Princess of Lies and Legends (The Evolved Book 2)

by Veronica Sommers

  Face to face with the pair of perimeter guards we avoided earlier.

  Rak's fist crushes one guard's throat before he can draw his gun. The man chokes, and Rak slams a kick to the second guard's gun arm. Bones crack—I will never forget the sound—and the guard screams.

  "Go, go!" Rak roars at me, and we race for the pod parking. I snatch my helmet, jam it onto my head, and frantically punch in the start code with trembling fingers. Of course I mess it up.

  "Zilara!" Rak's voice is tense with warning. Figures are shouting, streaming toward us from the building, sending streaks of boltfire at us even though we're not in their range yet.

  I hammer the code into the keypad and press my thumb on the bio-sensor, and the bike jerks to life. Rak grips my waist, and we're off, zooming clear of the building, up and up. I'm not concerned about staying in a tunnel right now; I just want to get away. I zip and dive and swerve until I'm sure the weapons market and its people are far, far behind.

  We don't speak on the way back to Rak's neighborhood. My pulse is a terrified staccato beat in my wrist and neck. As I dismount from the bike in front of Rak's building, my knees shake, threatening to crumple altogether; but in spite of my body's panic, I feel exhilarated. Vibrantly, deliciously awake.

  Quickly I set the bike in secure mode. We dodge through the massive metal door into the dim hallway of Rak's building, and I pull it shut while he enters his code for the inner doors. The keypad is huge and ancient-looking, its keys shiny with finger-oils and its metal plating corroded at the edges.

  He chose this ancient building because it feels like home to him. Like Emsalis.

  The inner door buzzes, and he pushes it wide, leaning back so I can pass through. There's no elevator, so we run up three flights of steps to his level, then to his door, where he scans his thumb and enters another code. We dart into the apartment, the lights flashing on automatically; and I collapse against the wall, panting and laughing.

  "That was fun," I say. "Like old times in Emsalis."

  "Fun?" He stares at me. "You're insane."

  "You knew that already." I look up at him, still breathless and giggling.

  A fierce flame lights in his eyes as he watches me, and I stop laughing, blood rushing to my cheeks. The look he's giving me now is stark desire, a wordless I want you.

  He can't mean it, though. Because he—because we already talked about—

  He crosses the space between us. Sweeps me up into his arms, his heart pounding a frenzied rhythm close to mine.

  "Let me show you around," he says, his voice husky. "That's the kitchen. And the bathroom is through there. And this is the living area and the bedroom, a combined thing. Convenient, yes?"

  I can't speak. He places me on the bed and stretches out beside me, propped on an elbow.

  "I've been thinking." His voice burrows into my bones, vibrating in my flesh and turning my muscles liquid. "Why should I hold you to rules and beliefs that were never yours?"

  Why indeed.

  He tugs my shirt off my shoulder with one finger and kisses the exposed skin. "By the ritual of excision, I am no longer Maraj."

  Another kiss tingles on my collarbone. The scent of him floats to my nostrils—vanilla soap and lingering sweat and night air, and underneath it all, a spicy aroma that is essentially, purely Rak.

  I lie still, listening with all that I am.

  "Even if I choose to follow the Maraj religion, I am no longer bound by the tribe's customs and laws." He tips my chin up and presses a soft kiss to my throat. My fingers tighten on the woven blanket, its tassels crushed in my palm.

  "The rules were designed to keep us from spending ourselves meaninglessly with others," he murmurs. "They were meant to keep us from darkness and selfish gratification."

  I'm dying. This is torture.

  His lips find the sensitive spot below my ear. "What you and I have is light, not darkness. Self-sacrifice, for each other. Love, not selfish lust."

  I wouldn't rule out the lust part; but I nod anyway.

  "You love me, yes?"

  "I love you." A confession and a plea.

  "So," he says, his face hovering over mine. "In every way, this is good and lovely and right."

  "Yes."

  "And who knows how long we'll have together? We should—"

  I'm finished. With a moan, I draw him down to me. My kiss is hungry, desperate—I want him. I want everything he is to be mine, as I am so completely his.

