Under Different Stars

by Amy A. Bartol

  “Why here? Why not at a med station or a military base?” Jax asks. “She’s going to be treated by the Regent’s physicians?”

  “Those are my orders.” Jax’s eyes shoot to Trey’s and I read their surprise. “Now, can we remand the prisoner?” Ustus asks, looking huffy.

  Trey nods curtly, his jaw tense and his eyes on me. Wayra looks devastated, like he can’t believe that the agents are going to be allowed to take me. Reaching down and picking up the collar, Wayra growls, “I’m keeping this! If you can’t keep track of one little Etharian, then maybe you should find another line of work.” When one of the agents frowns at him, Wayra steps menacingly close to him and asks, “You see something you want?” The agent quickly looks away.

  “Fine,” Ustus says, not looking at Wayra.

  Straightening my shoulders, I wink at Wayra who’s watching me like his dog just died. I raise my chin a notch and look at each of the Cavars before saying, “Baw-da-baw, boys.” Turning, I follow Ustus out of the aircraft and into the waiting hover vehicle that looks like an elongated Rolls Royce.

  In the back of the vehicle, my new bodyguards surround me. I’m being patently ignored by all of them, which is good because my throat feels tight with unshed tears. Passing through guarded gates and along a winding, grassy boulevard with arching trees, we arrive at the cobblestone driveway that leads to the entrance of an elegant baroque palace. I think my mouth might have been hanging open for a moment while looking around in wonder.

  Entering the palace, I’m led to a spa-like area with water cascading over a mosaic of blue and green glass tiled walls. A tranquil examination room is set up with a view of the sprawling gardens outside the open French-style doors. Instead of an examination table, a chaise longue and elegant chairs furnish the space.

  As beautiful as the place is, the next few hours are grueling. Two very tall, very smiley men conduct the medical examination. The one doing all the work is Tofer. He looks like he’s in his thirties with small, intricate braids in his hair on one side, making him look more like a sexy drummer from a hot band than a physician. I sort of like Tofer because he explains everything he’s doing as he does it. Every vaccination is explained to me detailing its purpose and the symptoms to look for if one was to actually contract the illness. After Tofer finishes, things like “Verdi Freckles” and “Dunder Sorrows” can no longer harm me.

  Yazer, Tofer’s peer, is a bit harder to find likable because he asks me leading questions throughout my examination. Pacing the room with his arms crossed, Yazer asks me things like: “Did you know that you’d be meeting me today?” and “Did you ever see me prior to today, in a dream, perhaps?” and “Can you tell me what I did yesterday?” and “Can you tell me what I’ll be doing tomorrow?” I would have thought Yazer a complete lunatic if Trey hadn’t told me about some of the precognitive gifts that Alameeda priestesses possess. Pretending like I have no idea what he’s talking about, I simply shake my head to his questions, frowning at him like I think he’s mental.

  When Tofer is finished with the vaccinations, he picks up a visor and brings it to me. “Now, Kricket,” he says, his violet eyes smiling at me, “I’m just going to check your vital signs and get a general picture of your health.”

  “Is that necessary?” I ask him, feeling nervous. “They already scanned me with those.”

  “Who did?” his eyebrows pull together.

  “Never mind,” I drop it because I’m not sure if I should tell him. I don’t know who I can trust. Allowing Tofer to put the “grandma goggles” on my eyes, I bite my lip as he makes a noise that sounds like he’s choking.

  “What is it?” Yazer asks, leaning nearer to see the readout. Then, Yazer makes a similar noise to the one Tofer had made.

  “She’s really—” Tofer begins.

  “Yes, she is,” Yazer agrees with satisfaction in his tone. “She can be taken for processing now. I’ll advise the Regent.” Yazer smiles at me again, looking thrilled while walking to the door. Opening it, he speaks to Ustus as he’s invited into the room. “You can remand her to the corrective court now and then…” he trails off, giving me the sense that there is a plan in play where I’m concerned. “You must stay with her—make sure she’s protected.”

