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  Cara didn’t deny it.

  “L’eihrs aren’t conditioned to feel scandalized by nudity,” she said in that no-nonsense way of hers. “Most of us were raised in this Aegis since birth. Imagine all the times we’ve seen one another’s bodies. Yours is no different.”

  An arch of Cara’s brow told her otherwise.

  “All right,” she conceded. “You have a navel and we don’t.”

  “Plus pale skin, orange hair, and freckles.” Cara patted her thighs. “And flab,” which the clones didn’t possess, thanks to their freakish obsession with exercise.

  “I give you my word that—”

  Before Elle could continue, Vero screeched a litany of complaints from the bottom cot, where he’d just crouched over Cara’s brand-new pillow.

  “No!” she and Elle cried, each thrusting out one palm in mirrored desperation.

  It was too late. Vero finished his business and chirped something that sounded exactly like owned! owned! Then he ran to the door, high-fived the keypad, and scurried out into the hall before they could catch him.

  “Happy Sh’ovah Day to me.” Cara held her pillow at arm’s length and carried it to the sanitation bin in the hallway. Farewell, pillow number seven.

  After washing her hands in the restroom, she returned to Elle, whose shrugging shoulders said, I’m sorry, while her twitching lips said, This is funny as hell. Cara’s mouth curved against her will. It was the first time she’d seen her roommate laugh, and the snickering was infectious.

  “It really is a simple ceremony,” Elle assured her with a comforting pat on the hand. “I’ll lead the way, and you’ll follow right behind me. Once the head Elder delivers her speech, The Way will begin your Covering.”

  “Smearing mud on me, you mean?”

  Elle clucked her tongue. “You make it sound so base. It’s not muck from the ground, Cah-ra. The valeem is like your holy water. It’s imported from the third precinct, where the ground is rich and fertile. They use only the purest soil, and it’s blessed before the ceremony.”

  Pure soil? Cara was pretty sure that was an oxymoron, like sanitary landfill or jumbo shrimp. “And everyone’s been through this, right?”

  “Every single one of us,” Elle promised. A wistful smile enlivened her face, and she fell silent for a few moments, as if reliving a cherished memory. “I was fifteen—older than most of my friends when they crossed over, but the Elders wouldn’t recommend me until I’d demonstrated patience. It was the happiest day of my life.”

  Despite her fear, Cara couldn’t deny feeling a tingle of anticipation. It made her think of her many-greats grandmother O’Shea, who’d left Ireland for America. Just like Grandma O’Shea, Cara would rebuild her life on a new world, and this was the first step in bringing that future to fruition. She could do this—become a L’eihr—and help cement the alliance between two planets.

  “Are you ready?” Elle asked.

  With a firm nod, Cara answered, “Born ready.”

  When they reached the open doors leading to the courtyard, Elle walked in slow, measured strides into the brightness of day. To Cara’s surprise, she didn’t hesitate to fall into place, her bare feet moving across the spongy sidewalk. She trained her eyes on the back of Elle’s head instead of the continuous rows of uniformed teens in her periphery. Soon, the soft tickle of grass replaced pavement, and Elle stopped, reaching out for Cara’s hand.

  To their left, the clones stood at attention like a battalion receiving orders, backbones stiff, arms held rigidly by their sides as they stared through her. The Way had positioned themselves on Cara’s right, all ten leaders standing erect, clad in cloaks of deepest brown, their expressions more lively than she’d ever seen. Clearly, this was a happy occasion for them, if not for the clones. They formed a semicircle around a waist-high brass trough that seemed to absorb the sunlight instead of reflecting it the way other metals did.

  When she peered inside, she didn’t find the black, gritty sludge she’d expected. The valeem appeared claylike—a smooth burnt-orange porridge that bore a slight resemblance to half-baked pumpkin pie filling. Occasionally, a lazy bubble would disrupt the soup and burp to the surface, filling the air with the seasoned sweetness of cloves.

  The ancient Alona drew a breath and asked in English, “Who guarantees this girl’s integrity?”

