Chapter Twenty-Three
“Kalen.” His name escapes my lips in a shocked, terrified whisper. “You’re home early.”
“Hello to you, too, little native.” His voice holds a note of exuberance. I almost forgot how dazzling that smile is. “Tell me. How did the estate hold up in my absence?” He begins walking down the hall, and I hurry to catch up, confused by his good mood and what, exactly, he expects of me right now.
“Good,” I say, walking beside him. “Adeline’s condition hasn’t worsened.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard since my return.”
“Tarik has all but died of boredom since you left.”
“Not surprised.”
“And Sarka’s hosting a party for you this evening.”
“For me or for her girlfriend’s birthday?” When I say nothing, he smirks, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Either way, after nearly a month of nothing but work, I could use a good party.” He stops at the base of the stairs and turns to face me. “Will you be joining us?”
What kind of question is that? “I…um…will be preparing the drinks.”
He rolls his eyes. “Hiding in the kitchen, as always.”
“That seems to be the place the gods have seen fit for me.”
“And bitter as ever.”
I bite my lip and look down. Now that I’m working with rebels, I need to stay under the radar. I need to keep my loose tongue in check.
“I-I still have your key, by the way.” I reach into my tunic pocket and hand it to him.
“Ah. And did you enjoy your three-week stay there?”
“I only stayed the one night.”
He frowns and shoves it into his pocket. “I would have indulged in all three weeks, if I were you. But whatever your preference.”
“Thank you, by the way. Your kindness…it truly meant a lot.”
He purses his lips and nods. “Yes. Well. You’ve gone through a lot in the months since your arrival.” He releases a shuddering breath and looks past me. “It was the least I could do after…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but his eyes meet mine. “I had a chance to think about your request.”
My heart leaps.
He studies me, cautious. “Going back to Earth as a freed slave is a fool’s wish. But…who am I to dictate your life? You’re old enough to make your own decisions. I detest keeping someone against their will. And with your mother being ill…” He shrugs. “On my next trip, you’ll come with me. I’ll take you back to your plantation myself.”
I don’t know if he understands the enormity of this promise. Even though I already have a way off this planet, the extent of his generosity takes my breath away. Because what if something happened to the Renegade and they couldn’t go through with their offer? Kalen’s promise would hold true. I’ve seen enough kindness in him to know that without a doubt. The wound in my chest slowly beings to heal, the chasm closing inch by inch. And there are no words on my lips. I’m too shocked, too grateful, that “thank you” doesn’t seem to be enough, but I say it anyway.
“Thank you.”
He searches my eyes, all humor gone, replaced by a look of wonder nearly glowing in his lavender eyes.
“Four months,” he says. “Do you think you can continue posing as a slave that long?”
I lift one shoulder in a casual shrug and make an attempt at humor. “It would be the mother of all challenges to wait that long, but…”
“I’m sorry it can’t be sooner.” His eyes are sincere, almost sad. “I understand how worried you must be for her.”
“Just the opportunity to go back means the world to me.”
“Not a word about it to anyone else, understand? I can’t risk Father finding out and then choosing to sell you at the Port.”
“My lips are sealed.”
He grins and taps my nose playfully, like he did the day before he left. “It’ll be our little secret.” He whirls around and strides down the hall.
I scrunch up my nose, musing how it still tickles from his light touch, then head back to the kitchen to grab the trays Melata asked for, confused by Kalen’s small signs of affection but filled with overflowing joy from his promise.
…
When evening falls, I accompany Vermilia into the banquet hall. The room is sparse and clean, couches arranged in clusters around the glass-like dancing floor. The ceiling fish tank has been cleaned, and the sea turtles lazily swim around in the lavender water. Other slaves are finishing up the last touches for the party, lighting candles in the globes, tying back the sheer white curtains. I lay out the spiced Cupian crackers and Crecian gazelle meat on the trays in the center of the runner.
The guests begin pouring in just as we finish the final arrangements. For the first time since my first party, Tarik has me serve in the dance hall. I hate him for it, but he told me I’m a spy now, and have a job to do other than working in the kitchen. I stand along the wall with the tray of wineglasses, scanning the crowd for refills and keeping my ears open for anything about military or the Port.
I’m beginning to recognize the people who visit often. Edan, the bearded pervert who always seems to be entangled with one or two unfortunate slaves. Tythoe, the general I met at the Renegade, who wears a red cloak and is more muscular than half the guards I’ve seen. He is a towering eight-foot brick wall with broad shoulders and a strong jaw. Extra tall for a Tavdorian. Really tall to us Humans. And a perfect asset to the Renegade.
Cada, the Tavdorian girl from the Renegade, snuggles in Tythoe’s embrace. Giff sits on the other side of Tythoe, his sandy brown hair and tan skin making him stand out from the others. I wonder if he’s a different nationality.
