Awakening Read online

  I ran a finger over the glass in the frame, causing the image to pixelate before it righted itself. We watched as the photo switched to another, this time displaying Ma reclining on a patch of grass.

  I looked up at Sela. “Will you be going to the festival picnic? It’s our family’s turn to organize it.” I asked.

  Sela didn’t answer for a few moments. She had such sadness in her eyes that I knew I was seeing my own reflection. My hands started to shake. Sela opened her mouth to speak.

  “Don’t,” I said, standing up and still gripping the photo.

  “All right,” Sela said with a sigh, running her hands over her thighs.

  I paced. “It’s supposed to be good weather around that time. At least that’s what Ma says.”

  She nodded.

  “So I guess that means we should prepare for rain,” I added.

  Sela responded with a small smile.

  “So will you be going or not?” I pressed.

  “Yes, we all will,” she said after a moment. “Derek, baby and I.”

  The photo nearly slipped from my hand. “What?”

  Sela rose to stand in front of me with her hands on her belly and an incomparable smile on her face. “I wasn’t going to say anything with Derek not being here and everything that’s going on …” She trailed off, her smile slipping.

  I stared at her. One moment I was on the upswing of an epic rise to outrage then the next I was flooded with an overwhelming amount of unbelievable happiness.

  “Sela.” Tears filled my eyes. “This is wonderful.”

  Sela looked relieved. I bit down on my bottom lip, vexed that I’d doused her happiness with my hesitation. I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

  “How far along are you?” I asked.

  “Four months.”

  “Four months!” I pulled back. She hadn’t told me all this time?

  “Oh stop it! You and I were busy with finals, and then Derek and I have been so tied up with the move and work. There was barely any time for us to wrap our own minds around it, much less tell you.” She smiled, tears skipping down her cheeks.

  “Wait until Ma hears about this.” I stepped away to place the photo back on the desk. “She’ll be looking for babies to pop out of my womb from here on out. Thank you for that.”

  Ma was a religious woman, having come from Septima where the belief in a higher being or deity continued to be upheld. In addition to finding a man or woman to partner with in life, Ma wanted me to have children and commit to the All Above or the gods.

  Sela laughed. The sound lifted my mood even higher. “Won’t it be fun deflecting her passive-aggressive remarks?” she said.

  “For you, maybe. I know how much you enjoy my marital inadequacies.”

  “Oh, you too will succumb to baby making, Kira Metallurgist.” Sela pointed a finger at me and we fell into laughter.

  “Apologies.”

  Sela and I turned to face the door. My heart did a familiar flip.

  “Hello, Tai,” Sela said, sobering up a bit.

  He nodded a hello to her from where he filled the doorway then redirected his gaze my way. As usual, as soon as our eyes connected, the air left my lungs in a swift gust.

  When will I learn?

  “I didn’t see you here earlier.” I pursed my lips, taking him in.

  “I just arrived.” Tai’s hazel eyes were fringed with tension, the skin around them tight.

  Tai and Rhoan had become close friends since I’d first met him at the Realm Exhibition years ago. As a result, he had become a constant, if distant, figure in my life. He and Rhoan had gone off to the Advanced Academy and, since he’d graduated two years ago, his duties in the Protectorate had often kept him busy in other dominions, so I rarely had the opportunity to come in contact with him, but I heard about his activities through the carefully crafted questions I often asked my brother.

  One of the rare times I’d seen him was at an impromptu gathering following my graduation ceremony the month before. I had been inexplicably happy that he’d stopped by, even though, as was becoming customary, we ended up in a heated argument over our divergent views of our system’s governance and law. Actually, my happiness was not inexplicable. My childhood crush on Tai hadn’t lessened as I’d got older. It had simply become more frustrating.

  “I’ve heard good things, Tai,” Sela said. “Gaining seniority as a corporal and an appointment as a protector at Prospect Council are a big deal.”

