“You need lighter robes. This one is starting to bruise,” Jeremiah commented, looking too closely at Corin’s neck.
Corin pulled the robe higher to cover the bruise, but he couldn’t muster a greeting. Protocol offered a whole script for them to follow, but it should have begun with official notice of the Magistrate’s visit to the Prince’s mill.
“I came to discuss the Festival décor for the Palace,” Jeremiah said. The excuse was lame, but Corin appreciated that his father wanted to see him.
Corin checked that Belgard was still outside. He’d seen what happened to other people who spoke out against the Prince of Law and the anti-Fotri officers. They died in fires, drownings, or ‘hunting accidents.’ Their bodies were left unidentified and unclaimed. Corin had six nieces and nephews in addition to Bernie. Two siblings, two parents. Any one of them could be made into a ‘lesson.’
With a nod, he bustled through the narrow acoustically shielded corridors, leading his father to the rear of the mill where the finished pieces were stored. “We’ll begin shipments this afternoon. The Transportation Chief would like to mobilize simultaneous deliveries to minimize jealousy between the venue hosts.”
“I like the purple,” Jeremiah remarked, pointing to the rows of fabric rolls.
“Do you? I created this pattern for the Palace,” Corin said, handing him a green and yellow pinwheel-striped napkin with threads of silver between the colors. He didn’t care, but with twenty-nine hours left, there wasn’t time to dye something new. “Several venues requested purple patterns. The Palace should be unique.”
“Then it’s perfect, Prince,” Jeremiah said, pocketing the sample. He seemed nervous, and Corin wondered if he wanted to go for a run. They hadn’t run together in months. Corin’s body was too weak for anything right now. He could barely stand, and he was pretty sure his little toe was broken.
“The banners will be distributed today. They have to be hung. Table clothes and napkins come later,” Corin reported, fighting to keep his voice steady.
“Don’t work yourself too hard,” Jeremiah advised.
“Festival is a busy time,” Corin said.
“Prince, you have to sleep. You haven’t been home in days. We were beginning to think you’d moved out,” Jeremiah teased.
Corin shuddered as he inhaled, feeling anxious about the suggestion. If he moved out, the Prince of Law would assign an officer to keep him safe, and Corin could picture the ‘moving accident’ that would leave him crushed under his own piano.
“Did you want to move out?” Jeremiah asked. “There is a manor for the Prince of Textiles. You are meant to have a life outside of the children’s wing someday.”
“It’s occupied. The manor,” Corin said, his voice hoarse and low. “I offered it to the Prince of Metallurgy while her manor is being rebuilt.”
“Oh?”
“The fire, Magistrate. Last…” He got so choked up, he couldn’t finish the explanation. How could his father be so ignorant and blind?
“Corin, sit down,” Jeremiah said, taking Corin’s hand, searching for a place to sit. The crates in the warehouse were stacked too high. Corin bustled to a small administrative office with a giant screen on one wall tracking the orders. He dropped into the chair and squeezed his eyes shut. His father ran a hand through Corin’s oily hair, and Corin worried he’d feel the giant knot Corin had gotten when one his abusers smacked him against a door frame. If he did, he didn’t say anything.
“Festival is a time for pleasure, Corin. We can get more workers to run the mill. You do not have to run yourself ragged,” Jeremiah said gently.
Corin clasped the collar of his robe and pulled it tighter around his neck. He felt sickened by the suggestion that Festival had any redeemable qualities.
“Are you even coming to the Palace this Festival? I know Judith handles your itinerary, but the sommelier said he hadn’t prepared a bottle for you,” his father rambled.
Corin glanced up at him, his eyes burning as he fought to stay in control. “I’ll just drink what’s there,” he said, his voice cracking.
“The deadline for tolerance testing passed two days ago,” Jeremiah pointed out. Festival wine was specially prepared with aphrodisiacs to ease cross-pairing. All citizens were tested for tolerance to wine and various recreational drugs, because the side effects could be severe if one were intolerant. Corin had never been tested because alcohol of any kind messed with his ears. It wouldn’t matter after tomorrow. Maybe if he drank enough, he’d burn faster.
