Noa's hair whipped across her face as Benjera launched forward. The world collapsed into speed all at once, the ground vanishing beneath her in a way that made her stomach jerk sharply upward like she'd been dropped off the first plunge of a roller coaster. He weaved between trees before taking a sharp turn onto a road and only went faster. Anxiety and adrenaline tangled so tightly they became the same thing.

  Noa loved roller coasters.

  The rough motion jostled her injured arms viciously, shock racing through her scars in hot, electric spikes, but it wasn't enough to drown out the thrill. Her breath tore out of her in startled laughter before she could stop it. She wasn't the whooping type, never had been, but on one especially violent turn a small, helpless squeal ripped out of her anyway, followed by a bubbling, disbelieving giggle.

  By the time Benjera skidded to a stop in a spray of dirt and loose leaves, her laughter had tipped fully out of control. It poured out of her in shaking, breathless waves that left her ribs aching and her eyes watering. The forest reeled around her, tilting even after the motion had stopped.

  Benjera looked down at her, breathing hard, a cough threading through his chest as he examined her adrenaline-fueled hysteria with frank curiosity.

  "You get to do that all the time?" she managed between gasps, her chest rising and falling faster than his despite the fact that he'd just moved like a fired bullet.

  "You liked that?" he asked. His eyes were magnetic in the lingering rush, dark and intent and far too close.

  "Could I do that?" she asked.

  His smile grew at that. Heavens. He could have been a movie star with that face.

  "No, it's my class skill," Benjera said, and the smile vanished as his expression tightened into a scowl aimed down the road. His tension made Noa tuck her injured red arms tighter against her chest as she followed his gaze.

  The path was packed dirt, cutting straight through the forest. Noa knew, some detached part of her brain still tracking the impossible geometry, that they'd covered at least half a kilometer from the other place. Executioner’s rock and the void well. Even with the swerves and disorientation, she hadn't fully lost her internal compass.

  The road disappeared into the forest in one direction and pointed toward the hall where she had first walked into this place.

  In the other direction—

  There was a city under the sun.

  Not metaphorically. Literally.

  Rivers of light converged overhead into a vast lake of brilliant golden-white energy suspended above the city like a living sky. It blazed so brightly the entire enclosure shimmered like midday. Beneath that radiant lake spread a city of white stone and impossible greenery. Foliage spilled freely over ten-meter walls. Multi-story buildings thick with vines and riotous flowers she didn't recognize tumbled out of every crevice. Every balcony, every patio, every window was overflowing with living green.

  "Who builds a city under the sun?" The words slipped out. That couldn’t be good for the skin.

  Benjera started walking without answering. His boots pressed into the pale dirt with steady rhythm, and Noa became suddenly, acutely aware of being carried. One of his arms supported her back, the other hooked beneath her knees. His bare chest was warm where her shoulder pressed against it. She could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, still deep from running.

  The air grew warmer as they approached, thick in a way that reminded her of summer afternoons in Florida when the humidity rolled in off the Atlantic. Not unbearable but present, settling on her skin like a second layer. Her damp clothes clung uncomfortably in places, the wet fabric starting to dry unevenly and stick.

  The scale of the city kept growing as they drew closer. The walls alone had to be two stories tall, and beyond them the buildings climbed higher still. Questions buzzed in her mind.

  "How do you not die of heat stroke?"

  Benjera glanced down at her. "Aqueducts."

  The answer came so simply it took her a moment to process. Like that alone should settle the entire question of how a city functioned under an artificial sun.

  It absolutely did not.

  "How does that help? How is air ventilated here? It can't be entirely enclosed, can it?"

  Her gaze traveled over the glowing ceiling, the light wasn’t unbearable. Not like a summer sun at midday.

  "We have winds every cycle," Benjera said, there was a slight hitch in his breath mid-sentence as they left the forest edge. The gate loomed ahead now, massive and bright, and empty. Benjera’s jaw tightened.

  “I can walk,” she said softly, but didn’t get a reply.

  No one traveled in and out of the gate, though it stood open underneath a tower with multiple open windows. Travelers didn’t seem to be a thing. Or maybe it was an odd hour for travel.

  A single man in a uniform similar to Benjera’s leaned forward over the wall to look at them. No one approached, but the weight of their attention pressed down like the humidity. She wasn't shy of strangers but the combination of being stared at while Benjera went rigid beneath her was setting off alarms she couldn't name.

  She must look like something dragged out of a disaster. Wet clothes plastered to her body, hair tangled and drying in uneven waves, arms streaked with burns that caught the light like she'd been marked by lightning. And Benjera carrying her through the front gate like some kind of conquering hero with his prize.

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Her stomach knotted.

  "I can walk," she offered again.

  “Not now.” His arms tightened around her, grip firming in refusal. The message was clear even without words, and she didn't fight it because she didn't understand why he was insisting. There had to be a reason.

  The gate's shadow passed over them as they crossed beneath it, the temperature dropping in the shade before the brightness swallowed them again on the other side. The wave of heat was like walking into a hot kitchen even though it was still the same tempurature as before under the light. Noa couldn’t help but wonder why the temperature difference was so much. Magic? Weird physics? Did it matter?

  The image of her apartment surfaced without warning. The plants on her windowsill that she'd forgotten to water that morning. Her parents would be there by now, calling morgues. Talking to police. Filing a missing person report. All while Noa was here, blundering into a marriage and trying to tactically plan when she was going to let this husband rail her for legal reasons.

  The absurdity of it made her throat tight.

  "Will your family be upset?" she asked quietly.

  He scowled deeply at the street ahead, at the passersby who slowed to stare but said nothing. The tension in his shoulders hadn't eased since they entered the gate.

