by Keary Taylor
For just a moment, Cyrillius’ expression is blank, his eyes boring into mine, evaluating everything I say.
He must believe me. Because a smile begins to form on his face.
“You slamming cack-” I lunge toward him, but am brought to my knees as a bolt of Neron energy rips through my body.
It hurts more than anything ever.
But then it feels good. Just one dart of pain and I instantly capture it inside of me. I hold onto it. I store it for later.
A wicked smile begins to form on my face as I look up at Cyrillius standing above me.
Screams. Shrieks.
Cyrillius’ face distorts and the lights flicker as I begin to think about all the ways I’m going to cut him apart.
The breath catches in my throat, nearly choking me.
And like he knows exactly what is happening, Cyrillius smiles again. It’s broad. His teeth are all straight, and the line of them is perfectly even, as if all his teeth were filed down to be the same length. There’s even a dimple in his left cheek.
“I thank you for bringing her to me, Commander 12-3,” Cyrillius says, looking to the side at the woman who led us into the Compound. “You can pay this young fellow and escort him back to his ship.”
“He wanted to be paid by you himself before he leaves,” the woman with no name, only a number, says.
“That’s not entirely the truth,” Edan says. My skin breaks out into goosebumps, fear showing on my skin in a physical way. “I need something from her and I don’t intend to leave until she does it. I hope you will understand.”
Slag, slag, slag, I think in a resounding chorus in my brain when Cyrillius looks over at Edan.
He’s the most powerful man in the galaxy. He’s responsible for the deaths of billions. Edan is just one tiny nobody. And he’s just stood up to the giant.
“Considering you were able to capture the woman I had thousands hunting for, I will give one hour of my time as a thank you for your merits,” the man says, chilling me. “12-3, bring the prisoner and her delivery man to my office.”
I don’t even get to take one breath after that before the man behind me yanks me back to my feet and I trip and stumble as he shoves me back in the direction we just walked.
Back through the line of Kinduri, I’m forced to walk.
We came all this way through the Compound just so that Cyrillius could show me off. Show that even I cannot hide from him. No one can.
I wonder if Arden will be talking about my capture tonight on her spacecast. I wonder if the galaxy will feel defeated just a little more.
Don’t give up. I send the thought out into the ether. Don’t lose your fighting spirit.
I’m marched down the hall and then to the right, down another hall. The ceilings stretch tall this way, and gold and Neron blue mixes among the ashy black that everything seems to be constructed of. There are intricate designs in the walls, laid into the floor, creating light paths along the ceiling.
It’s beautiful, but also…evil. My skin crawls as we walk further into the heart of the Compound. So much work and thought was put into this section. It’s impressive. But it’s exactly what I would have expected from a malevolent, power hungry man like Cyrillius.
There are four doors that break off from the hall, two on each side. And straight ahead, there is a towering set of double doors. They’re pitch black, but there are solid gold designs lacing all over the surface.
Cyrillius pushes the doors open, and I’m shoved ahead.
If I thought the hallway was impressive, it is nothing compared to Cyrillius’ personal office.
The walls, like everywhere else, are solid black. Except the wall straight ahead. The entire surface glows a nearly blinding bright shade of blue. It sparkles and shimmers.
As my eyes adjust, I realize that it’s made of carefully cut and placed shards of Neron. They’re cut in precise shapes to capture light and reflect and refract light, sending it dancing.
There’s enough Neron on that wall to power a city for a solar. And it’s just sitting on Cyrillius’ wall, as decoration.
A black desk with gold inlays is off to the right side of the room. Sitting in the center of the room, are four gold chairs, set in a square.
12-3 nods her head for the soldier behind me to put me in one of the uncomfortable-looking chairs. He directs me so hard, I trip into the seat, landing hard on my right hip and nearly falling out when he releases the Neron rod.
“Remove the collar,” Cyrillius says as he takes a seat across from me. “She’s a human being, not an animal.”
Edan steps forward and waves his connect-link over the back of the collar around my neck. It pings and unlatches, clattering to the ground when Edan doesn’t reach for it and my hands are not free to try and catch it.
“I thought you were a quick, decisive man, Cyrillius,” I say, locking my eyes on him. “What’s with the dramatics? I’m not afraid to die, so you can go ahead and get my beheading over with.”
“You have fire in you, Nova Ainsley.”
Every drop of blood in my body goes cold at hearing my name come across his lips.
“Yes,” he says as he crosses his legs. He rests his elbow on the arm of the chair, touching his chin. “We did finally discover your name. There are many people on Korpillion. There are a lot of security cameras. But we found some information about you. That you worked for Horne Energy. That you are the daughter of a maintenance worker for a school. That you used to be romantically involved with a co-worker. That they were both crushed when one of the towers collapsed the day I arrived on your planet.”
My skin crawls. At hearing that Cyrillius knows about Zayne, about my father.
But every part of me sings in triumph that from the footage he apparently watched, he thought Zayne and my father were killed.