“I can write an exception. I know you’ve been busy. There’s not much time left,” Jeremiah offered.
“I know. I just need to finish this. I’m not finished,” Corin cried, slamming the desk with his fist. The force sent ripples of pain through his shoulders. He looked at the board of deliveries and orders left to complete.
“Corin, you have to let it go,” his father said. “It’s not worth killing yourself to finish a few tablecloths. You’ll have no energy left for the party.”
Inside, Corin was screaming. He didn’t want energy for this stupid party. His body rocked with a single sob, and he tried to hold back the rest of his pain.
“Unless you aren’t attending Festival this year,” Jeremiah offered.
The screaming stopped. Corin felt a chill inside, and all the hot grief dissolved, leaving him feeling hollow. “Dad? Can I?” Corin asked, looking at him square in the eye for the first time in months.
“Yes, Corin,” he said.
Corin’s jaw moved side-to-side, and he searched his father’s face, not sure if he could trust the words.
“You don’t have to attend Festival if you don’t want,” Jeremiah said, this time making the promise crystal clear.
Corin imagined himself staying in his room and locking the door. And then he pictured a hundred ways Belgard could break in and kill him while everyone was too busy with the party to hear him scream.
“Will you stay with me?” Corin asked.
“Corin, I have to host my venue,” Jeremiah pointed out.
Corin’s face fell and he looked at his folded hands, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“But I’ll stay with you until then,” Jeremiah said, scooting his chair closer to Corin’s. He put a hand on Corin’s back, and Corin hissed as he brushed a little too hard against one of the bruises.
“Let’s get out of here. You can come home. Get some rest,” Jeremiah persisted.
“I can’t.” Corin closed his eyes, taking slow, steady breaths.
“Of course, you can. You have a good team. Everything will be done in time. There is time for you to rest,” Jeremiah assured.
The words were meant to comfort him, but they just made Corin feel more invisible and insignificant. Without him in the world, Festival would go on, just the same as always.
“Corin, tell me what’s wrong,” Jeremiah begged.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Corin said, breathing more deeply as he reined in his emotions. If he told his father the truth, there was a good chance they’d both wind up in the belly of a gator before morning, and Corin couldn’t do that to his family. He turned his head and leaned his cheek on his father’s shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered.
His father hugged him hard. “I love you, too.”
6
The sound of recorded laughter floated into the hall from the crew lounge as the old comedy played. Amanda hovered outside, her attention caught by the flicker of light in the open passenger lounge. They had no passengers on this journey and the lights were off. Several months ago, her half-breed captor Galen had opened a portal from his realm to this spot on the ship. Amanda could still feel that spirit connection. Her fist tightened around the Confluence stone in her hand. It was a cylindrical, grayish crystal about as wide as her palm and as thick as her thumb. She thought of her childhood friend Johann and wondered if he was dead. She wondered if Galen would resurrect him for her.
“Don’t let this room trigger you,” Dr. Morrigan Z
enzele said, reaching around Amanda and closing the door. “Come have a drink. Hawk and I are watching a flick.”
Amanda glanced into the adjacent crew lounge and saw Hawk’s sour glower directed at her. He’d been moody, and she knew now it was because they’d kept all the Confluence stones. She’d meant to put this one away, and she couldn’t remember anymore why she’d gotten it out again.
“Can’t drink. I’m pregnant,” Amanda said. She knew the words weren’t true the moment they were out of her mouth, but she’d had enough vivid hallucinations about the topic for Morrigan to worry. Amanda didn’t protest when Morrigan dragged her down the hall to the infirmary, pushed her into the nearest bed, and handed her a strap to keep herself in place for the scanner. She plucked the Confluence from Amanda’s hand.
“I thought you were going to wait until we got to ground to meddle with this thing. The gravity already messes with your meds and we don’t need artificial gravity waves twisting the ship in half,” Morrigan said.
“I wasn’t going to use it. I can’t. I’m not a hybrid like Hawk,” Amanda mumbled.
