The Ophelia Prophecy (31 page)

Micah turned and reached for the bag that had been slung across his back when he came in. “I brought you a tablet so you can contact your father,” he said, placing the thin screen on the table next to the food tray. “Have you thought about what you’ll say to him?”

“I have.” Pax picked up one of the bowls of cereal. “The main thing is to be direct. It’s the only thing my father understands.”

“One thing I think you’ll want to be careful of is letting him get the idea you’re being held here by force,” said Micah. “If he thinks you’re in danger—”

“He may raid the temple. I’ll make it clear.”

Asha could tell by the creases in his forehead he was worried about this meeting. “You’re sure you want to do this,” she said. “You’re sure it makes sense right now.”

He nodded. “It’s something I’ve been sweeping under the rug for a very long time. I resented Cleo trying to force my hand, and especially the way she went about it. I guess I’m a little like my father in that way. I hold a grudge.”

“How much of this has to do with Asha?” asked Micah, and both of them turned to stare at him. “I don’t mean to pry into your business, and I don’t know what’s between the two of you, but if you’re doing this because you want your father to approve of or acknowledge her in some way, it’s not all that different from Cleo and her personal motivations. We don’t want to start by raising his disapproval.”

Pax frowned. “I’d argue that it
is
different, since I don’t intend to hurt anyone.”

“But people may get hurt,” Micah argued. “We don’t yet know how the amir will react. He still may raid the temple. Don’t misunderstand; we want this. But it’s dangerous enough as it is. If you’re not committed to it for the right reasons, it could add risk, and hurt our chances of succeeding.”

Pax sighed and sank back in the chair. “In a way it
is
about Asha.” His gaze drifted to her. “When I met her we were enemies. Yet she risked herself to save my sister and me. I respect her. I
trust
her. It’s forced me to remember what I’ve believed for more than a decade: that the camps are wrong. It’s wrong for me to continue ignoring the constant threat that someone might convince my father to exterminate the remaining human population.”

“They have paid enough,” agreed Micah. Asha remembered that his father was human. As was Pax’s mother.

“There’s no one but me who has a chance of persuading my father to shift his thinking on this,” said Pax.

“What will you do if he refuses? You have a sister. Has it occurred to you he might put her in your place?”

“Yes,” Pax said with a nod. “But let’s worry about the rest as it comes.”

From what Asha had observed of Pax and Iris’s relationship, she couldn’t imagine her going against him. It was probably the furthest worry from his mind right now.

Pax reached for the tablet, and Micah said, “Remember to keep me out of this. I still work for DAB-lab. Many of our efforts will unravel if that’s discovered, and it could put Asha’s father at risk.”

“I understand.”

*   *   *

Asha watched Pax over the top of the tablet as his hands manipulated the touchscreen. After a few moments he stopped, stated his name, and then swiped the mark on his arm across one corner of the tablet. Then he sat watching the screen.

“Augustus, I wondered if we’d hear from you today.” She could hear the smile in the amir’s voice. Pax spoke with a slight British accent, but his father’s accent was different. She wondered why that would be. Perhaps Pax had spent more time with caretakers than with his father.

“I’m sorry for not checking in with you earlier,” replied Pax.

“I was worried—it’s not like you. But your sister was so disgusted I figured there was nothing to worry about.” Pax joined in his father’s laughter. “I’m relieved, actually. You spend too much time in the library. It’s not good for you. Before the war we had to fight every day just to hold on to the little territory we managed to carve out for ourselves. We were always fighting or fucking.”

“I know, Dad.”

“I wouldn’t wish that for you, Son. But I’m glad you’re warming your blood a little.

“Dad, I need to—”

“There’s something else I want to say to you.”

Pax waited.

“Be careful. I know I don’t have to tell you that you can’t have an official union with this girl. But keeping her as a mistress could be problematic as well. There could be a pregnancy, and a child born that way could not be officially acknowledged. You’ll have to take measures to—”

“Yes, I understand about that.” Crimson stole along the high cheekbones, and she could almost feel him straining not to look up at her. It was a jolt of reality for both of them. What had they been playing at last night? After all they’d been through together in the last few days, she had desperately wanted—
needed
—that connection with him. But could it realistically continue?

