Trade Circle: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 3) Read online

  “Good news, Ambassador. Your medicine is ready,” Marius said, placing a hand on Sky’s shoulders, interrupting Tray’s story about his canoe capsizing and his sandals floating downstream without him. Sky flinched at the touch, stiffening as the laughter died down. None of the Drava complained about the interruption from the Judge.

  Kavari squatted next to Tray and handed him a small package, bound in rough leather. The crude packaging told Sky that the Drava no longer cared about what impressions they left on their guest. They were throwing him a bone in hopes that he’d leave her behind and never look back.

  “Thank you,” Tray said, setting the bundle on his lap and opening it carefully.

  “You can take your medicine and leave, right?” Laos said hopefully. Sidney gave her an warning look.

  “Scout—” Marius warned.

  “How do I administer this?” Tray asked, frowning at the jar of white powder.

  Marius nodded his head, indicating that Tray should follow Kavari for a tutorial. Sky stood to follow, but Sidney held her back. She smiled at him and he grinned slyly, like he was up to something.

  “Laos disapproves,” Sky warned him, trying to appear flattered by Sidney’s advances. Kissing him earlier had given him the wrong idea.

  “Daughters always do,” he murmured, his breath hot on her ear.

  “Is your wife also watching?” Sky asked, tensing.

  “Secondary,” Sidney dismissed, nodding toward a lighter-skinned woman across the way. The woman wore the robe of a huntress, and glared openly at Sky. “Does that bother you?”

  “Quite a bit,” Sky said. Her skin prickled as Sidney’s hand fell on the small of her back.

  “Come with me,” he whispered, his breath tickling her hair, his eyes glistening with the eagerness of a randy teenager.

  “We should get back to our ship. You said they had only hours,” Sky said, turning toward the medicine tent again, wishing that Tray would come out. “We’ll give you the solar panel. We have only one to give.”

  “You’re not getting away from me this time, Adita. Come with me,” he said, crushing her hand and pulling her away from the medical tent and the Social Circle. Sky weighed the odds of fighting her way out. She’d seen the medicine bundle and knew Tray could get away with what they needed so long as she remained compliant.

  Sky glanced toward the tent again, then Sidney leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Please, lover. Let me take one hour to remember you.”

  The memory of his body flooded back, fighting the fear of his accusations. Spirit reared angrily, but Sidney’s hands slid comfortingly around her belly and she pressed against him, tilting her heard, anticipating his warm breath against her skin.

  “One hour,” Sky agreed shakily. That should give Tray enough time to get back to Oriana with the medicine. That should give the others enough time to escape.

  25

  Tray wrapped the bundle of medicine and tucked it into his coat pocket. The amount was small, but Kavari assured him it would be effective.

  “I wish you would come with me,” Tray said. After getting stunned once, Tray could understand why Kavari refused, and why the Drava wouldn’t risk another doctor.

  “You will do well on your own,” Kavari said, sounding like an absolving minister. Danny liked church, but Tray could never get past the religious mores long enough to see what good might be there. Kavari’s tone stirred the same discomfort and resentment as the condemning preacher. Tray’s father had taught him never to accept charity.

  “You should get back to your people,” Judge Marius added, managing to sound concerned, but the way he rushed the moment raised far too many red flags.

  “How do you want to arrange payment?” Tray asked, his discomfort compounding as Kavari left him alone with the Judge. “We can only spare one solar panel.”

  “A guard can escort you to your ship and receive the goods,” Marius said, waving dismissively. “And Adita will remain here.”

  “Until payment is received,” Tray checked.

  “She knows our ways.”

  “Still, our ways dictate that she and I communicate this plan,” Tray insisted, standing up.

  “She and Sidney slipped off for a private moment,” Marius grinned, licking his lips.

  “Are you sure?” Tray asked, feeling for the mini-dart under his coat. “She seemed reluctant to do that knowing he was engaged to another.”

