by Kara Jaynes
“Earth isn’t destroyed,” I protest. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”
Sol eyes me sideways. “You’re right. We would have transferred your kind somewhere else if it was completely past saving. We only focus on the planets that can be healed.” His gaze sweeps across the people below. “And despite the spectacular job you’ve done in polluting your land and water, it’s still alive. Earth’s heart still beats.”
“How many planets have you saved?” I ask. I feel cold. This room isn’t well heated, and the sweat that slicks my body is beginning to cool.
“Hundreds.” His tone is almost bored.
“What?” I stare at him. “Seriously?”
“Completely.”
I mull over this. “Eldaren said you elves rule over many planets,” I say, “but did they all really need to be saved?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Sol says. “We don’t have any interest in healthy planets. We leave those alone. It’s the sick and dying planets we tend to. We’re saviors, Stella. Our reason for existing is to heal and protect.”
“I see,” I reply slowly. “And how do all the aliens feel about you guys invading their planets?”
“Aliens?” Sol cocks his head, puzzlement furrowing his brow. “Oh, I see. No, the vast majority of planet occupants are human, like you. Humans are everywhere.”
“Really?” I smile. “Hey, that’s pretty cool.”
“Not really,” Sol says. “You’re awful at managing your resources, and, well, you’re terrible to each other. Murdering, pillaging, lying, stealing, and coming up with all sorts of justifications for your disgusting behavior.”
I want to come up with a retort, even if he’s right, but Sol doesn’t give me a chance. He flings a hand outward. “Training is over for the day. You’re dismissed.”
I climb down and leave the room, after waving to Quinn. I sigh in relief when the doors close behind me. I’m ready for some food and a shower.
Eldaren hasn’t made an appearance all day, which is slightly unusual, but not uncommon. He often gets swept up in his duties and doesn’t find the time to break away from them. He also seems to forget that time for him flows very differently for me, being human.
I turn a corner and see my friend, Lyra. Surprise flickers through me. I’ve only seen her a handful of times since we’ve both come here, and it’s easy to forget she’s still here.
She’s standing at the far end of the hall, reading a note. Her dark curly ringlets hang over her face, so I can’t read her expression. She’s very still, intent on whatever the letter reads.
“Hi, Lyra,” I call out.
She jumps like she’s been goosed, and hastily shoves the now crumpled note into her bra. It’s lime green, and faintly visible through her thin white shirt. She still wears her old clothes, it seems, and I now feel slightly odd wearing expensive looking clothing from the elves. Aleere told me everything in my closet is made from organic materials, and some from plants that weren’t native to Earth. They’d cost a fortune for most humans.
“What are you reading?” I ask.
My friend shrugs. “Nothing. Just a note from an old flame. He wants me back.” Her gaze sweeps over me, taking in my sweaty shirt and trousers. “Working out, huh? With your boyfriend?”
I feel an unexplainable urge to protect Eldaren, as well as irritation that she keeps insinuating that I’m in a relationship with him. He’s not my boyfriend. Is he? “I was with Sol, actually,” I say. “He’s kinda hot without his shirt on. I see why you think he’s cute.”
Lyra’s cheekbones flush, and she scowls. “Yeah, well, they all look like gods or something, don’t they? Sol’s one of the better-looking ones, too.” She chews the inside of her cheek and twines a lock of hair around a finger.
My gaze narrows. Lyra is fidgeting, and she only does that when she has something to hide. “You’re not telling me something,” I say, folding my arms.
Lyra rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hey, did you say Sol was working out? I guess I’d like to see that.” She brushes past me. “See ya later.”
“Aren’t you going to leave?” I call after her. “The elven base?”
“No,” she calls back. “I’m going to stay. Don’t really have anywhere else to go. And the food’s good.”
And now I’m very suspicious, watching her retreating back. Lyra is a Drifter. She doesn’t stay in one place for long, ever.