Sarka sinks onto a white couch beside her girlfriend, Bec, and they immediately start making out while others in the circle tease and hoot. I wonder if this truly was a birthday party for Sarka’s partner rather than a “welcome home” party for her brother.
I smirk and glance across the room, and find Zimri. I grit my teeth. I suppose Kalen’s return was important enough for one of Zimri’s rare—and dreaded—visits. I make a mental point to stay out of his line of vision.
Kalen arrives in the circle a moment later, with Ket’s hand in his. I’ve seen her visit often before he left on his trip, though they rarely lingered in the courtyard. It was usually on the nights Kalen stayed out late; he returned with her and they’d disappear in his bedroom until dawn.
She’s clearly drunk now, giggling with absolutely no class. Kalen sits on the couch, pulling Ket onto his lap, and listens in on the others’ conversation. I don’t know why I feel a small flare of jealousy at the sight of them together.
I approach and begin exchanging empty glasses for full ones, careful not to look at any of the Renegade Tavdorians, in case we give ourselves away.
“I can tell you exactly where Neket has gone wrong.” Cada speaks loud enough to be heard above the music. Her dark hair is braided down her shoulder with careless strands framing her face, and her amethyst toga shimmers in the faint light. “That’s our dependence on aliens.”
I immediately snap to attention. I rarely hear Tavdorians speaking out against slavery in such large, public groups. But then, Cada is part of the Renegade.
“Not this again.” Edan drags his hand across his face. “Can’t we leave political discussions at home?”
Cada looks at him and offers a no-nonsense smile. “Not if you can’t leave your slaves at home.”
He rolls his eyes. “I would leave them at home if Kalen provided appropriate entertainment.”
Cada looks at the rest of the group and presses her case. “The Ogans have set their aliens free years ago, allowing Humans, Ve’occs, and Onmarians to live freely and work for equal pay. Their country seems to be thriving.”
“Except they have to pay space pirates to do their dirty work,” Zimri murmurs, bringing a laugh out of the others. “Ogan isn’t really…thriving, Cada.” Zimri selects a glass of wine off the tray without offering me a glance—thank the gods—and looks back at Cada.
“Oh?” She lifts a quizzical brow. “Do explain, because from what I saw during my visit last month, they were doing quite well.”
Kalen clears his throat, mouths the word stop to Zimri, but Zimri keeps going, his cold, mocking voice sending chills across my body.
“They may be doing well for a country that offers equality for all, but they’re the poorest country on Tavdora because they’re practically giving their money to these aliens. They haven’t learned that the extraterrestrials are inferior. You can’t teach aliens to think for themselves any more than you can teach a teeranie to talk.” He smirks and leans back. “By the gods, they can’t even read!”
Others in the circle murmur their agreement. What would these Tavdorians say if they knew I could read? In two languages? Would they still think me inferior? But some things are better left unknown. I take my time exchanging glasses, curious as to where this conversation is going, and what this Ogan country is that offers freedom to aliens like me. If one country was convinced aliens were equal, how hard could it be to convince another country?
“The only reason aliens can’t read here is because it’s forbidden,” Cada says. “Not because they’re stupid.” She glances at me, and I have to smother a grin at the irony of this conversation. “Ogan not only lets aliens read,” she continues to the others, “but teaches them.”
Ket smirks. “Teaching an extraterrestrial to read is perfectly nonsensical. Aliens on Onmar are savages, living in trees and shooting with blow guns.” She combs her fingers through Kalen’s dark curls as she speaks. “It would take years for an alien to write out a complete sentence.” She lifts a dainty shoulder in a casual shrug and looks at Kalen. “That’s just more money and time the Ogans waste when they could be advancing their government. Aliens are dumb as fugons. Am I right, love?”
Kalen’s jaw tenses. “That Neptune seems pretty clever. A Human who can lead uprisings within our own country and still evade even our best guards has my respect.”
And mine. Seriously, where can I find this Neptune?
Cada lifts her chin. “If you paid any attention to history, Ket, you’d know that the Humans were an incredibly intelligent and civilized race before we destroyed their planet, as were the Ve’occs.”
If I hadn’t already warmed up to Cada at the Renegade, I’m starting to adore her now.
“I would hardly call them civilized,” Edan cuts in. “They were unable to fight us off when we discovered their planet. Besides”—a salacious grin forms on his face as he studies one of the dancers undulating before him—“if the aliens are so smart, then why don’t we use them for more than farming, mining, and sexual gratification?”
Cada’s mouth drops open. My face burns in humiliation, and I slip into the shadows by the wall.
“In fact,” Edan continues, “if aliens are so intelligent, why haven’t they come up with an escape plan or risen against us? There are easily three times as many aliens as there are Tavdorians.”
“Edan, seriously—” Kalen says.
“No, he and Ket are right,” Zimri says, glaring at Kalen. “Aliens are like fugons. Slow and too dumb to want any more than what they have.”
Heaviness fills my chest. I’ve lived here long enough to know fugons are like the cows on Earth. And that’s how he sees us? How all these Tavdorians in this circle, nodding their heads in agreement, see us?
