by Kit Rocha
Reyes grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Ashwin prodded at his split lip, embracing the mild sting. He couldn’t say if it had been fun, but there had been definite catharsis in it. An outlet for the pressure building within, and without that pressure he could think more clearly.
He should have known the Riders wouldn’t take a threat to Kora passively. She was a part of the royal family they’d vowed to protect, but more than that, they cared for her. She tended their scrapes and cuts and pieced them back together when someone tried to take them apart.
Protecting Kora would always be his priority. But he didn’t have to do it alone anymore.
»»» § «««
The bubbling fountain in the family courtyard usually soothed Kora. If the sound didn’t work, then focusing on the swirling patterns of the pooling water did. It was random, and yet if you looked closely, you could find order in the flow of the water.
Today, it just reminded her of her bathtub.
She heard the footsteps on the tile before she caught a glimpse of Maricela in her peripheral vision. Greeting her was the natural thing to do, but right now even pleasantries seemed like a monumental task. She’d expended so much energy on remaining composed instead of breaking down, and she didn’t have anything left over.
Maricela broke the silence. “Am I interrupting?” She spoke gently, as if she were trying not to startle a wild animal.
Kora didn’t really want to talk to anyone—she didn’t want to do anything but keep reminding herself to breathe—but avoiding it felt too much like hiding. Like wallowing. “If I wanted privacy, I’d have stayed locked in my room.”
“I suppose,” Maricela allowed, then smiled ruefully. “But that assumes that I wouldn’t have walked in anyway, doesn’t it?”
At least she understood the persistent, inexorable nature of her concern. Kora tried to return the smile, but it felt more like a grimace, so she patted the stone bench beside her. “Have a seat.”
Maricela had been holding her arms tucked at the small of her back, but she produced a tattered, leather-bound book from behind her as she approached. “I brought you something. I don’t know if it will help or not, but I wanted to share it with you.”
She slipped the book into Kora’s hands as she sat. The leather was old, scuffed and worn with areas that had both lightened and darkened with age. It had obviously been well used, softened by the frequent touch of many hands.
When Kora opened it, the faded, brittle pages that greeted her were filled with lives—names and dates and relationships. Anecdotes. Births and deaths, entire family histories codified in letters and numbers.
Kora’s eyes burned. “What is this?”
“It’s from the temple archives.” Maricela shrugged one shoulder, the casual gesture at odds with the intensity of her gaze as she stared down at the book. “Nita was telling you about our genealogical records, right? The Rios family tree is plastered everywhere you look. So are all the other noble families. But everyone else gets recorded, too, in books like this.”
So no one’s past was ever lost. A tear slipped down Kora’s cheek, and she barely managed to catch it with the back of her hand before it dripped onto the book. “I didn’t know.”
“Now you do.” Maricela nudged the sheaf of pages, and the book fell open to one particular entry, as if it had often been opened to that spot. She trailed her finger over the page. “This is my listing, including my birth parents. He was a butcher, and she was an artist. They were killed during the unrest after the Prophet’s death.” Her voice cracked on the last word, but she took a deep breath and went on, stronger this time. “I was still a baby. They placed me in a temple-run orphanage, and that’s where my mother found me.”
She had her answers, all of the ones Kora had always longed for, and pain still radiated from her in sharp, discordant waves. “I’m so sorry, Maricela.”
“For what? I was chosen by a new family, and I’ve had everything.” Tears glittered on her lashes. “That’s what they call it here—you’re chosen, not adopted. We have that in common, Kora. Your father chose you, too.”
Did he? She’d struggled with the inevitable question—why? Had Ethan Middleton been part of the project? Had he resented its closure? Viewed saving Kora as a way to continue the research on his own?
Or had he simply seen an innocent, doomed infant and been moved to prevent another senseless death?
“Maricela.” Gideon’s voice came from the edge of the courtyard, firm but relentlessly gentle. “I need to speak to Kora, sweetheart. And I need you to stay within the residence for the rest of the day, please.”
