“The goal is to not have anyone corralled. I’ll see you on the ship. I promise, I did not abandon you, Tray. Just get to the ship.”
“Get to the ship,” Tray repeated. “Get to the ship.”
24
The rising sun peeked through the low openings in the dome and the gems on Corin’s shirt glittered in the light. Judith had wanted him to run for the hills, but Corin’s brief apprenticeship as a shepherd had shown him how unforgiving the natural sun and the predator-filled wilderness could be. And Douglas didn’t want to go. The music of the streets called, and he and Douglas danced until the need for fresh air drove them to the river.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Judith sitting next to him. “Judith. You’re still here?” he smiled, sitting up.
“Of course I am,” she said, looking out over the water, tears shimmering in her eyes. Her long hair had fallen out of the twist, and her bracelets were on the dock next to her pile of bobby pins. “I didn’t want you to be alone today. I don’t want you going back to the Palace, Corin. Do you realize what they’ll do to you now that you’ve been with him?”
“All we did was talk,” Corin said, sitting up and straightening his robes. The bruises on Corin’s torso made it difficult to be close, and when he tried to ignore them and give into his desire, he just felt confused. “I’m not Fotri. I can’t be. This isn’t how I normally am. I was just looking for a reason to live.”
Judith shook her head and smiled. “Corin, you know I love you. The only reason I’m with Alyssa and not you is because you have never been interested in me the way she is. You have never looked at me the way you looked at Douglas last night.”
“He is beautiful,” Corin said, running his fingers through Douglas’ bright, dyed-red hair. Corin had never seen someone use a color like that outside of Festival.
Douglas shivered as he woke, his trembling hands tugging the rough edges of the zipper on his jacket. He’d put the drab brown and blue flight jacket on over his beautiful green and white robe, and Corin was disappointed until Douglas shared the garment’s story. It was the last gift his father had ever given him.
“I don’t feel right,” Douglas croaked, rolling to the edge of the dock and vomiting. Corin caught him around the waist before he could follow the puke into the water.
“It’s the wine, I think,” he said, wincing at the sweat pouring from Douglas’ skin. When he’d warned Douglas about the wine and pressed him to make love to his wife, he’d learned their marriage was a sham. Just as Corin and Judith’s would have been. “They should have tested you before allowing you to drink at all. I suppose we should go back and get you treated.”
“Corin, you can’t,” Judith said. “Go to one of the health centers. Anywhere but the Palace.”
“If we go to a health center, they’ll call the Palace anyway,” Corin said. “Maybe we can sneak back in before anyone notices him gone.”
Summoning his strength, Douglas threw his arm around Corin’s neck, pulling him into a rough kiss. Corin broke away, kissing along Douglas’ cheek and eyes, fighting the urge to spit the taste of sickness off his tongue.
“Looks like he wants to do more than talk now,” Judith commented, kneeling next to them.
“Maybe we…” Corin trailed off. He couldn’t even be honest with himself about what he wanted. “Douglas, this will not help your symptoms.”
“It helps a little,” Douglas said. He directed Corin’s lips to his ears, and Corin nibbled along the shell, like they had done together last night. It was such a simple show of affection, and it felt like too little too late. Corin had given up on happiness too long ago, and even this failed to make him feel alive.
“Will you stay in my arms forever?” Douglas asked. Corin nodded, even though he knew Douglas was only feeling the after-effects of the Festival wine. Everyone who overdosed felt certain they would die. Some did.
“Let’s go back to the Palace before you get worse,” Corin said, hauling Douglas to his feet. Judith came under Douglas’ other arm, and by the time they made it to the top of the pier, Douglas’ feet were dragging behind them.
“I can’t make it,” he said.
Corin pursed his lips and guided them in a different direction. His textile workshop was nearby, and even though he wasn’t supposed to take Festival partners there, he felt he could get away with it in this case. This could be construed as a precursor to trade and diplomacy, since Douglas’ people desperately needed fabric.