  “I guarantee it,” Elle replied. She extended their linked hands toward Alona, and with flawless timing, released her as the old woman claimed Cara’s fingers.

  Alona’s grasp was cool, but stronger than Cara had anticipated, and she remembered that while the Elders seemed as frail as baby’s breath, they were only in their fifties.

  Alona delivered a message to the assembly in L’eihr while Elle quietly translated. She told the story of the Sacred Mother, who’d loved this majestic planet so fiercely, she’d sacrificed her immortal body by splitting herself into half a dozen equal pieces, each one forming the six gods and goddesses of L’eihr. Her “children” went on to create the topography, oceans, animals, and intelligent beings that populated the world. And just as the Sacred Mother had surrendered her body and spirit to give life to the planet, in turn, each citizen was expected to devote his or her existence to the betterment of L’eihr. It was a beautiful story with parallels to many of Earth’s religions, and the similarities made Cara feel closer to home.

  “Cah-ra Sweeney, l’ihan to Aelyx of the first Aegis,” Alona spoke. “Do you join your fate with the Sacred Mother—freely, of your own choosing, and without duress?”

  Cara cleared her throat. “Yes.”

  “Will you devote your existence to the advancement of L’eihr?”

  “Yes.”

  “And will you submit to The Way in all matters, without fail?”

  Cara hesitated. Submission wasn’t really her cup of tea, but she knew any further delay would insult her leaders. Without waiting another second, she licked her lips and sealed her fate.

  “Yes.”

  “Then let me be the first to welcome you, sister.” Alona’s clouded gray eyes sparked alive. Although the woman hadn’t initiated Silent Speech, a trickle of emotion leaked from her gaze—one of pure hope. Alona believed that Cara would lead others to the colony, that they’d join their societies and bring the spirit of humanity to the clones. Cara didn’t know whether to feel flattered or terrified. It seemed The Way had some serious expectations of her.

  Alona raised Cara’s hand into the air, and in flawless synchronization, the entire assembly shouted, “Welcome, sister!” in the militant voices of their native tongue.

  The old woman’s eyes shifted to Cara’s robe, a silent message that the time had come to bare it all. Cara glanced at Elle for confirmation, hoping she’d say, Just kidding! Did you really think you’d have to get naked? then laugh and clap her on the shoulder. But, of course, she didn’t say those things. She nodded and took her place in line behind The Way.

  Cara brought ten trembling fingers to her waist and fumbled with the belt tie. After three tries, she worked the knot free and untangled its ends, then brought both hands to her lapels and clutched the stiff fabric like a security blanket. Suddenly she realized she didn’t know what to do with the robe once she’d shed it. Let it fall to the ground? Sling it over one arm? She glanced at Alona, who seemed to understand.

  “I’ll hold it,” she whispered, extending an arm.

  If Cara was going to do this, she’d do it right. Taking a deep breath, she peeled back the lapels of her robe and pulled her arms free, then handed the garment to Alona and faced the sea of clones, staring through them as they’d done to her.

  Instantly her cheeks burst into flames, her entire body flushing so red hot, she expected to see fire shoot from her fingertips. A light wind brushed her naked flesh in places she’d never felt the breeze before, but the oddest sensation of all was the pressure of five hundred curious gazes. The attention crackled over her like static electricity—invisible but very real.

  Alona used her fr
ee hand to dip into the trough. She cupped the thick liquid and then poured it over Cara’s left shoulder, where it trickled downward to coat her arm. It was warmer than she’d expected, and her muscles relaxed in response. The next Elder repeated the process on the other side, and when Jaxen’s turn came, he scooped two handfuls of mud and spilled them across her lower abdomen, essentially creating a dripping bikini. It was an oddly chivalrous act, and she thanked him with her eyes.

  Elle heaped two layers of mud over Cara’s chest, kindly concealing “the girls” from view, and then the first group of clones approached. But instead of cupping a handful of valeem, the six of them dipped their index fingers just deep enough to coat the tips. They passed her quickly, not bothering to meet her gaze when they tapped their nails against her chest.

  It didn’t take a sociologist to interpret the message: they would participate in the ceremony, but that didn’t mean she was welcome. On and on it went, each group of six offering the least required of them by their leaders.

