The girl screwed the lid on her container, peeking through a fringe of dark lashes that seemed suddenly familiar. “Elyx’a,” she said, pronouncing it e-licks-ah. “But call me Elle.”
Cara’s heart raced. “By any chance, does that mean daughter of Elyx? "
Face expressionless, the girl nodded.
“You’re his sister,” Cara whispered. Aelyx had never mentioned brothers or sisters. Just add that to the long list of secrets he’d kept from her.
“Genetically, yes,” Elle said. “From what I understand of human culture, you’d consider us more friends than brother and sister.” She stood and extended her hand to help Cara to her feet. “But I care for him.”
Propping one palm against the wall for support, Cara gripped the girl’s hand and pushed to standing, waiting for nausea to catapult her stomach into her throat. But to her surprise, nothing happened. Her stomach stayed right where it belonged.
Elle wrapped a supportive arm around Cara’s shoulder and guided her into the main chamber, a gray room the approximate size of a postage stamp, vacant with the exception of two metallic bunk beds. Cara remembered how comfortable Aelyx had felt in his boring gray room back home. It finally made sense.
“He’s different,” Elle continued. “More empathetic than most of the clones. I think that’s the real reason the Elders chose him for the exchange, not because of his language skills.”
Cara quirked a skeptical brow, recalling how cold and unfeeling Aelyx had seemed when they’d first met. “He’s the best you’ve got?”
“No,” Elle whispered, turning her gaze to the floor. “That was Eron. I suspect they’ll clone him again.”
“I’m so sorry.” Cara squeezed the girl’s hand and sat on the edge of her bed. “Were you two close?”
Nodding, she stood on tiptoe to pull a clean uniform off the top bunk. “He was my l’ihan.” She dropped the clothing into Cara’s lap and explained, “The Way wants us to emulate the human method of reproduction.”
“To make babies the old-fashioned way?”
She nodded again. “And for the first time, they’ve allowed us to choose our own mates.”
“Oh, no.” Cara studied Aelyx’s sister—really paid attention for once—taking in the redness that rimmed her silvery eyes, the dark circles beneath her lashes, the smiles that never reached beyond her lips. Though she’d done a stellar job of hiding it, this girl was grieving the loss of her . . . “L’ihan means husband?”
“No, more like betrothed. The literal translation is future.”
Dipping her head in shame, Cara clutched the clean clothes to her chest as if to hide behind them. “You must hate me.”
“Quite the opposite.” Using one finger, she tipped Cara’s chin up until their eyes met. “I hope you’ll stay.” She gestured to the uniform and added, “Get dressed. We’ll meet the other transport soon, and then the three of you will appear before The Way.”
“The three of who?”
“You, Aelyx, and Syrine.” Elle glanced around the tiny room until she found her bag. “You’ll have a few minutes with your brother while Aelyx receives his reckoning. It won’t take long. Our leaders will summon you then.”
“His reckoning?” Cara didn’t like the sound of that.
“Yes. He needs to account for disobeying the Elders by bringing you here.”
The iphet, then. That horrible electric lash. Cara told herself she couldn’t wait to get away from these sadistic bastards, but in reality, she had to grip the mattress to keep from bolting out the door to Aelyx’s room.
He lied to you for months, she reminded herself. You can’t trust him, and he’s not your problem anymore.
Before Elle left, she asked, “Will you think about what I said?”
Cara wished she could say no, but she couldn’t have stopped the words from turning over in her mind if she’d tried.
After she’d washed the vomit from her hair and scarfed down a meal that really did taste like Mom’s roast, Cara heard Troy’s knuckles rap on her chamber door. She knew it was him because he always knocked three times, each strike punctuated by a sweeping beat of silence, so it sounded like the intro to that old song their dad loved so much. Thump, thump, thump. Another one bites the dust.
She opened the door for her brother and completely fell apart at the sight of his welcoming smile and outstretched arms.
She collided with him at full force, locking her arms around his neck and shaking his chest with the force of her sobs.
“Damn, Pepper.” It took her brother three tries to unglue her from his body, but he finally held her at a distance. “You missed me that much?”
She wiped a sleeve over her eyes to bring Troy into focus, noting at once the changes in him. The wavy black hair he’d inherited from their mother nearly touched his shoulders, which seemed odd when contrasted against his military uniform, but that wasn’t what struck her. It was his eyes—still vividly blue, but no longer sparkling with carefree wanderlust. He studied her face deliberately, in a way he’d never done before, pursing his lips in concern.
Sweet mother of God, Troy had grown up.
“What happened?” he asked. “When Mom e-mailed, she said you were happy to leave.”
“Mom’s okay, then?”
Troy nodded. “Dad, too. More or less.”
Cara led her brother inside. After taking about a dozen deep breaths to calm herself, she told him everything—starting with how she’d fallen for Aelyx on Earth and ending with what Syrine had said a few days ago.
“So,” Cara continued, her breath still hitching, “somehow I have to convince them to give us the technology so we can take it home.”
“You’re sure about this? Ten years?”
She nodded, and Troy gaped at her in disbelief.
“I don’t have much time before they call me in. I need to know what’s going on back home—anything that might help. Did they catch the guys who killed Eron?”
He dragged one hand over his face, seemingly struggling to absorb what Cara had just told him. “Troy?” she pressed.
“No.” He shook his head. “And they probably never will. Tracking terrorists isn’t like busting civilians. They’re networked. They operate as one, and they never give each other up.”
“I was hoping at least—”
A quick series of knocks interrupted her, and she answered the door to find Stepha, the L’eihr ambassador, observing her with indifference.
“If you’ll follow me,” he said, tipping his head toward the hallway.
Troy promised to wait there, and after a quick good-bye, she followed the ambassador to what she assumed was a conference room.
When Stepha pressed his palm against an identification panel, both doors retracted into the wall and Cara stepped inside, taking a moment to orient herself. Dominating the space were ten plush, vacant seats arranged in a soft arc, a single glass podium glowing beneath an overhead light in the center. Three metallic stools faced the panel, two of them already occupied by Syrine—who slouched forward, cradling her head in her hands—and Aelyx, who sat ramrod straight next to her.
As Cara moved to the seat beside him, she scanned his back, expecting to see a crisscross of welts raising the uniform’s fabric but finding none. The skin on his neck appeared smooth and unmarred, too, but when she took her seat and examined him more closely, she noticed a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his face. He gripped his knees with trembling fingers, and Cara could almost feel his agony. Her own flesh prickled, and heat flooded her cheeks when she imagined the pain he’d endured.