He has no idea they made it to the other side.
“Don’t you dare speak about them,” I say, turning my face away from him, letting my eyes fall to the floor. I even manage to make my eyes well a little bit.
I’m learning that I’m a slam good actress.
My eyes slide back to see Cyrillius give that little smile.
Oh how I will claw his lips from his face.
Screams rip through my brain and the room flashes white and black as Cyrillius’ mouth gapes open, his eyes turning white, blurring.
I twitch back in my seat, blinking five times, clearing the horror from my eyes.
Slag.
What is happening to me?
“What is the matter, Nova?” Cyrillius asks, and if I didn’t know better, I would say that was genuine concern in his voice. “Are you not feeling well?”
I take a slow breath and straighten in my chair. I hold my head high. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I feel absolutely fine.”
I notice that Edan took exactly one step closer toward me. Just one. Because he’s concerned. I know if this goes too far, he’ll do his very best to tear apart this entire room and everyone in it.
But he’ll also get vaporized in two seconds if he does. If he isn’t careful enough.
So he took only one step toward me.
“What is it you need from this woman?” Cyrillius says to Edan, and maybe I’m doing a decent job playing his mind game too, because he doesn’t continue trying to worm his way into my head. “Let’s clear your business and you can get paid and leave.”
“I told you it wasn’t easy capturing her,” Edan says, taking a swaggering step forward. “Others have tried and failed. I tracked her down by setting a trap. I set up a deal. Credits for a weapon.”
“Two-faced lying cack-he,” I growl under my breath for effect, glaring death at the man I’m more grateful for than anyone else in the galaxy at the moment.
Edan smiles coldly at me, and I swear he really did betray me, he’s so good at this. “I commissioned a weapon from her, paid through the nose for it. She promised me delivery in two days when we last met, and I got the feeling she was ge
tting squirrely on me. And she did try escaping. That’s when I caught her.”
Edan takes another step toward me, fixing me with his tired, hollow eyes. “I paid for that weapon. I don’t intend to leave until she finishes it for me.”
He slowly looks back at Cyrillius. “I went to a lot of trouble to bring her to you, Cyrillius. Surely you can show your gratitude and let me crash here until she fulfills the order I paid for?”
My heart is thundering in my chest as the two of them look back and forth at each other.
We have so many holes in our plan. So many what ifs.
We’re already going off script.
I was supposed to kill Cyrillius the moment I saw him.
I tried.
I failed.
Now we’re onto our back-up plan.
“Because you accomplished what so many others could not, I will allow four days. Nova will be given the supplies to complete whatever you hired her to create. And then you will take your reward money, and you will leave Isroth.”
Edan gives a little smile and nods his head. He extends his hand out to Cyrillius, who doesn’t look like he wants to accept, but he does shake Edan’s hand.
“You,” Cyrillius says, nodding toward one of the soldiers. “Take this young man to the guest quarters.”
“Yes, President,” the man says, giving a quick bow to Cyrillius. He steps toward Edan, extending a hand out to the door, waiting.
For just a second, Edan’s eyes flash to mine and he doesn’t know what to do.
The thought of being separated from each other on this terrifying planet is unfathomable.
But we have our roles to play right now.
Go, I mentally scream at him as loud as I can and I pray that he can feel it. We have no other choice right now.
And somehow he must get the message, because with a sly little smile at me, he turns, and follows the soldier out through the doors.
I watch them as they swing closed once more, leaving me here alone with the most evil man in the entire galaxy.
“Your work is remarkable, Nova.”
My eyes snap back over to Cyrillius, and I immediately see it in his eyes: he’s being genuine.
“I have worked with engineers and smiths and inventors my entire life,” he says. He uncrosses his legs and sits forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I have worked with the best of the best. I have recruited from the galaxy’s best universities.”
He locks eyes with me, and I hate how much I can tell he means this.
“I have looked into your history and your background, Ms. Ainsley.” He presses his fingers together, turning them white. “You have a minimal degree. Your marks were all at the top of your class, but you did not pursue higher education which would have led to higher paying positions.”
His eyes narrow a little, like he’s studying me, trying to understand what makes me tick.
“Your creativity has met no other equal,” he says. And surprise leaks into my stomach. “Whips. Guns. Swords. Bombs. Arrows. You’ve come up with ideas that my best teams have never imagined. Your designs are flawless.”
It starts falling into place, becoming more and more clear as Cyrillius compliments me when I thought he was going to kill me.
“I’ve never seen such fine work, Nova,” he says. His voice is soft and low. I hear the sincerity in it, and I swear there’s a hint of reverence in it. “You’ve done remarkable work while hiding in the shadows, working with incredibly limited resources.”
Goosebumps prickle out onto my skin, because I know where this is going.
“I want you to work for me.”
I huff a laugh and shake my head. “I would never, not in a thousand solars.”
If he’s surprised by my answer, he doesn’t let on.
