Valmoran Republic, Planet Kronai, Temple of the Seven

  Callum Torion, Representative Arbiter for the Valmoran Republic

  “Representative Torion, are you a man of your word?” Callum gave Matthai an appraising look. The young priest’s gentle directness was both unexpected and refreshing—a pleasant change from what he usually encountered in his line of work.

  Life as an empath—and a politician at that—had accustomed Callum to the art of verbal sparring, where both parties invariably attempted to glean as much information from the other as possible without divulging their own secrets.

  He sensed no deceit or cunning from Matthai, who remained seated across from him in the opulent receiving room, calmly awaiting an answer.

  Callum took a moment to measure his words before answering. “I’m not entirely sure how to answer that question, Matthai. For politicians, circumspection comes with the territory.”

  His eyes locked with Matthai’s as he made his concluding statement. “But I can assure you that if I explicitly make a promise to someone, I keep it.”

  Matthai’s shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, and Callum felt a hint of hope emanating from the young priest. For some reason, Matthai needed to believe he could trust Callum.

  Urgently.

  And Callum’s interest was further piqued.

  “I thought as much. My father has spoken highly of you, and I’ve admired your work for years. I’d like to believe that we could start our relationship from a position of honesty and trust, without the need to guard our words.”

  “That would certainly make things simpler.” It was a struggle for Callum to suppress a smile, much to his surprise.

  He couldn’t help but respect the young man for his forthright approach, although he was concerned Matthai wouldn’t be able to navigate the deceitful world of politics outside the Temple.

  Callum made a mental note to guide Matthai in navigating the treacherous waters of politics. While he appreciated the young man’s guilelessness, others would almost certainly take advantage of it.

  He watched with interest as Matthai studied the intricate carvings on his silver teacup.

  Finally, the Scion cleared his throat and looked up. “I fully expect that you will become one of my closest advisors over time, but I find myself in more immediate need of your guidance.”

  Callum set his cup back on the table, focusing on Matthai.

  Matthai continued. “You’ve been navigating Temple politics for almost a phase, if memory serves. I’m not sure if you know this, but Scions of the Temple go through the same training as any other adept.” He swirled the tea in his cup before taking a sip.

  Callum quirked an eyebrow. “I was not aware. I assumed you spent your life training to be a High Priest.”

  “No, I didn’t. In fact, it wasn’t until ...” After swallowing, the boy stopped and took a breath.

  Callum was hit with a sudden wave of grief that nearly took his breath away, and it was then that he remembered that Matthai’s sister had died—how could he have forgotten?

  It had been a long time ago—before Callum had begun working with the Valtrellins—but he should have remembered.

  Matthai’s emotions were potent, more intense than most people, and churning right below the surface, as if the slightest remembrance could call forth their full fury.

  Callum realized he needed to watch himself, or he’d end up giving away the fact that he was an empath.

  “... I wasn’t always the heir. I spent most of my life as the Second Scion and was prepared to serve as an advisor to my sister.”

  The Scion’s pain and deep reluctance were balanced only by the strength of his resolve.

  Callum realized with a shock that Matthai Valtrellin did not hunger for the power of being High Priest—he did not even want it.

  Oblivious to Callum’s surprise, Matthai continued, “Training with the other adepts teaches the Scions humility. The difference in our training comes after we take our vows—that’s when priests begin training in our specialties. So, you see, on the political side of things, you have infinitely more experience than I do.”

  He looked up at Callum and gave a soft smile.

  “I’m sure you know more than you give yourself credit for.” “Perhaps. But ‘A wise man knows to seek guidance, and who best to provide it.’” Matthai said, and Callum recognized it as a line from The Tome of the Obelisks.

  “But surely the current High Priest and Priestess—”

  “—may not provide objective advice on this issue,” Matthai said, sitting up straighter.

  “I see.”

  Callum tried to imagine what could be an issue of political importance that the High Priest and Priestess couldn’t be objective about. Perhaps Matthai didn’t want to take his vows, or it might be about his future mate.

  He couldn’t think of anything else that it could be unless maybe Matthai was privy to deeper Temple secrets ...

  Now, that would be interesting.

  Whatever it was, Callum suspected it was significant, and he fairly burned with curiosity.

  Matthai looked intensely into Callum’s eyes, as if staring into his soul. “Tell me, Representative Torion—how can I know you can be trusted with my secrets?”

  There was an opportunity here.

  One that he hadn’t expected and might not get again. Matthai needed his help, was practically begging for it. And if Callum rose to the occasion today, the future High Priest of the First Temple might be forever in his debt.

  And even if that didn’t turn out to be the case, the prospect of an open and frank working relationship with Matthai Valtrellin was appealing in and of itself.

  Callum knew one way he might instantly gain Matthai’s trust. He had used similar tactics before—a secret for a secret. It would almost certainly work in this situation.

