Kiera's Sun Page 3

  “I don’t know,” Kiera replied to the unasked question. “He didn’t say no.”

  “Did he say yes?” Talal asked.

  “No.”

  “You should not place our brother in such a position, nishani,” D’Ryn, the eldest, chided. “If he chooses not to accept someone into our family, we must respect that.”

  Talal’s face fell.

  “If that’s his choice, I want it to be because he met Ketnan and didn’t like him, not because he doesn’t want to be related to a non-warrior,” Kiera shot back.

  D’Ryn pursed her lips.

  “I will do as my brother wishes, nishani,” Talal whispered.

  Kiera had a long way to go in teaching the women of A’Ran’s family to be more independent and stop their subservient waiting on the men. She wanted to tell them so but held her tongue, aware she’d made some process with Talal already. The women of Anshan needed baby steps when it came to bucking tradition.

  “Shall we go in?” Kiera asked instead.

  The three followed her lead as she started towards the sprawling white house that was theirs. Once the only dwelling on this part of the planet, it had been joined by a town of Anshan refugees that sprang up over the course of a month. They passed several other homes much smaller in size, where women were outside cooking or wrangling children. The day was warm and bright. Tarantula cats were everywhere, and Kiera shuddered at the sight of the harmless, six-legged creatures that survived off dirt and mold.

  The four of them entered the house. The two oldest sisters broke off and went towards the atrium at its center, while Talal followed Kiera down the hallway lined with private quarters belonging to the family.

  “I tried your art,” Talal said and withdrew a piece of paper from her pocket.

  Kiera took it, grimacing. An artist, she often missed the paintings and drawings that surrounded her in her home on Earth. Talal’s attempt would’ve made her smile, even if rather rudimentary, if she hadn’t chosen to draw a tarantula cat.

  “I know you don’t like them,” the younger girl said with a giggle. “I thought it was good.”

  “It is good,” Kiera agreed. “You’ll get better with more practice.”

  Talal appeared pleased with the lukewarm praise. Kiera stopped at the wall outside the bedroom she shared with A’Ran. Her mural was growing daily. She’d carefully sketched then painted A’Ran, followed by Talal. Her current project was trying to imagine D’Ryn with something other than her usual scowl. D’Ryn’s body was finished but her face blank.

  Kiera wasn’t certain what it’d take to make the eldest sister smile, and she didn’t want to paint her with a frown.

  “You need more of these,” Talal said, stooping to retrieve a pencil from the ground. She held it out.

  Kiera accepted it slowly. She’d spent a lot of time drawing the past few weeks, since returning from Earth to the Anshan moon. Part of it was how giddy it made her feel when A’Ran praised her work and watched her paint. He truly loved the colors and pictures she created, because Anshan art consisted of gray metal sculptures. She loved seeing him happy.

  Drawing was also an outlet for her emotions, both positive and negative. She’d been working on dealing with the emotions of losing her best friend in the universe, Evelyn, when she started the mural.

  It had taken her years to finally understand how selfish Evelyn was, but that did nothing to make it easier to lose her friendship. Evelyn had brought the pencils with her, a small sign of thoughtfulness from an otherwise self-indulgent woman. It hurt too much to dwell on what their friendship had been and what Kiera mistook it for being.

  “Yeah, I will eventually,” she agreed softly. “You can have that one.”

  Talal smiled at the gift. She rolled the pencil carefully in the drawing she’d made and pocketed them.

  “I must go prepare for the midday meal,” Talal said, anxiousness returning in her voice.

  Kiera smiled at her, not at all certain A’Ran was going to speak to the teen’s love interest let alone let him in the house. She expected their family lunch was going to be a tense event.

  Talal left her in the corridor. Kiera’s gaze returned to her project and settled on a small circle meant to become Earth she’d drawn in the sky above the finished portrait of A’Ran.

