“The national average is fifty percent, Einstein.”
“Then you have a one hundred and fifty percent chance of breaking up. Even higher if you take into account that you’re from different worlds. That brings it to”—he counted silently on his fingers—“like, four thousand percent.”
Poor Troy. What he lacked in brains he made up for in…well, something other than brains. “I found my match,” Cara said. “Why should I be penalized because I’m young? Besides, it doesn’t matter, because I’m not getting married.” Matrimony didn’t even exist here. L’eihrs declared a l’ihan and that was that. Zero drama.
“You promised to stay here and be with him for life. It’s the same thing, minus a piece of paper.”
She couldn’t dispute that, so she adopted a new tactic. “It’s none of your business.”
“Wha—” He blinked at her in silence for a few beats. “You’re my sister!”
She couldn’t dispute that, either—she didn’t want to. She’d always wished Troy would take an interest in her life. It was a shame he’d waited until now to play the role of protective big brother. In less than a week, he’d be gone again.
They’d never been touchy-feely types, but Cara rested her fingertips on his forearm. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I expect you to support me.”
That seemed to get through to him. “Fine. When things don’t work out, I guess you can catch the next transport to Earth.”
Cara sighed. If he didn’t believe her, nothing she said would change his mind. She told him good-bye and slid the door shut.
Elle returned from the medical lab right before lunchtime, greeting Cara with a smile and a l’ina sandwich. Vero, who rode atop Elle’s shoulder, greeted her with a beady-eyed glare and a growl, flicking his long tail like a cat to show his displeasure.
“Ve-ro!” Elle warned the creature.
With his racoonish gray paws, Vero covered his eyes, reminiscent of a toddler who knew he’d done wrong. He peeked out from between his tiny digits and howled aaaeee-oooo at Cara. It sounded like haaaate yooou, which was probably what the little pillow-pisser meant.
Cara shot daggers at her deceptively cute, fuzzy nemesis, using her eyes to warn him away from her bed. She took the sandwich from Elle, but when she brought the flatbread to her lips, the meat’s smoky aroma made her stomach lurch, so she set it on her desk and pushed it aside. “Thanks, but I’d better save it for later.”
Elle whispered a L’eihr command to Vero, and the animal leaped onto Cara’s desk and began nibbling on her discarded sandwich. While brushing a few bits of fur from her shoulder, Elle said, “You’re nervous.”
Cara didn’t deny it.
“L’eihrs aren’t conditioned to feel scandalized by nudity,” she said in that no-nonsense way of hers. “Most of us were raised in this Aegis since birth. Imagine all the times we’ve seen one another’s bodies. Yours is no different.”
An arch of Cara’s brow told her otherwise.
“All right,” she conceded. “You have a navel and we don’t.”
“Plus pale skin, orange hair, and freckles.” Cara patted her thighs. “And flab,” which the clones didn’t possess, thanks to their freakish obsession with exercise.
“I give you my word that—”
Before Elle could continue, Vero screeched a litany of complaints from the bottom cot, where he’d just crouched over Cara’s brand-new pillow.
“No!” she and Elle cried, each thrusting out one palm in mirrored desperation.
It was too late. Vero finished his business and chirped something that sounded exactly like owned! owned! Then he ran to the door, high-fived the keypad, and scurried out into the hall before they could catch him.
“Happy Sh’ovah Day to me.” Cara held her pillow at arm’s length and carried it to the sanitation bin in the hallway. Farewell, pillow number seven.
After washing her hands in the restroom, she returned to Elle, whose shrugging shoulders said, I’m sorry, while her twitching lips said, This is funny as hell. Cara’s mouth curved against her will. It was the first time she’d seen her roommate laugh, and the snickering was infectious.
“It really is a simple ceremony,” Elle assured her with a comforting pat on the hand. “I’ll lead the way, and you’ll follow right behind me. Once the head Elder delivers her speech, The Way will begin your Covering.”
“Smearing mud on me, you mean?”
Elle clucked her tongue. “You make it sound so base. It’s not muck from the ground, Cah-ra. The valeem is like your holy water. It’s imported from the third precinct, where the ground is rich and fertile. They use only the purest soil, and it’s blessed before the ceremony.”
Pure soil? Cara was pretty sure that was an oxymoron, like sanitary landfill or jumbo shrimp. “And everyone’s been through this, right?”
“Every single one of us,” Elle promised. A wistful smile enlivened her face, and she fell silent for a few moments, as if reliving a cherished memory. “I was fifteen—older than most of my friends when they crossed over, but the Elders wouldn’t recommend me until I’d demonstrated patience. It was the happiest day of my life.”
Despite her fear, Cara couldn’t deny feeling a tingle of anticipation. It made her think of her many-greats grandmother O’Shea, who’d left Ireland for America. Just like Grandma O’Shea, Cara would rebuild her life on a new world, and this was the first step in bringing that future to fruition. She could do this—become a L’eihr—and help cement the alliance between two planets.
“Are you ready?” Elle asked.
With a firm nod, Cara answered, “Born ready.”
When they reached the open doors leading to the courtyard, Elle walked in slow, measured strides into the brightness of day. To Cara’s surprise, she didn’t hesitate to fall into place, her bare feet moving across the spongy sidewalk. She trained her eyes on the back of Elle’s head instead of the continuous rows of uniformed teens in her periphery. Soon, the soft tickle of grass replaced pavement, and Elle stopped, reaching out for Cara’s hand.
To their left, the clones stood at attention like a battalion receiving orders, backbones stiff, arms held rigidly by their sides as they stared through her. The Way had positioned themselves on Cara’s right, all ten leaders standing erect, clad in cloaks of deepest brown, their expressions more lively than she’d ever seen. Clearly, this was a happy occasion for them, if not for the clones. They formed a semicircle around a waist-high brass trough that seemed to absorb the sunlight instead of reflecting it the way other metals did.
When she peered inside, she didn’t find the black, gritty sludge she’d expected. The valeem appeared claylike—a smooth burnt-orange porridge that bore a slight resemblance to half-baked pumpkin pie filling. Occasionally, a lazy bubble would disrupt the soup and burp to the surface, filling the air with the seasoned sweetness of cloves.
The ancient Alona drew a breath and asked in English, “Who guarantees this girl’s integrity?”
“I guarantee it,” Elle replied. She extended their linked hands toward Alona, and with flawless timing, released her as the old woman claimed Cara’s fingers.