  He could tell Matthai didn’t mistrust him, and more than that—Matthai wanted to trust him.

  He just needed a push.

  So the decision fell to Callum—he was almost certain, just from Matthai’s emotions, that he was trustworthy. But the young man’s emotional reaction to his next question would settle the issue.

  If Callum sensed even a whiff of deceit or greed, he would not divulge a thing. Otherwise, he would trust Matthai.

  At least with this.

  “Just call me Callum—no need to be formal.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

  “Perhaps, if I told you something only one other person knows about me, something that I never want anyone else to know ...?” He let the sentence trail off.

  Matthai’s emotions didn’t disappoint—he was surprised at the offer ... and honored.

  “But why would you do that?” The boy sat back, looked at his hands, then back to Callum’s face.

  “Of course, I would never break your confidence, Callum, but how could you know you can trust me?” Matthai wasn’t suspicious of Callum, just baffled at his offer.

  Callum had spent his life crawling through the ugliest underbellies of human emotion and had learned that very few people are genuine, most are cruel, and many are lying most of the time.

  He rarely met a person whose emotions didn’t cause him to think less of them.

  Matthai was one of the kindest, most honest souls that Callum had ever felt. He decided the risk was minor compared to the potential gain.

  Callum, a lowly out-cycler and ward of the state, had no distinguished family line that would cause others to suspect he was God-touched.

  In fact, his subspecies, the Elodai, were one of the more physically nondescript, coming in a wide range of skin tones and hair colors, and with no particular traits such as the wings or blue hair of more distinctive subspecies.

  Because of this, he might have belonged to any of a hundred subspecies, each with different God-touched specialties, ranging from heightened senses to enhanced cognition or physical speed. His own ability—empathy—was one of the more powerful, prized and feared in equal measure.

  No one liked to know that another could peer into his heart, but many sought to spy on others’ emotions.

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  Callum had never divulged his subspecies. His public statement was that he opposed bloodline discrimination, which was true.

  But the real reason he had never claimed a bloodline was that no one would suspect someone as low-born as an out-cycler to be both God-touched and an Elodai.

  Prejudice, it turned out, was beneficial when one had a secret such as his.

  “Is this room secure?”

  Callum might choose to trust Matthai, but that did not extend to complete trust in the Temple.

  “Of course—these rooms are where priests receive the public for private audiences. They are maintained as unmonitored spaces, which is why I chose to receive you here.”

  “Good.” Callum took a breath, then gave Matthai a pointed look. “My secret is the very reason I know you are telling the truth.”

  Matthai’s eyebrows creased for a moment, then his eyes went wide, and Callum suppressed the urge to grin. The future High Priest had a keen intellect to have puzzled it out so quickly.

  “Oh—but you—”

  “—could never be God-touched because I am an out-cycler?” Callum felt a twinge of irritation and raised his eyebrows in censure.

  Matthai’s face fell.

  “... I suppose some people might say that, but I was actually thinking how unusual it is for someone to keep it a secret. Most people would boast about such a formidable gift, but you—”

  Callum felt a surge of guilt when he realized he had misjudged Matthai’s meaning, so he softened his tone. “—kept it a secret. It’s a valuable secret, Matthai. And you are now one of only three people who know it, including me.”

  He leaned back, then loosened his neckline.

  Matthai gave Callum a bewildered smile. “Thank you, Callum, for trusting me. This information will never cross my lips.”

  He took a shaky breath, then continued. “I suppose that means it’s my turn.”

  Matthai looked down, staring into his teacup as if it contained the secrets of the universe.

  Apparently, he was going to need some convincing. Callum knew Matthai wanted to talk, and that the fastest way to get him there would be to make him think he might lose the opportunity.

  “We can discuss it some other time—you probably need to get ready for the—”

  “—no, I need your advice. Securing it was my goal when I came here today.”

  Matthai sat up straighter, then scrubbed a hand over his face.

  It was strange to see the stoic priest’s composure fail him.

  “It’s ...”

  Matthai heaved a huge breath, and Callum felt a barrage of relief, worry, hope, longing, giddiness, and panic crash over him with the force of a tidal wave.

  Matthai looked up at the ceiling, blinking, and Callum suppressed the urge to press his hand to his heart at the overwhelming emotions.

  “That’s ... intense,” Callum said.

  “Sorry, I forgot—”

  “—No need to apologize. Just ... start at the beginning, and we’ll work through it. I’ve never met a problem that didn’t have a solution.”

  Matthai nodded soberly, and Callum sensed his tentative relief.

  “Okay, but it’s going to sound insane.”

  The young man then told Callum a tale so incredible that if he hadn’t been able to read his emotions, Callum would never have believed a word of it. Even now, he wondered if the young man was insane, although Matthai’s emotions made it clear he believed every word he said.