  “Those are my orders,” Ustus replies. He gestures for me to follow him as he ushers me out of the palace and into the Rolls Royce hover vehicle with the other agents. Passing through guarded archways that have wrought-iron gates with blue beams of light coursing between them, I absorb as much of the outside world as I can. We’re moving near the ground level and there are several other levels of traffic over our heads that I see through a sunroof. But the speed at which we’re traveling is fierce, making it almost impossible to see details as buildings blur past.

  “Can we slow down?” I ask them, trying to look out the back window at the scenery because the side windows are too hard to see anything.

  “This isn’t a tour trolley,” Ustus replies, typing something on his communicator as he smiles at his own joke. He’s smaller than the other agents, but his features are more refined.

  “No, just a ship of fools,” I reply blandly, getting a smile from a couple of the agents while others frown at me.

  “This does feel like a fools errand,” Ustus agrees.

  “Why’s that?” I quirk my eyebrow.

  “You won’t be staying there.”

  “I won’t?” I wonder how much he knows about what’s going to happen to me.

  “Everything regarding your case has already been decided,” he replies. “This is just a formality.”

  “What do you mean? I wanted to retain a wigg,” I say, feeling my heartbeat pick up.

  “Why? One will be appointed for you. You’re a minor,” he looks at me and frowns, like he’s reevaluating the word he just used to describe me. His eyes linger on my breasts a little too long.

  “Court appointed attorneys usually turn out to be…how can I put this delicately...oh, I know, total knob knockers,” I reply with sarcasm, causing laughter to erupt from several of the agents.

  “Please refrain from using that language. It makes you sound common,” he sniffs prudishly. “What is an ‘attorney?’” Ustus looks grudgingly amused now.

  “It’s a wigg and stop pretending that you don’t know what I’m saying.”

  “I doubt it will matter much, Fay Kricket,” Ustus says, using my name for the first time. “I’m to stay with you while you’re there. That means you’ll be returning with me.”

  “But, that’s insane! I haven’t had time to prepare a case! I don’t even know what laws I’m being charged with breaking. I haven’t been able to research a defense!” I panic.

  “You’re going to be taken care of—” he starts to assure me, but I cut him off.

  “I don’t want anyone taking care of me,” I retort, frowning at him. “I want to make my own choices about what I do with my life!”

  “Good for you,” he smiles. “You’ll just have to wait until you’re twenty floans for that day to come. Until then, I’m in charge of your case.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, get used to seeing my face because I’m in charge,” he says, just like a parent.

  “NO!”

  “Yes,” he dismisses my objection in a calm tone, while typing away on his phone again.

  “I was hoping my father had some family here. Someone who might help me get on my feet.”

  “I would not count on that,” Ustus sighs quietly. “I read some of the Hollowell files. Your father’s family has taken steps to disinherit any offspring resulting from the match of Pan Hollowell to Arissa Valke.”

  “Why?” I ask, not able to stop myself.

  “I don’t know their reasons, but the court documents shifted all assets to an uncle…” he taps his communicator, scanning it, “Ah, Farren Hollowell, Pan’s brother. They couldn’t take away the title though. That’s still yours.”

  “The title?”

  �
�Your father was Corinet, so the title falls to you. You’re a Coriness—making you ‘Fay Kricket.’”

  “What does ‘Fay’ mean?” I feel a stab of pain while realizing that I have family, but they think I’m trash.

  “It’s a title,” he looks confused by my question.

  “Like Miss?”

  “No, like… Dame…Lady?” he asks, trying to relate it to something human.

  “Will you notify the Hollowell family that I exist?”

  “Yes,” he replies honestly. I nod, dropping the subject as I kick around in my head what I was just told. I can only think of a couple of reasons why someone would go to those lengths to redirect assets: greed and shame. Neither reason is making me feel hopeful of meeting my long lost family.

