Princess of Lies and Legends (The Evolved Book 2)

by Veronica Sommers

  "Is it gone?" I ask.

  "I don't see it anywhere," Ridley answers.

  "Re-enable warnings," I say to the pod system. "Turn off cabin lights and go full transparent."

  The dim lights inside the pod go completely dark, and the entire surface, overhead and around us, turns transparent, with opaque spots where the consoles and mechanical apparatus are housed. My view of the city is an ever-changing fountain of darkness and light and color—tall buildings sprinkled with lighted windows, holo-screen advertisements bursting with color, the beams of passing hoverpods. I look straight up through the ceiling of our pod, trying to see the sky, but I only catch dark strips of it between the lev-train tracks and the sky-blocks and the gleaming underbellies of pods.

  In Emsalis, the sky overflowed with stars.

  "They're gone," Ridley confirms. "We're clear to proceed to the destination."

  The heart of Caliston boasts rows upon rows of tall black buildings, scores of stories high, each one packed with layer upon layer of tiny square homes and offices. Further out from the city center, the buildings shrink, growing less luxurious and ostentatious, interspersed with carefully planned swaths of single-family homes and neatly groomed parks. There's nothing wild here, nothing like the vast expanse of untamed desert that Rak and I traversed in Emsalis.

  My hoverpod halts at the doors of a tenement house, maybe a dozen stories high. Beside the building is a pod berth structure with several decks, plus a parking garage for wheeled vehicles—a duality which indicates a range of income levels for the residents.

  We leave the pod, and Tram sends it off to find a space for itself in the pod berth. Ridley insists on walking ahead of me as we enter the building. I duck my head, letting my hair cover my facial tattoo. Not that it matters—with my pair of bodyguards and the dazzling red dress I'm wearing, I may as well be screaming my identity as one of Ceanna's top citizens.

  "Number 10-14," I read from the paper. "Tenth floor, fourteenth unit?"

  Ridley nods, examining out the elevator briefly before motioning me inside.

  My heart rate ratchets up, my skin feels hot, and my palms are clammy. I lay my hand over my chest and breathe, and breathe.

  Ridley glances over at me. "Are you all right, Miss Zilara?"

  I laugh, and the sound is giddier and more breathless than I intended. "I'm fine. I'm just—" Another deep breath.

  I'm going to see him again.

  "You frightened her too much with that crazy ride," says Ridley to Tram.

  "That's not it. I'm—excited."

  "Excited?" Ridley stares, and I meet her eyes, feeling the blush flooding up my neck to my cheeks. "Oh. Excited." The corner of her mouth curls.

  The elevator doors open, and I clench my fists. Unit 14.

  All the way down the hall, at the back of the building, near the rear exit stairs and the rooftop access point. An excellent strategic position, one that I'm sure Rak appreciates.

  Rak.

  I hesitate at the door.

  What if he's had time to rethink his attraction to me? What if things are awkward, stilted, and strange now that he's here in Ceanna, now that we're not running for our lives and taking turns saving each other?

  What if the Rak I knew in Emsalis isn't there anymore?

  Ridley reaches around me and raps on the door. I glare at her, and she smiles.

  The door opens.

  A heartbeat.

  Dark eyes meeting mine.

  Then I'm engulfed in strong arms, pressed to a hard chest, swept off my feet and whirled through the doorway into the room. Rak is laughing, and I'm laughing, and I push back his hair with both hands and kiss his beautiful mouth. And then I pull back a little, so I can look at him.

  "You look—" He shakes his head, taking in my face, my figure, the dress. "I can't find a word beautiful enough."

  "You look pretty good yourself." And he does. Dark blue shirt, short sleeves showing off his muscled arms, dark pants fitting his long legs so well. He smells enticing, like clean rain and summertime. "You're missing the gun belt, though."

  "I'm not allowed weapons here." A twinge of disappointment in his voice. "For good reason, I know. But let's not talk about that." He leans in to kiss me again, but someone clears his throat.

  "How about letting me in on some of that love?"

  "Alik." I turn to him, grinning, and when he opens his arms, I hug him. "It's good to see you."

