Princess of Lies and Legends (The Evolved Book 2)

by Veronica Sommers

  "Always," I say, looking into his eyes. The invisible line connects us, a searing band of heat drawing us together.

  "Scars and all?" he says ruefully.

  "Scars and all." I glance down, focusing on the fluffy fronds of the moss near my feet. A question burns in my mind until I decide to blurt it out, no matter what conclusions he may draw. "The blood-bond of the Maraj—what is that, exactly?"

  "It's a ceremony between two people. They swear love and loyalty for life, until they die. It's an unbreakable vow, unless one harms the other or cheats with someone else. Don't you have that here in Ceanna?"

  "People take consorts here," I say. "It's a legal joining, not a spiritual one, and it goes on for as long as both parties wish it to continue. My parents signed a consort contract when my brother was born, and they gave Emret and I my father's last name. But not everyone takes their father's name—Gareth has his mother's last name, Vandelor."

  "Are your parents unusual, for staying together all this time?" he asks.

  "I'd say less than half of Ceannan couples stay together for life. Considering my mother's issues and my father's position, it's amazing they've lasted this long." I dig a clump of moss from the rocky floor and stroke its green softness with my finger. "Maybe some part of my father still loves her. Or maybe he's used to her, and it would be too much trouble to find someone else he could trust."

  Rak nods. "Trust is difficult to earn."

  "Do you trust me?" I ask, scooting closer to him so my face is a whisper away.

  "Yes," he breathes.

  I open my mouth to say more, but before I can, he takes me by the shoulders and lowers me gently onto the blanket. And then he kisses me tenderly—my lips, the curve of my neck, the hollow above my collarbone, my shoulder, the sensitive skin of my inner wrist.

  I'm being worshiped and cherished, and I never want it to stop. The roughness of his fingers on my skin, the soft pressure of his lips, the sweet spice of his breath, the rich, warm, earthy smell of him—I want to bottle the sensations and savor them later, whenever he isn't with me.

  He kisses a line down my breastbone, as far as my clothing will allow, and I take his head in my hands and pull it up to look in his eyes. In this moment my soul is naked, even if my body isn't, and I fight the urge to withdraw my gaze, to put up the walls and protect myself.

  "I love you," I tell him. "More than anyone or anything. More than myself. And I'll wait as long as you want."

  His lips crash into mine, fierce longing and beautiful pain.

  13

  We return late that night to the safe house. Safi is sitting at the table, with bits of the disassembled implant strewn around her. She's picking delicately at one piece, viewing it through a holographic enhancer so she can see its infinitesimal parts.

  I scoot into the chair beside her, and she sniffs deeply without turning toward me.

  "You smell like the forest," she says.

  "Correct. Next time we'll take you along, I promise."

  "I've had my fun here." She's still examining the piece.

  "Safi," I prompt, keeping my voice low so Tram and Ridley can't hear me from their positions in the living room. "What did you find out?"

  "Not much. The tech is incredible, far beyond me. But this is the chip that seems to be responsible for the suppression." She holds up a miniscule scrap of circuitry, lightly pinched in a pair of tweezers. "I was able to magnify it enough to get one useful thing. A name. Possibly the manufacturer's name. Amzen."

  "Amzen," Rak repeats, but I'm already searching the word on my com's holo-screen. Rak leans over to see the results.

  "This can't be right," I say. "This company makes lev-train rail bracers."

  "A cover," says Rak.

  "I suppose they can't call themselves 'Expert Makers of Top-Secret Evolved Inhibitor Chips,' can they?" I review the information. "This place is a couple hours from the city. So it's close, but not too close. I wonder if we can get some blueprints of the layout?"

  "I doubt you'll find them with a search, but maybe Alik could help us get them," says Safi. "He's had experience snagging building plans for his—escapades. He'd have an idea where to find the information."

  "Where is Alik?" I ask.

  "He said he was going to check out some apartments." She frowns. "He's been gone for hours though."

  I look her in the eyes. "Safi, is he up to something?"

  "Up to something?"

  "He's been contacting people in Ceanna, going out at odd hours."

