Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
It’s like the next thing I say will be the only thing that matters.
I cup her chin and speak without even thinking. “I do. And you were right.”
I still think that Rannah has the kind of fire that can inflame an army, although perhaps she is overzealous. But Taisha has a gift of peace, the ability to withhold judgment. To make a decision that’s not based in anger. As a judge, I understand that to be just as important to our survival.
She closes her eyes and sinks back into my arms, and I know, without her speaking it aloud, that I passed some kind of test. When she continues her story—although it’s painful to hear—I feel that she’s speaking with more confidence. Like she trusts I won’t judge her.
“He told us not to tell his father, or any Ocretion, about what had happened. Then he stood up. Gave me the hand sign that means respect, the one that male Ocretions only give to each other.” She tilts her head. “He could have gotten into serious trouble for doing it to me, even if I’d saved his life. It’s not for slaves. Our lives are not important enough.”
I growl and tug her closer.
Taisha lets out a long, shuddering sigh. “Drayk, I could have let him die. But I didn’t. And that’s in my bones, too, a lighter thing, along with the heavy ugly things.”
She looks up at me. “And I’m not sorry. Because if killing is our only pleasure in life, then we’re already dead.”
* * *
Taisha
I’m trembling by the time I finish telling the story. I wrap my arms around myself, even though Drayk’s arms encircle me too.
Drayk holds me closer, and his embrace is soothing. “Taisha, I promise, you did the right thing, even if your friend condemned you,” he murmurs into my ear.
“Tell me again. I need to hear it.” I relax my arms. “I keep going over it in my mind.”
“I’m sure of it. This shows you have the courage and honor to think for yourself. Even when those around you lack honor.”
I flinch because I can’t judge Rannah for wanting me to let the young die. Slaves don’t have the luxury of honor. But even so, his words are a balm to me.
I melt into his embrace, close my eyes and rest my head on his chest, feeling the comforting beat of his heart, slow and even. “I just—wish I could give freedom to the other humans, too. I feel sometimes…” I sit up and twist to look at him. “Like it’s unfair. Why did I get saved, and they did not?” I shake my head. “It’s like a gift that I don’t deserve. I need to earn it, after the fact. I want to do something to make it worthwhile.”
“You already did.” He sounds emphatic. “You got us those discs. And you brought us the toxin that can kill Ocretions. That will be invaluable.” But his eyes slide away after he says it. Does he not think it’s enough to convince Zander? Do I still need to prove myself?
“I hope so.” I rest my palm against his chest. “But please, now I need to think about something other than this.” I take a deep breath. “You tell me something.”
“I should tell you something?” He sounds surprised. “What do you want to know?”
“Something about your planet.” I smile at the way I’ve mimicked his question. “About you.”
He laughs. “Okay.” Then he pauses, perhaps thinking of what to tell me. “One time,” he begins, putting his hand over mine, the one on his chest, “when I was a few solar cycles younger, I wanted to do something important for Zandia.”
I like the feel of his huge, powerful hand on mine. “Go on.” I press my fingers against his shirt, wishing I could feel his bare skin.
He strokes my thumb with his. “I thought that being a starship captain and going on missions was not enough. Zandia still has so far to go. So many enemies. We’re still so devastated as a species.”
I wait for him to continue.
“So I asked King Zander to train me as a judge.” His voice holds a hint of pride. “And he said yes. He said I had the ability to be impartial and look at the good of the planet in a unique way.”
“That is commendable.”
His face is close to mine, and his breath is warm on my cheek. “I didn't do it to be honored, although any praise means that I am serving Zandia effectively. I thought I should give my all to our people. One hundred percent, all the time.”
“I understand. We humans on Romon-3, and probably elsewhere in the galaxy, we have a bond, too. If we can help each other, we do. The slave in the records room knew I didn’t belong there, but she said nothing. She helped me even though it could cost her her life. When I left, she said”—I lower my voice, remembering her words—“may you succeed.” I swallow. “We do what we can for each other. For the survival of us all.”