  The car slows then, pulling into a drive and parking where the sign posted clearly says, “restricted.” Opening my door, Ustus and the other agents lead me to the brilliant glass building ahead of us. This place is so different from the palace that the only similarity is that they’re both excessively clean and elegant. This building, however, is modern in a way that I’ve never seen before. It’s all glass in the lobby and the tiers of floors above our heads go on for at least a mile up. Glass walkways that are completely transparent rise above our heads, taking my breath away.

  “Oh, I get it,” I say, looking at Ustus’s face. He raises his eyebrow and I say, “It’s a metaphor—a transparent system of justice.” Ustus looks around then, as if seeing the building for the first time. “I prefer my justice to be blind,” I say dryly.

  “I never made the connection,” Ustus murmurs, gesturing me toward a glass elevator.

  “No, you just like it because you can see up all the girlie’s skirts,” I smirk.

  “Does everything that you think come out of your mouth?” Ustus frowns. “If you will notice, the glass darkens to opaque when it is stepped upon.”

  “Oh,” I say. “I’m usually a lot more cautious about what I say. I just feel like maybe there’s not a lot left for me to lose.” Tears sting my eyes. I take a breath, choking them back down.

  “You should really rethink that opinion, Fay Kricket. It will get you into trouble.”

  Getting off the elevator at the hundred and fourth floor, we walk across a glass causeway that gives me vertigo because we’re so high up. When we pass through the threshold into a room, I realize that the outside is only an illusion of transparency, because inside the room is completely different then the façade has led me to believe.

  “It is a metaphor,” I murmur, because it’s different than what it seems. Noticing the room has two walls that are pure glass, I walk toward them. As I get nearer to the window, I take in the panorama of Rafe. Several higher skyscrapers have glass enclosed skywalks that link buildings together. In the distance, there are more streams of traffic and in the sky above, there’s a dome over the city, like a shield.

  I move around the long, glass conference table to get closer to the window. “Fay Kricket, you’ll remain here while I speak to the wigg and the mediator assigned to your case.”

  “Where are we—what city is this?” I ask absently.

  “This is the Isle of Skye; it’s the capitol,” Ustus answers.

  “What’s that?” I point to the sky before crossing my arms over my chest.

  Coming closer to me, Ustus grunts, “It’s a screen.”

  “What does it do?”

  “It blocks some UV rays, it filters pollution before it can contaminate the environment and it’s a defensive shield,” he smiles reluctantly.

  “How does it work?” I watch the arch over the city glow like an iridescent bubble.

  “Do I look like an engineer?”

  “Why can’t I be in the room while you discuss my future?”

  “Because it’s already decided.”

  “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “You’ll live at the palace here in the Isle of Skye for now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll have gifts…gifts that will make you very valuable.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You’re the daughter of an Alameeda priestess…it’s a certainty. Had you been male, it may have been different, but genetically, female offspring always inherit the trait.”

  “Always?”

  “Always,” he replies, and I close my eyes, feeling like I’m going to cry. Seeing my expression, he says, “You may like the palace—”

  “Don’t.” I hold up my hand. “I really don’t want to hear it.”

  “Fine. I’m posting agents outside the door,” he frowns at me before turning and leaving the room. When I’m alone, I sink into a chair, staring out the window, not really seeing anything at all.

  It can’t be more than fifteen minutes later when the door opens again. Glancing over my shoulder, my heart leaps into my throat when Trey closes the door behind him. He looks incredible in a long, tailored vest that’s dark gray pinstripe with dark, tailored pants and very expensive-looking black boots. He looks thinner somehow…less muscular than he appeared in his uniform—or in the shower.

  “Trey!” I say, bolting to my feet and grinning. “How did you find me? What are you doing here?” I rush toward him.

  He frowns at me, and there’s something in his eyes that makes me stop before I do something impulsive, like throw my arms around him. Searching his face as he’s assessing me like he has never seen me before, I take a step back, realizing that he isn’t Trey.

