Zandian Lights (Zandian Brides 4)

“Like Arc and Bow?” Their kisses were tepid compared to Mykl’s.

“They’re good males, and will give you a good life.” She sounds cajoling. “It won’t be so bad. You’ll learn to love them.”

“And they’ll think me the most amazing being?” I roll my eyes. I sensed many things from them: honor, integrity, kindness. Strength. But unrelenting passion was not one of them.

“I don’t know.”

We’re silent for a second.

“Can you teach me to fight and fly like you?” I look at her, eyes wet with tears. “Remember the time you killed that vipn, before we were friends? Then you started training me? We can do more of that.” My voice rises with hope.

“Aw, Kee.” She touches my hand. “I don’t—”

“I don’t expect to be exactly like you.” I stand up, my voice fierce. “But I want to stop being exactly like me.”

“You can come to my new class. But…” she hesitates. “If you’re not doing it for the right reasons? It’s not going to go anywhere.”

“Who are you to tell me the right reason?” I snap.

“I’m not.” She gives me an even look. “Only you can tell me if it is.”

I slump back down. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Give Arc and Bow another chance?” She squeezes my arm. “For now, just think about it. And don’t forget. We’re meeting later to work with the planning committee. Helping with the ceremony setup will surely lift your spirits.”

Kianna

* * *

“Hand me the orange ones, please?” Mirelle’s voice is tighter. I wasn’t sure why but since she’d left my home a few hours earlier, it’s like her anxiety has ratcheted up, notch by notch. If I could see her mind, I think it would be stretched out, ready to snap.

“Did I do something? I’m sorry if I complain too much about my situation.” I wipe my eyes; they’re still swollen and damp from earlier, and because my sadness hasn’t abated. I pick up the soft orange ribbon and pass it over for her to tie to a sparkling lantern. “Here.”

“What?” She frowns. “I’m fine. Of course not. You never do anything wrong.” But she doesn’t take the fabric.

“It’s just that you seem… on edge.” I put the soft bundle down beside her pile of crafts. Around us, other human voices rise together, a warm chatter of camaraderie and excitement as we prepare festival decorations. It’s amazing to see us all: medical staff, fighter pilot, farmers, teachers, mothers, all coming together to work on a common goal.

She glances around her and lowers her voice. “I’m just having a hard time getting ready for my next mission.”

“You don’t usually talk about that. What’s wrong?”

She looks to and fro, then takes my hand. “Can we talk in private?”

Nobody notices us leave, or if they do, they give it no thought: We are good friends, after all, usually inseparable. Only her behavior might clue someone into the fact that she’s worried.

We head out of the large meeting room into the quiet of the hallway, and then out the side door into a tree-lined square. It’s empty but for the shadows of the setting sun, and the lone cry of a lesser marjoric, whose red plumes gleam like garnets in the long soft rays. It cocks its head and regards us with a beady eye from its branch, but doesn’t stir. Perhaps waiting for crumbs; this is a popular lunch area for humans.

We sit on a stone bench and Mirelle looks down at her feet. “This has never happened before.” She rubs her hands together. “I can’t feel it.”

“Can’t feel what?” I lean closer.

“The move. My roundabout kick.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I created a new move the other sun while Lanz and Domm and I were rescuing those new humans from an Alph-4 auction.” She takes a breath. “It just came to me when I needed to fight a Mok—you know, the ones with three arms? I did a new leap and twist tumble and kick.”

“Well, that’s awesome.”