  The pretense of pride vanished. “I was reluctant to allow him, given who she is and what she stole from us. But she has returned, and she will return what she took.”

  “What did she take?” Tray groaned. “Honestly, she travels with next to nothing. All that we have to trade is mine. She’s been our guide through this region.”

  “As you say, she carries exceptional wisdom, and that is her value to us,” Marius said, his expression hardening. “Is her life worth more to you than your sick friends?”

  “I shouldn’t have to choose,” Tray warned.

  “Do you want that medicine or not?” Marius threatened.

  Tray’s jaw stiffened, feeling like the floor was dropping from beneath him. “We initiated peaceful trade according to your customs. We agreed to trade a solar panel for the medicine. Not a life.”

  “Look around you,” Marius scoffed. “We’re in the shadows of trees. We have no more use for a solar panel than you. We have what we want. Take your people and go, or you will be the first of your tribe to die.”

  Tray was accustomed enough to serious death threats to not flinch. He stared at Marius, debating whether diplomacy was an option. He did not have an army . . . not until Danny and Saskia were cured.

  “Promise me that Adita will be safe—that you will not hurt her for the knowledge you seek,” Tray said.

  “She is worth a great deal to us. Alive. We have waited a long time for her to come home,” Marius said, cocking his head and smirking creepily.

  “Thank you for the medicine,” Tray said, his eyes never leaving Marius as he backed out of the tent. He glanced around the settlements, searching for signs of danger. A few of the folks in the Social Circle waved at him, encouraging him to come back and finish his stories. Laos was gone. Shaking his head apologetically, Tray offered a regretful farewell and walked swiftly out of the camp.

  Brishen couldn’t stop rubbing his cheeks. All he could think about was the intimate moment he’d stolen. He wasn’t sure how long it had lasted. It felt like an eternity of bliss, but it didn’t trump the guilt he felt for taking advantage of his friend.

  “Spying?” he whispered, sneaking up on her.

  Laos flinched, but did not make a sound. She watched forlornly, keeping her distance as her father and Sky absconded.

  “I’m still mad at you,” she said. That much was obvious. She’d gone crying to Tolen and had entered the Social Circle that evening flanked by her brothers, who apparently had orders not to let him near her.

  “That’s the one I saw—Sky,” Brishen said.

  “We always told stories of how the Bandit stole our Seer. But she doesn’t look decayed,” Laos observed.

  “Perhaps the other one decayed so quickly because the spirit was taken,” Brishen said. When they told stories of an Aquian spirit possessing a human, using it as a vessel, Brishen had always imagined the human body mutated or desiccated. They’d been taught that Seers weren’t human, and he’d imagined that when the Bandit took the Seer, she’d become less than human as well. “She didn’t eat a bite in the Social Circle.”

  “Mom started crying when they came out here,” Laos sighed. “She doesn’t trust Dad with Adita. I don’t trust her. I don’t want her here.”

  “I doubt she’ll stay,” Brishen said. “She looks like she doesn’t want to be here either.”

  Laos cocked her head, analyzing the scene. “It could be because Dad is drooling all over her,” she said disgustedly. “He needs to back off. Look at her!”

  “Look at him,” Brishen countered. He took a step close
r to Laos, but Laos stepped away. He tried closing the gap again, but she shoved him and glared. Brishen rolled his eyes and sighed. “I thought he and Caira were together.”

  “They are,” Laos said, curling her lip. “They should be. I should smack him.”

  Brishen chuckled at the slow progression of logic, but panicked when Laos stepped out of the shadows. Grabbing her arm, Brishen pulled her back, trying hard not to laugh. “You are not going to smack him,” he told her.

  “I don’t need any more half-siblings!” Laos said, throwing his hand off. Then she noticed him laughing and realized her mistake. She really was planning to interrupt her father and smack him upside the head, and nothing in her brain told her there was anything wrong with that plan.

  “Fine,” she said, turning back to the camp. “I’ll tell her friend to take her back to that stupid ship.”

  “You can’t,” Brishen said, trotting next to her.