“Bossy,” she muttered, the sharp edge of the word softened by the fondness in her tone. She accepted the record book from Kora, then paused to run a consoling hand over her hair. “It’ll be all right. I promise.”
A quick kiss on the cheek, and Maricela hurried into the house, the book clutched to her chest.
Gideon strolled toward the fountain but stopped a few paces away to study her. “I wish we had the time to sit and work through everything you’ve learned. We don’t. But I understand that right now you need to make your own choices. So I’d like to tell you about the plan Lucio came up with, and then I hope you’ll prioritize your safety by agreeing to it.”
She still hadn’t decided what to do—or how much she actually cared about her personal safety at the moment. “Did you know?”
“About your heritage?” He shook his head. “No, Kora. Of course not. That’s not something I would have held back from you.”
The hair rose on the back of her neck, a prickle of warning. “But you knew something you don’t want to tell me.”
“I knew the Base would be monitoring Ashwin.” Gideon folded his hands behind his back and watched the water tumble into the fountain. “Because they sent him here to monitor me.”
“They sent him to deal with the deserte—” The prickle turned into a shudder. “Oh God, Gideon. The deserters. Jaden.”
“No,” Gideon said forcefully. “Ashwin and I had a very frank conversation about the deserters. I believe him when he said they were a problem that he turned into an opportunity. He took responsibility for Jaden’s death, though, for the same reason I do. His failure to properly manage the situation.”
His words allayed one fear—and stoked another. “Is that what I was? An opportunity?” she asked quietly. It hurt to look at him, but she made herself do it. “A pawn in whatever power game you and Ashwin were playing?”
Gideon met her gaze, not flinching away even though his sadness was thick enough to suffocate. “My intentions don’t really matter. If I’ve made you feel like a pawn, that’s the reality we’re faced with. I’ll have to earn back your trust on my own. But, Kora…” His tone softened. “Ashwin has only lied to me once, and that was when he tried to convince me he wasn’t capable of caring about you. In any game Ashwin is playing, you’ll always be the queen.”
“I don’t know if I can believe that.” She twisted her fingers together until they ached, desperate for any distraction from the emotional pain. “I was thinking that maybe the smartest thing for me to do is go back to the Base.”
Gideon stilled. Not like Ashwin could, with the absolute surcease of movement. Gideon vibrated with energy, carefully leashed, as if he was trying not to startle her. “They’d hurt you, Kora.”
“I know. But I have to think about more than myself.” The safety of an entire sector was at stake, because if there was one thing she’d learned in all her years of working for the Base, it was that they didn’t suffer resistance gladly. If they wanted to find her, and anyone stood in their way, the resulting carnage would be considered reasonable collateral damage. “They can be relentless, Gideon. You don’t even understand.”
“Relentless, yes, but uncreative.” One of his eyebrows quirked up. “They must not encourage flexible thinking, because you and Ashwin both drew a self-sacrificing line straight to the Base. I’ve always encoura
ged my Riders to think outside of limiting boxes. So if you’re ready to listen…?”
“Are you?” She rose and faced him. “My whole life, people have been telling me what to do or trying to control me. I’ve done exactly one thing on my own—I left Eden. But even that turned into you keeping me here in One for my safety. I’m tired of it, Gideon. I’m tired of feeling like a spectator in my own goddamn life.”
“Then take back your control.” He turned back to the fountain. “I already made the call to the hospital in Three. Dylan has the necessary equipment. I don’t understand all the medicine behind it the way you will, but from what I understand they can filter the tracking isotope out of your blood. Once it’s gone, there’s no way the Base will be able to track you again. And if you want to leave us after that...I won’t let anyone stop you.”
It was a chance, a choice. She could run away from the pain, the complications. From Ashwin. Start a whole new life, where no one knew. Be anyone. “I don’t know where I would go,” she admitted.
“Ah. Well, I’m afraid I can’t be of much help to you there. I’ve never really had the option of leaving.”
