AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Twyla
The left side of my cheek throbbed as consciousness pulled at my eyelids. I couldn’t help the groan that escaped my lips. My limbs felt heavy, like someone was weighing them down with grief. I tried to move, but I could barely lift a finger.
There were low voices nearby and I strained to make out what they were saying.
“I still don’t think we should do this.” The voice was low but feminine. “She’s mated or something. I can smell it on her.”
“Fuck that.” The masculine voice was cold, uncaring. I thought I heard a snick-snick of a knife being sharpened. “Her father is paying us five times our usual rate—for each of us. I’m not giving that up.”
“They told us she’d been kidnapped,” the feminine voice snapped in return. “But it’s blatantly clear that she wasn’t. Doesn’t it hurt your conscience even a little?”
“Don’t have one,” was the terse reply.
“But—”
“Look.” He sounded angry now. “The only thing I know for certain is that I have two kids to feed at home. I need this money. Besides, we’re only returning her to her parents—what are they gonna do? Beat her up in a basement? I don’t think so.”
“I’ve done a lot of messed-up shit in my life, but this doesn’t feel right...”
The feminine voice trailed off and I let the fog take me again.
“What was it like growing up on Royal One?”
I set the auto-sew down on my lap, loving the way the metal bits glinted in the evening sun. Just two feet away, Cedra puffed on her pipe while the rocking chair took on a soothing sway.
“Why do you ask?”
“I was there to finish my degree,” she explained, shifting in her seat to meet my gaze. “I can’t imagine growing up somewhere without all this.”
She waved her free hand at the wide expanse of land in front of us.
I looked down at the simple cotton dress I was finishing, a sigh tumbling from my lips as I fidgeted with the fabric. “It’s going to sound silly. Promise you won’t make fun of me?”
She set the pipe down, her face a mask of seriousness. “Of course not.”
I wondered for a moment if she would judge me for the truth. Truth be told, I judged myself a little bit.
But as I gazed into her eyes, the sincerity in them plucked at my heartstrings, and I took a deep breath to gather some courage.
“I was lonely,” I admitted, my voice quiet under the waning sun. “I know how stupid that sounds. How can you be lonely in a city that’s overstuffed with people?”
When she said nothing, I rattled on. “I know what you’re thinking. Poor little rich girl has nothing else to complain about—”
“Not at all,” she interrupted, sitting a little straighter in her chair. “That’s not what I was thinking.”
I shrugged, looking down at my hands again. “Sometimes I think that about myself. I have so much when others have little... How can I complain?”
A little half smile twisted her lips. “It’s not really about credit, is it? Loneliness doesn’t discriminate. It’s like a lesson in irony—a constant, unshakeable companion, latching on to your soul even though it leaves you so very empty. I know the feeling well.”
She reached out with her palm facing upwards, the perfect nestle for my own hand. “Or I should say I used to know the feeling well. Before you.”
“Cedra...” I heard the hitch in my breath as my fingers met her own, intertwining tightly as our chairs rocked in the evening breeze.
“Twyla? Twyla, honey, wake up.”
A soft hand on my cheek brought me back to consciousness, the vision of my Mate with her outstretched palm fading away at the edges. I felt myself tipping forward, reaching for her retreating presence, but it was like trying to catch a shadow between my fingers.
A wail rose in my chest, a pathetically tiny sound that barely made it past my lips.
“She’s coming around, I think.”
I recognized the voice in my ear immediately.
Mother.
“What did you do to her? Is she all right?”
I felt my lips move but couldn’t form any words. Nothing more than a whisper of breath rolled off my tongue.
“We had to use a minor paralytic, ma’am,” the vaguely familiar masculine voice said, matter-of-fact. “She was unwilling to come with us.”
“Unwilling?”
Even with my eyes closed, I could see the furrow forming between my mother’s perfectly arched brows.
“I told you not to harm her!”
My father’s incensed voice was a few feet away.
“There is no need to worry, sir. The effect will fade in an hour or so. She’ll be good as new.”
“Twyla, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Mother’s voice was soft in my ear.
My mind said yes but only a soft groan escaped my lips.
“Tage, settle their payment, please.”
Her voice was polite as ever.
Boots filed out the door, the clicking on the tiled floor in time with the throb on my left cheek.
I opened my eyes slowly, blinking as bright white light assaulted my pupils. In the weeks I’d been with Cedra, I’d gotten accustomed to low lights indoors. One had to do all they could to save precious electricity these days. Now the intensity of the overhead lights was almost painful.
I blinked several times, trying to clear the cobwebs of the past few hours—at least I’d hoped it had only been hours.
Mother was still kneeling over me, but her attention was focused on the sleeve of the shirt I wore—Cedra’s nightshirt. The black material was worn and old, but it radiated comfort.
It still smelled like her.
Mother’s manicured fingers ran over the shirt, her mouth twisting in distaste. I could just imagine what was going through her mind right now. The judgmental thoughts, the unkind words. She’d spat the word “peasant” more than once in my presence.