If she isn’t leaving, there’s a good reason for it. Why does she want to stay? What is she concealing from me? She’s definitely hiding something, and it hurts, knowing she doesn’t trust me.
You have secrets, too, and the thought makes me exhale slowly, my temper cooling. I can’t be upset with Lyra. It wouldn’t be fair. You do what you must to survive the reality that is Liberty, regardless of whether or not you’re eking out a living on the streets, or nestled in an elven fortress.
After dinner, I head to the bathroom. My muscles will be sore tomorrow, and showering after working out sounds like the perfect way to end the day. The place Quinn and I stayed in before moving in here had a bathroom, but it only consisted of a toilet and a small, cramped shower. We’d had to wash our hands in the kitchen sink.
Here, the shower is spacious in comparison and has plenty of supplies on a built-in shelf. I shut the door and strip down, sighing in satisfaction when I step into the hot water that cascades over me.
Aleere has scolded me for taking such long showers—“it’s bad for the environment”—but it’s so very easy to stay in a shower, especially when the water doesn’t go cold.
I reach for a shampoo bar and run its lather through my hair, working it into the scalp. If there is anyone on this planet who could afford luxury, it’s the elves, but for all of their power, their base here isn’t dripping in the riches and wealth I would have initially expected. But knowing them now, I realize it’s that they don’t take stock in materialism the same way humans do. It’s refreshing to have people around like that.
What’s not refreshing is how cold and reserved they are.
I rinse my hair and pick up a bar of lavender soap and a razor, moving through the motions mechanically. The elves lack personality and depth. Except that isn’t entirely true. They just hide it.
Why? Why hide their feelings? What do they have to gain? It could just be a cultural thing, but I know Eldaren feels and feels deeply. He’s let his mask slip too many times for me to believe otherwise.
And Sol has too many tricks and jokes up his sleeve. He isn’t quite like the others. He laughs too much, if not by human standards.
Miska, Aleere, and the others I’ve seen, however, seem to lack any human emotion or feeling. I don’t understand it.
After rinsing the soap, I stand with my head back, eyes closed as I revel in the hot water, feeling sleepy as the water pounds against my scalp and shoulders.
If I ever go back to my old life, this is something I’ll miss—plenty of hot water in an immaculate shower.
Reluctantly, I turn off the water and nab a fluffy white bathrobe off a wall hook. Slipping into it, I step out into my room, my skin prickling under the breeze of my open window. It’s night. I’d showered for longer than I’d thought.
“Stars, it’s cold,” I say, then freeze as my gaze flicks back to the window.
I hadn’t opened it. I stare at the curtains as they flutter in the night air. Who had come?
I already know the answer to the unspoken question, and I can hardly breathe. My eyes travels to my table, where a note sits.
There’s only one word on it.
Soon.
It could have been from anyone, but I recognize the handwriting more readily than my own.
It’s from Wilder, and this is his promise of a visit.
Hurrying to the window, I peer out, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
Nothing meets my gaze but the cold, foggy air of Liberty.
I am alone.
With a sniffle, I cradle the lett
er close, as if it can hold together my crumbling emotions.
Wilder. The man I love more than life.
The man I’d die for.
The man who’d left me.
“You abandoned me,” I whisper. “You ran when I needed you the most.”
And you abandoned him.
My brow furrows at the thought, but it’s true, isn’t it? I didn’t do anything to help him. I’d given him an ultimatum when I should have tried to heal him.
“There’s no healing from the star-blood,” I mutter. Even the elves couldn’t heal the dream vagrants.
What kind of person would I be, if I didn’t give Wilder a second chance? I laugh wryly as soon as I think it.
I have no choice.
I will give Wilder another shot, because to do otherwise is unthinkable. I owe it to him.
I close the window with a grunt. “I’m courting Eldaren, while my brain is addled over Wilder. Stella, you’re a two-bit floozy.”
