She stewed in silence for several long minutes before turning to him. “You okay?”
Not returning her gaze, he spoke in the detached voice of a stranger. “When The Way enters, it’s crucial you don’t talk until you have permission—the previous speaker will hand you a small baton. To interrupt is considered the height of rudeness, and while the Elders might have admired your passion at one time, they won’t look kindly upon it now. Not after what happened to Eron. Do you understand?”
The coldness in his tone made her throat tighten. She nodded and whispered, “I’m sorry you had to go through that because of me.”
“Just remember what I told—”
“Don’t worry.” Whether on Earth or in another galaxy, if there was one thing Cara knew, it was the rules of debate. She couldn’t salvage her heart, but maybe she could save her people. It was time to put Aelyx out of her mind and focus on the speech she’d been mentally rehearsing all morning.
She took a deep breath and prepared for the fight of her life.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Aelyx couldn’t look at her, not even through his peripheral vision. Because one glimpse of Cara would send him to his knees pleading for forgiveness, and he didn’t want her to remember him that way—weak, pathetic, filling her mind with “poison.”
Using the hem of his tunic, he blotted sweat from his brow, wincing when the fabric tugged against his back. The ghost of the iphet’s lashes throbbed so severely he felt it in his teeth, but he embraced the pain. It helped him focus on what lay ahead instead of on the girl brooding to his right. He only hoped she’d control her temper. If she insulted The Way, nothing he said or did could help her.
As he tried to ignore the anxiety twisting his gut, the doors retracted once again, and the same Elder who’d administered Aelyx’s reckoning a few minutes earlier strode to the podium and placed the gleaming metallic speaker’s baton lightly atop the illuminated glass. They shared the briefest of glances before Aelyx broke eye contact, rubbing his nose to expel the scent of singed flesh.
Turning his head toward Cara but careful to avert his gaze, he whispered, “Stand when The Way enters, and don’t sit until they do.”
“Got it,” came her terse reply.
A few moments later, soft, controlled footsteps clicked inside. Aelyx stood and glanced up, expecting to see the same ten Elders who’d composed The Way since his youth: six males, four females, all withered and slumped with age. But his brows rose in shock when two young clones—one male, one female—accompanied the Elders and took their places among the panel, standing before the cushioned seats of honor with stiffened spines, both wearing haughty expressions of authority. They must have come from another precinct, because he didn’t know them. The girl couldn’t have been older than eighteen, while the male possessed the tall, lanky build and the defined jaw of a twenty-year-old.
While Aelyx openly gawked at his new leaders, Cara left her place by his side and approached the panel before he could stop her. His heart leaped painfully, but he resisted lurching forward and wrestling her back to her seat. That would only create more of a spectacle, and The Way demanded order above all things. Great gods, what was she doing?
Cara stopped at the podium only long enough to grasp the baton before squaring her shoulders and marching right up to the first Elder and pressing her fingers against the side of his throat in her misinterpretation of a L’eihr greeting.
The Elder’s dormant gray eyes widened in surprise, but instead of chastising Cara for her brazen act, he returned the gesture.
One by one, she greeted each leader, letting her fingers linger far, far too long, not understanding that she’d given them the human equivalent of an intimate embrace instead of a handshake. When she touched the young male, his lips twitched in an amused grin before he regained his mask of cool superiority.
Cara returned to her seat, taking the baton with her, and the male locked eyes with Aelyx.
It’s my understanding, the boy communicated, that you’ve brought her here as your l’ihan.
Aelyx made no effort to conceal his heartbreak. Not any longer. He noticed the male’s posture sag in response to the pain. She wishes to return to Earth.
“Point of order.” Cara held the baton in the air.
“Yes, Miss Sweeney,” the young male said as he stood tall once again.
“I respectfully request that all communication during these proceedings be verbalized in English for my benefit.”
A laugh escaped the male’s lips before he had a chance to stifle it, reminding Aelyx of his own first interaction with Cara.
“Agreed. I apologize for my rudeness. My name is Jaxen.” He gestured to the young girl at his side. “Aisly and I are new to the order and are still learning proper procedure.” After a bow that seemed almost playful, he smiled at her and sat down.
Aelyx didn’t particularly care for Jaxen’s flirtatious behavior, but he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt instead of hating him on sight.
The rest of the panel lowered to their seats, and Aelyx followed suit. The chief Elder, a woman named Alona, waved lazily at Syrine and droned, “The girl will speak first.”
Syrine stretched her arm across him, demanding the baton from Cara, who surrendered it with a quiet sigh. Then Syrine stepped to the podium, leaning her elbows on the glass as if standing required too much effort.
“I’d hoped for a better outcome,” Syrine said to the panel, “but our trial living among humans has failed. My interactions with them were torturous, and I found them deceitful, dishonorable, violent, and hedonistic.” For the next fifteen minutes, she went on to tell stories of schoolboys crawling beneath the dinner table to fondle her legs; provincial French villagers who crossed themselves when passing her on the street; and how, in the end, death threats had escalated until she required constant military protection. “I don’t need to remind you of Eron’s murder.” Syrine now spoke directly to Alona, who’d raised Eron for two years before sending him to the Aegis. “Let his death prove beyond all doubt that we cannot live in peace among the human race, and more importantly”—glancing over her shoulder at Cara—“that they don’t deserve our mercy.”
Alona stared blankly ahead, her voice devoid of feeling when she ordered, “Let the human represent her people.”
Cara inhaled deeply and released a trembling breath before standing and retrieving the baton from Syrine. Instead of hiding behind the podium, she stood to its right, resting one elbow atop the glass in a casual stance, as if sharing an anecdote among friends.
“Thank you for allowing me to speak, especially considering the tragedy that ended Eron’s life. Your willingness to listen shows how evolved you truly are.” A far cry from You’re monsters, all of you! Leaving the podium, she lowered to one knee in front of Alona.
“I only met Eron once, at the exchange gala, but I remember how he shook my hand and smiled so warmly. I could tell Eron had a gentle spirit. Elle, his l’ihan, told me he was the kindest among you.” She paused a moment, peering directly into Alona’s eyes. “I don’t think he would want The Way to sentence my people to death as retribution for his own.”
Cara stood and paced a slow circuit around the room. “It’s easy to assume humans are depraved when that’s all you hear on the news. Let me tell you the stories you haven’t heard.”