The Fall (30 page)

* * *

Laura relaxed in a sort of lounge chair on the veranda of the apothecaries’ quarters and let her mind drift.

Little Laryth sported ears identical to her father’s. Her brothers, both of them, also possessed those ears. She herself did not, and as far as her fractured memories led her to believe, neither did any of the children she’d borne to John. But it seemed she could pass them on after all.

The baby had recognized her. She’d seen it—felt it—whatever—with her own
senses
, and she’d recognized him too. The Paran had noticed as well, but hadn’t called attention to it. At least he was discreet.

And he loved her.

She had loved him—she was sure of it. More than that, she had fallen
in
love with him, once upon a time. But while part of her certainly still felt like a moth to his flame, something was missing. Perhaps a chemistry of the moment that had happened when she first met him, a chemistry that needed the right circumstances to happen again. A tiny hope that it would flared up and surprised her.

He was headed her way.

No matter where he was, no matter what he did, she knew about it. He’d told her their bond was responsible for a great deal of that, but some of it came from her sensitivity. If she tried, he’d said, she could track anyone within her range, but she’d only tried once. It took too much energy.

He entered the main room of the apothecaries’ quarters, where the aides took her to exercise, and continued toward the veranda rather than veering into the small room in which she slept. He always knew where she was, too.

The door opened, and he stepped through, shivering in the mid-winter chill but gazing at her in contentment. She let him help her to her feet and tuck her hand into his arm to lead her back into the warm hallway and to her room.

“You knew I recognized Laryth,” she said, as she eased herself onto the bed, the head of which tilted up at a comfortable angle. “But you said nothing.”

The Paran pulled a chair close and sat in it. “Azana was very anxious.”

“I could see that.”

“It was kind of you to say nothing of it. What else did you see in Laryth?”

“My father’s ears. That little crease he has, here,” she placed a finger where it would be on her own ear, “is a family trait. But other than that, he resembles you.”

“You told me you wanted a son who resembled me.”

“Did I?”

He leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees. What smoldered in his dark eyes pulsed through him and into her. “You did.”

She looked at her hands, struggling to catch her breath. “I do not understand how I could be so wanton, so quickly. I was… I lost John, it was too soon.”

He moved from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. “You had lost everyone,” he said in a soft voice. “Marianne was your friend, and the Sural protected and sheltered you, but you had no one else when I met you. You were lonely.” He laid one hand along her face. “I knew very quickly I had met my heart’s match in you. It did not take you long to reach the same conclusion.”

“Love at first sight,” she whispered.

“When you remember more, and you are yourself again—”

Laura stopped breathing. “What?” She swatted his hand away from her face.

“Beloved?” He straightened, brows furled.

She gasped a breath, and another, her stomach twisting as if she’d been punched. Her father’s voice echoed off the walls of his study.
When the gene therapy starts to work. When you are smart. When you are a proper Johnson.

When you are yourself.

She fixed the Paran with a glare. “You do not want
me
.”

“You know I do. You are far too sensitive not to be aware of it.”

“No, you want the Laura you once had. Not me, not as I am now. Is everyone else waiting for me to
be myself
again?”

“Beloved—”

“Are they? Who in this place cares about
me
?” She thumped her chest with one hand. “My family thinks I am dead. No one here wants me as I am. I have nothing. Nothing!” She rolled onto her side, turning her back to the Paran.

“My heart is yours,” he whispered. His fingers touched her arm. The confusion coursing through him magnified.

She shook him off. “Your heart belongs to a woman who looked like me, but she died. There is only
me
now, and you do not want
me
. Go. Get out.”

Every muscle in her body quivered. She buried her face in the crook of her elbow, refusing to acknowledge the Paran as his presence retreated from the room.

Voices rang in her head.

“
I won’t have a deficient daughter!
”

“
She’s
my
daughter too!
”
Mama’s arms encircled her as Papa stormed away
.

“
Papa doesn’t love me
,”
Laura sobbed, when he was gone.

“
Of course Papa loves you, sweetie
,”
Mama said, but even young as she was, Laura could hear the hint of doubt in her voice.
“
He just wants what he thinks is best for you
.”

Laura clenched her teeth against the threatening tears. “No, Mama,” she whispered. “Papa never loved me. I was broken then, and I am even more broken now.”

* * *

“Laura.”

Marianne’s lively presence sat behind her. Laura lifted her face. She still huddled on her side, her back to the window and to the chair Marianne occupied.

“Go away.” She rubbed her eyes with one hand.

“You do not mean that.”

“Do
not
presume to tell me what I mean, farm girl,” Laura said, her voice a hiss.

Marianne’s presence jolted and filled with hurt. “Laura, this is not like—”

“Me?” she sneered. “This is not like me? Is that what you were about to say?”

“I did not mean it that way.”

“Then why did you say it that way?”

“Because like anyone else, including your bond-partner, I say stupid things sometimes.”

Laura snorted. “So he talked to you.”

Marianne got up and pulled the chair around the bed to where Laura had to look at it. “He was probably on his way to talk to his apothecary,” she said, dropping into the chair, her eyes like blue crystal lasers. “He ran into me first. His heart was
bleeding
.”

“That is not your concern.” She rolled over and presented her back.

“Laura, you are being very childish.”

“I am being me. You will soon leave, and go back to your Sural, who wants you for who you are, not for some person you used to be and can never be again.
That must be nice
.”

Marianne fell silent. Laura could almost hear her thinking.

“All right, then. I will leave you alone.” She stood and left.

Laura chewed on her lower lip. Mama had taught her to be better than the way she had just behaved, but…

When you are yourself again.

This isn’t like you.