  Then again, if he were delusional, his emotions would have read the same.

  “—you don’t believe me,” Matthai said flatly.

  Then Callum felt a fresh wave of resolve from the young man as Matthai pulled his robe to the side and exposed the mate mark beginning to form above his heart.

  “See?”

  “And you’re sure it wasn’t just that someone snuck into your room?”

  Matthai shook his head, a hint of exasperation sneaking into his tone. “Callum, my guards didn’t notice a thing. Plus, she already had a mate mark, knew my name, and then she literally disappeared from my arms.”

  “Okay, give me a minute to process.”

  Callum leaned back and tried to sort through everything he had just been told, while Matthai busied himself making them each a fresh cup of tea.

  Matthai didn’t seem insane—overwhelmed, yes—but not insane. Callum was inclined to believe that his story, however bizarre, must therefore be true.

  After taking some time to order his thoughts, Callum nodded to himself, then spoke.

  “Okay, our working theory is that your mate is a chronojumper—but far more powerful than any Kronai in recorded history. At some point in the future, you will meet her, she’ll get her mate mark, and you’ll fall in love. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “Then sometime after that, she’ll be in trouble—starved and bleeding. And then she will jump back in time to you, last night—in reflex.”

  Matthai nodded. “Yes, and I have no idea what to do about it. Should I go looking for her? Should I take my vows? Tell my parents? I’m tempted to take my vows as planned and work out the rest later, but it also feels wrong. What if I take my vows, but then the Temple, or the people, won’t accept Kat-a-reen as their High Priestess—”

  Matthai’s face blanched, and Callum’s gut twisted with the boy’s horror.

  “—what if that’s the reason she ends up being tortured? What if it’s my fault?”

  Callum held his hands out in a placating gesture. “Hey ... calm down. We have no way of knowing any of that, right? So, let’s just take this one step at a time. I think you’re right to go ahead with the investiture. It will buy us time to figure out your next steps.”

  He leaned forward and gave his best reassuring smile. “Think of it this way—if what happened to you last night wasn’t an act of the Gods, then I don’t know what is. Maybe the Gods meant for Kat-a-reen to come here. Right?”

  “I hadn’t considered that,” Matthai said.

  “Right. The next thing to sort out is your priorities.”

  “Priorities?”

  “Yes—does your loyalty lie with your mate, parents, the priesthood, or the people? We’ll try to find the most optimal solution, but you need to prepare yourself for the likelihood that you won’t be able to keep everyone happy.”

  “I won’t abandon my mate.” Matthai slumped down into his seat. “But I also don’t want to upset my family. They would support me, I’m almost certain, as their son. Their primary concern would be the scandal of me mating outside the pre-selected potentials, and the fact that the future High Priestess is missing.”

  “And that she’s not from any known Valmoran homeworld.”

  “—and that she’s not Kronai,” Matthai added.

  “—and that it’s out of cycle, but that could be mitigated by waiting to announce the match. So, if I understand you, we’re looking for a plan that allows you to find and save your mate, and you’d like to do it without causing a scandal if possible.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now that we’re clear on our goal, here is my advice—go ahead with the investiture. Let’s each take a few days to think through our options. Then how about you and I meet up for lunch or tea? Would that be suspicious to anyone?”

  “No, my father would be happy to hear we were getting along.”

  “Good. Let’s connect via Hix so our AIs can set something up. But Matthai—we shouldn’t message about this over Hix or write anything down. Agreed?”

  “That seems wise.”

  “In fact, tell no one else about this until we have a plan. As long as we control the information, we still have options. But if word gets out, rumors will spread and take on a life of their own.”

  “I agree. I had planned on telling no one, but knew I would need help. It’s only a matter of time before someone spots the mate mark.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, if I weren’t the heir, I wouldn’t have any hope of hiding it—I have a private bathing chamber, so I don’t have to use the Temple baths. But it will be difficult to keep my robes from ever falling open during training.”

  “Even the heir trains in combat?” The question poured out of him. Matthai was easy to talk to. Maybe too easy.

  “Not combat—protection. The same as every other adept—I won’t receive the advanced training that the priests in the Order of Protection get—but we all learn how to deflect and neutralize violence.”

  Callum leaned forward with interest. “I have to ask—don’t you think it’s strange for the priests of a religion to learn how to fight? I thought you were all about peace and harmony and such.”

  “We are—training to defuse the more negative aspects of our nature allows us to walk through life without fear of violence, so our judgment isn’t clouded by it.”

  His words sounded genuine, but also like he was repeating something he had heard countless times.

  Callum nodded. He was still wary of the Temple’s military prowess, but if there was anything to suspect, at least Matthai seemed blissfully unaware.