  We break apart to breathe, and in the bare space between our lips he whispers, "Do you want to do this?"

  I chuckle. "Do you have to ask? I've only been trying to seduce you for weeks."

  "I need to hear it. Your consent." Faint pain flickers in his eyes before he closes them.

  I trace his lashes with my fingertip. "Look at me, Rak. There is nothing and no one else except you and me, here, in this room."

  Opening his dark eyes, he nods once.

  "Rakhi, I want you. Now. Please."

  "I have no idea what I'm doing," he says softly. "I know the basics, but—"

  "I'll teach you. I have a feeling you're going to be an excellent student." I kiss him again and then pull back, looking into his dark eyes. "This first time, it doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be you."

  ***

  "What are we going to do about Alik?" Rak asks later. He's lying with a muscled arm tucked behind his head, and my hair scattered over his bare chest.

  "I'm not sure." I shift so my cheek is pressed to his skin. "We could try to stop him—tell my father what he's up to, or leak the information to the CBTRP. Ceannan Board of Technology Research and Production. Or we could leave him alone."

  "Leave him alone?"

  "Yes. We could sit back and watch it play out. I'm not a ruler or a leader, Rak—I don't make policy or decisions, and I definitely don't get embroiled in secret plots. Except for the suppressor thing. I have a personal interest in that."

  "You want all the Evolved to know about suppressor tech." He gently moves my head to the pillow and pulls himself to a sitting position.

  "I think the Evolved should be free. The suppressors should be voluntary, not a limitation imposed by parents or the government. Maybe if the child is dangerously powerful, a suppressor could be installed for a while—but once they're old enough, they should be told about it and given a choice."

  "I agree, but how do you plan to deal with the fear?"

  I look at him, confused.

  "The fear," he says. "The same fear that drives the Maraj to kill or exile their Evolved. The fear that keeps Ceanna's Evolved unaware of their real power. While that fear lives in the government, and in the people, the Evolved here will never be free."

  I sink back onto the bed. "Why suppress us? Why not conscript us into the military, like they do in countries like Verie?"

  "My guess is that your father and his Council are afraid of Evolved with military training. Afraid they might take over."

  "That's probably true. But having Evolved in our military would give us an edge over other countries. Like a deterrent."

  "The trouble with using a weapon as a deterrent is that the other side will try to get a bigger, badder weapon. And then it becomes a never-ending race." Rak sighs, running a large brown hand across his short hair. "I have a little military knowledge, and you have some political experience, but neither of us has the expertise to handle this. Is there anyone you could speak to, for advice?"

  "General Binney, maybe, or Councilwoman Ellery. But I can't trust either of them not to go to my father with something this big." I slump against his shoulder. "Rak, I can't think any more tonight. My adrenaline is gone, and thanks to you I feel very satisfied, and relaxed. I think I should go home and get some sleep."

  "Will you be all right, riding the bike back alone?"

  "I'll be fine." I gather my clothes and pull them on, conscious of his eyes on me. Unclothed as he is, with his hair rumpled, he looks young, and vulnerable. All I want to do is climb ba
ck into that bed with him and stay there for a few days, at least. But I can't.

  Fully dressed again, I walk over to him and sit on the edge of the bed. "I hate leaving you."

  "Not as much as I hate watching you go." He cradles both my hands, and then kisses each of my palms, and the tender skin over my pulse. Tingles of desire flicker through me.

  "If I don't go now, I won't be able to leave," I whisper. "And I have to get back before they miss me."

  "Kiss me first."

  "Just a little one." I touch my lips to his scarred mouth, the mouth I know so well now. Every lump and curve of it is mine.

  His hand surges beneath my hair, pressing my mouth harder to his. But after a moment he lets me go, and I force myself to walk away, out of his rooms, down the hall and the stairs, out of the building to the bike. It's familiar now, that gaping emptiness that comes whenever I'm away from him. I have to re-center, become whole in myself again.