She scowled.
This is exactly like me!
She had to get away from here, from these people, find a way to get off this planet. Central Command would hunt her down and kill her, but she only had Marianne’s word on that. She lifted her hands, so smooth and young again. Surely she could go back to Earth. No one would recognize her, the way she looked now.

Except Papa.

But Papa would never take her back in, even if she went crawling back to him, not after she’d defied him and eloped with John. Her stomach dropped. Steven Langley Johnson was a proud, proud man. If he fired you, you stayed fired. If he disowned you—

It was a good thing the Howards had been rich enough and powerful enough to shield John from Papa’s wrath, that first year of her marriage, until little Patrick came along.

She shook her head. Papa might approve of the Paran, despite everything. An Earth Fleet officer hadn’t been good enough for her father’s baby girl, not even after he made full admiral, but what about a prince? A prince who—wanted her to be someone she no longer was. Her heart trembled. The people she knew here wanted her to recover her memories, remember who she was
before
, change from the stunted caterpillar she was into the butterfly the other Laura had been, so she and the Paran could live happily ever after.

No. She would not do it. She would go to Syvra and insist on an apothecary who didn’t know her
before
, and aides who did not know her
before
. No expectations, no pressure, and, above all, no interference from other people’s memories of the woman that the Paran had loved—and lost. They could just stay away. She would start her life over.

As soon as she stopped crying.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Monral stared at the chair to his left at the high table. Sharana’s place. Empty. To what extent had she already betrayed him? How much did the Sural know?

He allowed himself a minute headshake. The Sural could learn nothing from Sharana. She did not know, nor could the Suralian engineers ever suspect, what had caused the tunnel to collapse at a critical moment. He dragged his thoughts back and studied Farric. From his heir, at least, he could rely on loyalty, though when he had awakened from the bond shock to learn that yet another human had taken up residence on Tolar, he had been less than pleased. The assignment to negotiate with the
odalli
had benefited Farric, who had returned from his mission full of confidence and energy. And the human he had brought back with him had proved less annoying than expected.

Bertie, as the human called himself, could not be categorized. He calculated
financial
probabilities like a scientist, theorized law like a scholar, fought like a guard, and cooked like a servant. His cleverness in the kitchen, in fact, had transformed his own limited diet. He then turned his formidable intellect toward beginning to learn Monrali
and
Suralian, though he would not need the latter once Monralar led the ruling caste, and he had the temerity to be better at archery than the Monral himself. The idea irritated the Monral, but he had grudgingly pronounced the young man—the young
human
—a fit companion for Farric. The two young men had become such close friends, and spent so much time in each other’s company, that to do otherwise risked his son’s loyalty.

Bertie rose from his chair, bent in a proper bow, and left the refectory, heading down to the arena for the afternoon’s physical training. Farric remained behind.

The Monral pierced him with a look. “Son,” he said. “You deviated from my plan.”

“I achieved the results you desired, and more.” Farric met his gaze with calm assurance.

“But the apothecary under your protection came to harm. Explain why I did not learn this until after your return.”

“You would have recalled me. The mission was too important to interrupt.”

The Monral lifted an eyebrow. “You take much upon yourself.”

“As you taught me.”

He grunted. “Were you able to determine who bore responsibility for Teylis’ death?”

“We believe it was Central Security.”

“We—meaning you and Bertie.”

“And a human physician whom Teylis had befriended. He had a strong conviction that the individuals who attempted to abduct them were not, as the human authorities claimed, from one of their criminal organizations.”

“You took the correct path to recover the body so quickly,” the Monral said. “But you should have informed me.”

Farric inclined his head. After a moment’s silence, he asked, “Father, what happened to you?”

The Monral lifted an eyebrow. “You did not speak with the apothecaries?”

“I did. They were mystified as to the true cause of your injury.”

“Sharana went into the dark.”

His son blinked and said nothing.

“The Suralians used their rumored techniques to bring her back. They informed me she will recover and refused to carry any message to her.”

“Why was she in Suralia?”

“To speak with the Jorann.”

Farric’s eyes widened, and disbelief leaked from him. “Did she follow the customary forms?”

“No. I am, in fact, reprimanded for allowing my beloved to travel to an enemy province unannounced, thus putting at risk Suralia’s honor.”

“The Sural did not know of her intent, then.”

“No, it seems he did not.”

“So your warning to the caste—”

“She is filled with a sense that I abandoned her, yes.”

“And believing herself betrayed, may become the betrayer.”

The Monral leaned back. “Or as a loyal daughter of Monralar, she may have walked into the dark to avoid capture. No matter her reasons for what she did, the Sural has agreed to an accommodation. You will go to Suralia to retrieve her. And take your human with you.”

* * *

“Bloody hell.” Bertie’s voice echoed off the transit room walls.

Farric chuckled. “You say that frequently.”

The human stared at the long-distance transport pod as if he had never seen anything like it. Farric lifted one corner of his mouth.

“If you’d stop surprising me every hour, on the hour, I might say it less often. What is this thing?”

“A transport pod.” Farric laid a hand on it, and it formed a door. A servant bustled in to set a basket of food and drink next to one of the two benches that faced each other across the middle of the pod, and brushed Bertie on the way back out. “Lay your bag near the basket.”

The human did as he was told, and the pod sealed its skin behind them. “How fast does it go?” he asked.

Farric lifted a shoulder. “We will reach Suralia in a half day.”

“That was informative.”

He snorted. “Suralia lies on the opposite side of Tolar.”

“Halfway around the planet in half a day? By George, that’s—” he paused, staring upward “—roughly 1600 kilometers per hour?”

Farric lifted a shoulder—human measures of distance meant nothing to him—and laid a hand on the pod’s control panel. It dropped into the tunnels.

Bertie looked down. “How deep is this shaft?”

“Not deep. At the transit hub in the city, we will enter the truly deep tunnels to reach the next allied province.”