  "That's not a crime, is it?" Her pale green eyes turn icy. "You know, Zil, sometimes this city of yours feels like a tightly-run prison."

  "Believe me, I know." I throw a glance at Ridley and Tram, one on the couch, one by the window. Their expressions broadcast their continuing disapproval at the trick I played on them at the farm. "I want Alik to be himself and to be free; but I can't let him bring trouble here, or jeopardize anyone else's residence status."

  "Like Rak's." She sneers.

  "Or yours." I hold her gaze, unmoved. "You are important to me, and I care about you."

  The tightness around her eyes relaxes; she knows I'm telling the truth. "Thanks for the declaration of love, Princess. But I still don't know about Alik doing anything under-handed. And once he moves out of here, you won't be able to keep an eye on him."

  Sighing, I nudge the pieces of implant with my fingertips.

  "I do know that he reactivated his skull-port," Safi says. "And I have his wave-code."

  I whip out my com device. "What is it?"

  Alik doesn't answer the wave—and he would have if he'd been riding in a pod or looking at an apartment. Frustrated, I stare at the image of the Amzen facility again.

  Rak has been quietly reading the information in the little blurb under the picture. "Not much here," he says.

  "Safi, can you say for sure that this chip is a suppressor?" I ask, pointing to the piece.

  She shrugs. "It's the only piece that doesn't belong, that I can't assign a function to. But that isn't proof."

  "So we need the plans for Amzen," I say. "And intel on where in the building we might find the proof we need—data sticks, prototype designs, anything like that. We'll need information about their security systems and guard rotations; then we can determine the best way in and out."

  "Zilara, are you suggesting we sneak in and steal from them?" Rak asks, disapproval heavy in his voice.

  "Of course. We have to get proof."

  "Surely there are easier ways."

  "None of us are skilled data crackers and I doubt an operation like this would keep their files in a GGL-accessible data-mass anyway. We have to be on-site to get the information."

  "Your guards will never agree to this."

  "That's why we're not going to tell them," I whisper.

  He shakes his head. "They're going to figure it out."

  "Maybe not, if we're careful."

  "I assume you plan on going in yourself?" His brows pull together, darkening his eyes.

  "Yes," I say slowly. "But I was hoping you'd go with me. And maybe Alik, since he has experience with this sort of thing."

  As if on cue, Alik strides through the door, letting it bang shut behind him. His grinning gaze, warm as sunshine, jumps to each of us in turn. "It's a party!" he says. "Break out the drinks, because I've found my new home!"

  For the next half hour, he babbles on about all the places he checked out, what made each of them wrong, and what made this one so completely right for him. I grip the edges of my chair and nod and smile, inwardly seething about the lost time. But it's not like we can get into a detailed discussion of the robbery right now, with my guards here, anyway.

  Rak's large hands close over my shoulders, so warm and comforting that I instinctively relax. I didn't realize how much tension I was holding.

  "Easy," he says in my ear. "Call us after you get home. We'll talk and make plans then, when your guards can't hear."

  Immediately I leap up. "I'm
so tired. Going home now. Congratulations, Alik." I kiss Rak quickly and dart for the door, with Tram and Ridley scrambling to follow me.

  That evening, from the privacy of my room, I call the house, and we begin our plans. Alik's eyes flare with excitement at the prospect of a heist, and he immediately takes over the planning of the caper with a serious professionalism that surprises me.

  "I'll work on getting the plans for the building," he says. "I have a few contacts who might be able to help out."

  I don't question him about who they are or how he got in touch with them—because he would probably turn the question into a joke and skillfully sidestep to another topic.

  "Until these all-important building plans come to us, how shall we amuse ourselves?" asks Safi. She's off-screen, but I imagine her lounging on the sofa, feet propped up, green eyes hooded.

  "Would you all like to visit my University again? No party this time, but you can meet my friends."

  "That sounds incredibly dull," says Alik, yawning.

  "I'll take you to the campus cafeteria for lunch. They have food from all over the world."

  He sits up straighter. "Go on."

  "There are some beautiful gardens. Oh, and the aeroball courts! We can play aeroball. Or rather, I can play and you all can bounce around clumsily." I grin at him.