  On the way home, I replay what happened between us. There was an awkward moment or two, but he made up for it with his unwavering focus on me and what I wanted—anything I wanted. My face heats under the helmet. His natural instincts served him well. All we need is practice.

  I love that sort of practice.

  When I reach the estate, I dismiss the bike and walk the rest of the way to the back door. A code and a quick facial scan, and the house admits me, low-lighting the rooms that I pass through on my way upstairs. No one confronts me. No one missed me.

  17

  We plan our confrontation of Alik carefully, luring him to the Uni Campus Park, a neatly arranged series of untouchable lawns and perfectly coiffed flowerbeds and regimented fountains. I've promised him another shot at the cafeteria—the second level this time, where the hawker stalls offer specialized cuisine from the far reaches of our immense globe.

  But first, I tell him, we want to show him the park.

  In the western corner of the park, there's a courtyard paved with faded red tiles. The garden beds overflow with original pure-bloom flowers instead of gene-spliced varieties. A twin set of white marble fountains in the shape of winged Sky-Born lean toward each other, their feet poised as if they're about to take flight and possibly kiss in midair. Around their toes the water sprays in sheets and jets of crystalline liquid. It's by far the wildest and most fanciful section of the park—an out-of-the-way spot that's too open for lovers seeking privacy and too old-fashioned for gangs of Uni pals wanting the perfect group shot. Just the right place to have a difficult conversation with a friend.

  "See, Alik?" I lead the way through the arch into the square and sweep my hand toward the fountains. "For you, the worshipper of the Sky-Born."

  Instead of walking through the arch, Alik swings over the low stone wall and dashes right up to one of the fountain statues. Stepping onto the edge of the fountain, he tips his head up, his mouth a bare hand-span from the Sky-Born woman's lips.

  "Beautiful," he says. "Thank you, Princess."

  He leaps down, his face open and cheerful; but the look changes as he reads my expression.

  "You've got something to say." He tucks his thumbs into his pockets. "Speak."

  I glance over my shoulder, where Safi and Rak stand awkwardly waiting.

  "We know what you've been doing," I say.

  Alik's eyes turn icy. "Is that so?"

  "You didn't deliver the booster you stole from Akej Orunei. You cheated your buyer, and you brought the product to Ceanna with you. You're trying to find a backer so you can mass-produce the boosters and sell them to the Evolved."

  His gaze flicks from me to Safi. There's no point in lying with her here. "How did you find out?"

  "Rak and I followed you to the market the other night."

  "The disturbance, the intruders—that was you two?"

  "Yes."

  His lips tighten, and he nods, kicking the tile with the toe of his shoe. "So what then? Are you going to turn me in? Don't forget, I know things about you, too, Zilara."

  "You're threatening her?" Rak steps forward.

  "Down, boy," says Alik. "Just laying the facts on the table."

  "I'm not turning you in," I say. "None of us are." I wasn't sure of it until this minute, but now I'm certain it's the right thing to do. "But we want you to think about what you're doing—what it will do to Ceanna, to the globe. Not just from the perspective of gain, Alik. Really think about the consequences of this."

  He's staring at me, his expression unreadable. "I have. The product exists, Zil. Someone is going to profit from it, and control its sale. Why not me? It's as simple as that."

  I have to admit, it makes a kind of sense.

  Alik looks at Rak. "You got anything to say, Maraj boy?"

  "No," says Rak. "Except that I wish you had told me."

  Safi growls in her throat, seconding his comment. Alik cocks his head with a sneer. "I crave your pardon. I didn't realize I had to report to you." And then, in a softer tone, "I'm used to working angles on my own. It's safer that way."

  "You can trust us," I say, moving toward him. "You're like my brother. More my brother than Emret ever was."

  His blue eyes widen, but he's speechless; so I go in for the hug, and he wraps his lean arms around me. A quick embrace, but when I back away, I know I've sealed the trust between us. Alik's shoulders have relaxed, and he looks less like a cornered jacanal; but his gaze travels to Safi again, where she stands stiff and unrelenting, her eyes hard as gemstones.

  His lips part to speak to her, but the voice we all hear comes from behind me, from the path beyond the archway.