  He pulled his gaze from me. “It’s a minor position,” he said with a shrug.

  “Sela has wonderful news as well,” I announced, falling into my father’s chair.

  “Well, I suppose the secret is as good as out since Kira knows.” Sela thinned her lips, but her eyes glowed. “I’m pregnant,” she said to Tai. “My partner and I will have a child in the season after next.”

  “That’s wonderful. Congratulations,” Tai said, but his eyes slid back to me.

  “Thank you.” Sela watched him. “I think I’ll try some of that curran stew I saw earlier. Now that morning sickness has passed, all I seem to want to do now is eat.” She turned to me, a suspicious gleam to her eye. “I’ll be here a little while more if you need me.”

  I waved her a goodbye as Tai stepped into the room to let her out.

  He had only become more painfully handsome as the years passed. At the age of twenty-eight, he was a heart-stopping promise of what he would look like in the years to come. I felt a deep envy for the woman who would be by his side to witness it.

  “If Rhoan’s not in the sitting area,” I told him, “he’ll more than likely be in the kitchen.”

  “I’m not looking for Rhoan.” He stood across from me, arms folded, stretching the fabric of his uniform across his broad shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  I frowned, wondering why he would seek me out.

  He shook his head. “That was a foolish question,” he murmured.

  He’d misunderstood my reaction. Heat flushed my cheeks. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” I insisted.

  Tai crouched in front of me, resting his elbows on his thighs. I couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles flexed to accommodate his movements. My eyes found his mouth, and I watched as he licked his lips, pulling them into a line while he seemed to ponder what to say.

  “How’s your mother?” I asked to fill the silence.

  It was his turn to frown. “She’s well.”

  “Rhoan mentioned that she had a relapse. Is she at home resting now?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m happy she’s on the mend.”

  Tai narrowed his eyes.

  “It must have been so hard for her not to have you here to help every now and then.”

  He stared as I paused to chew on my bottom lip.

  “Your uncle won’t be expelled, Kira,” he said.

  I stood on a deep intake of breath, bringing him with me. “How do you know?” I said. “Has word come through the newsfeed?” I made for the door, hoping to hear some form of confirmation of his words.

  He gripped my arm and heat shot up my veins. “I just came from Prospect Council offices. I was able to check the manifest that lists who is to be expelled.”

  I turned to him, my arm still caught firmly in his grasp.

  “He’s not on the list,” he said. He took a step closer. “Argon citizens who’ve resided in another dominion for more than twenty years will not be turned out.”

  Uncle Khelan had lived here since just before I was born. A wave of relief hit me. “Does my family know?”

  “I told them when I arrived.”

  “What about my Aunt Marah and her family?”

  “I didn’t know to look for their names or I would have. I had only one name in mind.” His expression took on a look of remorse as he released my arm. “I wish there was more I could do.”

  I had learned over the years that Tai’s apparent aloofness was born out of the gravity of hi
s character and an unwavering sense of duty, traits that ran deep and expressed themselves in unexpected moments like this. Those same traits probably meant he thought I found him lacking for not thinking of my extended family, a family he had never met.

  I placed a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Tai.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. The short strands tousled, leaving a rogue look that contrasted the formality of his uniform. He moved away to stand by the desk, but then seemed to change his mind and circled back to me.

  “What else can I do?”

  I gave him a questioning look.

  “What can I do to help? You look so …” He scanned my face, his hands clenched at his sides. “What do you need?”

  I was taken aback. Tai never sought me out, much less made overtures of any kind. I had to assume that the magnitude of the day’s events was compelling him to step outside his normal behavior.

  I walked over to the study’s small window. Night had fallen now, but I was still able to make out the small pond in the far corner of the yard. It was covered with lily pads, but in a few months it would be frozen over with ice.

  Turning to Tai, I asked, “What’s going to happen to those citizens on the list?”