“You never thought about it?”
“A king who fantasizes about running away from all his wealth and privilege sounds like a selfish, spoiled child. Even in the silence of his own mind.” Gideon glanced at her with a wry smile. “Some doors are best left closed.”
She eased closer and slipped her hand into his. “I don’t think it sounds selfish. I think it sounds human.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Kora. I’m sorry he hurt you. I made an unforgivable error in judgment. I truly believe he meant to protect you, but I, of all people, know how vast the gulf can be between our intentions and our outcomes.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She couldn’t put it all on him. Even if Gideon had rejected Ashwin’s presence in One, Kora still would have felt the same way. She would have argued his case, fought for him—and maybe more. “Do you want to hear something stupid?”
“Always.”
“I still love him. None of this has changed that.” Her eyes were burning again, but this time they filled with tears. She let them build until they blurred her vision, then spilled down her face. “You said Lucio has a plan?”
“Something hemodialysis something something.” Gideon pulled her to his side, his arm warm and comforting around her shoulders. “When we get to Three, the two of you can work it out with Dylan. But I have to say something, Kora. There’s nothing stupid about having a heart big enough to love someone who doesn’t know how to love you back. There’s nothing stupid about love, period. He hurt you, and that’s on him. Not you and your big, beautiful heart.”
Maybe it was her programming. In a way, she was just as helpless as Ashwin when it came to emotion—he couldn’t feel it, and she felt too much. Neither seemed like a healthy option. “He can’t sacrifice himself for me. I don’t think I could bear it.”
“I know. That isn’t in the plan.” Gideon kissed the top of her head. “Deacon and Ivan have his back. Lucio and Reyes are waiting to have yours. Whether you stay or go tomorrow, today you’re still family. And we take care of our own.”
“Wait—” She touched the bar codes on the inside of her wrist without looking at them. If she was going to have the isotopes removed from her blood, it seemed like the perfect time to break from her past on the Base entirely. “Do you think Dylan can do something else for me?”
Gideon glanced down at her wrist and swallowed hard. “I think…he would be happy to help you.”
“Then let’s figure this out.” If she could avoid the Base and still protect them all, including Ashwin, then she had to do it.
Whatever it took.
Chapter Twenty
The edge of the Base was a few dozen miles from the outskirts of One. Ashwin approached the familiar sprawl of concrete and steel buildings with the sun glaring so brightly overhead that the sand on either side of the road seemed to shimmer.
A massive fence surrounded the perimeter, with thick curls of razor wire lining the top. Ashwin drove alongside it until he reached the main gate, where he shoved up his jacket sleeve to scan his bar codes.
The beep had barely sounded before the rumble of gears started. The heavily armed man in the guard station didn’t look at Ashwin as the gate swung open, no doubt staying as still as possible to avoid attracting any unnecessary attention from a Makhai soldier.
It had never stung this much to be fearfully ignored before.
Inside, the feeling only grew worse. As soon as he’d parked his motorcycle and removed his helmet, the recognition started. Younger recruits scattered out of his way, whispering frantically to each other. Support staff altered their paths, disappearing down narrow passages between buildings or gritting their teeth to walk by him with the tension of someone easing past a feral dog.
The night the Riders had dragged him from temple to temple to endure hugs and kisses and a hero’s welcome, the lack of fear had felt abnormal and off-putting. But it had taken so little time to grow accustomed to that easy, inexplicable warmth. Muscles he hadn’t realized had relaxed were tightening again. His jaw ached from the effort not to clench it. His fingers trembled with the need to tighten into fists.
For so much of his life, Ashwin hadn’t felt human. Now he understood the distinction. He had always been human.
But living like this was inhumane.
As much as he now loathed it, he supposed the palpable terror had its uses. By the time he reached the strategy center, a thin layer of icy rage coated his nerves like a shield. He scanned his bar codes again, and the lock opened with a soft pop.
A young corporal with closely shorn brown hair and a nervous expression saluted Ashwin with crisp precision. “General Wren is waiting for you, sir.”
