Page 39 of Twins for the Barbarians

“We will be careful. And you, my darling, will play your part as an anthropologist. You will keep Solomon and his wives busy while Kharo and I take a closer look at certain areas of the palace. After all, the almighty king didn’t mention whether any rooms or wings of the building are off-limits, did he?”

A smile stretches across her full, pink lips, and I already know what she’s thinking, so I walk over and take her in my arms, holding her tight as I trap her in a passionate kiss. Our tongues meet and battle for dominance. I always win, and she moans softly as I hear Kharo getting out of the tub.

“You’re not going anywhere on your own, you fierce and reckless little explorer,” I growl and nibble on her earlobe. “Kharo and I will get in trouble if we must, but not you. You are precious, Alicia. We need your eyes on the big prize.”

“I’ll be a good girl, I promise,” she says, melting in my embrace.

We’ll find out how good a girl Alicia is. I know her better than she knows herself. I can almost hear the wheels turning in her head, the plans spinning their dangerous webs. She has already walked the hallway of this wing with its many rooms and doors. I’ll have to keep her close tonight—close and tired enough not to want to get out of bed until the suns rise again in the morning.

Kharo and I will see to it that Alicia’s body is spent.

She’ll sleep like a baby by the time we’re done with her.

19

Alicia

My muscles feel taut, and my skin is moist and supple from their kisses. And my heart is the biggest troublemaker yet. It’s telling me to give in to the bond, to surrender to them wholly. I am tempted. But the prospect of being pregnant with their child still gives me pause. The idea of a future with Helios and Kharo promises too much violence and too much pain—unless we get the answers we came here for. In order to get them, I need to do an in-depth investigation.

I have a feeling that Solomon is hiding something. If Helios and Kharo want to go sneaking around the palace, I don’t mind, but it doesn’t stop me from doing the same. There may be information I can understand in ways they won’t. Every detail counts here: every stolen glance, every wary gaze, every hushed word. I’m sure there are documents hidden in this palace. And judging by how silent it is tonight, I think I’ll have a pretty good chance to check at least one or two rooms before anyone stops me.

Listening to Helios and Kharo’s steady breathing, I know they’re sound asleep. I cautiously untangle myself from their arms and slither out of bed. I stand there for a while, waiting, watching, expecting a reaction, and ready with an excuse.

“I needed to go to the bathroom,” I’ll tell them.

But my men don’t notice my absence—not yet, anyway. So I tiptoe over to the dresser, pick out a nightgown to put on, and carefully head for the door.

With a shaking hand, I open the door, praying to all the moons of Sunna that the hinges don’t creak. They don’t, and I slip into the hallway, looking both ways before I decide to go left. Across from us is Kingo’s door. I stop there for a moment and listen. Kingo is snoring, which means he’s alive and well. I breathe a sigh of relief, then move down the hall, checking each of the doors on my way.

Some are locked, and others reveal guest chambers, although I haven’t noticed any guests here except us. In fact, it looks to me that this palace hasn’t seen any actual guests from anywhere outside Opal City in several decades, if not longer.

I’m trying to imagine what Opal City as a whole must have been like before the plague struck and before the bombing. It probably looked much the same as it does now: Sunnaite men and women working, going about their business in peace and tranquility. Children with small horns and pink skin rushing to get to school on time. The elderly, with their darker red skin, tending their gardens and looking after younger children in their cozy homes.

From what I’ve read about Opal City, it was highly respected for its disciplined citizenry and strict laws against any form of violence. After the kingdom’s capital was moved to Ruby City, the people here decided to change their ways and set a better example for their children.

What Ruby City has, Opal City could have, too: better schools, modern hospitals, a sturdier infrastructure, more cultural centers, and maybe another palace in a cooler spot for when the weather becomes too hot to bear.

The king of Opal City is said to have a summer residence somewhere. I’d like to find out where it is located and examine it for additional evidence.

Finally, I find a room of great interest at the end of the hallway. It’s a study of sorts; its walls are lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes and ancient scrolls. Every spot not filled with shelves displays various decorative sculptures and rare objects gathered from all over Sunna.

There’s a desk in the middle, with a wing-back chair and a throw blanket left on the armrest. The desktop is loaded with notebooks stacked next to a traditional Sunnaite quill and ink bottle, the latter crafted from fine obsidian. I waste a few minutes going through the yellowed pages—mostly notes from different books, observations about Sunnaite biology, the palace and its service staff. It quickly becomes evident that guests used to come here in the olden days to read a book when they were bored and had nothing better to do.

They’d sit here and write down their thoughts, but the notes all stopped at the same point. Life in the palace stopped when the bombs fell. From that day on, no one has come in to write a single thing. Even though there are people still living here, these rooms are untouched. They’re just dusted and kept pretty. That strikes me as odd.

It’s as if time has stood still here.

“Oh, shoot,” I hiss as a page slips from one of the notebooks and falls to the floor. I bend down to get it, and when I stand up, I almost scream when I find Helios standing there. He’s quick to cover my mouth and muffle the sound before I give us away.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Alicia?” he whispers, burning with anger.

“Sorry,” I murmur. “I was just curious.”

“Come,” he replies and yanks me away from the desk, then out of the room altogether.

Breathlessly, I follow him back to our room, where Kharo is waiting on the edge of the bed, looking as grim as ever. Helios is careful to make sure nobody sees us and slowly closes the door behind us.

“I’m sorry,” I say again.

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