With Festival preparation over, the mill would soon switch to industrial fabric needs and making thicker, winter wools. The machines were quiet, since no one was expected to work the morning after Festival.
“What is this place?” Douglas asked, staggering off of Corin’s arm, running his fingers dangerously close to the nearest embroidery machine.
“Don’t touch,” Corin warned, taking both of Douglas’ hands. “This is where I work. This is one of my buildings.”
“It’s beautiful,” Douglas said, studying the intricate path the fabric took through the machines. Four couches in the middle formed a square, and Corin set Douglas on one, then called dispatch for assistance.
“You should go,” Corin told Judith. “We weren’t supposed to take him out of the Palace.”
“Corin, I told you. I’m not leaving you alone today,” Judith said. “The last time I left you alone, you cut me out of your life and planned your death.”
“I have other plans now, and I don’t want you to get in trouble,” he said. He wished he could promise her that he’d be okay now, but he couldn’t. “Thank you for staying with me last night.”
Judith started to cry, but then she clamped her hands on his cheeks and kissed him hard. “You’re an idiot for not asking me sooner. You are moving out of the Palace today. Do you understand? I’m going to your room right now, and I’m packing your things.”
“I do have my own manor,” Corin said. He returned to the couch and spooned behind Douglas, pulling one of the remnant tablecloths over them. Judith crossed her arms and pressed her eyes shut, taking a moment to console herself before leaving. Marrying her would leave them both feeling hollow inside.
“Is this allowed?” Douglas asked, pulling Corin’s leg over his hips.
“Absolutely not,” Corin said. Looking around at his life’s work, he felt a sense of accomplishment, but also futility and loss. He pointed to a silver lace piece in the corner. “See that roll there? That’s my last piece. The last piece I was ever going to make in here.”
“Do you see the future?” Douglas asked.
“My mother does,” Corin said, stroking Douglas’ face. “She never believed I would kill myself. She saw my future, making clothes. I’ll have a little girl. I wish I could see what she saw. I wish I could have that kind of hope for my future. You are all that is saving me now. I’ll never forgive myself if you die. I shouldn’t have let you drink the wine.”
Douglas kissed the pulse point on Corin’s wrist, then tucked Corin’s hand under his jacket. Corin pressed his hand to Douglas’ chest, trying to find comfort.
“Do you think the kid she saw me with was one of yours?” Corin asked. They’d talked a little about his life in Rocan. Their cross-pairing was more regimented than Nola’s, and he had six children already. Only three were still alive when he left home, because of some Malady that plagued their newborns. It sounded awful.
“I’m not a parent. Just a breeding partner,” Douglas replied. His voice was getting weaker. Help should have been here by now. “So, you didn’t inherit your mother’s hybrid power?”
“Only children of Questre have powers. That’s what we believe,” Corin said. “I’ve never had a premonition.”
“That’s good. That means my kids won’t have to worry…”
“You’re a cursed child?” Corin asked. “Do you see the future, too?”
Douglas reached out and pointed to one of the lights on the ceiling. The light went out. Then it came back on. “T
hat’s pretty much what I do,” he said.
“My mother can’t demonstrate her curse on command.” He started to kiss, but then he heard the door latch and he quickly jumped up and folded the tablecloth. His heart sank when he saw Officer Belgard stride in with the Prince of Law close behind. They wore arrogant, malicious smirks, and had their weapons out.
“He needs a dry antidote,” Corin said penitently.
The Prince pushed past him, knocking him off balance, and he grabbed Douglas by the hair.
“Stop! What are you doing?” Corin cried.
“I promised you, Fotri,” Belgard said, punching Corin in the face, knocking him to the ground. That kind of bruise couldn’t be hidden by a robe. “I told you this day would come. Now you and your lover will die.”
“Prince, what is going on? I demand you tell me!” Corin shouted.
“Where are the others?” the Prince of Law demanded of Douglas. “Do you have a way to talk to them?”
