Beyond the Shadows

by Jess Granger

  Now she bled him.

  A new pain stabbed her in the gut.

  By Fima, she wished she could just kill him.

  She gripped the blade tighter but couldn’t move. Her arm seized even as the rest of her exposed body shook. Through the haze of her tears, she looked down at his naked body lying still beneath her.

  By the Creator.

  What was she thinking? She couldn’t kill him. She felt like she had the knife pressed to her own throat.

  Hot tears slid over her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them as they flowed out of her. They couldn’t release the pain. It constricted her chest. She tried to draw a breath, but it entered her as a choked sob.

  Her hand shook on the cold hilt of the knife, even as she watched her tears fall on the scar over his heart. Through bleary eyes, she tried to look at him.

  He remained still, braced for her decision. His life was in her hands.

  The initial shock in his expression softened to deep sadness.

  No.

  Her soul screamed, over and over. She couldn’t think through the pain. She couldn’t kill him, but she couldn’t let him go either.

  “Yara,” he croaked. “Listen to me.”

  No. He’ll lie again. He’s the snake. He’s a traitor and a liar.

  With her hand shaking, she eased the knife away from his throat.

  “Drop it, Yara,” Xan’s deep voice rumbled from right behind her.

  “Fall to filth, Xan,” she shouted. The searing pain of a sono blast burned through her back.

  She cried out in agony and shock just before her strength fled from her muscles and spots of white light overcame her vision. She couldn’t hold on to consciousness any longer.

  Cyn launched himself forward, wrapping her in his arms as his hand cradled her head. Her soft hair tickled his palm as he pressed his face to her shoulder.

  God, he was sorry. He was so sorry. What was he going to do now? The knife fell limp on the bed. He eased her down onto the pillow, then grabbed the hilt and flung it back at Xan.

  The knife knocked the sono out of his hand and both weapons skidded to the far side of the room. “You didn’t have to shoot her!” he roared.

  “She was about to kill you.”

  He pressed the back of his hand to the cut, but the bleeding had already lessened. “I’ve bled more playing ralok with you.” He checked her pulse and pressed his lips to her forehead, then brushed a lingering tear away from her swollen red cheek. She looked so damn human, so terribly heartbroken. Even unconscious, her pain was etched into her fine brow. He stroked the tip of his finger over her temple. He loved her smile, and he feared he’d never see it again. He didn’t have time to wallow in his guilt. A sono blast wouldn’t keep her out for long. What would he do when she came around?

  “Now what?” Xan tossed him his jeans, then took up a guarding position at the door.

  “I don’t know. I have to keep her someplace where she won’t kill me.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that,” Xan offered.

  “Shakt.” He wrapped her carefully in the blanket, and slipped on his jeans before picking her up in his arms, the way he had when he’d freed her. Damn it. They’d been so close. She trusted him. She might have even fallen in love with him.

  He didn’t want to think about that.

  Shakt!

  She was so much more than he had ever expected. She was so strong, had so much heart. The depth of her dedication and her conviction could be powerful enough to save them all if he could have convinced her to join him. Now it would never happen.

  He ruined it. If he could’ve just gotten through and shown her the real Azra, they would have changed the world together. Not now. She’d never trust him again. Now she was his enemy, and she would destroy him. Or he’d destroy her.

  “This was not supposed to happen this way,” he whispered as he pressed his cheek to her soft hair. Somehow he had to make her understand. His heart pounded with his surging adrenaline. He was familiar with fear. The stark terror that gripped him was a hundred times more powerful than any he had ever felt before. She had to understand.

  What? That you’re going to destroy her way of life and everything she stands for? That you’re going to hand her over to a bunch of rebels who want her dead? That you will throw innocent people into lawlessness and chaos with no clear leader?

  God. What was he supposed to do? He had to think of something. He couldn’t focus, all he could think about was the heart-wrenching betrayal he saw in her beautiful eyes.

  He never meant to hurt her.

  Damn it to the filth and darkness.

  He knew one thing for sure, he had to get her out of the Sanctuary before anyone came looking for them, especially Tola.