She jumped as she felt Micah’s hand close over her arm in a gesture of support. She’d been so engrossed in the exchange between father and son she’d all but forgotten he was there.

“Good,” continued the amir. “We can talk about it more later. Tell me where you are so I can send some men to you, in case you have any trouble.”

Pax hesitated, blinking at the screen. Then he said, “I’m at the temple.”

“Mmm. Well, the woman lived here for a third of your life, and I don’t expect you to write her off, but be on your guard. I don’t trust her.”

“I’m not here to see Cleo. In fact, she’s turned over management of the temple’s affairs to others. She’s pulling back to focus exclusively on spiritual leadership. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Are you sure about this?” She could hear the surprise in the amir’s voice. “It’s hard to imagine she went along with
that
without a fight. Who’s in charge now? Someone we’ll have an easier time managing, I hope.”

“
Me
, in part.”

“
You?
What are you talking about?”

“Rebelión Sagrada is hoping to reengage with the Alhambra. I’ve agreed to serve as a liaison in setting up talks about the issues of most critical concern to their constituency.”

“
Constituency?
” She was grateful she couldn’t see the Manti ruler. The still fury in his voice was bad enough. “The rebellion has no constituency. They’re a fringe group, interested in disrupting legitimate government.” There was a pause before the amir continued, “Am I understanding you to say you’ve joined the temple against me?”

“Dad, if that’s what you’re hearing, you’re not listening. They’re not your enemies. But they have concerns, legitimate ones I believe, about the influence of the genetics lab, and the fate of the human survivors. They just want to talk. My own views are in alignment with theirs, so I’ve agreed to broker a meeting.”

A frigid silence descended. Pax stared at the screen, never breaking eye contact with his father.

“This is about the human woman. You’ve let your loyalties be clouded by lust.”

The actual physical change to Pax’s expression was subtle, but the effect was not. He hadn’t spoken a word, and she could see that he was livid.

She could hear him straining for control as he replied, “I know you’re angry, but please don’t reduce me to that. You know me better.”

“Then give me some kind of explanation I can understand for why you would betray me like this.”

“This is not a betrayal,” insisted Pax. “I’ve been trying to talk to you about this for years. You’ve never taken me seriously. But I need you to understand that I
am
serious.”

“You’ve made that clear enough. I thought we were through with all this. I assumed this was Iris’s mother’s influence. I thought it would fade in time. I thought you were going through a rebellious phase.”

“No, Dad. These last years of me not talking about it was a phase. A phase where I gave up because I thought I had no choice. But I’ve never been happy with myself about that, and I had to do something about it. Surely you can understand that.”

“Come home, Augustus.” This was an order, not a plea.

She saw Pax’s jaw set, and her heart thumped with fear of what they were setting in motion.

“Meet with Rebelión. Recognize that they—that
we
—have legitimate concerns, and let the people weigh in on it as well. Then I’ll come home.” Pax hesitated before adding, “The time for stonewalling on these issues has passed, Dad. Since that prophecy locked down the city, Rebelión’s base of supporters has grown. Ignoring their voices can only hurt us.”

“You’ve got it wrong, Augustus. Threats from within—disloyalty, and dissension within our own house—have the greatest potential to hurt us. You’ll hear from me soon.”

Pax tossed the tablet on the sofa with a frustrated sigh. “I suppose that went about as well as I expected.”

“What will happen now?” she asked him.

“He’ll think about what I said. Hopefully calm down and reconsider.”

“And if he doesn’t?” asked Micah.

Pax met the question with an expression of resignation. “We have to be ready for anything. I think you should go back to the lab. Is it possible for us to be in contact? I’d like to know if any rumors drift your direction.”

Nodding, Micah rose to his feet. “I want to check in with Cleo first, but I’m due back soon. I’ll contact you when I get there. I don’t think we should talk through the network. I communicate with Harker through the surveillance flies—no reason we can’t do the same. I can configure it to wipe its data if it’s accessed by anyone but you.”