“You truly believe that, Zimri?” Kalen snaps. “After everything Mother taught us, you honestly think aliens are beneath us?”
“Don’t bring Mother into this,” Zimri mutters. “Aliens—especially Humans—are heartless, spineless, brainless creatures. If anything, we’re helping them by keeping their societies from crumbling out of existence.”
A heavy silence fills the group, until Cada clears her throat. “Well spoken, Zimri Rydell. I can see you’re as small-minded as your boss. The future owner of the largest slave-trading company on Tavdora certainly falls easily into the ancient way of thinking, indoctrinated by your own father, no doubt.” There’s no disguising the mockery in her voice. “You can keep feigning ignorance, keep telling yourself whatever you need to in order to ease your conscience on trading slaves. But some day your eyes will be opened to the realities surrounding us, and you’ll live in so much regret, you’ll wish the planet would open up and swallow you whole for contributing to the cause of slavery.”
I can’t stop my mouth from dropping open. Others in the circle laugh in shock.
Zimri stands, his glass in hand. “You would do well to remember whose house you’re in. If Kalen has any pride in our family, he’ll never invite you to another party again.” He drains his glass, then smashes it on the floor at her feet and storms off. I grab a towel from a nearby table, kneel by Cada’s feet, and clean the glass and alcohol off the floor, surprised when she hunches down to help me.
Tythoe clears his throat. “I apologize, Kalen.” Cada shoots Tythoe a glare. He looks at both of us apologetically but lifts his wineglass in the air. “May our diverse opinions be the cause of our success, and not our ruin.” He drinks deeply, the others mumbling their salutes.
“No apology necessary,” Kalen says. “Some truths need to be verbalized, and you can’t let your fear of harming another’s pride stand in the way of speaking the facts.” He sets his full glass down, stands, and leaves the circle without another word. Ket watches him go, but she’s clearly too tipsy to understand why.
“Cada,” Tythoe murmurs as we finish soaking up the liquid on the floor. “You have to watch what you say, especially to the Rydells. They’re in close ties with the king.”
“What?” she asks. She sits back on the couch. “It’s something they both needed to hear. The Rydells are trading slaves now. Somebody needs to tell them off.” Her eyes meet mine as I stand with the wet towel. “Right, Lark?”
Tythoe glances around in a heated panic, but I suppress a laugh at her boldness of acknowledging me in public.
“Don’t get her involved.” Tythoe doesn’t even look at me, and I know it’s for the safety of the Renegade that he keeps the walls carefully in place. “Telling the Rydells off won’t help anything,” he mutters to Cada. “It’ll only piss them off more.”
I take the soaked towel with the broken glass wrapped within and head to the kitchen to dispose of it.
This might be the most fun I’ve had at Kalen’s parties. Seeing Zimri get told off like that almost makes me want to mark this a national holiday. And the way Cada, a beautiful Tavdorian, sees me more as an equal than Ariana, a beautiful Human, ever did, I feel more like I’m among friends than enemies.
When I return to the banquet hall, the party has begun phase two. The music is louder, the air thicker with that silver fog and heady scent of ambrosia. The giant aquarium glows above us, giving the room a lavender hue. I haven’t been in the parties during phase two since that first party, and apprehension slithers up my spine at the memory. Though Kalen said all slaves are volunteers, and though Briala confirmed that she and the others are more than willing—and even happy—to offer their bodies to their masters, I feel sick watching the way the Tavdorians indulge.
I almost turn to leave, when a cool hand grips my wrist, nearly making me drop the tray.
“Where you going, Human?” I turn to find Edan looking up at me, his smile almost feline. He’s sitting on a couch, entangled with two other Humans, both wearing close to nothing. Both clearly enjoying themselves as they look up at me with sleepy cat eyes. The look of drunken pleasure. It takes me a second to realize they’re twins.
“I—I’m just a server.” I’m so glad my tunic gives me away. I swallow, try to remain calm. “Would you like a drink?”
Edan releases my wrist, then takes the tray from my hands, and sets it on the end table. I turn to leave, but not before he grabs my arm again and pulls me closer. “Stay awhile. Indulge. There’s room for one more here.”
The girl to his left moves over, gestures for me to sit. I quickly shake my head. “I—I—”
“What are you doing here?”
I couldn’t be more grateful for the deep voice cutting the air behind me. I glance back to find Kalen, his eyes dark as he looks between me and Edan.
“Did you volunteer?” he asks me. Something shifts in his eyes. Concern. For me.
“N-no.”
He turns fully to Edan and crosses his arms. “You heard her. She’s not a volunteer, and even if she was, she clearly doesn’t want your attention.”
Edan’s eyes glitter with dark humor as he glares at Kalen, but he releases me.
“I was only looking for a little fun,” he seethes.
Kalen chokes out a harsh laugh. “I highly doubt that. Stay away from her.”