  “Come on,” he urged. Tuz jumped up on the windowsill, his paws damp from whatever he had been doing outside. The war cat pushed his ears flat on his head and hissed.

  “I’m not going to hurt her,” Cyn stated. Yeah right. He was going to hurt her and he knew it. He already had. The cat growled at him and bared his fangs. So much for the brief truce.

  Cyn kissed the top of her head and carried her out of the Sanctuary.

  Xan had his back as they ran through the empty marketplace. The young light of early dawn barely broke the horizon. An idle vendor put out ragtag wares as a fisherman or two walked toward the end piers. Other than that, the city still slept. The air around Xan’s ship curled with heat from the trip here.

  As soon as they reached Azra, the revolution would begin.

  He felt sick to his stomach as he held Yara closer.

  He didn’t want to spill the blood of Azra; he just wanted change. Azra needed to change.

  He marched up the crew ramp into the ship. Tuz had caught up with him and was taking nasty swipes at his bare ankles with his sharp claws. Venet raised a hand in greeting, then quickly let it fall. Ishan stood next to her, his eyes covered in bandages. She took the boy by the shoulders and led him away.

  Cyn hoped she could keep him out of the way. He didn’t want to betray the kid, too.

  Bug rocketed into the ramp platform, chirping wildly. Cyn shrugged him off.

  He pushed past curious crew as he entered the secondary cargo bay that also served as the brig. Deep in the belly of Xan’s ship within the smaller of the two bays, a lonely pair of prisoner cells pressed against a thick bulkhead. The crates of weapons he’d smuggled loomed in the cramped cargo bay, dark sentinels of a darker purpose.

  Cyn felt his heart shred as he placed Yara on the cold metal shelf attached to the bulkhead that served as a prisoner bed. He tucked the blanket around her and bunched it under her head. Tuz leapt on her and hissed at him, baring his sharp fangs. He had to let her go.

  Cyn stepped back and activated the force shield, locking Yara in.

  He paced in front of the cell, trying to alleviate the wrenching pain, but nothing he said to himself could ease his terrible guilt.

  What have I done?

  He kicked a crate, then pulled it forward and sat on the edge, letting his face fall into his hands. Beaten and raw, he felt like his scar had ripped open and his heart lay bare in his chest for the world to see.

  He had intended a lot of things when he had manipulated her into boarding his ship. He did not intend this.

  YARA GROANED AS SHE WOKE. HER HEAD POUNDED AND HER HEART ACHED. She felt Tuz’s hard skull press against her shoulder, and she opened her eyes. By Fima, she hurt. Her heart hurt. She had heard about heartache, but she had never believed it was an actual physical pain strong enough to double her over and make her feel sick.

  Her eyes stung with raw tears as she stubbornly blinked to try to clear them.

  The light from the edge of a clear prison energy shield illuminated the small brig cell and the rest of a crowded, but neatly organized, cargo bay. Tuz batted at the shield, his paws leaving energy trails as he furiously worked at the invisible wall. It was a standard Union brig lock. People could pass things in from the outside,
but she couldn’t get out. There was no use trying.

  At least it was clean. A chill seeped through her, intensifying the painful ache in her chest. The air even smelled cold.

  Her gaze drifted over the stacks and stacks of projectile weapons, an ominous reminder of the threat to her planet. He sat on the edge of a crate, twisting a knife so it slowly bored a small hole. She clutched the blanket around her body. Only hours earlier it had embraced them as they made love. Now it weighed on her.

  “There are some clothes in the corner,” he said, his voice cool and emotionless. How could he not feel anything? Had that all been an act, too? He stood and turned his back to her. She glanced at the clothes, then tested her strength as she stood and slowly pulled the black shirt and pants over her naked skin. She sat again as she put on the boots and leaned back against the hard bulkhead.

  Her fear and rage blossomed, spreading through her blood and blocking out all other thoughts.

  He turned back around and crossed his bare arms. The blue tinge of the skin on his forearms tormented her. How could she have been so stupid? Not only was he Azralen, he was probably catgar, too. She had noticed it from the beginning, his flawless memory, that machinelike mind. Why didn’t she see through it?