I take the letter and shove it under my pillow, where I keep my ring and the faded flower from Wilder. It’s becoming a hidden shrine of sorts; filled with the things I’ve received from my old love. It’s not much. A glass ring, a wilted carnation, and a letter with one word. It’s even less when contrasted with the clothing, rooms, and books that Eldaren has given me.
But I love Wilder’s gifts all the more because I know it’s his best. Wilder has always tried to give me his all, and even if they’re not as lavish as the elven gifts, they still mean more to me.
The door opens, and I leap away from my pillow. It’s just Aleere, bringing up some extra blankets. “It’s chilly tonight,” she says. “I won’t have you catch cold.”
She’s right, but I hardly register her presence, and I’m relieved when she leaves. My thoughts are far from this room.
I miss him.
I want Wilder back.
12
Stella
“Stella, mine.” Eldaren looks down at me from where I’m sprawled on the rug in his office, reading a book. I peer at him from under the edge of the giant tome. My arms are trembling from the strain of holding it up. Well, I hadn’t been to the training halls today, so holding heavy books will probably be the closest thing to a workout I manage. Reading. My favorite kind of exercise.
“What’s up?” I ask.
Eldaren’s gaze travels upward, a wrinkle of confusion marring his brow. “The ceiling is up,” he says slowly. “As well as the sky. Stella, what does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s an expression, I guess.” I chuckle at his words. Eldaren is smart, but he doesn’t understand human expressions in the slightest. “And I’m beginning to realize you show a lot of emotion, compared to the other elves.”
Eldaren’s face goes immediately blank, except for red that blushes across his cheekbones. “What you just said was extremely rude, Stella. I’ll forgive you because you’re ignorant about our ways.”
“Hey, that statement is true if I say it, too,” I point out. “Elves are way ignorant when it comes to humans, as you just demonstrated beautifully. ‘What’s up’ is asking ‘what’s going on,’ or ‘what’s new?’ Does that make sense?”
“Now it does,” he replies, “but why not phrase it that way, to begin with? It would have spared us any confusion.”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I just say what I think.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Humans get themselves in a lot of trouble for that.”
I eye him, smirking, despite my efforts not to. “I’d say the same for the elves.”
He scowls. “You’re making this difficult.”
“Making what difficult?”
“I’m trying to invite you on a date.”
Oh.
I bat my eyelashes at him. “I’m listening.”
A smile tugs at his mouth. “Would you like to go to dinner with me, Stella?”
“I’d love to. Where to?”
“Well,” Eldaren says, “I have little experience with human cooking, and the sort I’ve been unfortunate enough to try, hasn’t been fit to eat.”
I rolled my eyes. “You poor thing.”
Eldaren blinks. “I am not poor, Stella. I am the wealthiest man on this planet.”
Biting my lip, I try hard not to laugh.
“Sol, however, will eat anything that isn’t nailed to the ground.” He smirks. “In a manner of speaking.”
The laugh escapes, and I put a hand to my mouth to hide my smile. “You’re catching on.”
“Sol says that the Black Rose and Lion is palatable,” he continues. “I suggest we go there for dinner. I doubt I will enjoy the food, but being human, I suspect you will.”
I decide to let his unintended insult slip. “The Black Rose and Lion?” My eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
“Is there something wrong with it?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s just um, expensive, from what I’ve heard.” I sigh and hug my knees. “I’ve walked by it loads of times. It looks fierce, with all of the security, but the sparkling lights and the lines of wine bottles set on mahogany shelves are gorgeous. You can see them through the large glass windows as you walk by.”
“According to human law, you’re not old enough to drink,” Eldaren points out.
“I didn’t say I wanted to. Just that it’s pretty. I’ve always wondered how they managed to stay in business, after all of these years and years. They might be the oldest restaurant around. I don’t know if their food is any good, though. I could never afford to eat there.”
“Well, that is about to change, Stella, mine.” Eldaren stands and extends his hand to me. “I’m taking you out. Officially.”
“It’d be more romantic if you smiled,” I tease.