  His blue eyes sparkle at me. "Wish I could say the same. We watched your press conference today, and your grand entrance to the Council dinner. In fact, we watched every newsfeed Rak could find about you. It was painfully boring."

  Rak punches at him, but Alik darts away.

  "Where's Safi?" I ask.

  "She went to bed," Alik says. "The general wasn't sure if you'd be able to stop by tonight, and she's still recovering from that Vilor beating she got."

  "How is she?" I ask.

  "She'll live, thanks to Rakhi," Alik says. "The medical staff were practically worshipping him."

  I look at Rak, raising my eyebrows.

  "The doctor who checked Safi was impressed with my work," Rak says, flushing under his tan. "She said it was neatly done, that I have natural talent." He looks down at his long slim fingers. "She said I should study medicine."

  "Rak! That's amazing."

  "Yes, and she said that most surgery and healing is done by mechs and nanites here in Ceanna, but there are still places that need regular doctors and medics. Here, and in other countries."

  "Like in Saghir," I say. In that desert border town, there was no doctor. The Vilor had kidnapped the only medical professional to serve their own needs.

  Rak, a doctor. My heart thrills at the thought. He would be the best, gentlest, kindest doctor. And brave, too. The kind of doctor who would fight his way into dangerous places and help hopeless people. Dangerous places—where he might get hurt, or killed.

  "What?" Rak takes my hand. "You look sad."

  "No, it's wonderful. I'll check on Safi tomorrow. I can't stay long now—it's already late," I say to Rak, glancing back at my guards.

  Ridley and Tram wear impassive expressions. I can't tell if they're shocked, concerned, or pleased.

  "I'm so sorry," I tell them. "I should have introduced you. Rak, these are my bodyguards, Tram and Ridley. I've known them for years, and I trust them." I meet Ridley's eyes, then Tram's, as I say it—a silent plea to keep my secret. "Ridley, Tram—this is Rakhi, and that's Alik. They are the reason I'm alive, the reason I made it home."

  Ridley steps forward, reaching out to grip Rak's hand. "Thank you," she says. "You have done our country a great service by preserving Miss Zilara's life."

  Tram grunts agreement and nods. From him, that's as good as a hug.

  I breathe a sigh of relief. "Why don't you show me around the place, Rak? Tram and Ridley can wait here."

  It's an obvious ploy to get some privacy. Alik whistles at us teasingly and throws himself back onto the white sofa, activating the holoscreen nearby and pulling up a vid.

  Rak leads me past a half-wall to a high table surrounded by stools. "We eat out here, or in the living area. And this is the kitchen." Grinning, he approaches the coolbox. At his touch, the doors slide back, revealing an array of chilled fresh fruit, vegetables, meat, snacks, and drinks. Rak looks at me, eyes alight.

  I nod, smiling. "Lovely. They're taking good care of you."

  His smile deflates. "You're used to all this."

  "I appreciate it much more now than I used to," I say, wrestling with my inner guilt again. Why was I born into this kind of wealth? Luck? Fate? "Come on, show me the other rooms."

  He leads me down a short hallway. "That's Safi's room," he says in lower tones. "And this is the bathroom." The lights activate as we step inside, and I see creamy counters, racks of toiletries, thick white towels, and a shower with a temp control panel. "You speak to it, and it changes the water temperature and pressure," Rak says.

  "Stop m
arveling so much at everything." I touch his cheek. "It's too adorable."

  He chuckles; and then his eyes drop to my lips, my neck, and my cleavage, so obvious in the red dress—and down, to where the gown hugs my thighs and sweeps past my knees to the floor. He snaps his gaze back up, as if he just realized what he was doing, and I grin.

  Looking away, he moves back into the hall. "That's Alik's room, on the left, and here's mine."

  Rak's room is simple, outfitted with white furniture and blue accents. Pleasant, but not luxurious—a practical bedroom for a safe house. Who uses this place when it isn't occupied by illegal Emsali refugees?

  "You're comfortable here?" I say.

  "Yes. But I'm used to sleeping anywhere."

  He's standing a step away from me. One little step. The familiar surge of energy tugs at me, drawing me to him.

  "I missed you," I whisper.

  "Are you sure?" Something flickers in his eyes. "You had fine company for the dinner tonight."