  While she hadn’t yet completed the planet, she experienced a familiar sense of homesickness. She’d sketched Earth as a warm memory of what she’d left behind to stay with A’Ran and her new family. She picked up a pencil and drew in the continents of North and South America.

  “I want to go there.”

  Kiera turned, not hearing Gage’s silent approach until the teen girl spoke.

  “It’s your home, isn’t it?” Gage asked.

  “My home is here, but it’s where I’m from,” Kiera answered.

  The troubled woman’s gaze was on the planet.

  “I don’t think you’d like it there as much,” Kiera added.

  “I could start over. A new life, like yours here.”

  “True, but life there would be much harder for you.”

  “Harder than knowing my brother hates me for the child I carry?”

  “He doesn’t hate you, Gage.” Kiera frowned at the amount of anger and sorrow in the girl’s voice. “He loves you as he always has. If anything, he doesn’t know what to do to help you be happy.”

  “My brother does not wish for happiness. He wishes to mate me off to the son of some Council member and banish me from my home.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “This morning, before you left to Anshan,” Gage said. “I overheard him talking to Mansr near the atrium.”

  After a quick breakfast, Kiera had gone to change and meet him in the grass in front of the shuttle that took them to the planet. He had the time to speak with Mansr, but wouldn’t he have told her, his nishani of something involving their family? Especially something of this magnitude? Exiling his own sister?

  “You could take me to your planet,” Gage said again. “You could show me the villages and how to find food, and I’d stay there forever with my son.”

  “Or you could stay here and your sisters will help you raise your son.”

  “My brother is too stubborn. He cares more for his duty than us. I brought shame upon the whole –”

  “Let me talk to him before you do anything crazy,” Kiera said with a sigh, cutting off the meltdown she heard coming. “Okay?”

  Gage looked at her blankly.

  “Is this acceptable?” Kiera rephrased. “Promise me you won’t do anything until I’ve had a chance to find out what’s going on.”

  The woman frowned. By the hesitant nod, Kiera guessed she didn’t have much time before the pregnant woman took matters into her own hands.

  “Ah, darn,” Kiera said suddenly. “I’m supposed to go to the medics. Go get some rest. After the midday meal, I promise I’ll talk to A’Ran and let you know what he says.”

  Another nod, this one distracted. Gage’s eyes returned to the rendering of Earth. Concerned yet irritated she hadn’t had time to work on her project, Kiera left Gage and hurried through the house and into the backyard. More dwellings were built in the open field where A’Ran’s warriors had once sparred. Kiera waved to the few Anshans who stopped to stare at her, aware A’Ran’s sisters were usually accompanied by an escort wherever they went.

  “Hello, nishani-mani!” a little boy called as she passed. She acquired the nickname – nishani doll – after Mansr introduced her to a few of the newcomers as a doll from another planet.

  The child’s mother hushed him quickly.

  Kiera waved in response and crossed the grassy areas to the cluster of buildings that marked the alley designated for Anshan artisans and the professional caste. The medics were located beside the Anshan metal-smiths, whose massive equipment was used to mold gray metal into household items and weapons at the touch of a button. Spacecraft designers were housed next to a contingent of miners, and tech
nicians that kept the Anshan technology humming faced the building dedicated to storing Anshan records and history.

  She entered the building holding the medics. Light spilled through naked windows and skylights and was absorbed into the cold gray metal of the machines Anshans used for their advanced medicine. Kiera eyed her least favorite – but most useful – of the machines: the cell-regenerator, a device capable of repairing wounds and broken bones in a matter of minutes.

  It was shaped like a massive coffin and managed to freak her out every time she saw it, even knowing what it did.

  “Nishani,” one of the medics emerged from another room with a bow.

  “Hi, Zanan,” she said. “I’m probably early.”

  “A nishani is neither late nor early,” he said solemnly. The tall, middle-aged Anshan was thin almost to the point of gaunt with the characteristic dark eyes and olive skin of his people.