  “Look, Yara,” he began.

  “At what?” Yara glanced around the dark bay. All she could see were the crates of weapons that had been hidden on Cyrus—no, Cyn’s—ship. “At these?” She pointed to the crates.

  “These are for Azra, aren’t they?” she stated, recalling his admission that the projectiles were for a revolution. No wonder the Grand Sister had urged her to find him quickly. She must have known that the mudrats in the shadows were about to stage a revolt. She had wanted Yara to stop it by capturing Cyn. Instead, Yara had complained that the bloodhunt was beneath her, fell into the traitor’s snare, then slept with him. “You are Cyn, aren’t you?” she demanded.

  He stalked toward her. “Yes.”

  A filthy mudrat. She had let him touch her.

  She felt the heat of her anger and shame in her face.

  By Ona, the knot in her stomach slowly tightened. “I guess you’re living up to your family name,” she sneered.

  “Cyrila’s name is honored for a reason,” he defended.

  “Oh, don’t,” she shouted, shaking her head. She pounded against the shield, the sparks of energy radiating out in a web from her fists. The shock of it stung but not nearly as bad as his words. “Don’t you dare preach the Matriarchs to me, Cyn, you bastard. You’re going to destroy everything they stand for, and you used me to do it.” Her heart beat faster. He had wanted her on his ship, and now she knew why.

  “At first,” he admitted. His voice sounded rough, raw. He rubbed his bare wrist. “I was supposed to delay your return to Azra long enough for the last of the weapons to be delivered. As soon as Palar lit the fires in your absence, we were going to strike.”

  Yara couldn’t fight back her tears as she let her head fall back. She blinked up at the ceiling. “Strike when we’re divided.”

  “I didn’t intend for this to happen, Yara.”

  Her fury roared to life, feeding off her stark pain.

  “You’re a liar,” she shouted. She rose to her feet and marched toward the shield. “Traitor.” She felt her tears slip down her cheeks, and she didn’t bother to brush them away.

  He let out a ragged breath and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “You don’t understand.” He stepped forward and touched the shield, his fingers pushing through the energy lock. The bastard actually had the gall to look tormented.

  “Understand what? That you manipulated me into getting on your ship?” She felt her emotion clawing at her throat, and her voice rose. “Am I supposed to understand why you kidnapped me?”

  “I know I tricked you into getting on my ship, but—”

  “Don’t make excuses now,” she snapped. “There are no excuses. You’re smuggling projectiles and putting them in the hands of criminals.”

  His expression hardened, and he smacked his fists against the shield before lowering them stiffly to his side. “Criminals. Damn it. This is exactly what I’m talking about. Azra is suffering. Your people are dying and you are blind!”

  “Maybe I was blind. I certainly didn’t see this coming. You seduced me for your own sick purposes, just so you could use my emotions against me.” Fresh tears rolled down her cheek as she crossed her arms and hugged them to her chest. She had trusted him. She thought he had given everything for her. She thought she had finally found someone who had her back; instead he stabbed her in it. “By Ona, the Elite were right. They’ve always been right.”

  “I didn’t seduce you.” His voice sounded low, angry. “You seduced me, Yara. God, I tried to resist you.”

  “Well you didn’t try hard enough, did you?”

  “Yara, I’m a lot of things, but I’m no saint.”

  “No. You’re a filthy mudrat who can’t keep his pants on.” She bit out each word, feeling the sting of it in her heart.

  “You’re the one who took my pants off, Pix.”

  “How dare you call me that,” she shouted. “How dare you ever call me that again. I trusted you, I trusted you with everything, and it was all a lie.”

  “Only my name was a lie,” he insisted. “We fought together, we bled together, Yara. Everything else was real. You know me.”

  “I know you’re a rebel and a traitor.”

  “Damn it, I’m trying to bring justice to our people. You should understand that!”

  “You’re trying to kill the innocent, Cyn. How could you do such a thing? Spilling the blood of Azra is not justice. It’s murder.”