  “You’re not Trey.” I say, confused and disappointed.

  “No. I’m Victus,” he replies, placing a communicator on the glass surface and taking a seat at the head of the conference table. “My brother asked me to come.” He seems completely irritated with the fact that he’s here now.

  “You’re twins,” I say stupidly.

  “He said you were smart,” Victus replies in a derogatory way.

  “Why did he ask you to come?” I wonder, feeling a blush creeping into my cheeks at his last comment.

  “He said he’s concerned about you,” he answers, as he looks me over again from head to foot.

  “Oh,” I murmur, taking a seat as much to hide from his assessment of me as to sit before my knees show him that I’m shaking. “Why didn’t he come then?”

  “He wanted to come himself, but he’s required to meet with Skye and he could not refuse.”

  “What did he say?” I feel something stir inside of me at the knowledge that Trey is concerned about me.

  “He sent me this.” Victus holds up his communicator, showing me the picture of Trey and me together on the trift. “Do you know how damaging this can be to his reputation?” Victus asks me accusingly.

  Shaking my head and feeling my face becoming redder at Victus’ scowl, I find my voice enough to say, “No.”

  “Trey is practically engaged to a childhood family friend. This could end that, not to mention that the breech of confidentiality in his line of work could come with severe penalties.” Victus seethes.

  All my elation is crushed in that moment. Feeling instantly sick to my stomach, I look down. “Erase it,” I say in a small voice, not looking at his face. “I won’t tell anyone. I—”

  “What do you want?” Victus sounds angry. “Are you blackmailing him?”

  “What?”

  “Why would he risk everything to send me this?” Victus scowls.

  “I don’t know,” I murmur, “we’re friends—”

  “He has all the friends he needs. He doesn’t need an Alameeda priestess for a friend. So, whatever you’re doing to him, I want you to stop,” he demands. “In exchange, I will help you with your case. What do you want? A reduced sentence? Currency?”

  My eyebrows pull together in a frown. “Oh, that’s so gross,” my lips twist into a scowl, feeling like he kicked me in the stomach. “You think I’m doing something to Trey? Like what?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the priestess. You tell me,” he glares at me again.
r />   “Ugh, this is…too much,” I mutter, putting my face in my hands. “You have no right—I’m not what you think I am. I’m just a human being,” I stammer, feeling like I’m choking. “At least, I was last week—now I’m…some total freak.”

  “What are you talking about?” Victus asks in confusion. He looks so much like Trey that it hurts that much more to see scorn in his eyes. “You’re not human.”

  “How much do you know about me?” I bite my lip so I won’t cry.

  “I didn’t get details—just that you’re an Alameeda priestess. Trey couldn’t tell me about his mission. He just insisted I help you and the picture he sent is telling.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, knowing I won’t like his answer.

  “Are you lovers?”

  “No.” My heart twists again.

  “You’re lying.”

  “Why do you say that?” He looks me over again and I straighten in my chair. “You know what? Get out!” I point to the door.

  He straightens in his chair, like I just insulted him. “I’ll leave when I’m finished,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

  “Ohhh, you’re so finished, Victus,” I state, getting up from my seat and walking back to the window.

  “I want your word that you’ll leave my brother and my family alone,” he follows me to the window.

  “Done,” I promise. “Goodbye.”

  “What?” he asks, looking surprised.

  “I will leave all of the Allairises alone. I don’t hurt my friends,” I say. “Just tell Trey I said I’m stone and I don’t need a babysitter. Then make sure he deletes all of those pictures. There are about six…no seven. Oh, and his men, Jax and Wayra, might have a copy of a few. Make sure you get those, too. If someone leaks them, you can blame it on the mission. He had to pretend to be my consort in order to get me to Rafe from Earth. It was just a mission—you have nothing to worry about. He’ll be on to his next mission soon and he’ll forget all about me.”

  “If you’re not blackmailing him and you’re not his lover, then why would he ask me to help you?” Victus asks, still unconvinced.