  “I suppose it’s not much different from how I prepare and catalog evidence. Knowing that I have my arguments prepared on important issues means I’m never caught off guard if drafted for a vote.”

  Matthai’s eyes lit up.

  “Sometime, you’ll have to tell me how that all works. I know there are thousands of Representatives, and the AI Council pulls you in to vote on things, but that’s about it. Oh, and that you use the Ansible.”

  He paused. “It seems so complicated. We use Ansibles, too, of course, but we have the Council of High Priests to make decisions.”

  Callum nodded. “Sure—the Temple is ruled by a hierarchy, and the Republic is governed by democratic consensus.”

  “You sound like you think hierarchy is a negative thing.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t come as a shock to you that I’m not a fan of arbitrary hierarchy—that’s why I’m so vocally opposed to bloodline, subspecies, and class discrimination. A person has no control over the circumstances of their birth. But hierarchy formed based on achievement doesn’t bother me as much, because it can be earned.”

  Matthai nodded. “So you must be particularly opposed to the High Priesthood. We choose our leaders based solely on circumstances of birth, with bloodline and subspecies discrimination inherent to the process.”

  Callum smiled. He was going to enjoy working with Matthai Valtrellin. The boy was sharp, didn’t mince words, and didn’t get defensive—only curious.

  “I do find it odd ... that the Temple urges its followers to eschew discrimination while maintaining controlled mating among its leaders.”

  “It does seem odd, doesn’t it? Honestly, Callum, I’ve questioned it myself, but have only been told it is necessary. For now, I think my role is to learn and understand things before I try to change anything. It may sound strange, but I am as bound by the circumstances of my birth as you are.”

  “More so, I would think.”

  “Perhaps. But our philosophies may not be so different, after all. Blood may have secured my role, but it is mine to earn the right to rule.”

  Callum chuckled. “Matthai, has anyone ever told you you have a way with words? In another life, I believe you might have been a poet.”

  The Scion’s pale skin flushed at the compliment. “You flatter me. I like to think if things were different, I might have been a gardener. I’ve always had a great love for growing things.” He smiled, and his eyes lit up for just a moment.

  “But it sounds, if I understand you correctly, like you’re not opposed to change?”

  Matthai shook his head. “No, I am not. Of course, as a Valtrellin, and still only the heir, I’m not at liberty to publicly question the running of the Temple. But I have always admired your work, Callum, and have imagined how things might change.”

  He sighed. “And now, with Kat-a-reen, change will undoubtedly be necessary.”

  Matthai’s emotions had calmed during their conversation, but the reminder of Kat-a-reen had brought a fresh surge of worry to the young priest.

  Callum wasn’t sure why, but he felt compelled to cheer him up. “Matthai?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What was it like, meeting your mate?”

  Matthai’s joy invaded Callum’s heart, like a ray of pure sunshine piercing the clouds. A slow smile spread across the boy’s handsome face.

  “It was ... she was—I could feel she was my Amara, Callum. It was like standing too close to a fire, but one I wanted to step into.”

  Callum couldn’t help but smile in response. “Focus on that, and get ready for your big day. We’ll figure the rest out soon. But for today, we should wrap things up.”

  He stood and prepared to leave.

  “Thank you, Callum. I prayed through the night for help with this situation, and eventually, my mind settled on you. It was right to ask you for help.”

  “Try not to worry, Matthai. We’ll get it sorted. I promise.”

  Lost in thought, Callum made his way to the reception hall where the honored guests would gather for the ceremony.

  His steps faltered when he realized he was still seeing Matthai’s stricken face, still feeling the boy’s fear for his mate. Still running through the entire conversation on a steady loop.

  Searching for solutions to the Scion’s problems.

  Frustrated and amazed, he ran his hand over his jaw.

  In just one conversation, Matthai Valtrellin earned not only his respect but something much more extraordinary—Callum had begun to care about him.

  As a person.

  Caring about people just wasn’t something that Callum did. He cared about ‘people’ in the abstract, but not individuals. The vast majority of people had hearts so black that he could barely stand to be around them, let alone care about them.

  But when they were children, his ward-sister Zalila had wormed her way into his heart, and now Matthai had joined her. His concern for them felt uncomfortably akin to weakness. It wasn’t worth worrying over, though, because it was done—he hadn’t cared about many people in his life, but he had discovered that once that boundary was broken …

  Once again, Matthai’s worried expression skipped across his mind.

  Callum felt a wave of anger—his own, this time—as the full injustice of the situation struck him.

  Matthai Valtrellin had done absolutely nothing wrong. In the dead of night, his future mate suddenly materialized in his bedroom.

  From the future.

  It was … astonishing.

  In a just world, it would be cause for celebration, extolled as a miracle.

  But this wasn’t a just world, and Callum worried that even his considerable skill and influence might not be enough to circumvent the biggest scandal the Temple had seen in generations.