Benedetta stood in the field and watched the Asphodel launch skyward again. With Corso onboard.
They’d slept briefly, limbs entangled in repletion, as the ship completed the reconnaissance survey. Come morning, with the possibility of the raiders’ return, Corso had wanted to reshuffle the crew, with some fighters left on the ground and some returning to the ship.
He had left with the ship.
Only sensible, she knew. The Asphodel—and her captain—was Qv’arratz’s best chance. And yet…
She shielded her eyes from the rising sun to track the ship’s arc into space.
Why did she feel so abandoned, as scorched and brittle as the grasses behind the Asphodel’s rockets? He was doing what she’d asked—what she’d demanded, under threat to his ship; to end the threat so life could continue as it had.
And when had that outcome ceased to appeal to her?
Resolutely, she turned away from the rapidly disappearing ship.
Disappearing is exactly how this would end. The Union raiders would retreat. Corso would take his payment and be gone. And she—
“Benedetta? A moment please.”
She blinked the dazzle of the pale morning from her eyes and focused on the path toward the temple. Rislla and Icere stood in the shelter of the trees.
Icere waved his tablet with a frown. “We’re in contact,” he groused. “You don’t have to stare up at the sky and wish your messages to him.”
She ignored him and focused on the older woman. “What is it, Rislla?”
“We have a problem.”
Benedetta tried to dredge up a smile. “Which one?”
Rislla didn’t smile back. “The villagers are dreading another attack.”
“We all are.”
“But they have taken the brunt while the l’auraly have been spared. They are grumbling like...” She shook her head. “I’ve never heard them talk like this.”
Benedetta scowled. “We’re doing all we can. I’ve given—” She bit back her own complaint.
But Rislla’s sharp gaze dropped to the crystal torque. No, her stare focused slightly higher. “There is a bite mark on your neck.”
It took all Benedetta’s l’auraly training to dampen the guilty flush that threatened. “I thought since the captain was going into battle for us, I would get his blood flowing.”
“Not into that part of him,” Rislla snapped.
Icere glanced between them. “What do you—?”
Benedetta lifted her chin. “I followed our teachings.” All the pleasurable ones anyway.
Icere blanched, finally understanding. “You squandered l’auraly gifts on a mercenary?”
“The mercenary who will save our lives, our way of life,” Benedetta reminded him. Reminded herself.
Rislla frowned. “Benedetta, you were to be our bargaining chip.”
“And I laid the chip down.” Benedetta couldn’t restrain a tiny smile at how thoroughly she’d been laid.
“But you are the last of us,” the older l’auralya fretted. “What you have done—”
Icere interrupted. “Not the last. I’m still here. And Torash and Alolis.”
Rislla shook her head. “So young.”
“I’m not.” Icere straightened imperiously. “I’ve been preparing all my life. Let me take the key crystal now. I won’t betray our cause.” He shot Benedetta a disdainful glance.
Coming from one of the oldest families on Qv’arratz, Icere had always considered himself a cut above the other l’auraly. He’d been tested for the crystal affinity as an infant and dedicated to the temple before he could walk. He’d been raised with them and still took great pains to remind them, whenever he could, about his ancestors who had discovered and refined the bonding of l’auraly to qva’avaq.
She bit back a harsh retort to remind him he was no better than they were. No better, really, than a slave.
Tangle it, she was starting to think like Corso. Rislla didn’t know the half of what Benedetta had given to him.
She took a tempering breath. “Icere, l’auraly aren’t keyed before their majority for a very good reason.”
“I know the mortality rates, Benedetta,” he snapped. “But I’ve studied the research. Survival is determined as much by strength of the psyche as by chronological age.”
“Which leaves you suspect on both counts,” she growled back.
“Children,” Rislla said, disapproval lowering her tone.
Icere straightened. “If you don’t think I can help, fine. I won’t say another word. But if you think the mercenary cares more about our lives than I do, you’re lying to yourself.” He spun on his heel—l’auraly graceful despite his pique—and vanished into the forest.
Rislla watched him disappear, her hands poised in the resting gesture. “He is so angry; as if he knows this is the end.”
“It’s not the end, l’auralya. We have the Asphodel.” And Corso.
But Rislla shook her head. “Even if we defeat these raiders, there will be more. Whatever secret they’ve discovered will be found by others in the end.” She touched Benedetta’s shoulder. “Maybe Yecho and I should have sent you and the younger three away. Maybe we should never have taken you into the temple at all.”
Hearing her unvoiced thoughts spoken aloud, by her mentor of all people, sent a chill through Benedetta’s skin, as if the qva’avaq had turned to ice. “But, l’auralya, this is what we are.”
“We are all what we are,” Rislla said cryptically. Then she sighed and dropped her hands to her sides. “Not that it matters. We are too late now. We will play this thing out to its end.”
Benedetta wished the other woman would stop talking about the end, not when the bombs could start dropping at any moment.
“L’auralya...”
Rislla had started to walk away but she glanced back. “Yes, child?”
“Your a’lurilyo… Did you love him?”
Rislla frowned thoughtfully. “I gave him everything I was. And I was nothing else except what I was for him. Is that love?”
Benedetta opened her mouth to answer but found only a silence, deep as space, on her tongue.
Rislla smiled sadly. “I don’t know either.” She followed Icere’s path into the trees, leaving Benedetta alone under the empty sky.