Dylan smith's Arc

Chapter 12 of 12

Dylan ate what Voracia put in front of him on the terrace and did not speak until the plate was clean. She watched him chew. When he set the fork down, she stood and lifted a woven basket from beside her chair. She tipped her head toward the side stair. He followed her off the terrace and through a short path of black stone that opened into a small clearing he had not seen before. A gazebo stood at the center, its twisted pillars catching the low light. A green sofa with a carved frame sat under the roof, out of place and waiting. Voracia set the basket on the stone bench and lowered herself onto the sofa. Her belly settled heavy in her lap. She patted the cushion beside her once. Dylan sat. For a moment neither of them moved. He could hear the basket bottles clink as the breeze pushed the handle. "Lie back," she said. She shifted so her shoulders met the carved arm and her belly rose between them. Dylan turned on the cushion and put both hands flat on her. He started low and worked up in slow circles, the way he had wanted to since the terrace weeks ago without anyone else watching. She uncorked a bottle from the basket and drank half of it in one pull. He kept rubbing. A minute later she burped, long and unhurried, and let her head rest back against the carved wood. "I'm sorry," Dylan said. He kept his hands moving. "For the contract. For the stage. For making you sit there a year while I lined women up at posts." Voracia did not answer right away. She drank again and burped shorter this time, then looked down at him. "You said it. Done." He shook his head. "I want to say the rest. I thought I needed three. I didn't. I needed one. You're the only one I need." He sat up enough to reach into his pocket. He pulled out a small gold locket and opened the hinge. Inside was a picture of a girl, maybe five, with brown hair cut straight across her forehead. "My daughter," he said. "Back on Earth. I haven't shown anyone this since I got here." He closed it and set it in Voracia's palm. "I'm giving it to you. So you know I'm not holding anything back anymore." Voracia looked at the locket. She closed her fingers around it. "I'll keep it," she said. "Lie back down." He did. She drank again. He rubbed until she burped a third time, slower, and her free hand came to rest on top of his. The basket sat half full. The clearing stayed quiet. Whatever came next for the throne she had lost, for the thing that had taken it, would come tomorrow. Tonight the apology was accepted and the locket was hers.