  “Do I just tell you everything right here?” she asked, looking around self-consciously. Anshans were strange about privacy. The windows had neither glass nor shutters. They were completely open for anyone passing by to hear what was being discussed. The disciplined, general populace trusted that no one would listen who wasn’t supposed to hear. For Gage to dare eavesdrop on her brother was a sign of how upset she was.

  “If you prefer, or we can sit and talk.” He motioned to a bench along one wall.

  Kiera went to it, not yet comfortable with the complete lack of privacy of the otherwise reserved Anshans. Zanan sat at the far end of the bench.

  “I’m, um, late for my … you know, woman’s monthly curse,” she said in a low voice.

  “Where does it hurt?”

  “Nothing hurts. I mean, my period.”

  He was studying her hard.

  “You know how a woman bleeds every month?” Her face felt hot. It was one of the many times she wished the translator bud at her ear had some sort of rewind-and-delete button.

  “Ah, of course,” he said. “Forgive me. I misunderstood. Anshan women did not bleed for many years. They were not fertile until you came.” He looked particularly pleased with this information. “This is an honor, nishani, to be the first to know of our dhjan’s son.”

  Awkward. “Um, thanks. So, do you need to examine me?” Kiera cleared her throat, not about to take off her clothes in front of all the open windows. “Here?”

  “I do. Come.” He strode to another of the machines.

  This one stretched from floor to ceiling and resembled a tanning booth she’d visited once. It wasn’t much friendlier looking than the cell-regenerating coffin. Zanan touched the control panel on the side, and a door slid open.

  “This will examine all your processes,” he said as she stared at the dark opening.

  “Do I take off my clothes in there?”

  “What? Of course not, nishani.”

  Her face felt hotter at his startled look. She stepped into the exam box. The door slid closed behind her. It was dark and cool. She stood perfectly still, waiting for the bizarre sounds that the coffin made the few times it had healed her. The exam box was silent. After a few minutes, the door slid open again.

  “You may come out,” Zanan called to her, out of sight.

  Kiera did so and saw him at the control panel on the side opposite the door. Consternation crossed his features as he took in the geometric shapes that made up their writing. The shapes flashed across the viewer while different touchpads around the control panel lit up in silent communication.

  “It is not a son,” he said, puzzled. “Your readings are different than an Anshan’s.” He continued to stare at the writing and flashes in silence.

  She waited a few minutes before prodding him. “What does it say?”

  “It cannot be possible.”

  “Oh, god. It’s not twins, is it?”

  “No, nishani. I am not certain what this means.”

  “Tell me!” Growing concerned, she inched closer, peering at a screen covered with symbols she wasn’t able to read.

  Zanan hesitated before speaking. “I will need you to return tomorrow. Your genetic makeup is different enough that I will need to research this.”

  “You’re scaring me, doc,” she said, trying to read his features. “Can you give me a hint? Anything?”

  “I would rather discuss this with the dhjan tomorrow after I–”

  “I’m not leaving until you tell me, and you certainly aren’t telling him anything you won’t tell me!”

  He appeared taken aback again as she trampled over Anshan decorum. Still, he said nothing.

  “The dhjan sent me here alone today to talk to you. If I have to interfere with his plans to bring him tomorrow, because you wouldn’t tell me something …” She shrugged.

  “Very well, nishani,” he relented. “You are not with child, because you cannot carry a child.”

  It was Kiera’s turn to be startled into silence.

  “I must confirm what the exam tells me,” he added. “It does not seem possible. No nishani in the history of our people has been barren. The dhjan bloodline has never been broken.”

  Barren. Like Anshan. Kiera struggled with the words, uncertain how to take them. Part of her felt relieved that she wouldn’t be pressured into having kids before she was ready. And then she realized what he was saying. Anshan needed an heir. Her chest tightened so quickly, she could barely breathe.

  No nishani in the history of our people has been barren.