I didn’t quite recognize the feeling in my chest. My vision still swam at the edges, and I had a hard time focusing on anything in front of me. The rapid pounding in my ears robbed me of breath, and I struggled for composure.
It felt like a little seed had been planted, the soil primed for a fertile harvest. Yet instead of corn sprouting from the earth, it was anger that pushed through, growing a heartbeat and limbs like a monster awakening inside my chest.
I stared at my mother as she muttered under her breath, touching Cedra’s nightshirt as though it was a distasteful puzzle she couldn’t quite figure out. With each whisper, my heart throbbed with words unsaid, pounding so fiercely I feared I might burst into a tirade.
As I lay there, weighed down by the paralytic, it dawned on me that the words rattling through my chest were a lifetime of unvoiced sentiments. Everything I wished I’d said before I’d snuck away from home.
They ached inside me now, needing an outlet, but I feared that no one would listen even if I yelled.
I knew that telling her I’d found love and happiness wouldn’t help. She was a woman who was very much set in her ways. If she didn’t like what she was hearing, she’d either change the subject or pretend you weren’t speaking in the first place. It was her superpower, something I’d seen her do multiple times in the past with Father or me or her friends.
Trying to allay the bubbling anger was a monumental task, but I told myself that perhaps I should be grateful that she was like this. If she and Father hadn’t turned a deaf ear to my pleading, I wouldn’t have needed to take such reckless, desperate measures to get away from them.
And I never would’ve met Cedra.
Oh gods. Cedra.
I remembered the way she’d fallen, thudding hard on the floor, the broken glass crunching under her frame. They’d hit her on the back of the head with the butt of a blaster, and blood had spattered like a sprinkling of confetti, coating her assailant’s black uniform.
The memory of how she’d looked, the light slowly dimming from her eyes as she reached for me even in unconsciousness, would haunt me forever.
It was all my fault. I’d brought violence into our home, and now Cedra was probably badly hurt or...worse.
I felt the tears tremble on the edge of my lash, but I couldn’t seem to move to dash them away.
“Sweetheart?”
I felt a soft cloth on my face, dabbing at the wetness there. The smell of peony and lilac was rife in the air, two scents Mother favored on the inside of her wrist.
“Mother,” I said, when my lips managed to form the words.
“Baby.” She sounded relieved. “Oh, thank goodness. We were so worried.”
“I’m fine,” I murmured, trying to swallow past the intense dryness in my throat. “No thanks to those hunters you sent.”
I tried to sit up, but fell back weakly when my limbs refused to cooperate.
“That was all your father’s idea. The peacekeepers were useless,” she said, placing a bony hand on my back to help me sit up. “But I’m glad they brought you home all the same.”
I gazed into her eyes, a dark obsidian that reflected my image like a mirror.
“I... I’m not. I’m not glad,” I whispered. “I didn’t want to come back. I liked where I was.”
Mother blinked, furrows forming between her brows.
“What do you mean?”
“It means I was happy,” I said quietly, leaning back against a thick embroidered pillow.
Her eyes widened almost comically. “But how is that possible? Look at you, dressed in this ridiculous peasant clothing. And you’ve lost weight. You couldn’t have been happy where you were. On a farming Star, of all places.”
“But I was, Mother. Really, I—”
“I’ve contacted the Philipses. They were happy to know you’re back.”
Father’s voice sliced across whatever I was going to say. He strode into the room, dressed in his vacation best: a crisp collared shirt and white trousers. The vintage leather shoes on his feet gleamed in the bright light.
It dawned on me a little belatedly that we weren’t home as I’d originally thought, but in our holiday house in Gillies. They’d laid me down on the bright yellow velvet chaise in the visiting room, the plush material soft under my bare legs. Around me, my mother’s favored porcelain decor glinted in the sunlight, making everything seem just a little too bright.
At the sight of my father with his arms crossed, my throat constricted. But my mother had no such problem.
“Your daughter’s a little confused, Tage. She says she wants to go back to that farming Star where they found her.”
I felt the air in my lungs slowly leaching out of me.
Those words, uttered so casually, seemed to sum up my relationship with my parents. The constant frustration of speaking but being unheard. Of existing but feeling inconsequential. Always being second-guessed.
Father’s eyes cut to me sharply, their earth tones a replica of my own.
“Rubbish. Twyla, you’re an Oboid. Our only heir. We belong on Royal One.”
The words had the effect of a knife, slicing across my aching heart. My head dipped low, although there was a mantra running through my head, reminding me that I had nothing to be sorry for.
Mother placed her hand over mine, trying to take the sting out of those words in the only way she knew.
“Yes, baby. You’re safe with us now. You don’t need to pretend.”
My bottom lip quivered before I could stop it.
But Father wasn’t done.
“Look at what you’re wearing—it’s not even fit to wipe our floors.”
My breath caught audibly at his words, and I clutched the open collar of the worn fabric, pressing it closer to my skin. I wouldn’t let them take this from me, no matter how cruel their words became.
