"No," she said under her breath. She took a deep breath and started towards her home.
Then again, A'Ran was contemplating sending one sister away and denying the other the chance to marry the man she loved, because the teen boy was a miner.
Her step almost faltered. He'd made a promise to her. What did it mean that only she could heal Anshan - and she was dying? How would he take learning that the force in his blood, the one that kept the planet alive, would not survive his reign?
Maybe the doc will have different news tomorrow, she reminded herself. Yet the resolution in the doctor's face warned her he'd already settled on his initial determination.
Struggling to digest what she'd just learned, Kiera reached her home and moved through the house in a trance, not aware of where she was until she stood before the painting of A'Ran in the corridor. Kiera stared up at his noble features. Her throat tightened.
You're dying.
There has to be some mistake. If her life was connected to Anshan, then what exactly did that mean? Was there something wrong with the plane, too, or had it decided to reject her? Not for the first time, she found herself wishing to understand the relationships she was supposed to have with a chunk of rock floating in space. Because there was a relationship; she'd seen on more than one occasion that she could bring the planet surface to life.
But was there something else wrong with it? Or was this truly her disease and issue, separated from what the planet was going through?
In a daze of suppressed emotion, she picked up a pencil and began sketching herself on the wall opposite A'Ran and his family. It seemed fitting that she wasn't on their wall, not if she was going to be a part of their lives for long. She worked furiously, oblivious to the passage of time, concentrating instead on channeling her confusion and fear into something she could handle.
You're dying.
"That can't be true. I feel fine," she whispered to the wall. She'd felt happy and healthy since returning to the Anshan moon. Was it something else, then? A disease that didn't bother the Anshans but did her? How could she feel the best she'd ever been and be dying?
"Did you mean to leave me alone with the miner?" A'Ran's deep, low voice jarred her.
The begrudging way he said miner made her smile despite the turmoil in her thoughts. She turned and looked up at her lifemate. He wore the loose clothing of his people: trousers and V-neck tunic accessorized by a belt thicker than her thigh. A'Ran's dark eyes were assessing, as if he suspected she'd set him up and wasn't too happy about it. The sight of him always made her body warm from the inside out and her heart quicken.