A Break in the Sunlight

13. Circe's Cup

NOTE: Some graphic themes in this chapter.

They did not finish the game after all. Sain had come back briefly in the early evening to say that he had been called away on plantation business. His secretary Ahmed had orders to see that all her needs were met. To Jaren he seemed the same, but with Sain it was hard to tell.

That had been a week ago, and he was expected back sometime tonight. Jaren had been feeling stronger, and had ventured out of her bed several times since Sunday, mainly to walk in the gardens, or to take her meals in the dining room with Nomi and several other women. Sain's relations, Ahmed had told her. Cousins and aunts.

Truthfully, they all looked alike to Jaren, with their lace hair-coverings and smooth faces. None of them seemed to speak any language she knew, and she'd tried them all. Instead of answering, they simply smiled and nodded at her, and carried on talking to her in Arcadian. Eventually she'd lost interest.

Dinner was served late here, well after ten o'clock, and afterward the women would disappear, leaving Jaren to her own devices. Usually she would return to her room or wander in the darkened gardens, as she was doing now.

The gardens were like a siren's call. Intoxicating and abundant. Even Jaren, who had never taken much interest in gardens, found these exquisite. Perhaps it was something about the moonlight shining down through the ivy and stone walls, or the way the dew collected on the evening blooms and splashed their lush fragrance into the air as one brushed by.

It almost made her forget how much she hated all of this. How much she despised the New Utopian values and selfish hedonistic lifestyle. But it was a damned sight better than being kidnapped by mercenaries, raped and beaten unconscious wasn't it?

She ran her hand along the mossy stone wall along the left side of the path, its surface rough and moist and cool to the touch. When she reached the corner she leaned against it for a moment, pressing her breast and hip to the rocky edge, letting the cold seep through the thin material of the gown they had given her, resting her forehead on her hand where it held the corner.

Once she had thought life like this was reality. Once she had believed all that she had been told. And this placid, darkened summer garden was no less a lie than anything else, was it? She could never stay on Arcadia. She wouldn't.

Her eyes looked down, to where the white of her gown rubbed misted stone and moss. Probably she would stain it. It served them right for making her wear white. Though she was sure they would have given her any color she wanted, had she but asked for it. She wondered if Sain had picked it out–but surely he knew better than that she should wear white.

She wanted her own clothes.

She'd had none when Sain found her, she knew, though of course he'd never mentioned it. The ones she had worn when they had been taken were gone. Destroyed in the explosion along with everything else. Every one else.

As for the rest, they were probably still there on Firedown, in the cluttered little closet she and Kaski had shared on the Indigo. What would become of them now?

A muscle in her cheek twitched, and she closed her eyes, turning her cheek to the moss-dappled surface for a moment, feeling it's numb dampness on her skin, soothing the headache that never seemed to quite go away, now.

And then she pushed herself away from the wall, forced herself to move on down the path.

She had decided not to go back for the Indigo. She could not face Firedown again. Sain had offered to sell the ship for her, and she had accepted. Once she verified that her bio-ware was working, she would ask him to find her passage to Sona. She would find Goron, and put Firedown and Arcadia both out of her thoughts forever.

She looked down at the funny little watch Sain had given her, with the odd squiggles and dots. It glowed in the moonlight. It was late, now, almost midnight. Sain would probably not be back tonight.

——

Jaren was back on the GRC ship. Only this time it was she who was out in the main room. She was wearing Kaski's pink vinyl minidress. The soldiers held her by the arms, the ankles, the hair. Faces came and went from her blurred, terrified vision. The dress was ripped away from her breasts and she could see red rivulets trickling raggedly down white skin. One of the soldiers held a phaser against her head. She could hear her own voice crying hoarsely for help, calling out her own name into their laughing faces.

And then the soldier turned, and the face was Kaski's, bruised and distorted, her nose-ring ripped from her face and her lip crusted with blood. She smiled at Jaren, a feral, rage-filled smile. The soldiers howled and Kaski answered their laughter, and then caught Jaren's eyes and looked down meaningfully at the gun. Jaren's vision glazed in fear. Kaski's fingers began to squeeze the trigger.

Jaren screamed into the darkness. She pushed blindly away, falling and falling again, then crawling, tripping, trapped in the pull of cloth.

There were hands on her. She fought, screaming again. Hitting out blindly into the darkness, connecting with cloth, flesh. The hands held her firm, and gradually she was aware of a voice. A cheek against her hair. Soothing words being whispered into her ear. A strong arm around her shoulders, rocking her gently.

"Shhhh, Najwa... Shhhh."

The struggling subsided, and she let Sain pull her close to him. The tears came this time, and she was powerless against them. Instead she clung. He touched her hair, whispering softly in his native language.

They were on the floor, she realized after a few moments, in her bedroom on Arcadia. It had been a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

"I-I dreamed– Kaski... the soldiers... she...oh fuck...I..I"

"Shhhh, quiet...let it go. You are safe, now."

She nodded in the darkness and let her forehead fall forward to rest on his collarbone. He leaned them both back against the side of the bed, still murmuring in Arcadian. They lay like that for some time. She could feel his heart beating, and the warmth of his skin under her nightgown.

Eventually, she lifted her head away from his, trying to make out his features in the dim moonlight. His fingers reached out and traced her lip, and she closed her eyes.

"Najwa," he said softly, and something else she did not understand.

He touched her cheek, then, brushed away a lingering tear. When he pulled her gently toward him, she went, her mouth meeting his in passion and need. She let it wash all her other thoughts away.

A few moments later, he lifted her to the bed.

All rights reserved. Copyright Jae Darcy 2016.