“Thank you, soldier.” Ashwin moved past him, pretending he didn’t see the young man flinch.
The surveillance room was in the reinforced basement, secure from anything but the most extreme drone or missile attack. The windowless rooms had walls covered with giant display screens, most of them currently dark. Undoubtedly they’d been cut off when Ashwin’s scan at the door had alerted them to his presence—the Base trusted Makhai soldiers with a generous amount of autonomy, but not with unnecessary intel. The Makhai soldiers were too good at piecing together disparate pieces of information to form a picture of the Base’s larger goals.
“Lieutenant Malhotra.” General Wren was a lean man whose hair had been silver for most of Ashwin’s life. The deep stress lines were newer—Wren had led the coup after the bombing in Sector Two. He waved a hand at Ashwin, who obediently stood at attention in front of the man’s desk.
“Status of your mission, Lieutenant?”
A tinge of something that must be amusement stirred. If Kora ever talked to him again, she might appreciate this joke. The status of his mission was precarious—he was keenly aware of the small electronic device tucked into his boot. Outside the perimeter line, Deacon and Ivan would be covering Zeke as he got into position. Zeke swore he could bypass Base security if Ashwin got the gadget close enough to the surveillance servers—but it would take time.
Time Ashwin had to buy.
Ashwin had rehearsed his answer until he could deliver it with a semblance of his old detachment. “As expected, Gideon Rios was eager to recruit a soldier with my skill set, especially once we’d neutralized the threat of the deserters. I’ve been officially accepted as a Rider, with access to the royal family and household. My current focus is assessing the targets highlighted by the Base for possible subversion, particularly Fernando Reyes.”
“Do you have any indication they suspect your true purpose?”
He could tell the truth, or a version of it. That he’d played on Gideon’s desire to subvert him, and in turn had entrapped Sector One’s leader with his own ego. But the perfect, simple lie was the easiest one—and it was a testament to how profoundly Kora had rattled him from the first
moment that it had never occurred to him to use it on Gideon.
“No, sir. I told them I’d been honorably discharged in exchange for my service during the war. Gideon believes I’m looking for a quiet place to build a new life.”
“Good.” Moving with careful precision, Wren pulled out a folder and laid four pictures on the desk. Two were the photos Samson had shown him. The other two had time stamps from last night and early this morning. “Samson briefed you on the situation?”
“He showed me the photos.”
“And?”
“I believe the data is flawed.” Ashwin stepped forward and pointed to the photo showing him and Kora in her bedroom. “I can’t speak to the rest, but if the time stamp on this one is correct, I was alone.”
Wren’s gaze narrowed, but Ashwin didn’t flinch under his assessment. “Alone,” the general repeated flatly.
“Yes, sir.” Ashwin had never seen interior schematics in the files the Base kept on Gideon’s compound, but just in case, he composed his lie carefully. “I was doing reconnaissance in the family wing while they were at dinner. I specifically chose a time when no one else would be present.”
Wren’s frown deepened as he leaned over and smashed his hand down on a speaker next to him. “Get North and Richards in here, now.”
As they waited, Ashwin tracked the seconds on his internal clock. Zeke would have started as soon as Ashwin got his device within range of the surveillance network. And as proficient as Ashwin was with network penetration, he’d doubted he’d be able to infiltrate the network this swiftly, much less pull off what Zeke had planned.
Deacon had sworn the man could get it done. But putting his life in the hands of a donut-obsessed criminal who lacked the capacity to take things seriously might be the least rational decision Ashwin had ever made.
Footsteps finally sounded in the hallway. The door opened, and Ashwin watched the two surveillance techs jostle almost imperceptibly for position, each one fighting to avoid being the first through the door. The tall redhead with freckles and crooked glasses—North—lost the struggle and slunk in, wilting visibly under General Wren’s steely glaze. Richards followed, running a hand nervously through his dishwater-blond hair and looking anywhere but at Ashwin.