  "Who—oh, Gareth? No. He's my ex, and a terrible, terrible person. He broke my heart. Tore it up into little pieces and kicked them around and everything—it was nasty. But it happened months ago and I feel nothing but distaste for him. I don't even hate him—he's a small, despicable creature. A worm. But he arranged it with my father to accompany me tonight. I didn't know about it until the last minute or I would have protested."

  "All right, all right." Rak laughs. "I believe you, Zilara."

  A shiver wriggles up my spine. "Say it again."

  He lowers his dark lashes. "Zilara."

  I step forward, slipping my arms around his waist. His hands move to my back, but when his fingers brush the bare skin between the ruby straps, he draws back.

  "You can touch me, you know," I say. After all, he picked me up earlier, swung me around in his arms and everything.

  But this touch is different, and we both know it.

  Indecision and hunger wrestle in his eyes; but the hunger wins, and he slips his fingers between the straps of my dress, his calloused fingers tracing my skin. I press myself against him and twist my fingers into his hair, pulling his face closer.

  Softly he kisses me, slipping his tongue between my lips, tasting me, pushing deeper into my mouth for a moment and then withdrawing. I kiss him back, sweeping the line of his teeth with my tongue, my hands roaming the hard muscles of his shoulders.

  My heart can't possibly keep up its frantic pace. I'm on fire, every bit of my skin burning to be touched at once.

  And then he breaks away.

  "Zilara, calm down," he says.

  I laugh shakily. "Why?"

  "You're getting too hot. Literally."

  I take in the hectic flush of his face and realize what he means. I was using my ability. "Oh. Oh, no. Are you all right?"

  "I've had worse," he says, smiling.

  "Give me a minute." I take a deep breath, mentally withdrawing my energy, controlling it, centering it inside me.

  "We should stop anyway," says Rak, turning away. "I have to be careful not to take this too far."

  Curse his tribe's rules about physical intimacy. "We're just kissing. For now."

  He glances sharply at me, and I give him a wicked smile. He groans. "You're pure evil."

  "You've always known that," I say, sliding my arms around his waist from behind. "I'm the wicked Magnate's daughter, remember?"

  And with those words, the bubble bursts, and reality floods the room.

  Rak turns, holding me at arm's length. "Are you going to tell your father about us?"

  "Eventually. But it's going to take careful planning, or he'll pack you all up and ship you back to Emsalis."

  He cocks his head. "You have a plan already."

  "I do. There's a party at my university two days from now, and I was thinking you could come. As my date."

  "But your father wouldn't attend a university party."

  "No, but if I leak a rumor that I'll be there, all the gossip feeds will have eyes on us. And then afterward, I'll give an interview to one of the top feedrunners, all about how you saved me, and we fell in love, and escaped together. They'll eat it up. We'll be media darlings. And then my father won't dare to send you back—because if he did, the entire country would hate him for breaking us up."

  He's staring. "You're diabolically clever."

  "Why, thank you."

  He sits down on the edge of the bed, hands braced on his knees. "If we do this, the Fray will hate me even more. I won't be able to go back home for a long time."

  "Maybe not," I say. "But surely the Emsali people have a soft spot for love stories, too. Maybe they'll be more forgiving than you think."

  "Love stories?" His eyes lock with mine.

  My heart jolts. "I'm not saying that you love me, I—it's for show, for the newsfeeds. If you don't want to—"

  "Zilara." He pulls me onto his lap, caressing my cheek. "I do love you."

  His words are arrows of pure bliss, sunk deep in my soul. "I love you, too."

  A knock, and Ridley appears in the doorway. "It's late, Miss Zilara. We should get you home, before your father returns from the dinner and wonders where you are."

  I slide off Rak's legs and pull him with me out of the room and down the hall, to the living area. Tram opens the door, a subtle hint that we need to leave; but I clutch Rak's fingers.

  "I'll come down with you," he says.

  "I will, too," says Alik, lunging off the sofa. "I haven't breathed the fresh air in too long. The general has us under strict orders not to leave the building; but a quick jaunt to the doorstep won't break the rules."