  “I see,” she managed.

  “But …” His frown grew deeper, almost haggard. “This is not the worst. Your cell regeneration is slowing too quickly.”

  “I don’t understand that.”

  “It means … I think … that you’re dying.”

  Kiera didn’t move or speak, not sure she heard him right.

  “I hope to have different news, but I think it likely I will not,” Zanan said. “Return tomorrow. I will research these readings to be certain.”

  She stood in silence, willing him to tell her it was a horrible joke or that the machine made a mistake. When his features grew grimmer, she backed away.

  “Thank you. I can return tomorrow.” She left quickly without another word, unable to digest what he’d just told her. Stepping into the sunlight, she stood frozen for a moment.

  You’re dying.

  Had she really heard those words? It didn’t seem possible. How much valuable medical information could a tanning booth give him, anyway?

  What would A’Ran do when he found out he’d have no son? That the bloodline ended with him?

  He’ll send me back. She shook her head to clear the thought away. It was the least of her concerns, but it lingered. Death was probably preferable to being barren in a society like this one. A’Ran’s sense of duty to his people trumped everything. Would it trump his love for her, too?

  “No,” she said under her breath. She took a deep breath and started towards her home.

  Then again, A’Ran was contemplating sending one sister away and denying the other the chance to marry the man she loved, because the teen boy was a miner.

  Her step almost faltered. He’d made a promise to her. What did it mean that only she could heal Anshan – and she was dying? How would he take learning that the force in his blood, the one that kept the planet alive, would not survive his reign?

  Maybe the doc will have different news tomorrow, she reminded herself. Yet the resolution in the doctor’s face warned her he’d already settled on his initial determination.

  Struggling to digest what she’d just learned, Kiera reached her home and moved through the house in a trance, not aware of where she was until she stood before the painting of A’Ran in the corridor. Kiera stared up at his noble features. Her throat tightened.

  You’re dying.

  There has to be some mistake. If her life was connected to Anshan, then what exactly did that mean? Was there something wrong with the plane, too, or had it decided to reject her? Not for the first time, she found herself
wishing to understand the relationships she was supposed to have with a chunk of rock floating in space. Because there was a relationship; she’d seen on more than one occasion that she could bring the planet surface to life.

  Was Anshan suffering from some other kind of disease, reflected in her medical exam? Or was this truly her disease and issue, separate from what the planet was going through?

  In a daze of suppressed emotion, she picked up a pencil and began sketching herself on the wall opposite A’Ran and his family. It seemed fitting that she wasn’t on their wall, not if she was not going to be a part of their lives for long. She worked furiously, oblivious to the passage of time, concentrating instead on channeling her confusion and fear into something she could handle.

  You’re dying.

  “That can’t be true. I feel fine,” she whispered to the wall. She’d felt happy and healthy since returning to the Anshan moon. Was it something else, then? A disease that didn’t bother the Anshans but did her? How could she feel the best she’d ever been and be dying?

  “Did you mean to leave me alone with the miner?” A’Ran’s deep, low voice jarred her.

  The begrudging way he said miner made her smile despite the turmoil in her thoughts. She turned and looked up at her lifemate. He wore the loose clothing of his people: trousers and V-neck tunic accessorized by a belt thicker than her thigh. A’Ran’s dark eyes were assessing, as if he suspected she’d set him up and wasn’t too happy about it. The sight of him always made her body warm from the inside out and her heart quicken.

  Until she thought of what the doctor told her. Despair and disbelief trickled through her.

  How can I be dying?

  “No, I meant to greet him. I just got a bit … involved with my work,” she said, tossing the pencil.

  “My nishani, who has no sense of duty at all,” he said, his words softer. His gaze warmed, and he held out a hand to her.

  Kiera took it and hugged him, comforted by his familiar scent and warmth. She rested her head against his warm chest. His heartbeat was slow and steady, its rhythm calming her.