Invaded (Alienated, #2)(8)

Jaxen’s eyes darted to the stonework. “We’ve kept the majority of our landmass in its natural state. The wall protects wildlife from our influence.” He pointed overhead at a flock of spotted birds resembling doves. “Except those that fly.”

“Or climb,” Aisly added darkly.

They were quiet until they reached the Aegis grounds, and then a nervous flutter tickled Cara’s chest. Suddenly she wanted the walk to last longer. She wasn’t ready for her first day of school.

“You won’t start classes until tomorrow,” Jaxen said.

Cara paused for a moment and studied him. On the surface, Jaxen resembled the others of his kind—tawny skin and silvery eyes. He wore his light-brown hair in a ponytail, his athletic frame concealed beneath the standard uniform. But there was something different about him. Maybe he had unique abilities. That would explain his position on The Way.

“Can you read minds?” she asked.

He laughed at her. “No, but I can read expressions, and your translucent cheeks tell me you’re afraid.”

Cara couldn’t deny it, so she turned to survey her surroundings. The Aegis reminded her of the community college back home—a large boxy dormitory opening to a courtyard, half a dozen scattered outbuildings, and multiple trails that led into a thicket of woods. She leaned forward and squinted, bringing an obstacle course into focus.

Aisly followed Cara’s gaze. “That’s where you’ll take your physical conditioning class.”

Cara groaned inwardly. Even in another galaxy, she couldn’t escape PE.

“But don’t worry,” Aisly continued. “The instructor will adjust your target time to compensate for your inferior respiratory system.”

Awesome. Add to the equation Cara’s inferior human brain, and after Troy left, she’d be the most worthless person on the planet. Quite the downgrade from her previous title of Midtown High valedictorian.

“Do you go to school in this Aegis, too?” she asked. From what she understood, children stayed in their local Aegis from birth until the end of their twenty-first year, when they received a job assignment and moved to the occupational barracks. But surely any L’eihr gifted enough to be appointed to The Way wouldn’t take classes with the rest of the students.

“We do now,” Jaxen said. When she waited for him to elaborate, he didn’t.

The three of them climbed the front steps leading to the dormitory, and Aisly extended her wrist for the scanner. In response, a pair of metallic doors hissed aside to allow them into the vacant lobby. Cara braced herself for an icy burst of air-conditioning, but a cross breeze from open windows along the adjacent corridors brushed her skin, reminding her that the temperature here hovered around seventy year-round. The next sensation to reach her was the warm, welcoming scent of baking bread. Her stomach growled in response.

“Must be breakfast time,” she mused. That would explain the absence of students.

“Yes,” Aisly said. “Our morning staple here is t’ahinni. It’s made from larun, which is a flat—”

“Flatbread,” Cara finished. A bittersweet smile curved her lips. “I tried re-creating it on Earth for Aelyx, but I never got it right.”

From there, they whisked her to the headmaster’s office and outfitted her with a supply of clean uniforms and a palm-size tablet.

“Bring this to each class,” Jaxen said. “All the texts and essays you’ll need are preloaded and translated into English.”

Even after his demonstration, Cara didn’t understand how to use the device, but she kept quiet for fear of looking stupid. She’d ask Elle to explain it later. Next, Jaxen and Aisly escorted her to her room, which was near the lobby on the first floor.

Jaxen paused outside her door. “Is it still your intention to remain here permanently, as Aelyx’s l’ihan?”

Cara nodded, even though “remain here permanently” sounded so…permanent.

“Excellent,” Aisly said. “Then we can resolve the issue of your citizenship.”

Cara’s stomach dipped. Just because she’d left Earth didn’t mean she wanted to sever all ties to her people. “Can I have dual citizenship?”

“Absolutely,” Aisly promised. “But the process remains the same. In order to become a citizen, you have to hold a Sh’ovah.”

A Sh’ovah? Why did that sound familiar?

Cara searched her memory. When nothing came, she turned to Jaxen for clarification, but by the time their eyes met, the answer hit like a cannonball to the gut. It sounded familiar because several months ago she’d written a blog post about the rite of passage: You swear an oath to the Sacred Mother, and then all your peers stand in line and smear mud on your naked body to symbolize your union with Her. Mazel tov!

All the blood in Cara’s face went south, settling somewhere in the vicinity of her socks. She’d have to stand before her new classmates in her birthday suit? And let them cover her with mud? There had to be another way.

“Cah-ra,” Jaxen said, “we don’t sexualize nudity here. I promise the sight of your body won’t faze anyone.”

So maybe the clones wouldn’t leer, but surely they’d gawk at her pasty skin and the freckles peppering her butt. Why couldn’t they give her a pass, just this once?

“If you’re having second thoughts…” Jaxen trailed off, his voice heavy with implication.