  Rak's warm fingers rest against my back as we ride the elevator to the ground floor. I want to bring him home with me, or stay here, with him. We are whole on our own, but better when we're together.

  All too soon we're on the first floor, stepping out into the night. Tram has already called the hoverpod, and it's waiting, open, at the steps.

  Alik looks up at the sky, taking lungfuls of cool night air. Tram and Ridley flank us, watchful, scanning buildings and shadows.

  Rak's eyes mirror my anxiety and longing. "Are you sure you're safe?" he says.

  "At home? Yes."

  "Your father used you in Emsalis; he put you in danger for political reasons. And he kept you—"

  I put my fingers over his mouth before he can mention my ability and the suppressor. "I know. He's selfish, Rak, but not cruel."

  "Selfishness can turn into cruelty."

  "Stop worrying! I'll be fine."

  He covers my hand with his, and then he jerks me closer to him, those dark eyes heating with emotion. My face is so close to his that I can feel his breath on my lips.

  "Miss Zilara." Ridley's voice carries urgency. She's staring at something near the corner of the building—a shadow? A person?

  I kiss Rak quickly, fiercely, and dart toward the pod. Behind me, Alik says something in an Emsali dialect, and Rak answers in the same language. I glance back in time to see Rak throw another mock punch at Alik as they head back inside. Then my guards enter the pod, and the door closes seamlessly, and we're gliding away.

  It isn't my guards' place to talk about Rak, or any of it, and they don't. But as we skim toward the Reigning Complex, the silence feels stuffed to bursting with all the secrets I'm keeping.

  I can't hold all this inside. I need to find someone to tell.

  7

  "You know that entire story is insane, right?" Vissa stares at me, her golden-brown eyes wide in her round face.

  "I think it's sweet and romantic," says Reya, giving me a side hug. I'm perched on her bed, in her room at the university. It's a bright, airy space, painted light pink and decorated with holo projections of flowers and fanciful Sky-born. Windowed doors—the old-fashioned kind that open outward instead of sliding into the wall—lead onto the tiny balcony.

  "If you're happy, that's all that matters," Reya adds sweetly.

  "Of course that's all that rutting matters," gr
owls Vissa, bouncing up from her spot on the floor. "But Zil, let's leave aside your rebel romance for a minute, and go back to the part about the suppressors. You think other kids, teens, people our age might have them? That's a huge conspiracy. I don't see how it would be possible to keep something that big a secret for this long. It would have to have been going on for two decades at least."

  "You could act at least a little bit outraged," I say. "Suppose one of you has a suppressor? Don't you want it out of your head? Don't you want to see what you can really do?"

  "I don't see that it will change my life at all," says Vissa. "I already see farther than most humans. What am I going to do, see even farther?"

  "We're not even sure if I am actually Evolved," Reya says. "My voice isn't exactly a supernatural power."

  "Reya, when you sing, everyone has to listen," I protest. "They don't have a choice. They put their holoscreens away, they stop whatever they're doing—your song is all that matters."

  "I think you two just pretend I'm Evolved so I don't feel left out." She bends over the notebook in her lap. Her short red hair tufts around her ears, and she fondles a bit of it with her fingertips.

  "Vissa?" I say, pleadingly.

  She sighs. "If our powers have been suppressed without our knowledge, then yes, that is disturbing."

  "It makes sense, though, doesn't it?" I say. "Evolved people have existed for thousands of years, but always with scraps and hints of power, barely noticeable. Shouldn't the abilities be growing stronger over time?"

  "I've heard stories of people in other nations with powerful abilities," says Vissa. "But there aren't any Evolved like that in Ceanna."

  "Why not?" I say. "Why do we only have bare traces of power, when Evolved people elsewhere around the globe are getting stronger?"

  "You need proof," Vissa says. "Not personal testimony or hearsay or guesswork. Proof."

  "How do I get that proof?"

  "Your father ordered a special skull-port for you, right? Get your hands on it and have it analyzed by someone you trust." Vissa chews on a fingernail. "So when are we meeting this Emsali ruffian?"

  "I'm bringing him to the party at Riot House this weekend. But you can't tell anyone about him before then. I have a plan, and it depends on certain steps being followed in a specific order."