IfI am Jara. It may be Chanísh. His deference to the priests—and reluctance to make any deals with the Frathiks—leads me to believe he’ll follow their guidance and close our planet to outsiders once more. Perhaps this is what the goddess wants and why she hesitates to show me her favor.
As I make the steep return climb, uncertainty weighs my steps, as though Alioth has tied stones to my ankles. How many more times will I make this journey down the cliffs and back up again, searching for my queen?
In my heart, I know the answer. As many times as is required. As long as the goddess glows.
I reach the entrance to the pits and push through the noisy cranac of spectators, looking for Pravil. I catch sight of him near the challengers’ pen, his attention riveted by the fight in progress. I start toward him, but then I catch the first lick of her scent.
Time stops.
Everythingstops.
My queen is here.
A second breath burns my nares and sears the roof of my mouth. It’s not a scent, it’s a hunger. An obsession.
Find her.
My eyes rake through the crowd, pausing on every headscarf. Most are the traditional brown or white grasscloth, but some are the new, brighter colors that have come from trade with other planets. Which one is mine? Which one is calling me?
The priests say that my fated queen will feel the pull, too. Before my mother broke to pieces, she said the bond was like a tether, one sash tied around two waists, one mouth feeding two stomachs. No wonder she is torn in half now that it is severed, if this is how tightly it binds.
Whereisshe? Anger storms my skin, and I can hardly think as the cranac presses close around me, drowning me even as I drown in her scent. I push away the bodies, but they returnlike waves of grass in the wind. It seems every person stands between me and my queen. Will I have to kill them to keep them off me?
No. I will not mark this day with blood. This is a day of joy. The day the goddess smiled on me, showed me her favor, raised me to rule. My bloodlust is vanquished by gratitude.
May the goddess light my path.
As if Alioth answers my thoughts, a glow at the near end of the arena draws my attention, my view of it blocked by knot of raucous Irrans who are watching a Mizaran traveling circus rather than the fights. As sure as my skin, her scent intensifies as I move toward them, her spice thickening until I’m drowning in it.
But when I reach the front of the group and first lay eyes on her, I don’t even recognize what I’m seeing. Some tiny, broken creature curls in the dust, keening. One of the scaly Mizarans strikes her with a short black whip, and she struggles to her feet as the other jerks the leash that’s fastened around her neck. Wet tracks cut through the dust on her round face.
My queen, I realize with horror that blanches my skin white. She stumbles in a circle around her captor, her movements jerky and weak. She’s made of wicker, she’s so frail, and it’s this fragile, alien being that has drawn me so powerfully.
The Mizaran barks in broken Irran, “See strange, soft one? Cannot walk, only dance.” He cracks the whip at her ankles, and she stumbles, falling to her knees. He growls something in his gravelly language, and she tenses when the leash tightens on her throat. I see her limbs strain to obey the command, but her efforts only land her in the dust again.
The crowd laughs. The leash pulls. The whip falls.
This is wrong. All of it is wrong. Her strangeness, her scent, her pain.
“Stop this,” I roar. The Mizaran holding the leash snaps his head toward me, his forked tongue snaking out. I stalk toward him and grab him by the neck, willing down the urge to crush his windpipe and tear off his smug, reptilian head. I cannot kill him in front of the crowd unless he agrees to my challenge, but that doesn’t mean I have to let this go on. “On Irra we do not delight in the captivity of others. The circus is closed. You’re not welcome here.”
Without looking behind me, I wave the cranac away. They grumble, but, deprived of their show, begin to drift toward the action at the other end of the cavern.
The one with the whip hisses. Membranes flick rapidly over his beady eyes as he takes in my royal sveli and the knives strapped to my thighs. “It dance for you. No trouble.”
He raises his hand to strike her again, but I squeeze his partner’s scaly neck, letting my claws dig in until he drops his whip. “She’s mine,” I growl.
“Good price,” the one I’m holding says, swallowing hard. He holds up the end of the leash, tugging her closer, and she crawls toward him on her forearms. Toward us. “Long travel. Eat manylorva. Fifty coin.”
I can’t bring myself to look at her, because if I do, he’s dead. I’ll be the Red Jara in the scrolls. The one remembered because he claimed his Alara in blood instead of light.
“Done.” I drop him in the dust where he belongs and pick up my queen.
Chapter 3
Rose
Idon’t know where I am. My vision has been getting worse and worse. I’m almost totally blind at night now, and bright spots flash in my eyes during the day, blocking out parts of my vision. I can hear noisy voices around me, catch glimpses of faces and bodies in my peripheral vision, so it’s probably the usual. Crowds of aliens watching me, laughing at me. Sometimes the lizard men let them touch me through the wire of my cage. Sometimes they make me run in circles like a dog on a chain.