  Tai tensed. “Some of them will be questioned, and if they have the right response, they may be exempt, but the majority? They’ll be transported to whichever of the seven worlds of Argon they belong to,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “But they’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “It’s clearly stated what a dominion can and cannot do.” Tai scowled. “There must be consequences.”

  “Consequences? You’re speaking about citizens who had nothing to do with this!”

  “You believe the Elite could do this on their own? Think, Kira. They need citizens of every caste to carry out this level of subterfuge.”

  “Oh, come now. We all know that a citizen can do nothing without being watched over by a member of the Senate, so the Elite must know.”

  “You only prove my point.”

  I glared at him. “Argon won’t know the first thing about survival without access to our resources, technology and way of life.”

  “They should have thought of that before they chose to fraternize with rogue worlds,” he countered.

  “You’re such a stubborn ass,” I hissed. When he spewed this bullshit, I couldn’t remember why I was ever drawn to him.

  He spun away. “You sound just like your blasted brother.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Tai looked back at me, shaking his head.

  “And what’s so damn wrong with exploration anyway?” I added.

  Tai stalked over to me. “Do not let anyone hear you say those words outside these walls. Do you understand?” His eyes were fierce, their green flecks glinting in the room’s dim light.

  I wrapped my arms around my waist and turned away, trying to calm down.

  “I’m sorry.” He sounded anguished. The tingle running along my nape told me he was close behind.

  I couldn’t speak. My throat had clamped shut and I started to tremble.

  No. Not now.

  Tremors racked my body and I put a hand on the windowsill, gasping and trying to steady myself.

  “Kira?” Tai gripped my upper arms again and turned me to face him. I read the alarm in his eyes as he assessed me. He raised a palm to my cheek, staring down at me, willing me to respond.

  I blinked up at him as I tried to swallow past the tightness in my throat. Tai was touching me in ways I hadn’t even allowed myself to dream about over the years. And here I was, a mess of emotions, unable to take advantage of the situation.

  Suddenly, his gaze became inscrutable and his grip on my cheek firmed. He must be appalled by my behavior, I thought. Tai was probably used to being around women of strength with cores of steel, and there I was hyperventilating my way through my latest panic attack.

  During my first year at Primary Academy, I experienced my first attack. I always thought attack was too strong a word, but the episodes left me gasping for air, with a racing pulse and sometimes in a cold sweat, so I imagined they qualified as such. They weren’t frequent, though, and most of the time I could fake it without anyone being the wiser. But there was one time, just before Sela’s partnering ceremony, when I was so suddenly incapacitated, I collapsed. Sela found me unconscious on her bedroom floor.

  Now I took a fortifying breath, straightened my spine and told myself to act like the newly minted twenty-one-year-old I was. I was about to make some witty offhand remark when he spoke.

  “All Above, you’re beautiful,” he said.

  Time stopped and so did my heart. If Tai hadn’t repeated the phrase a second later, I would have told Sela it was a figment of my imagination.

  Eyes wide, I peered up at him. He brushed an errant lock of hair away from the sides of my face. It was like he was looking at me but not truly realizing that I was there. When I licked my lips, his gaze came swiftly to my mouth. He took a step closer. Holding my breath, I gripped the front of his shirt, both to prevent myself from falling back and to prove that this was real, that he was real. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart against my fingers. Oddly, it steadied me.

  A movement by his shoulder caught my attention. I swallowed as Rhoan entered the room, his expression mildly confused. I stepped back quickly and Tai’s hands slid from my face. He closed his eyes for a moment before turning around to face my brother, his expression blank.

  Rhoan flicked a look in Tai’s direction then came back to rest solidly on me. Now that Tai had moved out of the way, his puzzled look smoothed into one of concern.

  “What’s wrong?” He came to me and held my face with his hands. It was the same thing Tai had done moments ago, but it felt so very different, almost unwelcome in comparison. I looked over to where Tai stood off to our side, watching, expressionless.