He yanked at the glove on Douglas’ wrist and was rewarded with an audible shock. Suddenly all the lights in the room went out. Corin knew Douglas was trying to save him, and he didn’t know whether to run or fight. The light from the window was more than sufficient for the two officers to continue their abuse. The machines in the room came alive, and the two officers started swearing. A motor smoked. The wool caught fire. Corin’s heart leapt into his throat. Not a fire. Not again.
Tray stalked out of the bedroom, past the officer in the sitting area, adamantly ignoring the man and his weapon. The officer had been joined by another man in a regal robe. Their escape plan involved lots of blustering on Tray’s part, and he wasn’t prepared for a second adversary.
“Ambassador, I am the Prince of Health,” the new arrival said, tracking Tray’s movement without reaching out to stop him.
“There’s a Prince for everything here,” Saskia said, leaning on the door to their bedroom, keeping her stunner hidden while Tray gathered their things.
“Not Palace Affairs. That’s a Secretary. Sometimes there are Chiefs,” Tray rambled as he walked. He went room by room over the guest suite, scanning for their personal belongings, but everything had been gathered onto the table in front of the Prince. He saw Morrigan’s bag, Danny’s jacket, and Saskia’s stunner sitting on top. There was no sign of Hawk’s jacket or Amanda’s coat. He checked the room designated for Hawk and Amanda, and saw the bed was mildly disturbed. Hawk’s green slippers were on the floor, but his boots were gone. He must have brought his Prince through here some time during the night. Tray grabbed the kilt and stuffed it in a bag with the rest of their clothes.
“You seem agitated. Allow me to help,” the Prince implored. “Do you feel ill or confused? Can you describe—”
“What are you looking for?” Officer Deylyn interrupted, his booming voice giving Tray a headache. Tray noticed Deylyn seemed afraid to get close, and he wondered what might happen if he just rushed the man. Getting shot came to mind.
“An escape. You have all these windows and doors locked,” Tray said.
“Ambassador, we are concerned for you,” the Prince tried again. “We have a general antidote for our wine, if you are still feeling the effects.”
“I have my own doctor I’d like to see,” Tray said. “We’re just going to go to our ship for a little bit and—and—and … ship.”
“Please sit,” the Prince of Health said. “If we have inadvertently poisoned you, you could suffer significant brain damage.”
“That explains the fire in my brain,” Tray muttered. “We’re leaving.”
“I can’t allow you to leave,” Officer Deylyn said firmly.
“You can’t stop me,” Tray smirked. The man raised his weapon and Tray dove for the bed. Saskia shot the officer from behind, and he was on the ground before his weapon fired. The Prince of Health’s cry for help was cut off when Saskia shot him, too.
“Let’s go,” Saskia said, throwing Morrigan’s bag over her shoulder and tossing Danny’s jacket at Tray.
They dove out the nearest window, landing in a mess of thorny bushes. Saskia plowed through the brambles, carving a path for Tray. Beyond the hedges, there was a hundred yards of open space, then a low, spiky gate separated the lawn from the rest of the town. The soft, green grass stopped at that boundary.
“Toward the ship,” he said.
Saskia grabbed his arm. “Bad idea.”
They heard shouts from inside, signifying their victims had been discovered.
“How’s your hundred-yard dash?” Saskia asked. She didn’t wait for him to answer. Recklessly, she launched over the bushes into the open field, and made a mad dash for the border. The strategy had no merit, but also little in the way of alternatives. He charged after her and overtook her in the first twenty yards.
He felt the burn of a bullet graze his calf, and he tumbled, but used the momentum to roll onto his feet again and kept going, this time zig-zagging to avoid getting shot. Saskia fired a few shots over her shoulder, but they didn’t have the option to turn and fight. The injury turned Tray’s run into a lopsided gallop.
The fence was higher than it looked from far away, and Tray reached out, hoping to vault the thing and miss the spikes. He failed. Saskia tackled him sideways, and they flattened themselves against the ground. The bullet fire ceased, but their pursuers were closing in.
