She had a strange first thought: I lost my lance.
Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, she followed the tube leading out of her arm, up to the canister of fluids attached to the wall. As she slid her weight down onto wobbly legs, the guard came over to assist her. He popped the canister off its mount, held it aloft, then stood back a few paces. Molly thought about reaching for the blasted thing and doing it on her own, but both of her arms felt too heavy to raise, much less support something else.
She checked the coverage of her tunic and saw that it was a new one. Longer and more colorful, a straight- fitting dress laced up both sides with ribbon.
In the bottom of her vision, she could see something white on her face. Molly reached up and felt the bandage on her left cheek, saw the wrapping on her wounded hand. She shot the guard a look and shuffled toward the door.
As soon as she emerged, one of the officials rose and strode over to help support her. The two Drenards guided her to a soft chair in the lobby, and Molly saw they had the area to themselves. She settled into the upholstery and looked down at the bandage on her wounded hand. It no longer stung from the toxins.
An official approached her with a red band, the sight of it filling her with joy. It was like a mute watching someone return with their voice.
“Hello?” she thought, testing to see if it was in place.
“Hello, Lady Fyde. Congratulations on completing the Drenard Rite of Wadi Thooo.”
“It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting,” she thought, injecting as much venom in the tone as she could. “How are my friends? Is everyone back? Has Edison—has he shown up?” She had so much to ask, and not all of it kind. She rested her head back against the chair and reveled in the ability to think her mind, rather than speak it. Her mouth still felt full of sand and every muscle in her body ached.
“The little one returned very quickly with his Wadi Thooo. Not much of a specimen, though. The other human has not returned. Your large companion has been gone too long, I’m afraid. This last will likely sadden Lady Hooo greatly, she—”
“Anlyn?”
“Informally, yes. I believe she had feelings for the hairy one.” The cadence and vocabulary were strange, different than Dani’s, but still in her own voice.
“I have feelings for them both,” Molly thought. “We need to go look for them.” She tried to think it forcefully. She leaned forward as if to rise, but her body refused to cooperate. It was weaker than her will.
The Drenard official raised a hand, and the guard paused halfway between helping her and halting her.
“You are not in any shape to go back out there, Lady Fyde. And even if you were, the Light Side is no place for a female Drenard. I would not allow you to risk yourself.”
“Those are my friends!” Molly pointed toward the window, her hand heavy as a brick.
“And they assumed the risks that go with the Rite—”
“That’s crap! You told us nothing! You sent us out to die!” Molly found it easy to scream in her thoughts. Her throat even formed the words—she could hear them in her jaw. Her fist felt lighter as she shook it at both male Drenards, aliens more than twice her size.
The guard looked away, out the window and toward the bright canvas of colors. The official hung his head low, showing a humility Molly had not seen out of any of these people. Not even Dani.
“We apologize, Lady Fyde. We have been discussing this since you returned from your Rite. We were told lies about you. I think we even lied to ourselves about you.”
Molly had no idea what he was thinking about. She tried to force up one of the questions roiling below her surface thoughts, but they were tangled with one another.
The official supplied one of his own before she could unknot them: “Do you know why Lady Hooo ran away from Drenard?”
Molly shook her head. “I didn’t know she did. I always assumed she was captured, a prisoner from the war—”
The official bristled at this, his shoulders coming up to his ears; his eyes were wide, his mouth frozen in a lopsided grimace. “Our women do not go to war. Ever!” He shook his head and ran his long blue fingers down the front of his tunic, calming himself. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths before he continued: “Lady Hooo ran away from Drenard. She has been forgiven, but it was a great sin. It was a very bad thing she did.”
“Why did she run away?” Molly asked, but she already suspected the answer. She’d practically guessed it during that reunion dinner in the Drenard prison.
The guard turned to the official and the official nodded. Molly realized, all of a sudden, that she had no idea which one she was communicating with. Both, perhaps?
“Lady Hooo is a very important person,” one of them thought. “Any son of hers will be fourth in line to the Drenard throne. She was to marry Bodi Yooo two years ago —”
“Who’s Bodi Yooo?” Molly forced in.
The two Drenards exchanged another glance, then her own voice continued in her head:
“Bodi is a very important member of the Circle, our governing body. He is the official that okayed your rite of passage. He is also one of the two men that brought your large friend here and oversaw his Rite.”
“What?”
“We are sorry, Lady Fyde. We were instructed to give you no guidance for the Rite. We were told to give you a lance and our oldest maps. No water. No food. And—”
There was a moment of silence in Molly’s head. It brought the sound of wind wrapping around the shelter into focus.
“—and we were told that none of you would ever become Drenards. That all of you are as weak as our women but without the grace that makes them so wonderful and so important to protect.”
“You brought us here to die.”
Nobody answered. She had said it out loud. To herself.
“You brought us here to die,” she repeated. In her thoughts and for everyone to hear.
“And you have proven us wrong. You brought back a female Wadi Thooo—alive! It is an incredible sign for—”
“My friends are going to die because of jealousy? Because we’re aliens? We brought Anlyn here because she’s our friend. To help her. And her fiancee is going to kill us rather than thank us?”
Everyone’s thoughts fell silent. Molly looked through the glass at the alluring bands of colors waving in the desert heat. Reaching up, she touched the bandages adhered to her face. She would absorb as much fluid as she could and then set off in search of Cole.
“We are sorry—”
Molly grabbed her red band and tossed it off in disgust. She seized her IV canister and rose to fix a glass of water and search for solid food.
The two Drenards stared at each other as she rummaged through the pantry. She didn’t care what they were thinking. She grabbed some protein bars and juice pouches, both wrapped up in reflective foil and likely meant for initiates to take out on their rite. She slammed them on the counter in disgust. She felt on the verge of covering her face and crying—or throwing something. Yesterday’s ordeal, combined with this rage and sadness, filled her with one brand of energy while it drained away another.
She left the rations on the counter and turned toward the preparation room to gather a new set of gear.