  "Some," Benjera said. "Watch out for Rasha. She throws things."

  "Rasha throws things, got it," she said, filing that away with all the other survival information she was accumulating. "Anything else?"

  "I'm not the smart one, you can ask Jasreal all your questions," Benjera said. He had his teeth half grit.

  "That makes you the strong one?" she asked.

  They passed under a large archway. The temperature dropped immediately as water flowed somewhere overhead, trickling through carved channels she couldn't quite see. The air cooled against her skin. Hanging leaves brushed the top of the archway, green and lush and so close. If her hands didn't hurt, she would have reached out to touch them.

  Benjera’s tension seemed suspended by another curious look, he looked as bewildered as she felt for a moment. Then it vanished.

  "Strongest," Benjera replied with cocky assurance that made the corner of her mouth twitch upward.

  "Where do you live?" she asked, taking in the impossible garden of a city through the archway. Everywhere she looked, green spilled over pale stone. Flowering vines climbed walls. Entire trees grew from rooftop gardens. The scent in the air was alive, rich with growing things and damp earth and something sweet she couldn't identify over the normal, city smells she expected.

  "We live in the center, by the temple," Benjera said.

  We. The word sat strange in Noa’s mouth when she tested it silently. She didn't know if she liked it yet. Didn't know if she believed it was real or just a legal fiction they were both pretending at. What if they didn’t… finalize? What if she skipped the consummation and the marriage dissolved? That didn’t sit right with her. Not with the term soul-bound.

  "I suppose we do," she said. "And the city is called?"

  "This is Hassa," he said proudly, his chest swelling against her shoulder.

  He carried her deeper into the city and the streets narrowed, buildings pressing closer on either side. More eyes found them as they moved toward the center. Some people shook their heads, expressions ranging from disapproval to pity. Others just stared. Benjera's jaw stayed tight, his breathing still carrying a faint rasp that worried her but he insisted again on carrying her.

  They reached a building and he started up the stairs without hesitation. The bottom floor neighbors stood in their doorway, mouths open in obvious surprise. The building was three stories tall, and he took her to the top. Each landing opened onto a large patio, and she caught glimpses of verdant garden boxes at the edges, lush with vegetables and flowers catching the artificial sunlight.

  Until the top floor.

  Weeds. Thin, uncared for vines struggling against neglect. Flat, bare stone and an old awning with a hole torn through the fabric. The bachelor pad, in all its glory.

  Benjera finally set her down, and the absence of his support made her legs wobble slightly. No. She was just tired. He fished out his keys and stood in front of the door, hesitating.

  "Let me guess," she said.

  He half turned to her, wariness in his eyes.

  "You have a really nice bed and not much else," she said archly.

  Benjera turned around completely, scowling harder. "How do you know that?"

  Noa laughed. She knew the type. "Lucky guess."

  That seemed to help him relax, his shoulders dropped as he unlocked the door under the worn awning and pushed it open. The apartment was a single long room with three doors along one wall and windows with drawn curtains blocking anyone from looking in but the interior was brightly lit with 4 skylights in a row through the middle. A kitchen occupied the far wall, complete with a wood stove and an island counter but nowhere to sit except a single out of place pink chair. The whole apartment was sparse and utilitarian. The floor was white slats like wood that felt like mineral, like the trees in the forest, which was cool under her bare feet as she stepped inside.

  Benjera immediately turned into the first room on the right. Noa had nothing else to do so she followed and looked through the doorway as she cradled her arms. Wooden racks lined the walls, shelves stacked with equipment, an armor stand in the corner. Benjera was already putting things away methodically, laying out his wet shirt to dry, pulling off his wet boots with small grunts of effort.

  Then he pulled off his pants and she panicked and turned around, heart jumping.

  "Something the matter?" he asked, a taunt threading through his voice.

  She glanced over her shoulder. He was laying his pants over the rack, wearing nothing but drawers that sat low on his body to reveal a deep v crease under his flat stomach that disappeared under fabric. Not that it hid much. He paused with one hand on his skinny hip, completely unabashed, and she could see the full architecture of him now. Muscle and grace and the easy confidence of someone who had never been ashamed of his body.

  She gave him a nervous laugh. "Right. We're married."

  "License to look," he agreed, using his license to let his eyes roam over her in turn before turning back to his equipment. He grabbed a wooden box from a shelf. "Come on."

  She peered in the box as he went past and followed him to the back of the apartment, still processing. Benjera looked just as good from the back as the front. Her eyes trailed down his spine to the curve of his lower back. Then lower still. Maybe better from the back, actually.

  "Sit down," Benjera said, dropping the box on the kitchen counter with a heavy thunk. He grabbed the lone pink chair and set it out for her with deliberate care.

  Noa sat and he moved to the corner to a bench that was tucked in the corner with the stove and a basin flanking it, except the bench opened up to a pool of water. Using a bucket to draw water from some kind of cistern that half sat in the wall. He deposited it in the wide basin and washed his hands, his arms, his face. Water ran down his chest in rivulets, catching light. When he came back to the counter and started pulling things out of the box, his skin was still glistening.

  Benjera caught her staring.

  She looked down, heat creeping up her neck. He was handsome. Objectively, undeniably handsome. Noa was calculating. The chances of a bachelor like him rotating through women were high, just based on looks alone. Noa was coming in and disrupting whatever life he had before. She would need to decide, quickly, if she was going to be a jealous wife.

  That wouldn't be fair to him, would it? This was a transactional arrangement for citizenship. She had no claim to exclusivity beyond whatever they negotiated. The thought settled low in her chest, heavier than she'd expected. An angle she hadn't considered before, and it brought her spirits down.