“This way,” Saskia said, crawling on her elbows and knees, then shimmying under the fence. It looked too narrow for him to fit, but his choices were non-existent. Turning his head sideways, he pressed into the grass and mud and wriggled forward. Saskia yanked him hard, and he did his best not to help because every time he moved, the posts drove into his back. The cuts on his hands stung as Saskia gripped him and the bullet graze on his leg burned and bled. He was leaving a blood trail.
“Come on!” Saskia said, jostling him to his feet as soon as he’d cleared the fence. The town outside the gates offered much more in the way of cover, but covered in blood and mud, they couldn’t blend in. Saskia made a beeline for the trees lining the banks of the river. The trees here looked strange, with limbs that drooped heavily and swayed in the breeze.
“My leg. I’m bleeding,” Tray said, his vision blurring.
“I know.” Saskia stopped by one of the trees, pressing her backside to his front as she adjusted a setting on her stunner. Then, without warning, she shot the wound on his leg. He felt the electricity pass from him to her. The tingle was mild, but the heat intense, and she clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle his scream.
“That should stop the bleeding. We have to keep moving,” Saskia said.
“You could have killed me!” Tray squeaked. He hoped it was the drugs making her act this way. Even so, he wanted to punch her. They were leaving muddy footprints instead of bloody ones now, and Saskia kept pulling them off the beaten path so the trail wouldn’t be too obvious to any pursuers. The river walk was littered with party trash. A few couples slept on the park benches, but otherwise the joggers and cleanup crews didn’t look hung over at all.
“They’ll send guards to the gate,” Saskia said. “But this dome is open on the sides. Maybe we can cross the river and sneak out that way. Take the long way around.”
“My leg will get infected. We could check the easy way first,” he suggested, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. They could clean off in the river and change into different clothes. He should have stolen a towel.
It only took a few minutes to reach the gate by way of the river walk. The dome gate looked much smaller coming from this direction. Tray counted ten armed soldiers at first glance, set up with barricades. Curious onlookers gathered around, probably anticipating another parade like the day before. Only two of the guards had eyes on the crowd, and they were chatting socially with those closest to the barrier.
“That’s our out,” Tray said.
“What? Impersonating a guard?” Saskia asked. “I’m sorry, but knocking a man out, stripping him, and stealing his uniform is not as easy
as it sounds.”
“No, the crowd,” Tray said. “If we gather a large enough crowd, they’ll press in, and surely we can incite something that would create a distraction.”
“And cost a few innocent lives,” Saskia countered. “You’ve already been shot once today.”
Tray touched the wound on his leg, then the scar on his stomach and cringed at the thought of inflicting that kind of pain on a bystander. Saskia thumbed his cheek, then licked her lips. He licked his lips too, a new sensation washing through him. Lust. Maybe he should have listened to that Health Prince before shooting him.
Tray looked away and tried to think clearly, but he felt himself trembling with the need that had driven them to exhaustion the night before.
“What did they do to us?” she muttered. She pressed her body close to his and traced circles over his hips with her thumbs. There was fear in her voice. Tray hadn’t been worried because he was accustomed to being out of control. Saskia was not. He yearned to surrender, but the fear in her voice provoked a protective instinct that overwhelmed the lust.
“They poisoned us. But it doesn’t feel like poison when I touch you,” Tray said. His hands fell on top of hers, guiding them over his torso.
“Then we can fight it.”
It took all that was in him to pull her hands off him. He stepped away, two feet, then three.
“Are you hurting, too?” she asked, her face white and covered with sweat. “It’s like a knife. It feels like I’m being stabbed.”
Tray nodded as his own limbs started to burn with pain. “There’s Detox on the ship, and then we can do things our own way. I’ll make it worth the wait,” Tray promised.
She threw herself at him, kissing him hard, hungrily pawing through his clothes. Tray lifted her off the ground and she wrapped her legs around his waist. The pain in his skin escalated, and he jumped in the river with Saskia in his arms. A good, cold swim was exactly what they needed.
25
Premonition: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 7) Page 17