Mirage (Mirage #1)(7)

There was no sound as the phaser went off, only the sudden weakening of Khadija’s grip around my hand. Her fingers slipped from mine, and her body fell forward. Her knees hit the ground, and then she fell sideways, eyes open in shock.

She’d worn a white gown embroidered in green to the ceremony. Red bloomed on her shoulder like a flower, staining the green lines crisscrossing her arms. Her arms splayed out, crooked and doll-like, in a pose I’d never seen before. Her black hair was loose tonight and it fanned around her head, dark as midnight, complete as a death shroud in hiding her from me.

Now, I could not breathe. Now, my heart pounded too fast and my lungs shrunk and my body went numb.

The blood from her arm pooled beneath her.

Her mother screamed first and then chaos broke. I couldn’t think, and I only moved because Husnain tugged me back and forced me into a run. He wasn’t fast enough—no one had ever outrun the Vath.

A metal hand wrapped around my left arm, and I came to a jarring stop.

“No!” I screamed, but it was too late. The droid took hold of my brother’s shoulder, and then threw him back nearly halfway across the courtyard. He landed against the fountain with a bloodcurdling sound, then fell to the floor, unmoving.

“Let me go!” I struggled against my captor, trying to make it to my brother as everyone else ran screaming, gathering children, trying to escape. I couldn’t see the rest of my family. Only Husnain, lying motionless on his front, ignored by everyone else.

I screamed again, but the droids dragged me away even as I struggled, kicking and screaming, crying out my brother’s name.

“Husnain!” My throat felt raw from screaming, but he didn’t get up, and no one stopped to help him.

I was dragged up a ramp to a Vathek cruiser, and my last sight of home was the kasbah, lit by the spark of fire a droid had set just as the doors shut.





the ziyaana, andala





4

I’d dreamed forever of leaving Cadiz, of visiting other star systems in our galaxy. But I’d never thought I would be taken against my will. I was dragged through the building, pulled onto a ship, silent and numb, then finally deposited in a holding cell.

My whole body hurt, and my vision was blurry with unshed tears. Below me was a glass floor, clouded and turning gray. But I could see where I was—and where I was going.

Cadiz was gone and left behind and Andala, our mother planet, grew minute by minute in my view. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to contain the panic inside me. I prayed fervently that my family had survived the burning of the kasbah. I didn’t understand—couldn’t understand why they had taken me, or to what end.

I could not escape the image of Husnain lying motionless in the stampede, nor the sound his body made when it hit stone. Was he alright? Were my parents? Had Aziz gotten them out? And what of Khadija? The phaser’s blast was aimed at her arm, not her chest; meant to threaten, not kill. But she had lost a lot of blood … My mind went round and round, from one thought to the next, trying to make sense of it, hoping for the best.

The Vath had gotten me, for whatever reason. My family and the village were safe.

They were safe.

At least, that was what I repeated to myself. I didn’t know if I believed it.

Hours passed as I stared at the steadily approaching planet. At last, the ship slowed, and streams of cloud and mist engulfed my view. The floor melted back to its imposing steel gray color as the door hissed open. I stiffened, waiting for the Imperial droid to step through. Instead, an Andalaan girl waited in the doorway. She was dressed as I was, in a long qaftan, its sleeves tightened at the wrist, with a short sleeveless jacket. She drew a veil down from her red hair and freckled, brown face.

“Amani?”

I said nothing.

“I am Tala,” she said. “You should follow me.”

She led me from the ship into a courtyard that seemed to stretch on forever, filled with soft, pruned grass waving gently in the breeze. I gaped at the sights around me as Tala led me down an avenue of polished marble toward the garden’s center. Arches striped in red and white lined the walkway, and their alabaster columns gleamed. Birdsong filled the air, and jewel-toned peacocks strutted across the pathway. The air was fragrant with the scent of incense and flowers, and warmer than I’d ever felt it on Cadiz.

I would have been a fool not to recognize the pavilions and mosaics that marked where we were: the Ziyaana, Andala’s imperial palace. For centuries it had been home to our own royalty, Andalaan kings and queens. It was the last place to fall in the occupation. Now the palace played host to the Vathek king and his new court.

“Can you tell me what I’m doing here?” I asked, willing my voice not to shake.

“Come,” she said instead of answering my question. “The king’s stewardess, Nadine, is waiting in the east wing—she’s to be your mistress. Have a care with her—she is one of the High Vath.”

I swallowed. If one of the High Vath was involved in the assault on the kasbah, then my end would be grim. They made up the upper echelons of our conquerors, rarely seen away from our capital, and almost never alone. Their class was marked by pale silver hair, and it made them easy to pick out among their kind.

“And after?”

She said nothing.

She led me down a set of stairs, and through a collection of airy chambers. A breeze wafted through, lifting gauzy curtains, revealing dark wood trellises, cushioned alcoves, and carved pillars. But it was silent—gone was the sound of birdsong and flowing water.