Page 88 of Border Control
Her mate tells her, “You don’t have to worry about that.”
A bubble of hope forms in my chest. “No?”
Gara nods, face grim. “He’ll probably strangle himself as soon as you land. He received a punishment of exile and it’s death to return. He won’t be able to stop following those orders. It’s not how Parthiastocks work.”
“Right.” I knew that.
“Then give me new orders, Law-rah.” He gets to his knees, lilac eyes beseeching, open and clear, like a glassy lake. “Order me to take you back to Oloria.”
“No!” Arabella blurts at me. “Don’t say anything! You don’t know anything about the culture?—”
The tightness in my chest expands. “You think I don’t understand? Yu think I don’t care?”
The garden rings with silence after my outburst. I've never been this out of control, never been this emotional.
Damn.
I massage my forehead. “He’s right. We can’t cope like this. We need… something, some way to get free.”
Dom steps up next to me, shadowing me from the weak afternoon sun.
Lifting my face up, I expect sadness, maybe a bit of defiance.
I didn’t anticipate the depth of understanding in his expressive eyes.
He takes my hands. “I know, Law-rah.”
The simple admission makes my eyes sting with tears. He’s always been understanding and gentle.
Wiping my cheek with his finger, he says, “We’ll solve it. For good.”
“Right.” I dash away my tears before anyone else can see. “But I also want you to be safe.” I turn to Ellen and Arabella. “Who’s the person who kept helping you on Oloria?”
“The All-Mother, Shara,” Ellen begins cautiously. “But she can’t really do a lot against Prif Samara.”
“That’s their, like, totalitarian director,” Arabella explains.
“She was voted in, apparently,” Ellen corrects her gently.
“She’s a total bitch-mobile, I wouldn’t cross her,” Arabella fumes.
I fold my arms tight. “But this Shara managed to get you two home safely, yes?”
“Yes, she helped, but I wouldn’t bet Dom’s life on it,” Ellen says.
The couples glance at each other. A wealth of information passes between each of them, almost as if they have their own psychic connections.
But if they did, they’d be feeling as shit and desperate as me.
“I can’t do this anymore, guys,” I tell them. “I have to have them out of my head. They’re making me angry all the time.”
Dom starts to say something, but stops.
I turn to him. “I’ve never been so out of control. My life was neat, ordered and laid out before we got together.”
His gaze drops to the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“Law, life just isn’t like that,” Arabella says, voice softer than I’ve ever heard from her. “Now, I know we’ve all been turned upside down by the aliens crash landing on us, but we’ll cope together?—”