“It’ll be slow,” replied Pax, “but I don’t want to risk exposing you.”

“We can use it for now. I’ll try to work out something else.”

Micah turned to her, and on impulse she rose and put her arms around his neck. The stretching caused her back to sting—she’d practically forgotten the injury—but the second-skin stayed in place.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said, smiling. “It must be a huge relief to know your father is safe.”

“It is. Thank you for keeping him out of trouble.”

He hugged her, murmuring, “We’ll see you again soon.”

As he left them, Pax poured an amber-colored steaming liquid into a clear glass embellished with a ring of leaves and flowers. “Do you want tea?” he asked.

She nodded. “Thank you.”

She lifted the glass by a gold handle. The tea was not unlike the infusions of herbs and flowers they drank at home—sweet and minty, but also with a hint of something bitter and grassy.

Pax poured another cup for himself. “I had to chase you down, get in a fistfight, and almost get killed before you hugged
me
like that,” he observed, eyeing her over the rim of his cup.

“Well, Micah and I didn’t start out as enemies. I’ve always known where I stand with him.”

“You’re sure about that?”

She raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Pax shook his head. “Nothing.”

He picked up the tablet again and sank back in his chair, manipulating the screen idly while he drank his tea.

She was inexperienced with men, no point in denying it. She was pretty sure Pax had gotten the idea Micah had become fond of her in more than a friendly way, and that had not occurred to her. The possibility was flattering, and interesting. He was handsome and kind. She felt comfortable around him—he treated her as an equal.

These realizations pulled at her mood. She had no regrets about what had passed between her and Pax, and she knew she had not imagined their growing bond. But she’d begun to feel anxiety about how things would have to change once he was back at the Alhambra. About how
he
would change, and his attitude toward her.

He’d promised not to hold her against her will, but what would staying with him mean? She had a vision of herself shut away in a room much like this one, her only occupation to wait for the prince’s coming and going. Subject to the scrutiny and approval of the amir.

“I won’t be your mistress,” she said in a low voice.

*   *   *

His eyes lifted from the display, locking onto hers. The discussion was inevitable, but he’d hoped to delay it until things had been settled with his father.

“I haven’t asked you to,” he said.

A dart struck his heart as she dropped her gaze. He realized his reply could be misinterpreted.

“No,” she agreed.

He sat up, replacing the tablet on the table and folding his hands.

“You’re thinking about what my father said.”

“I am.”

“That’s fair. But is this the right time to talk about this?”

She studied his face, hesitating.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

She flinched. “I…”

“You don’t
know
how you feel. Neither do I.” He clenched his jaw against his heart’s accusation that he’d just told a lie. “I’ve told you that I won’t trap you, or let anyone harm you. Can that be enough for now, until we have a better idea what we’re facing?”

“Okay,” she breathed. She tried to sink back on the sofa, but remembered her injury and sat up. She rose and walked to the shrine, studying the little statue of Gregoire. Finally she raised her eyes to the view.

He’d intended to go back to his messages, but instead he watched her, sensing around the edges of her figure, feeling the chillier air radiating his direction.

“It’s beautiful here,” she murmured, straining toward a lighter tone. “The perfect temperature. And the air doesn’t suck the moisture out of your skin.”

“What do you think of the city?” he asked, allowing her the change of subject.

“It’s beyond anything I imagined. All the buildings at home look the same. Solar panels. Rain collection pipes and barrels. Paths made of broken concrete. Sand-colored siding.”

He smiled. “We always appreciate what’s different. I find the simplicity of Sanctuary refreshing. It’s so peaceful and orderly. Very little mechanization. You all have gardens and chickens. The rock cairns in the square are amazing.”

“Nothing like this temple,” she replied.

He couldn’t help feeling he’d failed to give her what she’d asked of him. She was uncomfortable with unanswered questions, just as he was. But there was no way he could predict what would happen to them. Even if he could bring his father to the table with Rebelión, he’d still be a long way from persuading him to recognize Asha as anything
other
than his mistress.