  Cara’s skin felt tight and tingly in a way that had nothing to do with the clay beginning to dry across her body. She dug her fingernails into her palms and lifted her chin as she completed the rite of passage that marked her transition into adulthood. Once the last clone had marked her, Cara wrapped a dark blanket around her shoulders and waited for Alona to dismiss the assembly for the Sh’ovah feast.

  But just as Alona drew a breath to make the announcement, a deafening whistle sounded from above. The entire group turned their gazes skyward, where a tiny ball of flame—a meteorite, perhaps—streaked the beige clouds. Quickly, the flame drew nearer and the shrieking became so loud it stung her ears. It didn’t take long for the assembly to realize that the object was headed right for them, and bodies scattered in all directions while voices screamed and shouted commands Cara couldn’t understand. She clutched her blanket and bolted for the protection of the Aegis wall, barely reaching it when a crash boomed from behind.

  Once she’d reached a safe distance, she turned and surveyed the damage, surprised to discover that the only casualty of the fiery impact was the steaming vat of mud. Orange valeem lay in puddles around broken bits of metal, and in the heart of the debris rested a softball-size orb. From where Cara stood, it didn’t look like a meteorite. She could swear she saw colored lights twinkle from its surface, but before she could get a better look, Jaxen removed his cloak and draped it over the sphere. The Elders glanced nervously at one another and then commanded the students to go inside.

  From all around her, the clones murmured in confusion but did as they were told. Cara filed inside with them, casting occasional glances over her shoulder at the lump beneath Jaxen’s cloak.

  What was that thing? And why was he trying to hide it?

  Chapter Five

  “Look, more L’annabes. They’re lined up around the block.” David pointed out the rear passenger window at the Omaha convention center, where Aelyx had spent the last several hours guest lecturing to university students about the physics of space travel. “You have more groupies than the Rolling Stones ever did, you lucky bastard.”

  The armored SUV hit a bump in the road, sending a dozen rifles clanking against their owners. If Aelyx wanted to venture beyond the hotel, this was his only option. He hated living like this, in constant fear of attack. “It’s not as glamorous as you think,” Aelyx said, shielding his eyes from the setting sun. “The attention gets annoying after a while.”

  “Yeah, you poor baby.” David rolled his eyes. “Annoying doesn’t describe that model I busted trying to sneak into your room last night.” His lips curved in an appreciative grin. “Flexible, maybe. Can’t have been easy to squeeze inside the maid’s cart like that.”

  Aelyx laughed. “You’re more human than I gave you credit for.”

  “Oh, come on,” David said with a light elbow nudge. “Tell me you wouldn’t have been a little bit stoked if she’d jumped out of your closet.”

  “Not in the least,” he assured David. “Cara’s the only one I want.”

  “Mmm.” David nodded at Aelyx as if they were members of a secret club. “Once you go human, you never go back, huh? I’ll bet our girls are firecrackers compared to L’eihr chicks. I mean, no offense, but they seem kind of frigid with that empty stare. Not like Earth girls—especially redheads. Man, I love me some gingersnap action.”

  Aelyx thought he’d mastered English slang, but he had no clue what David was saying. However, he got the distinct impression that his new friend was much more experienced than he was when it came to women. Aside from what Aelyx had gleaned from the Internet, he didn’t know much about the mechanics of intimacy. Of course, he couldn’t admit that to a human male. Eron would have understood, but not David.

  David must have misinterpreted Aelyx’s silence as anger. “Did I go too far with that ‘frigid’ comment? Sorry, man. I’m an idiot. Sometimes I can’t shut up.”

  “No, I’m not offended. You’ve got it wrong, though.” In the years since The Way had weaned his generation off the hormone regulators, the clones had wasted no time in pairing off and doing what came naturally. Caught off guard, the medics had rushed to ensure that each student was outfitted with a contraceptive implant before any unauthorized breeding occurred, an offense punishable by death. “Our females are willing.”