“Easy, Tage.”
Mother rose, adjusting her pleated skirt as she walked over to him.
“She probably hit her head on the way here,” she said, dismissing my words yet again. “You saw how those ruffians behaved.”
“Those ruffians got the job done, didn’t they? And they’ll keep this discreet. Not spread rumors about the Oboids’ sole heir running away from her engagement party.”
His eyes bore into mine and I struggled to meet his gaze.
“Hmm? Nothing to say for yourself?”
Although Mother patted his arm soothingly, a thick vein had popped up on Father’s temple, pulsing visibly.
“I... I didn’t want to marry him.”
My voice was barely a whisper.
“I tried to tell you many times in many ways, but neither of you would listen to me.”
The rush of words felt freeing, even as the steel of my father’s eyes cut into me.
“We didn’t think you were serious,” Mother said incredulously.
“Why not, Twyla?” Father continued as though this was as interrogation. “Tion is a nice boy, and his family fits ours perfectly. I don’t understand you!”
His near-shout ripped the words right from my heart. “I don’t want a ‘nice boy’ who lives under his mother’s skirts!”
“Watch your mouth, young lady,” Father warned, crossing his arms. “The Philipses will be here any minute. Like us, they had to take a break from Royal One to avoid the looks of pity from members of society.”
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Image was everything to them, and I used to go out of my way to ensure I always behaved with decorum in public. Now...none of that mattered. This wasn’t my life anymore.
All I could think about was Cedra, reaching for me as blood spattered from her skull.
“I won’t see him... I can’t.” My voice rose in a plea.
“You can and you will.” Mother’s tone was softer but no less unyielding. “Once you change into decent clothes and put on some makeup. It’s a good thing I had the bots pack some of your belongings. You just need to remember who you are, that’s all. You’ll feel better when you’re dressed.”
It was no surprise that she’d think that. Clothes were like armor to my mother. When she was in her finery, she radiated confidence like no one else I’d ever met.
But there wasn’t a fine piece of clothing I’d trade for the last bit of Cedra I had left.
“You don’t understand,” I implored. “Please—I’ve met someone. Someone I really, truly love. Those hunters—they hurt her badly when they broke into our home. I don’t even know if she’s alive. I need to go back!”
The sitting room resounded with silence as my parents shared a look of thorough confusion.
“You met someone...on a farming Star?” I’d never heard my Father’s voice so hesitant. Or tinged with shock.
“Yes.”
Of its own volition, my chin tilted with indignance. “We are mated.”
Well, I was stretching the truth just a little, but they didn’t have to know that.
“What rubbish!” In a matter of seconds, Father’s eyes turned a worrying red. “Linea, control your daughter!”
Mother sighed, perching on the edge of the chaise and crossing her legs with practiced elegance.
“Baby, listen.” She placed a hand on my bare knee, patting me as though I were one of her pups. “It’s normal to be afraid before making a commitment to someone else. Before I married your father, I insisted on taking a month-long vacation to experience life with my friends. But I still knew my duty. I came back to marry him and we’ve been happy ever since.”
She nodded to herself, ignoring the frown that twisted my brows. “Now, you’ve had your fun, but it’s time to come back to the real world. We’ve already arranged the match with Tion, and I’m sure he’ll make you happy in the long run.”
My knees shook precariously as I moved away from her touch, gripping the edge of the chaise for support.
Breath tumbled from my lips as I tried to get my bearings again.
“Mother.” I knew it sounded like I was pleading with her, but I was hoping to see some understanding in her eyes. Something to tell me that she loved me and wanted me to be happy. “It’s not normal to be afraid to commit to someone. I wasn’t afraid to commit to Cedra. When I was with her, I wanted forever. I had—have—no doubts. She might not have much of the things you care about, but we have each other, and that makes us richer than most.”
Mother lips parted in apparent confusion, which quickly morphed into stunned silence.
“I don’t love Tion. This marriage would be good for you and the business and our image.But it would mean nothing to me.”
There was a flicker in Mother’s dark eyes. A little hint that my truth was finally sinking in.
Breath swelled in my chest as I waited for her to nod with understanding, perhaps grasp my hands and tell me she was happy I’d found love.
But with the next swift blink, that brief flicker faded away, and I was left deflated, a frustrated wail rising in my chest.
No further words passed between us.
With a slow shake of his head and a disappointed twist of his lips, Father turned on his heel and walked out of the sitting room.
I gazed back at my mother, grappling for words that would make her understand.
“Please.”
It was all that I could think of in that moment, desperation tinging the air as I clutched the chaise until my fingers throbbed.
Her eyes met my own and she hesitated just a moment.
I watched her throat work as she swallowed audibly, looking at Father’s retreating back. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she rose, ignoring my pleas and following her husband out the door with quick steps.
“Locks engage.”
As my cry of protest echoed through the room, the heavy automatic bolts slid in place, clicking shut with eerie finality.