  "A challenge? I accept, Princess. What do you say, Rak?"

  Rak grins in a wolfish way that makes my heart jump. "I say you shouldn't underestimate us, sweetheart."

  "Is that so?" My voice is a little breathless. "You'll be bowing down to me after the match tomorrow. I'll pick you up mid-morning. Don't worry about gear, they have everything you need at the ActivCourt. Now I should close out, because I need to call Vissa and Reya to let them know we're coming tomorrow, so they can skip classes."

  "Skip classes?" Rak raises an eyebrow.

  "Yes, we skip whenever something more important comes up."

  "Something more important than the education you're paying for?"

  I hesitate. Rak never had the chance to attend school beyond upper levels. "I—yes. But you're right, it's silly." It's strange how many things I used to do seem wrong since I returned from Emsalis. "I do need to call the girls, though, so—good night."

  "Good night." His voice is low and tender, and I lean forward impulsively, even though he's only a holo projection and I can't kiss him.

  And then Alik's face surges forward, his lips puckered and huge on the holo image as he blows a dramatic kiss to me. Rak tackles him instantly, and they roll off-screen, Alik alternately laughing and grunting in mock pain.

  Safi appears. "I'll turn this off, since the children are occupied," she says dryly. "Till tomorrow then."

  "Wait," I say suddenly. "Can you take it to your room? I'd like to talk to you."

  Her eyebrows rise. "One minute. I'll switch the feed to the holo in my room."

  A minute later I'm seeing her space—simple, like Rak's, but neat and clean, crisply decorated in mauve, pale green and white.

  "What do you want?" she says unceremoniously, stretching out on the bed. I adjust the zoom so I'm seeing her from the shoulders up.

  "I want to know how you're doing. We haven't talked much, the two of us."

  A hollow chuckle escapes her. "You're no therapist, Zil. Don't pretend to be one."

  "I'm not pr—stars above, you really don't know how to have friends, do you?"

  She shrugs. "Never needed or wanted them. The girls my age in Ankerja were all interested in leaving as fast as possible, rutting with every male who passed through, or securing a roof and walls with one of the local boys so they could start popping out babies and feel like their purpose in life was fulfilled." Her lips curl in a vicious sneer. "I didn't have much in common with any of them."

  "Not even the ones who wanted to leave?"

  "No. The ones who were better off than me left town as soon as they came of age. The others, poor as me or worse off, were too busy working and had no time to socialize. And if you look at me with that pitying expression for one more second, I will crawl through the holo and claw it off your privileged face."

  Her words bite. She's a jacanal, like her Emsali pet Deathspawn—snapping and snarling, but so loyal she'd follow her friends across the burning desert and rip apart anyone who tried to hurt them.

  So I bite her back. "And if you keep sneering at me like a jealous desert rat, I'll tote my privileged ass over to the safe house and shred your bedding to strips so you feel more at home. I'll even order some hot sand to sprinkle around, if you like."

  "You wouldn't dare, Magnate brat."

  "Try me, jacanal bitch."

  Her smile is sudden, ferocious, bright as flame. "Your friends let you talk to them like that?"

  "Vissa, sometimes—but I have to read her mood; she takes offense at odd things. Reya is as soft as a baby salchat; I would never tease her too hard. Be gentle with her tomorrow."

  "If I have to."

  "You're all right, then?"

  Safi leans back on the pillows and closes her eyes. "Zil, I am more than all right. Sometimes I have to slap myself to be sure this is real. And I hate that someone else gave me this luxury, that I didn't earn it."

  "You did earn it. The crawler you built saved our lives. You fought with us, bled more than your share. Without you, I'd probably be dead. So you can rest easy tonight, knowing that this is only a tiny portion of what I owe you, Safi."

  She sighs. "I could rest easy, if you'd ever stop talking and go away."

  "Good night to you, too. Until tomorrow."