  “Try and stop me.”

  “What I mean is, he’s already left,” Brishen explained. He didn’t understand why she was so wound up, but he was glad she was talking to him.

  Laos stomped in the mud, her lips twisting in frustration.

  “Look,” Brishen said gently. “Your dad is home again. The Oriana ambassador has the medicine and agreed to leave. Adita was going to stand between your parents whether she stayed or not.”

  He touched her hair, but retracted his hand when he saw the color rising in her cheeks. Every day he loved her more, and it became harder to be just her friend.

  “If you try anything, I’ll . . . I—I’ll cut your balls off.”

  “I’m afraid you’re too late for that,” he said, his gaze wandering over her face.

  “What?” she said, her eyes flashing.

  “What?” Brishen repeated, breaking out in a sweat.

  “The Nayak,” she prompted. “What did they do to you?”

  Brishen stared like a deer caught in a snare. His tongue felt dry. He’d been waiting for the right time to tell Laos—perhaps after she’d already agreed to marry him and acknowledge him as a man. Today was not his day. She took his hand, but it was his turn to pull away. Whether he spoke or not, he’d already said enough.

  “Brishen,” she whispered, brushing her fingers against the back of his cheek.

  The lust that had ruled him earlier was nowhere to be found. Reality set in, just like it had when he confronted the old man at the Nayak gate. The idealistic vision he had of himself and Laos frolicking as primaries was replaced by the realization that he’d be naked to her.

  “I love you,” she said, pulling him into a hug, pressing her cheek to his. He wasn’t sure if the wetness was from her tears or his own.

  “Come to my tent,” she said, taking him by the hand, her lips curving in a seductive smile. Brishen beamed, the invitation fueling his ego, stirring a fire in his gut that became impossible to control. Eagerly, he snaked his arms around her waist, digging his hands under her clothes. She squeaked and kicked.

  “Laos,” he panted, staring at her, wide-eyed, realizing she’d only wanted to take him some place private to talk.

  “Brishen, let me go,” she whimpered, digging her fingernails into his arms. She didn’t scream for help. She trusted him to back down; she believed he wasn’t evil enough to take her by force. She was right.

  He loosened his grip, smoothing her clothes as his hands withdrew.

  “We’ll go to your tent,” he said.

  She shook her head, then ran off. There was no point in chasing her.

  Sky looked up at the branches of her favorite tree. It had grown a few new limbs in the last twenty-some years, but the ones she and Sidney had made love on all that time ago were as strong as ever. Sidney’s palms were clammy, and his grip had softened since she’d taken to his lead. The first time they’d come to this spot, she was leading him—she was confident and he was nervous.

  “Are we going up?” Sky asked, touching the rough trunk of the tree. The lowest branch was at waist level, and she sat on it, never letting go of his hand.

  “I’m getting too old for that,” Sidney said with a smile, pressing between her legs and staring up at the branches.

  “You look well enough.”

  Looking wistful, Sidney caressed her collarbone, and then drew his fingers between her breasts.

  “I don’t want your wife to be jealous of me,” Sky said, catching his hand, giving him a stern look.

  “Wives,” he corrected, sitting next to her on the tree, ducking his head. “I have three secondaries. Most of them reside with other husbands.”

  “Really?” Sky said, intrigued. “I had you pegged for the monogamous type.”

  His eyes had gone directly to a single woman in the Social Circle, so Sky knew he had a favorite among the three.

  “I would have been, for you, Adita,” he confessed, letting go of her and folding his hands in his lap. His feet kicked at the air and the branch they were on swayed lightly in response.

  “I wouldn’t have given you any heirs. I’m sure with three wives, you have many now,” Sky said helpfully. This was another reason she didn’t return to old stomping grounds. Once tamed by marriage, former lovers were never as useful.

  “Three daughters and a son. Only one calls me ‘Dad,’ and I think she does it to annoy her half-brothers,” he said wryly.

