Page 13 of Twins for the Barbarians

“Well, yes. We’re considered savages, living away from the cities, choosing the wilderness and the absence of so-called civilization, so we’re not the most popular in that sense,” Helios says. “Add the nasty stories the Sky Tribe tells about us around every campfire and town square, and, well, you know as well as I do that public opinion matters.”

“Yet, on the other hand, you’ve got the corrupt, incompetent, bloodthirsty, and mean Sky Tribe all around,” Kingo adds. “The plebes are foolish. I would take the riverside savages over those spineless, silk-robed pricks any time.”

“But that’s just you, Kingo,” Kharo replies, holding back a laugh. “You’re more erudite, and you’re using your reason and not your hedonistic urges. The others are far simpler creatures. They prefer the comfort of the city under bad leadership. The best we can do is force those Sky Tribe fuckers out and remind the plebes they could have both comfort and competence.”

“Jewel said you’re planning to take Emerald City next,” I say, remembering a previous conversation. “Do you think you’ll succeed?”

Helios gives me a playful sideways glance. “With capable human women such as yourself by our side, we’ll take the whole of Sunna back in no time.”

“That might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” I giggle, heat rising to my cheeks.

On Earth, I was just a curvy bookworm, the girl most guys steered clear of because I was too smart for my own good. Being with someone like me meant they’d have to work on themselves to meet my standards, and many of them chose not to. I was too much, so they went for less. On Sunna, however, I am more than just my smarts and cute smile. I see that now. They worship me as a woman; they cherish and protect me like I never imagined anyone would.

Helios and Kharo, in particular, have been extraordinary in that sense. No wonder I’ve fallen for them. Damn, I can’t unring that bell, no matter how focused I try to be on my work. We’ve become intimate—not just in the physical sense but also in an emotional sense. I feel that bond, as much as I hate to admit it. Perhaps I can figure out a way to bypass it, to keep some kind of distance, but the longer I’m around the Tallas men, the harder it becomes for me to walk away.

“There’s Red Rock Volcano,” Helios says, and I follow his gaze.

Not far from Ruby City, Red Rock rises against the scarlet sky with its smoking peak and sharp ridges. Its befitting its name, given that it’s mostly red stone with merely a blanket of blackwood trees covering the eastern side. Everything else is just red dirt and red stone. From this angle, it looks as though it’s a part of the sky itself. Were it not for the plume of smoke stretching from its active vent, I doubt I would’ve seen it as quickly.

“No one lives there anymore, right?” I ask, staring at the smoke.

“Not since the plague broke out,” Kharo replies. “It wasn’t as bad as Kaos and Opal City, but the people fled. They tried to get as far away from the infection as possible. Unfortunately, all they managed to do was carry the plague from the Red Rock territories straight into Ruby City. It was awful.”

“Not as awful as what happened to Opal City,” Kingo interjects. “They bombed the place. They thought they could just kill everyone, and it would stop the plague. Clearly, it didn’t.”

“That's why we’ve always suspected Red Rock was a secondary site—the backup in case Kaos didn’t work out,” Helios says. That’s why Elian Daron sent his engineers to investigate in the first place.”

“Well, we’re going to find out for ourselves soon enough,” I quip. “I suppose we’re laying low somewhere for the night? Red Rock is too far away for us to reach it by sundown.”

Helios nods once. “There’s a patch of woods down by the river. I’ve marked it on the map.”

“Good. I’m starving,” Kingo grumbles.

I’m starving, too, though not for food. The love herb’s effects must’ve worn off by now, but my appetite for Helios and Kharo has only grown stronger. They’re insanely addictive, and I think the adrenaline stemming from this perilous journey has played a part in this development, too. I don’t mind it. I am scared of falling in deeper, though. There is a conflict brewing between my head and my heart these days, and my body isn’t helping.

7

Alicia

At nightfall, we set up camp along a smaller branch of the Sun River. It’s a hot water stream that we can swim across or cross on a raft. It’s not too deep, and the riverside is mostly red clay and soft sand, but we’ve picked a section generously sprinkled with blackwood trees—ancient things with massive crowns that block out any aerial view, hiding us from drones or jets that might fly overhead. We’re able to light a fire here, too, though we only need it to cook some of the food we brought with us from Sapphire City.

Roasted plums and beets, dried and heavily spiced meat, and red berries are our dinner. It’s better than what we used to eat when we traveled away from the Sun River Plateau, but the city’s food banks have been a gift from the gods. The Kreek brothers were kind enough to pack us a few bottles of obsidian wine, too, so we help ourselves to a bottle.

“I like the taste, but it’s like nothing I’ve ever had before,” I tell Helios and Kharo while Kingo washes our wooden plates in the river. “It’s tangy, heady, and not too sweet. It’s nice, just not what I’m used to in terms of fermented drinks, I suppose.”

“I would like to taste an earthly wine,” Kharo muses, his gaze wandering up and down my figure as we sit by the dwindling fire. “Maybe someday.”

I look at him curiously. “We’re trying to sever all ties to Earth. How would that work?”

“I dare dream of a future where our worlds won’t collide but rather shake hands in friendship.” Kharo lets a heavy sigh, the dying flames battling the shadows of his aquiline nose. “You’ve told us so much about Earth; I think it’s a fascinating place. I’d like to be able to see it.”

“You would love it,” I say, thinking of my memories of home. “The food and wine are great.”

“Do you miss it still?” Helios asks me.

It’s a difficult question to answer, though I’m not sure why. I should say yes immediately, a resounding yes. But I have come to love Sunna deeply: its fiery volcanoes, red wilderness, posh cities, and vibrant people. Despite the war and the plague, I find this planet beautiful.

“I guess. I’ve gotten used to Sunna, too, though,” I finally say, absentmindedly watching Kingo by the river.

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