Chanísh and the High Priest exchange a long look that speaks to their premeditation. Then the High Priest clears his throat. “There will be no joining today.”
My mother gasps. “Surely, you would not prevent it if it is the goddess’s will?”
“Of course not,” the High Priest answers soothingly. “But her will cannot yet be determined. We will test this purported Alara in the temple. If Oljin’s claim is true, it is only a small delay until the two of them can join.”
He’s lying. The old bastard is lying so much that he can’t keep his dark-purple pigment from rising above the clasp of his cloak. He fears our union and what it means for Irra. He fears admitting that he is wrong. And he should. He will not hold his office much longer.
“The joining today is only ceremonial. She already wears my crown.” I smooth the curls back from Rose’s forehead, exposing the golden flowers blooming there. She beams up at me, her skin flushing lavender, the color of fated love. “See her pigment shine? She is undeniably my Alara.”
Murmurs rise among the ranks of armed shadowcloaks. Chanísh shoots a panicked look at the High Priest, who waves away my brother’s concern. “Who knows what alien pigment signifies. Perhaps that is her natural color. We must study her and pray.” He raises his hand, and behind him, the dark cloaks shuffle forward, ready for his command.
“What is he saying?” Rose asks, fingers digging into my side.
I don’t have time to translate before the boom of a Frathik voice sounds behind us. “My people kneeled to your king, andyour own people will not?” The accusation hangs heavy in the air as the priests nervously draw their weapons.
“Take them to the temple,” the High Priest commands. The air is filled with whisper of blades as the priests close in on us, trapping us against the throne.
Chanísh melts back, the dust-mouthed coward. If violence breaks out, he wants his blade clean so he can deny his schemes against me. Whatever test the priests set for Rose, she will fail it. Banishment is certain. Execution probable.
“Oljin,” Pravil says, looking for my direction. “Flee or fight?”
There is no need for more sacrifice today. “Flee, now. Take Rose and Honhura to your mother’s valith.”
My mother gathers the skirts of her sveli and accepts Pravil’s help from the throne. I let go of Rose. “Go with him. He’s the only one I trust. I’ll take care of this and send for you when it’s over.”
Her eyes wide and panicked, she shakes her head, her grip on me tightening. “I won’t leave you. You swore we’d never be apart again.”
“I also swore to keep you safe.” Torn between two promises, my heart is in shreds.
“I’m staying with you,” Rose insists. “We’re staying together.”
I can deny her nothing.
“Jara, we have to go,” Pravil interrupts urgently. I nod to him, and he backs out of the throne room, shielding my mother with his own body.
“Is this the end?” Rose asks me, her hand trembling so much she drops her basketof scrolls.
A scholar darts forward to gather them, and the same impulse rises in me to never let a scroll touch the dirt. I want to kneel and pick them up, spend the afternoon adding more words to her lists before we take them to the archives. I want to carry her back to the grass and make love to her among the efala blossoms. I want to lie to her and tell her no, this is only the beginning.
I tell her the only truth I know. “I love you. All will be well as long as we’re together.”Even if we’re ghosts.She laces her fingers with mine and squeezes, transmitting her understanding.
To my surprise, I find the Frathik leader at my elbow. His eight-eyed delegates surround us, caging us in, their thick hides an unexpected shield. “Rightful rulers of Irra, allies of Frath, I ask you only once. Do you need our aid?”
“Yes.” I say it without hesitation, without a care for the throne I will undoubtedly never sit upon as long as my brother lives. All that matters is Rose’s hand in mine.
“Then we will be your escort,” he says grimly. The group draws their verduks, brandishing the electrified rods like swords as we move as a group toward the exit.
The High Priest shouts for his shadowcloaks to stop us, but most of the priests circling our tight knot of defense are wary to engage the intimidating Frathiks with their bright, buzzing weapons. The few who do find that their epylium blades conduct electricity very well. Their bodies litter the steps behind us as we retreat down the cliffs.
Only when we reach the spaceport, where the Frathiks’ matte, black ship is docked, does the tight knot of defenders loosen, letting Rose and I choose our own path.
“Decide quickly,” their leader says. “Our ship leaves in mere minutes. You are welcome to join us as our privileged guests, but after drawing our weapons in the Irran throne room, I can make no guarantees as to when we will be allowed to return to this planet.”
I cup Rose’s face in my hands, relief thrumming in my chest that she’s safe. “We can hide in the outlands,” I tell her. “I’ll build you a valith with my own two hands, and we’ll keep a herd of braxa. But we’ll have to live in isolation because you’ll always be in danger if we’re discovered. Or we can walk onto this ship as diplomatic refugees, with the hope that someday, somehow, we might negotiate a return. We’ll be safe, but we may never find a way to come back. It’s your choice.”
She puts her hands over mine, pressing them tight against her jaw. “I don’t care where we are. All I want is you.”
“Then we’ll go.”