  She salutes me with two fingers, and I end the call. Tossing the device on my bed, I stand, stretching my legs, reveling in the subtle ache of my calf muscles. The hike today felt good, but I need more exercise, more challenge. I'm not going back to my other life, which mostly involved sitting—in classes, at tables, at desks, in hoverpods, on my bed, on the sofa. I practiced aeroball occasionally, but it wasn't enough to keep me as fit as I want to be. I had barely enough stamina to survive Emsalis.

  Tomorrow's aeroball game with my friends won't be much of a challenge. I need to get serious about the sport again—and why not? I have no classes right now, thanks to my father's directive; and I may as well spend my time doing something I love. Maybe, just maybe, I can take it to the next level this time, convince my father to let me join a real team.

  My com device chimes, flashing blue and twirling a static image of Vissa's face. I accept the wave, and her image appears. She's in her room—I can tell from the colorful string of pennants and the holo-images of half-nude fashion models on the wall behind her.

  "Hey Vissa. I was about to wave you."

  Her eyes gleam golden-brown under lowered lashes. "I got the line you sent me, about your big outing with Handsome today. You were supposed to wave and tell me how it went, or at least drop a message." She bites each word short.

  "I've been busy. Sorry."

  "Excuses." She glances away, holding up a compact and relining her purple lipstick. "Spill."

  "We did the hike, the waterfall, the cave."

  "Yes, and?"

  "And nothing."

  "Did you sit on him? Shake your hips like I taught you, wiggle the rump?"

  "More or less." I can't help a flush of embarrassment at the memory. "He said no."

  "What the rutting—" She stares at me. "He rejected you?"

  "Yes. And you're making it worse."

  "Are you sure he doesn't swerve to guys? Maybe he's in denial."

  "Oh no, he's hot for me. When I was sitting on his lap, I could tell—he was—"

  "Up for it?" she offers helpfully.

  "Yes."

  "So it's the religious thing, then." Vissa frowns.

  "Partly. He's been through a lot, and it's complicated. Vissa, I can see you thinking, trying to machinate a way out of this for me. Don't. This is between me and Rak."

  "I'd drop him," she says. "There something wrong with a buck who doesn't jump the doe's hindq
uarters when they're shoved in his face."

  "I'm not in this relationship for sex. At least, not solely for sex."

  Vissa arches an eyebrow. "Men aren't good for much else, unless they have power and money, and Rak has neither. Come to think of it, you don't even need a man for good sex." She smirks.

  "I'd forgotten how callous you can be, V," I say. "What about love?"

  She scoffs. "Love. After what you went through with Gareth, you should know better."

  "That was different. I was infatuated with Gareth; I couldn't think straight. He never felt the same way about me. But Rak—he gave up everything for my sake."

  "Don't give me the sugary romance junk you sold to Berri. Rak gave up a boiling-hot desert, a family who despised him, and a gang of smelly rebels. Sounds like a real loss." Her voice oozes sarcasm. "Then he got a free ticket to Ceanna where he's now living in comparative luxury, with the Magnate's daughter hanging on him, babbling about him to the entire nation, and practically begging him for a rut."

  Shame and fury enflame my cheeks. To keep back the vomit of acid words, I grit my teeth so hard I'm afraid they might crack. This isn't like Safi's prickly jibes. Vissa is foully, vindictively angry, or she wouldn't be saying these things to me. "Why are you acting like this?"

  She snorts. "Like you care."

  "Vissa."

  She winds a lock of azure hair so tightly around her finger that the tip of the digit turns purple. "Just don't forget about your old friends. The ones who actually know you."

  So that's it. She's jealous.

  Sighing, I prop my forehead on my hand. "You're my oldest friend, Vissa. My best friend. I'm coming to Uni tomorrow; we can hang out together then." I open my mouth to say more, but I hesitate.

  She reads the silence. "You're bringing them, aren't you? The Emsali goons?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm busy tomorrow."

  "V, please. Once you get to know all of them, you'll love them too. They're such interesting people, all from different backgrounds."

  "They didn't look so different at Riot house. Your blond pal and the gorgeous girl—they seemed to be right at home, sticking their tongues in each other's mouths and down the gullets of everyone within an arm's length. And the blond one, shopping that Emsali drink—hulem, or something—"