“You are something special,” Morrigan said, brushing the hair away from Amanda’s face, then getting annoyed when the lack of gravity undid her efforts. Morrigan’s hair was styled into thousands of tiny braids, and despite the lack of gravity, the braids were a work of art.
Amanda felt something cold against her belly, and Morrigan looked left as her scanner projected an image onto the wall. “See. Not pregnant. Do you see anything?” Morrigan asked.
Amanda shook her head. “No hallucinations. No new ones at least. Everything I see makes a little more sense now that I know what Galen did to me. I died. He brought me back with the only pieces of me he could remember. Now, I have pieces of him in me. I share his healer eyes. He sees pain. I see pain.”
Amanda’s mom was a nurse, and Amanda often saw her when she came to the infirmary. She had no real memory of the woman, but Johann had pictures, and she’d heard a few recordings of her mother’s voice.
“You could become a nurse,” Morrigan suggested.
“I’d make a crazy and frantic nurse. And I’d feel helpless a lot. I think I’ll stick with pilot for now,” Amanda said. “I missed landing on Terrana. I’m not going to miss landing on Aquia. I’m going to be healthy.”
“You are healthy. You’re getting better every day,” Morrigan assured her, thumbing Amanda’s cheek. Her bedside manner made her seem more mature, but she was younger than Amanda, and she still had a chance to enjoy her twenties. Amanda hadn’t just lost her twenties to captivity. She’d lost her childhood memories, and Galen couldn’t give those back.
“Want to watch this flick or not?” Morrigan asked.
“I think I’m hungry,” Amanda said, letting go of the tether and gliding out of the infirmary.
“You’re not eating for two,” Morrigan reminded her, flying down the hall in the other direction. “Bring applesauce!”
Amanda smiled. The simple fact of being trusted with such a mundane task made her believe she could stay healthy. At least for a little while.
A sudden movement in the bay startled her, and Amanda ducked next to the lower deck hatch for cover. She chastised herself for seeing monsters in the shadows, but then Sky darted out from under the stairs, pushing a toolbox in front of her.
“Is something broken?” Amanda asked, kicking off the lower deck and soaring for the stairs. “Hawk could use a project.”
Sky whipped around, eyes wild, blonde hair flying into her face. Then just as quickly, the haze lifted.
“Something’s broken. Something…” Sky murmured, raking her fingers through her hair. “I have to go.”
“Again? Sky, we just rescued you from the last time you ran off,” Amanda said, worried she’d triggered something with the Confluence. “You don’t look good, Sky.”
“You’re one to talk, dead girl,” Sky said, sliding back the Bobsled’s hatch and tossing out any junk that had been left in the back seat.
“Mom says there’s an herb. It grows on Terrana—Elysia, actually. Galen’s realm. Their seers use it to help them sleep,” Amanda said, looking to the hallucination of her Mom, but feeling the knowledge seep to the front of her mind from Galen’s latent healer knowledge.
“Don’t tell me about Elysia,” Sky said through gritted teeth. She hated her spirit side, and she hated when Amanda talked about it openly. “You can’t make me sleep. You can’t make me close my eyes.”
“Ok. Calm down,” Amanda groused. “What’s got you so worked up? Did you see something upsetting?”
“I am not a half-breed,” Sky said, keeping focused on her work.
“I know that.” Amanda pushed off the stairs and floated over to the Bobsled. She hit hard and nearly bounced clear, but the ill-executed maneuver got Sky’s attention. With a swift kick, Sky propelled Amanda away from the cockpit. Amanda was at the upper catwalk before her hand grazed anything.
“Have you ever met anyone like you?” Amanda asked, spinning back around and aiming for the ‘sled again. “Another seer? Another spirit-carrier?”
“There’s nothing special about me,” Sky said.
“Sky, it’s me. You don’t have to pretend,” Amanda said. “I’ve been pregnant three times today and gone to two gala balls. It feels like more than a hallucination. I think I’m seeing future things. That’s not Galen’s power or Hawk’s. It has to be from you,” Amanda said. “So please just tell me if you saw something.”