“Credits would not even matter to you anymore,” he says, going on like I hadn’t even spoken. “Nothing would be outside your reach. You may hold on to the belief that this galaxy is black and white, right and wrong, but you are only putting limitation on yourself with those beliefs.”
He slides forward in his seat so that there is only one foot between us. “Imagine what you could create with the resources I could offer you, Nova.”
My eyes are fixed on a spot on the wall across the room. I’m not sure when I had to look away from his gaze. Maybe when he started talking about right and wrong. Maybe when he complimented me, and for just a second, I felt pride. But I can’t look at him right now.
“We could revolutionize the galaxy together,” Cyrillius says, and I swear he whispers it right into my ear, reaching down into the pit of my stomach. “Why hold yourself back when you could be hailed as a modern-day genius?”
My head rips back, my eyes burning cold at him. “You may have lost your soul a long time ago, Cyrillius. But I still have mine. I won’t offer it up to you.”
Evenly, he looks into my eyes and I can tell, he thinks he’s going to be able to sway me. He thinks I will come around.
“I hear you,” he says as he stands. He walks around his chair and rests his hands on its back. “I’d like to give you some time to think about it. We have plenty of that.”
He nods to Commander 12-3, who steps forward. With that rod, she jerks me to my feet, and marches me back toward the door. I steal one glance over my shoulder, back at Cyrillius.
He gives me a little smile, watching as I am hauled away.
It’s a prison cell. It might not look like one because there’s a massive plush bed, comfortable carpet beneath my feet, clean white curtains over the windows, and the most beautiful bathroom I’ve ever seen attached to it.
But the door is locked. There are bars on the windows.
I can’t leave.
It’s a prison cell.
Commander 12-3 dumps me in the room before leaving. I hear the lock slide into place. And then I’m alone.
Slag. I really, really didn’t ever want to be alone on this planet.
I rub my wrists, which are raw and swollen from the cuffs 12-3 removed before she left me. I want a shower. I feel dirty. Tainted.
I want off this planet.
Everything has gone wrong.
“You’re there now, aren’t you?”
The voice comes through my brain, pressing in with a gentle, probing force.
“Yes,” I answer honestly, because Valen and I are best and worst together when we are very honest and open with each other.
“I’ve felt it all day, until just now. The curiosity, the disgust. The fear.” His voice sends a wave of peace through me though, countering all the emotions he just accurately described. “Are you alright?”
I look around the room where I’m imprisoned. No, I think to myself. Everything’s gone wrong.
But I have to be careful how I handle this, or it’s all going to get so much worse.
I aim for a chair next to the window and curl up into it.
“I’m not hurt,” I say, which is the truth.
“You know that’s not all I’m asking, Nova.”
I barely contain a groan that wants to work out my chest when he says my name. It’s like another connection, far more intimate than just speaking telepathically. It’s a promise. It’s a bond. It’s forever.
“I knew there would be things I couldn’t plan for when I decided to do this,” I say as I curl into myself, making myself smaller and smaller. “I knew things could go wrong, that we’d have to improvise.”
“How much are you improvising right now?” he asks.
“Just the whole slam thing,” I say, because I have to be honest when I can.
“Nova, I-”
“I will handle this,” I say, cutting him off. Because if he makes promises, I will let him keep them. “There isn’t any other way, Valen. You have to let me do this on my own.”
“That’s not how partners are supposed to work,” he says, and I hear the frustration and regret in his voice, over circumstances we can do almost nothing about. “I . . . maybe this is all just in
sanity and too impossible. I am who I am, and sometimes things are just too big. How far can we push things, Nova? At what point to we have to realize that we’re just asking too much?”
“Stop,” I say, shaking my head as a hard knot forms in my chest. “Just stop. I’m not afraid of a little hard work, and I’m going to be pretty disappointed if you are, Valen. Because in the end, it’s simple. I’m going to do anything to change our future. I have already decided. We might be from different places. We might have different upbringings. But in the end, you are still the one I want to talk to at the close of every day.” My heart is racing and emotions are rising up inside of me. I can hardly breathe, so it’s a good thing I’m not having to talk out loud. “I want to be with you, Valen. And I’m ready to fight until my last breath for that chance to live out the future.”
I take three breaths, gathering myself back in. I mean it, every one of these words, despite how insane and impossible they are.
I’ve only ever been in Valen’s physical presence twice.
Twice.
But he’s here in my head. He occupies my chest. He’s heard my thoughts. He feels my secrets.
He knows me and I know him in a way no one else in the galaxy ever will.
“Do you think it’s worth fighting for, too?” I ask him.
I don’t feel or hear anything for a long moment. And I’m fearful.
I’m not stupid.
I’m not ignorant.
Valen has never hesitated if he had to kill someone. He has never felt guilt over the thousands of lives he’s ended. He has no compassion. The darkness in him could swallow planets. The anger and resentment and hatred he’s held in his heart for decades could obliterate every last Bahiri in the galaxy.
We are not the same.