Eldaren’s face is deadpan. “That is not true,” he says. “Elven women expect their men to be devoid of any emotion that might compromise good judgment and—”
“I get it,” I interrupt, slipping my hand in his. “Let’s just go eat.”
Eldaren nods. “Very well.” At the doorway he pauses, looking back at me. “You will probably want to wear jeans or some sort of trousers,” he said. “We’re taking my wind plank. However, I will not object if you feel inclined to wear a dress.” And now he’s clearly trying to hold back a smirk. He turns and steps out of his office.
I glare at his back. Did he just make a joke? I appreciate the tip, though; I was planning on wearing a dress, but not anymore. I don’t fancy showing Eldaren and half of Liberty my underwear.
I dig through my wardrobe and find a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and the same leather jacket I wore when I last was in the city. I slip on some bangles and pull some black heels out of the closet, hoping I look casual and fancy at the same time. Or something? I’m not really sure what I’m doing.
Makeup application is a tricky thing. I’m not very good at cosmetics yet. The only makeup I’d worn before coming here was Mom’s leftover red lipstick, but Aleere has given me some brief instructions on how to apply it—like she needs it—and I get by. My eyeshadow is maybe a pinch too heavy, but I like the smoky, dramatic look it gives me. Like I’m a woman of secrets.
The thought makes me snort, and slipping on the heels; I leave the room.
Eldaren is waiting by the door, and his eyes widen when he sees me. “Stars, Stella, you’re beautiful.”
Color heats my cheekbones as I look away. “Thanks.” I blink and take in his outfit. He’s dressed in human-styled clothing: a black suit and tie, complete with a white button-down shirt. The jacket is a little snug at the shoulders, but otherwise, everything fits him perfectly. I clear my throat. “You look pretty good yourself.”
“I am an elf. I always look good.” It’s a simple statement, without any conceit.
“Truer words were never spoken,” I say with a wry smile, and I gesture to the hall. “Shall we go?”
Eldaren extends his hand, the paleness of his skin made more so with the contrast of his dark clothing. His hair is pulled back in
a neat tail. I can’t help but keep shooting him furtive glances as we walk down the halls and outside. Say what you will, Eldaren is a looker.
“Wow, it’s not raining.” I squint up at the cloudy sky. “It’s a miracle.”
“Maybe the sky knew I wouldn’t tolerate rain on our dinner date,” Eldaren says. He walks across the grounds toward what he calls the landing dock, and I hurry beside him, struggling to keep pace with his long strides.
“Our first dinner date,” I say, my voice breathless. “Can you slow down?”
“Certainly.” He adjusts his pace, eyeing me sideways. “You expect more than one?”
“Of course,” I reply. “Women like to be taken on lots of dinner dates. I don’t know about elf women but human females like food. A lot.”
“I believe it.” Eldaren’s expression is deadpan as we approach his wind plank. “Aleere says you eat double the amount Miska does.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” I say, scowling at him.
“Exactly what I said.”
It’s an effort, but I manage to bite back my scathing retort, and instead say, “you’re not very romantic, sometimes.” Ever, actually.
“I am trying,” Eldaren replies. His voice and expression are even as he helps me onto the plank. He steps onto it after me. “I think I’d have an easier time memorizing your Bible than I would remembering everything a woman would like me to say and do.”
“What about elven women?” I ask. “Are elf women like human women?” What does that even mean?
“If you mean irrational and overly emotional, no, not really,” he says. “But there are exceptions.”
“Like who?” I ask. “Miska and Aleere both seem like pretty emotionless lumps.”
“That’s only because you don’t understand us,” Eldaren replies. “But elves do not like showing emotion unless it’s necessary.”
He flicks his wrist, and the crystal on the back end of the wind plank begins to glow, pulsing faintly.
“It’s always necessary to show emotion,” I argue. “Otherwise people think you’re cold and distant. Arrogant. Aloof.”