  Rhoan followed my gaze. “What the fuck, Tai?” He didn’t sound so much angry as confused.

  “I had a panic attack,” I said, drawing Rhoan’s attention back to me.

  “Are you okay?” Rhoan gathered me close.

  “I didn’t know she had panic attacks.” Tai’s comment was tinged with accusation. I turned out of Rhoan’s embrace to find him glaring at my brother.

  Rhoan must have picked up on it too. “Why would you?” he said.

  They held each other’s gaze.

  Tai rubbed a hand around his nape. “I should go.” He moved toward the door.

  “Tai …” I stepped forward. I didn’t know what I wanted to say, especially with my brother in the room. “Thank you.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s everything,” I said.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Before Argon’s expulsion, there were four hundred and forty-nine worlds in the Realm, only thirty-nine of them inhabitable. When I was a small child, I used to lay in the backyard by the pond, looking up at the sky to count the stars and guess which of them was our nearest neighboring world. I envied my uncle, who traveled for work, going from one dominion to the next. He would bring back treats native to other worlds and photos of their outstanding landscapes.

  Dignitas’s worlds were known for their drier climates and Argon’s for their lush foliage and expansive waters. Septima’s worlds had drastically varying temperatures and varieties in landscape that could be rivaled only by those of Hale, which each had one single season year round. Meanwhile, Prospect’s worlds each had six seasons. In addition to summer, spring, fall and winter, we had what we called “squall,” a violent season characterized by days filled with lightning and rain, and “gale,” which was defined by days filled with roof-shaking winds and hail.

  I was drawn to learning as much as I could about the other worlds of the Realm, their differences as wonderful to me as their similarities. For years, I’d imagined myself working at the Prospect Judiciary like my uncle, so that I too would have an opportunity to embark on excursions to far and e
xotic places.

  But when I walked into the Judiciary a week after Argon’s expulsion, I was not expecting to be sent by craft straight to the nearest dominion. I expected, as Uncle Khelan had counseled, that through hard work, opportunity and a bit of luck, I would rise gradually to a position that would soothe the restless traveler within me.

  I stood in the reception, hastily shuffling through my bag, and pulled out my tablet. “I’m here to meet Taran Adjudicator,” I said, referring to the name on my device.

  “And you are?” The man seated at an imposing desk didn’t take his eyes off his monitors. He typed with a speed that defied human physiology.

  When I told him my name, he eyed me, continuing to tap out the last of his message before turning to me fully. “Metallurgist?”

  I nodded.

  He collected a folder from the desk and rose from his chair.

  The man was intimidating, though I probably outweighed him by half. He was a little person, dressed in the mandatory red and black uniform of the Senate caste. The crest on the left side of his jacket was gold and silver, emblazoned with the Realm’s official seal.

  As he rounded the desk, he gave me a once-over that left me feeling only slightly taller than the top of his desk. “Follow me.”

  I did as told and followed him toward a pair of opaque glass doors that had our system’s official seal and motto — “Strength, Resolve, Adherence” — etched into them. As we approached, the doors slid open to reveal a brightly lit, bustling work area filled with cubicles, desks and people. By the architectural style, I could tell the building was from a time long past, but the decor made the space gleam as if it had been newly constructed. The walls and much of the furniture were white, but potted plants burst from every corner, taking the edge off the clinical austerity. Industrial beams of steel ran across the wide expanses of ceiling. The only accent color was deep purple, a nod to the Realm. It was used sparingly and only in areas that seemed to warrant definition and a heightened level of esteem, like the spacious meeting room to my right.

  There must have been more than a hundred people in the space, a handful of senators with the remaining citizens being subordinates. I could easily point out the latter because they were dressed in head to toe black like me. My caste was made up of laborers and professionals. We were told that we were the driving force of the Realm, producing and consuming, the engine on which our system operated and integral to its very existence. Because of the varied nature of our occupations, subordinates did not have an official uniform to wear while at work, but we did have an official color.