  “The innocent are dying every day, Yara. You don’t bother to see it. Babies are being beaten, girls raped, people die of starvation and infection every day.” His voice took on a strange tone, a deep growl of fury.

  “The shadows are punishment.”

  “The shadows are a living hell, and there are innocent people down there.” He crossed his arms again. “They need to be saved.”

  “Are they all innocent like you? Killer, smuggler. Look at what the shadows turned you into. You don’t deserve to live.” Yara felt the punch of her words deep in her soul. As soon as she said them, she knew she didn’t mean them.

  “Maybe I don’t.” He turned away from her. Her eyes burned. Her heart thudded, stabbing into her chest with each aching thud. This was all so wrong.

  She walked away from the shield but could only walk a couple of steps before she reached the shelf once again. Tuz paced along the edge, the rhythmic back and forth of his movements like a strange metronome in the silence.

  “Why did you come after me?” she asked as she closed her eyes. She opened them again and turned to face him. “If you wanted to destroy me, why didn’t you just let them have me?” He accused her of not understanding, but she understood plenty. The one thing she couldn’t understand was why he had given up so much to save her life, only to turn around and betray her.

  He sighed and picked up the knife off the crate. “I told you, not everything was a lie.” He didn’t look back as he left the room.

  18

  YARA SETTLED ON THE EDGE OF THE METAL SHELF, WITH HER WEIGHT RESTING on the heels of her palms. She hung her head, overwhelmed by the emotional battlefield she’d just crossed. She didn’t have the luxury to wallow in her own pain or guilt. Azra needed her now, and for the Glory of Esana she would not crumble and leave Azra to those who would destroy her.

  She took a ragged breath, the pain in her chest still choked her, but her mind began to clear. Fear overrode her betrayal and grief. Her thoughts came quickly, pushing aside her emotion.

  Her whole life she had thought the training to expunge her emotion had been a waste. She needed to rely on that training now.

  Azra needed her.

  Cyn. Her thoughts lingered on his name for only a moment. It almost surprised her how quickly he became the rebel traitor in her
mind. It was as if Cyrus, the man she had known, evaporated, leaving a gaping wound in her chest. The void she had known her whole life grew deeper, like a vicious and unforgiving black hole.

  Oh yes, she was alone. As the Grand Sister of Azra, she always would be. She could never trust anyone. Friends would only try to manipulate her, and lovers would have the power to destroy her.

  Cyn.

  He wasn’t going to kill her, not directly. She had that going for her. They were also traveling back to Azra, which meant at some point he’d probably turn her over as a hostage to the mudrats staging this uprising.

  She didn’t have any weapons.

  She was an Elite warrior, bred and trained for one purpose.

  She didn’t need any weapons.

  If she could stay calm and purge her heartache, she would be the perfect spy. She didn’t know how much the Grand Sister knew about this uprising. Details were essential, and she had been trained by the Union army in intelligence.

  She also had Tuz. Her cat rubbed up against her arm, his rough purr filling the compartment while his thick tail lashed at her back. She sat up and stroked him, thankful that she wasn’t completely alone.

  Why did she feel so alone? Deep in her heart, she mourned the man she thought she knew. But she did know him. He couldn’t lie about the love and care he showed his ship. He couldn’t lie about his bravery in the face of battle or his selflessness in the face of evil.

  Not everything was a lie.

  His words tormented her.

  The story of his scar was real, she knew that for certain. The girl didn’t die on some backward planet—it was Azra. Did she deserve it? What was her crime? Being born in the wrong place? He was right, that wasn’t justice.

  But it wasn’t possible for everyone on the ground to rise to the cities. There were dangerous criminals there. Absolution for all of them wasn’t justice, either. Giving the true criminals projectile weapons and having them unleash generations of resentment against the peaceful inhabitants of the high cities was out of the question.

  Once she became Grand Sister, she’d consider ways to help those on the ground and bring it up for debate with the rest of the Elite. Maybe if she spoke with Cyn and promised things would change, he’d call off the attack.