” I tell her on my way back to my position. “Sit down for a moment. Drink and eat. I’ll drop the next one if you don’t.”
“You wouldn’t,” she calls after me, worry lacing her tone because she knows Iwould. But she trots off obediently to do as I commanded. Good little pet.
Chime.
I don’t have time to admire her or preen over my own good tending. Instead all my focus is on balancing my speed and precision. Too careful and I don’t have time to rotate both. Too rushed, and I’ll ruin the Turn for an egg. For the pale fetus inside. For Lena.
At first it is easy to keep up. Every blade that has ever corrected me hewed me for this purpose: to be coldly efficient. To ignore my own pain. To achieve my aims without fail.
But then the chimes seem to speed up. My breath runs out. My wrists protest every time I wrap my hands around an egg. And the next time I rush to Lena’s row, Harl is there.
“Next one is yours,” he grunts, already moving it. I can’t even begrudge him the favor to my mate because it’s a favor to me as well. We take turns covering her section, syncopating our rhythm until Lena returns, refreshed enough to gush her thanks to us both.
Chime. We carry on through the night and the next, Harl and I as anxiously protective of Lena’s health as we are of the eggs, forcing her to take twice as many breaks as scheduled. Even so, when the last Turning chime sounds, a noise I hope I will never hear again in my R’Hiza-damned life, she is barely able to walk, laughing giddily as her legs give out and tip her onto the floor.
“We did it,” she says, eyes too bright in her pale face as she shifts on all fours and tries unsuccessfully to get up. I lift her, trembling myself.
“Let me examine her, brother,” Harl begs, trying to pry her from my arms.
“I’m not your brother,” I hiss, though I don’t have much strength left to fight him off if he tried. He and the other Frathiks seem less fatigued than Lena and I are.
He grips my upper arm, gives me a shake, then slides his arm around my back, supporting us both. “You are now,” he says firmly. “Let me take you where you need to go.”
Chapter 15
