Ar'Tok - Alana Khan Page 0,29

his abandoning me was a stroke of luck.

“Although she was quiet, her one act of kindness changed my life—she brought books. At first, they were for younglings. They taught me basics, but within a few annums, she brought textbooks and novels and even the scriptures.”

The scripture that said his mother’s sins should be visited upon him. Yeah, that one’s my favorite.

“She even brought me expensive moving-picture books that showed me things beyond the walls of my jail. I saw dancing, the movement of the ocean, the flight of birds. I believe those small gifts saved my sanity.”

“Anything else you want me to know?” I ask, hoping I’ve heard every shitty thing there is to tell.

“Yes. I apologize.” His beautiful, ruined face is so sincere, so earnest, it breaks my heart. “I never thought we’d meet. The comm on our bridge works fine. I’m sure you suspected as much. I thought for once in my life I could taste something sweet—talking to you. I convinced myself there was no harm in getting to know you.

“How could I have guessed I’d need to rescue you? Or that you wouldn’t readily see my shame? Or that you’d welcome my kiss? My touch? I let it go too far. I’m sorry.” He turns to his side, again wanting to slip off the bed, but this time his cirr and I conspire against him—they hold my hair; I hold them. He’s not going anywhere.

I wiggle higher on the bed, grasp his precious cheeks in my palms, and silently demand eye contact. When he finally turns his gaze to me, I say, “My mom used to have a saying. ‘Fish don’t know they swim in water’. I thought I understood it before today, but I didn’t. Not really. I understand it now.

“We don’t question things we’re taught since birth. We accept them as fact, as the way things are.

“So it’s not your fault you never questioned what you were spoon-fed. But in Star’s world, things are different. In my world, you’re only responsible for your own actions.”

I want him to really hear me, so I wait maybe a full minute for him to play that over in his head.

“So, in my world, you’re an innocent. Innocent,” I repeat, my voice so sincere it sounds rough. “An innocent who was punished for nothing. A babe in his mother’s womb who should have been born fresh and clean and spotless to breathe his first breath.

“In my world, there’s no shame on you, Ar’Tok. You’re a blameless male who was punished for a quarter of a century for no reason.”

I’d hoped his face would be hopeful; that it would tell me he absorbed my lecture. But his face is bland. Maybe he’s still digesting my words.

“I’m just one person. I can’t make up for what was taken from you.”

Tears spill freely down my cheeks. Now that I can explain why I’m crying, I don’t have to hold them back anymore.

“But I tell you this,” my voice is so full of honest passion it’s harsh, guttural, “I will do everything I can to make it up to you. Here’s my vow.”

I wait. He’s closed his eyes. I swear to myself that I will wait all night until this beautiful male turns his eyes to me. It takes long minutes, his lashes on his cheeks as he tries to hide from me, his chest heaving as if he just ran a marathon. Even if I could read his thoughts, I’d never understand them because they’ve got to be swirling as fast as an engine on hyperdrive.

Finally, he trusts me with his gaze.

“Here’s my vow. I can’t promise you forever—I don’t know you that well—but I will promise that as long as we’re together I will do whatever’s in my power to help you believe what I just told you: that you’re blameless, that you warrant no shame, and that you deserve happiness and a good life.”

I draw a deep, ragged breath and wait.

“It’s a lot,” he says vaguely, but I know exactly what he means—it’s a lot to absorb. “I feel like the foundations of my world are crumbling. I . . . want to believe what you say.”

I may have never walked on a planet before, but I’ve watched a million hours of vids. I’ve seen time-lapse videos of potted flowers. No matter where the researchers place the plants, they always turn toward the sun. That’s Ar’Tok. It may take him a while, but he can hear the truth in