  David glanced at his comrades to ensure they weren’t listening, then leaned in close. “So, what’s the difference?” he whispered. “You know, between Earth girls and L’eihr girls? Does everything work the same?”

  Aelyx tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t betray his limited knowledge of either race. He’d never gone further with a clone than an occasional sh’ellam, their equivalent of a kiss. He told David a deceptively innocent truth. “L’eihrs and humans are biologically identical.”

  “Well, sure,” David said over the whirring of the tires. “But there must be something…”

  “No,” Aelyx lied, then immediately changed his mind. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. “Actually, there is a difference. If L’eihrs are using Silent Speech, we can share each other’s sensations.”

  “No way,” David breathed out in awe. “Feeling yours and hers at the same time? That must be awesome.”

  Yes, Aelyx imagined it would be. With any luck, Cara would feel ready someday, and he’d actually get to find out.

  After that, David gazed silently out the window, no doubt wishing his brain were capable of Silent Speech, while Aelyx wondered how he’d survive until the spring. He wished The Way would allow him to tell humans some measure of the truth. That would accomplish their goal of finding support for the alliance and allow him to return to Cara. But the request he’d submitted to his leaders had gone unanswered, leaving him bound to silence.

  When the armed convoy arrived at the hotel and David ushered Aelyx into their suite, the ambassador greeted them at the door.

  “I’ve held dinner for you,” Stepha said, leading the way to the dining room, where small white cartons of takeout waited. “Was your speaking engagement successful?”

  Nodding, Aelyx scanned the living area for Syrine. She should have returned from her visit to the children’s hospital by now. “Is Syrine joining us?”

  “No,” Stepha told him. “She returned from her outing and went straight to bed. She isn’t feeling well.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” David asked. “I thought L’eihrs had super immunity or something.”

  Stepha shrugged and dipped a serving spoon into a carton of fried rice, a rather casual response considering David was right. Between Syrine’s natural immune system and the inoculations she’d received prior to leaving L’eihr, she shouldn’t fall ill.

  Aelyx turned his gaze to her bedroom door and wrestled with the urge to go to her. A month ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated, but that was before she’d betrayed their friendship. He owed her nothing.

  He grabbed a container of chicken and served himself while unwanted memories haunted h
im—six-year-old Syrine sneaking him supper after he’d been lashed with the iphet and sent to his room; eleven-year-old Syrine using her gift as a spiritual healer to lessen his grief when the old house pet had died.

  She had been there when he’d needed her.

  Aelyx threw down his fork and stood from the table. Curse it all, Syrine wasn’t forgiven, but he had to know she was all right. “I’m going to check on her.”

  “Thank you, brother.” Stepha grinned in a way that told Aelyx this had been a test, and he’d passed. “I’m certain you will help her in a way I cannot.”

  When Aelyx knocked on her door, she didn’t respond, so he opened it a crack and peeked into her room. The purple bruise of twilight filtered through the window, making her seem even smaller as she curled into a ball atop her bed. She’d hugged a pillow to her chest, and tears welled in her eyes. Seeing her like this made Aelyx’s heart heavy.

  He shut the door behind him and sat on the edge of her bed. “You’re missing dinner.”

  It seemed to take extra effort for her to draw a breath. “I’m not hungry.”

  Aelyx extended a hand toward her and drew back. He didn’t need to touch her to know she didn’t have a fever. “What happened today? Did someone hurt you?”

  She shook her head against her pillow.

  “Talk to me,” he pressed.

  When she met his gaze, a plump tear spilled free and plunked to the mattress. “Do you know what my ‘good deed’ was today?”

  “To visit the children’s hospital.”

  “No. To visit dying children in the hospital,” she clarified. “There’s a program that gives them one final wish, and their wish was to spend the day with me.” She scoffed and repeated, “Me. They could’ve had anything they wanted.”

  Aelyx offered a sad smile. “I’m glad you were able to give them that gift.”

  “I did my best,” she said, her breath hitching. “I told them stories about our Voyagers and the strange worlds they’ve discovered. Their favorite was the swamp planet where the trees are sentient. They loved hearing how the branches tangle with one another to pass along messages and songs.”