Sky screeched in frustration and ducked into the Bobsled, hitting the controls to close the cover of the cockpit. “You can’t! You can’t let it show you those things! It’ll kill you!”
“It’s not like I’m trying. Maybe your brain is leaking because it’s tired.” Amanda put her hand on the cover to keep it from closing. “Danny has some of that seer-herb in the infirmary. Come on. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”
“Don’t touch me with those dead hands!” Sky snarled, drawing her grav-gun. “If you keep trying to drug me, you’ll only kill yourself. I have to leave. I have to leave now.”
Amanda darted out of reach, but Sky fired her weapon. The metal railing in front of Amanda warped and snapped. Amanda screamed.
Hawk brooded as he sipped his diluted whiskey from the stupid squeeze bottle and read the subtitles on the flicker. They’d set the language to Lanvarian so that Hawk could practice the words, but his heart wasn’t in it today. Back when the Captain would let him in the engine room, they’d tinker and talk about machines, and those words were fun to learn.
Hawk heard the muffled sound of the alarm echoing down the forward ladder from the bridge.
“Not a medical alarm,” Morrigan said, tipping her cup back, then groaning when she remembered nothing would come out if she didn’t suck the straw. Alarms went off all the time on Oriana, and he didn’t think much of it, except it was soon followed by the Captain’s voice over the Vring.
“Seal off lower deck! Seal off the cargo bay!” he ordered. The ship pitched and Hawk grabbed the couch to keep from getting thrown.
“Oh, kerf,” Hawk swore, sealing the hatch leading to the forward ladder, then hauling tail to the hatch leading to the bay. The doors on this level were generally closed, but not pressure sealed. There was no rush of air indicating a pressure change and no heat indicting fire. If there was time, he had a few personal items in his glider that he wanted to retrieve just in case, so he peeked into the bay. A red light flashed over the bay doors indicating that the airlock was depressurizing. Sky was in the bay, climbing under the Bobsled.
“Sky! Get out of there!” Hawk shouted, charging into the bay to get to his glider. At first, he thought she was on a similar mission, but Sky didn’t keep anything besides her satchel. Then he realized that she was untethering the Bobsled.
Hawk looked from her to the flashing red light by the bay doors. Then he caught the scent of smoke and melted metal. Almost at the ceiling, Amanda’s body floated, her scorched shirt bil
lowing behind her bleeding body.
“Sky!” Hawk shouted, launching toward her, tackling her away from the last tether before she could unhook it. The Bobsled swung dangerously through the air, bouncing off the deck, then slamming against the stairs of the lower catwalk. Hawk dove out of the way, keeping an arm under Sky’s shoulders. Sky struggled against him, gasping for breath. Her skin felt ice cold and her lips were blue.
“Kerf, Sky!” Hawk cried, shaking her hard and forcing her mouth open. “Help! Help!” he screamed, fumbling for the button on his Virp that would transmit his cry. When he’d knocked Sky away from the Bobsled, he’d also pushed them away from any surface he could grab hold of. “Captain, there’s three of us in the bay!”
“Holy Zive! Hawk, if you opened that airlock—” Danny shouted, his voice coming from below.
“She’s not breathing!” Hawk twisted with Sky in his arms, then he felt a rope around his ankle. Clinging to Sky, Hawk let Danny pull them to safety. Danny wrapped his arms around both of them and pressed a mask to Sky’s face. Pressurized air leaked from the sides.
“Saskia!” Danny called over his shoulder.
“I don’t know what she’s done. The door is being controlled by the ‘sled not the ship. Tray can’t override it,” Saskia replied.
Danny put the oxygen mask in Hawk’s hand and Hawk held it against Sky’s face. Slipping the Virp out of Sky’s glove, Danny checked a few commands, then tossed the device at Hawk.
“Hawk, I need you on that airlock,” Danny said, trying to take the mask back.
“Now you want my help? She’s not breathing,” Hawk said. It didn’t matter if the mask was pressed to her face or not, Sky’s lungs weren’t taking in air. This was the moment she’d feared since he met her. The moment she warned them about. Her eyes were closed, and her Spirit was going to kill her.
Premonition: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 7) Page 4