  "What a delightful gathering." Gareth's cool tones slice the stillness. He meanders through the arch, not deigning to leap the wall as Alik did.

  My jaw drops. How did he find us? Even if he tracked my hoverpod to Uni, there's no way he could have known exactly where we were. No one followed us through the garden—I checked, because our conversation demanded privacy. Yet here is Gareth, smiling at me as if he's daring me to figure it out.

  And then, suddenly, I know.

  I rip the birthstone ring from my finger. "This. What did you do to it?"

  "You're a slow one, Zil," he says. "I expected you to figure it out much more quickly."

  "What did you do?" I spit.

  "Hollowed the stone, inserted a nano-tracker. Child's play, really."

  "You hollowed—" I leap at him, shoving both hands against his chest. "My grandmother gave me this ring, you bastard!"

  He staggers, then rights himself, straightening his shirt sleeves. "Before you resort to violence, let's consider the fact that I know everywhere you've been, for every moment since the night of the ball."

  Everywhere I have been.

  The lab, to retrieve my skull-port implant. The safe house.

  The farm, the forest, and the waterfall.

  Aeroball practice. The black market. Rak's place.

  I'm going to claw that smug smirk off Gareth's stupid, pretty, disgusting face. I'm going to boil the blood in his veins.

  But as I lunge, Rak's hands close over my upper arms. "Zilara."

  "Let me kill him."

  "No."

  "Listen to your lover, Zil," Gareth says, fluttering his pale lashes. "Aren't you in enough trouble already? It would be foolish to kill me."

  Don't give away any details. Make him tell you what he knows. Possibly the most valuable lesson my father ever taught me.

  Breathing deeply, I relax. But Rak doesn't loosen his grip. The man understands me too well.

  "Why are you here, now?" I ask Gareth.

  "To meet your other friends. You haven't introduced me yet."

  Alik steps forward with his huge disarming smile. "Alik Rejfsdek. A pleasure to meet a fellow blackguard and deceiver."

  Safi snorts with laughter, and Gareth turns to her. "Is something amusing?"

  "Not at all," she says; but the smirk disappears from her mouth the next second and her eyes focus on his face. She's tapping into her power, listening
to the rhythms of his heart and his breathing.

  "I'm Safi," she says. "And your name was—?"

  Clever. She's getting him to tell a truth, so she can distinguish the difference when he's lying.

  "I'm Gareth Vandelor," he says, but his careless manner shifts, and for a second I swear he's off his game. He stares at Safi, transfixed, and she stares back. They're looking at each other—no, into each other, as if no one else exists and time itself has been suspended. Skies and stars, what is happening? No! Just—no.

  I insert myself between them. "Ahem, well—now you've met everyone. Time to tell me what you really want."

  "What I—what I want?" he says, still looking at Safi. "Yes, well—I want the same thing I wanted before. The position of Junior Attaché on the Council. Or I tell your father everything you've been up to."

  "And what is that, exactly?"

  "Sneaking out at night without a guard. Snooping around in sectors known for black market dealings."

  "That's pretty thin," I say, relief flooding through me.

  But Gareth smiles, the wicked, wanton smile I used to like. Now it terrifies me, because it's the smile he wears when he's won.

  "There wasn't just a tracker in the ring," he says.

  "What?" I glance down at it.

  "Let's see what I can remember." He tips his head back. "Oh yes, my favorite line. 'It doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be you.' "

  My heart stops.

  Rak's fingers tighten convulsively around my arms.

  "An audio receiver," I breathe. "You were—you were listening. You heard—you know about—"

  "Congratulations on consummating your passion, by the way. It sounded delightful, if a little awkward at times."

  Rak releases me and steps back. The next second, the entire contents of one of the twin fountains soars from its bed and pours itself over my ex's head.

  Gareth gasps, shaking water from his pale hair. He swears, but before he can do more than that, the water rises around him and crashes over his head again. And again. Flood upon flood, faster and faster, until Gareth barely has a moment to suck in air before he's deluged once more.

  I don't stop Rak. I watch, reveling in every second of it.