AllFreeNovel
Share Us
In the middle of it all, a sudden mating call occurs at the center of the market, causing everyone in the area to rejoice. When people start shouting and a crowd starts forming, I’m tall enough to catch a glimpse of the scene. There’s a Kar’Kali warrior woman and man dressed in street clothes. Through the bobbing heads of other gawkers, I see a basket of fruits slip from his hands and roll across the ground. He falls to his knees, looking suddenly ill. His eyes turn black. The crowd closes around them, so I don’t see the rest of it.
Raffa tugs me along, not interested in the romance.
As we leave the crowd behind us, I wonder what it must feel like to be a Kar’Kali woman, with no care in the world for how she should choose a partner. As someone who screwed up that decision early on in life, I have a dull yearning for that freedom. To be so confident that the man you commit to is never going to let you down… That must be a wonderful feeling. Instead, I cycle between a lonely need for comfort and a refusal to seek it out. There was a time when I wanted a family and craved a lover I could grow old with. I try not to want them anymore, because I’m not sure they’re even possible now. There’s too much on my plate, too much hesitancy in my heart, and my thirties are ticking by.
“I’ve never been this deep into the palace,” Raffa says, perking up. “Do you think we’ll see the king?”
“Who knows?” I muse, happy to have him as a distraction from my reverie. “He’s here somewhere. Getting ready.”
Raffa pumps his fist. “Getting ready to destroy the Azza once and for all!”
Tomorrow evening, the fleet will depart for Sector 5 with no plans to return until Kar’Kal and the surrounding area is secure, and the Azza border is forced to retreat.
When Raffa is settled in Niko’s room at Lalo’s apartments, I leave to check on Frankie. I’m satisfied to see Raffa smiling as I throw on a sweater at the doorway. He’s laughing at something the elder woman has said about his peeling abilities in the kitchen. Apparently, he’s not very good.
“If you plan to cut a male in a fight, then you had better be able to cut a vegetable without dropping it,” she says as I shut the door.
I’ve been visiting Frankie in the mornings and afternoons for the past few days. I hear the same thing about her status each time— no change. Her burns are healing at a snail’s pace, but still much faster than a human can heal naturally. I talk to her about everything, encouraged by the healers who reiterate what I’ve learned about comas before.
“It’s healthy to speak to her,” they say. “The voices of loved ones can be very beneficial.”
According to Raina, Lalo enthusiastically agreed to visit Frankie regularly when it’s time to leave theHeir.
“You’ll like her a lot,” I tell Frankie. “She’s a warm person, so kind. Did I tell you she’s basically Raina’s mother-in-law? What a blessing when most mothers-in-law are a nightmare, right?”
I tell her about Raffa’s misery, the man I talked to in the bathroom, and the mating call I saw in the market. I tell her that Raina’s going to fight in the army with her new mate.
“I’m gonna have to leave soon, and I wish I could take you with me,” I say. “It might be frightening to wake up here, but I have a feeling you’ll like it on theHeira lot. You’re the one that loves culture and travel, anyways. This is your dream come true— an ancient castle floating through space… We’ll have to pry you away when we come back to pick you up.”
A couple stray tears fall into the regen goo. I snap up and glance around, wiping my face. The device monitoring her vitals doesn’t change, so I guess a little saline won’t mess with the regen bath.
“Oops,” I murmur, letting out a giggle. “You don’t mind, right? I should make a run for it before they kick me out, huh? See you tomorrow.”
CHAPTEREIGHT
KAYE
Raffa seems backto his normal self on the big day. A celebratory send-off is planned for the launch of the fleet. The Ka’lakka will parade from the palace gates, through the marketplace, and then to the airfield where his shipMakiva’s Revengewill lead the liftoff. Lalo has taken on many of the responsibilities for preparing the festivities, so she sets us both to work on making deliveries. We use a small skimmer to carry boxes of banners, decor, and Kar’Kali flags to the market center where most of the inhabitants of the ship will gather to cheer on the Ka’lakka and his crew of warriors.
We’re exhausted by the time crowds of Kar’Kali onlookers gather in the marketplace. The atmosphere is a strange mix of anxious energy, excitement, and sorrow. We find a spot at the back of the crowd, leaving the front spaces for the children and those that have family in the procession.
Music starts up in the distance as the Ka’lakka leaves the palace. We can hear the crowd’s reactions as the warriors move by, each moment becoming louder and louder. As soon as we have a visual on the king and his warriors, the surrounding crowd starts to wave and cheer. They call Makiva the ‘Thrice Chosen,’ blessed by the spirit three times over. They chant to him, “Exile breaker! Last king in hiding!”
“Why is he Thrice Chosen?” I ask Raffa, forced to yell over the cheers.
“One, he’s blue-haired, a sign of the Kali’Ka’s blessing,” he explains. “Two, he survived the attack onMakiva’s Revenge. Three, he’s the only remaining member of the House of Makiva.”
The warriors ofMakiva’s Revengewalk in a loose formation ahead of their king and his royal guard. It’s no stiff military parade like I’ve seen back on Earth. Instead of marching in perfect lines, some warriors have linked arms and others stop to greet a family member they see in the crowd. One warrior carries his mate on his shoulders, their relationship evident by the hand holding fast to the smaller male’s upper thigh. The mated warrior pair elicits smiles from all those they pass. There are other mated pairs marching together, holding hands or stopping to share a kiss.
The Ka’lakka wears ceremonial attire over his armored uniform, oozing strength and youth. He crouches on the front of a skimmer, reaching into the crowd to touch the hands of those crying out to him from the front rows. His magnificent blue hair is piled atop his head in an intricately braided bun decorated with silvery metallic threads and black pearls. He’s a beloved leader; that much is apparent. He’s not smiling, emanating a calm energy as he greets his people.
I glance over, expecting to see Raffa’s rapt face. But he’s not standing beside me. I get on tiptoes to look over the heads in front of me, wondering whether he pushed his way to the front. But as the Ka’lakka’s procession moves past our position, the boy’s nowhere to be seen.
“Raffa?” I cry, whipping around in every direction, searching for him.
I might be a tall woman for a human, but my height would be average for a Kar’Kali female. I’m forced to hop on my tiptoes. It hardly helps, as I’m seeking a black head of hair among a crowd of others with predominantly black hair.
“Raffa!” I scream, nearly shoving someone in my effort to see where he’s gone.