  “Her mother is the huntress that kept glaring at me across the Social Circle?” Sky asked.

  “I didn’t notice.” He inhaled sharply, sat up straight, but then wilted again. Reaching out, he brushed the backs of his knuckles against the backs of hers. “May I hold you?”

  Sky hedged, but when he opened his arm, she leaned in. Before she knew it, Sidney’s arms enveloped her. She gasped at the darkness as he pressed her face against his chest. Spirit reared. She kicked and writhed, and finally his grip loosened. Sky wanted to shove him off and run, but then she felt his tears splashing on the top of her head. Sliding off the branch, Sky stood and faced him, guiding him into a proper hug.

  “I searched for you,” he wept. “I spent all my years waiting for you to come back to me.”

  “We were never meant to be forever,” Sky said. “I told you.”

  “I should have known by the way you ran off that day. You never ran from anything before.” Sidney sniffled, slowly regaining his composure. “The day our first hunting party met you, you walked right to the point of the hunter’s arrow and gave him that pouty lip.”

  Sidney cradled her chin, tilting her face toward his until they were pressing nose to nose. His finger brushed her lip.

  “Do that thing again. Where your lips touch mine,” he said.

  “A kiss,” she reminded him. In the infirmary on Oriana, he’d called it vulgar, but he loved doing it in private. Smiling, Sky kissed him softly. Sidney groaned at first, then sobbed, not breaking the kiss until sadness overwhelmed him.

  “You kiss like her,” he said.

  “Like who?” Sky asked, brushing her thumb over his jaw.

  “Like . . . just like I remember.”

  “I hope my technique has improved a little bit over the years,” Sky joked. She wished they could bypass the tearful reunion, climb to their favorite branch, and have sex like they used to. She wasn’t sure where this hour was leading, but she recognized his tent next to their tree and maybe with enough sex, she could leave him worn out and satisfied long enough to escape.

  Sidney laughed, fresh tears glistening in his eyes.

  “I can’t stay forever,” she said, running her hands through his hair.

  “I will find strength, somehow,” Sidney assured.

  He kissed her again, more passionately this time. His hands slid down her back, and then under her shirt.

  “Go back to your huntress, Sidney,” Sky whispered, barely checking the urge to grind her body against his. “My morals are fuzzy in a lot of places, but I will not divide a home.”

  “I don’t care,” he groaned, his body twitching with de
sire. With her shirt disheveled, his hands were on her bare skin. Sky leaned against him and he leaned against the trunk of their tree, holding her. She found herself negotiating and rationalizing—they wouldn’t have to strip completely to have sex.

  “I’m sorry, my Adita,” he said, wiping his damp cheek against her skin. His hands rubbed over her skin, milking out memories, making up for lost years.

  “One last time. To say good-bye,” Sky offered, looping her arms around his neck.

  “You’re already gone,” Sidney wept, shaking his head, sweeping her hair aside. She started to turn, then felt a pain in her neck. Her body went limp in his arms. She couldn’t feel anything, but she could still see, and the world bobbed as he carried her back to the settlement. Spirit raged and reared, then the visions overwhelmed her and everything was chaos.

  26

  Sky welcomed the moments when she felt darkness coming. The cacophony of light, color, and canon fire shot through her body, twisting her with pain, as if trying to unscrew her spine from the flesh and muscle that held it in place. She could have lavished Sidney with all the sex he wanted on Oriana, but instead she’d let him bring her here.

  They’d tied her to a post, suspending her arms over her head, but she could barely feel their torture through the darkness. She had put Danny and Saskia ahead of herself, and now she suffered for them. As much as Sky wanted to give up her last breath and end the agony, the choice was not hers; it was Spirit’s. The nightmarish visions became more and more real until she’d lost all sense of the present world. She fell from a Dome ceiling into the midst of the stories. The arena where her visions were enacted was loud and confused, and she stood in the eye of the storm, watching possible futures swirl around her. This was the truth of being a Seer, and why the Drava would never be able to use her gift to their advantage.