“I never would’ve survived if Excelsior knew.”
“How did you keep your gifts a secret from him?” I ask.
“My mother shielded me at first. When I inherited her gift, I was able to do it for myself.”
“What was your mother’s gift?” I ask.
“She could influence others to believe any lie. It made your mother her instant friend. Farling couldn’t lie to Arissa effectively. Which forced my mother to respect yours.”
My fingers close around the crystal spix and I draw it close to my heart. “You lie to me without me knowing, don’t you?”
“Sometimes.”
“How do you make me believe you?”
“I’m stronger than you. I’ve been doing it longer.”
I think about something he said to me. It was at our first dinner at the Palace in Rafe. “You once told me that you weren’t like me—that you weren’t born with the gifts that I was given.”
“It’s only half a lie. I have different gifts than you. I had to see if you knew that I was special,” he says. “I influenced you then to believe I was telling you the truth. If I hadn’t, I ran the risk of you exposing me to everyone in the room. It was a risk I was unwilling to take.”
I feel betrayed. “You knew I was a soothsayer even before I caught Em Nark in his lies.”
“I did. Your mother told my mother you’d have the gift. It was a secret she only shared with me when she made me promise to find you. Arissa had said she would gift it to her strongest daughter. She said it would help her to rule Ethar.”
“Is it fun for you? Lying to me?”
“Sometimes. But, lately you see through them. It’s frustrating. It was so much easier when you didn’t know me.”
“Do I know you, Kyon?” I ask.
“More than anyone ever has.”
“Are you lying to me now?”
“I’ve never loved another like I love you, Kricket.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You know it’s true.”
“How do I know?”
“I’m there—in the future you project into—if there’s danger, I’m there to defend you. I’ve hung my happiness on what we could be. I won’t kill you to keep my secret. That’s not something I’d normally let go. Only one other person knows it.”
“Fulton?” I ask.
“Yes. It’s against the law here for me to exist. If anyone should find out about me, I could be executed. I would have no protection under the law.”
“Tell me what else you can do.”
“I can read things—objects—things someone has held. Objects carry memories.”
“Like my spix?”
“Yes.”
“And you can, what? See these memories?”
“I can walk through them. This spix was in your pocket when I brought you to the island. It’s a curious object. It whispers secrets to me.”
“What kind of secrets?”
“Your secrets,” he murmurs. “It used to belong to Charisma Sandersault. It was given to her when she won a Biequine competition. She shot every target with near perfect accuracy . . . all while mounted on a spix. Her memories of it are clear. Concise. Unguarded. Probably like her. But she gave it to you because you asked her to.”
“Did it share other memories?”
“It did. But the ones of you are murky and shrouded. You’re very guarded.”
“Do you plan to share them with me?” I ask.
“I don’t. No.”
“Why not?”
“They’re memories filled with fear of me. I’d rather make new ones with you.” He lowers his mouth to mine. His lips are coaxing as he kisses me. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”
“I believe you once told me that you were okay with me fearing you as long as I obeyed you.”
“You’ve changed me. I want to be the favorite taste that touches your lips.” His tongue caresses mine; the sharp pleasure of it cuts through me. It steals my breath. “I want to be what you yearn for every moment of every rotation.”
“I still can’t trust you,” I reply with a whispery caress as my lips just brush his. “You’re an open wound. All you care about is revenge.”
“You’re wrong,” he insists softly, his blue eyes seeking mine. “I want to understand you—your buzz, your sting, the nectar on your unbroken wings.” He runs his hand over me and I am honey. “You’re the empress in my dreams.”
His words cause an ache deep within me. It’s an insatiable hum of piercing hunger, which only heightens when his lips descend to mine again. His hands cup my bottom as he lifts me up and takes me to the table meticulously laid out with brass cogs and winding gears from another object he’s taken apart. He slides his hand over the menagerie of metal, wiping it off the table and onto the ground. The broken pieces make garish sounds as they object to being discarded. He perches me on the edge of the wooden surface, touching me as if he knows what my body needs . . . and he does.
I don’t know which of us is the beguiled and which is the muse. “I adore you,” he whispers. I put my hand on his chest, trying to hold him still, trying to catch my breath from the relentlessness of our attraction. He grumbles, “What are you so afraid to lose, Kricket? Tell me you love me too.”
“What do you think will happen if I do?” I ask, knowing that I have no future here with him. I have no future at all.
“You’ll stay with me forever.” His intensity makes it sound like a demand. I try to repress the thrill I feel at the sound of it. I hate that I want to mean something to him.
He reaches out to undress me; his finger glides under the strap of my dress. It slips off my shoulder. His mouth teases my skin where it had rested. Closing my eyes, I lean into him. “You will stay with me forever,” he repeats. I want him to save me, but that’s like asking poison not to kill me.
“I won’t,” I reply.
I try to make myself appear cold and pale, but he kisses me again, coloring me in. His hands inch up my thighs, pushing the length of my dress up, exposing flesh as he goes. I set the spix aside and cover his hands with mine. My hunted heart beats like cornered prey. He frees his hands, undoes his belt, and then his trousers fall away. Gripping my legs behind my knees, he jerks me forward, spreading them apart. “I’m the truth you’ve been searching for, Kricket.”
“You’re a liar, Kyon,” I say against his lips as he makes love to me.
Deep down, however, I fear that I’ve come to love a lie.
CHAPTER 14
THE WORLD ENDER
The lonely dragon has found that he has a heart, and it beats within me. Kyon holds my hand in the hawk-shaped Hallafast as we approach our destination. His thumb rubbing over my knuckles, he stares at our clasped hands as if they’re the most fascinating things he’s ever beheld. Lifting my hand to his lips, he kisses it. I blush and have to look away from him so I can think.
I stare out the window. Our aircraft is surrounded by Kyon’s extensive security detail. We weave between wickedly tall buildings that disappear into the darkened sky above us. “Where are we going?”
“There is a public celebration taking place in the main center of the city known as the Sylvan Square.”
“What are we going to do there?” I ask.
Kyon shrugs. “Whatever it is they do there. I’ve never been here among common people.”
“‘Common people’?” I try not to roll my eyes.
“Non–decision makers.”
“I think they’re just called people, Kyon.”
“I know the people stroll the avenues, frequent shops, buy desserts—dance.”
“Dance?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “Does Kyon Ensin dance?”
“With the right partner.”
The Hallafast sets down on a landing pad on the ground. Kyon doesn’t get up immediately. I glance at him in question. He let’s go of my hand and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the copperclaw I’d left in the lavare. He straightens the black rib
bon that holds the fiery flower. “Will you wear this?” he asks without looking at me.
“Yes,” I reply.
His eyes lift to mine. The brightest smile I’ve ever seen from him transforms his face from handsome to striking. “Thank you.”
I lift my hair for him and brush it aside so that he can tie it around my throat. When he’s finished I feel his warm lips caress the nape of my neck. “What are you doing to me, Kricket?” he breathes against my skin, turning my insides to fire, like a dragon, infusing me with heat.
“We should go if we’re going to do this,” I tell him.
He leans away from me, and I drop my hair back into place. When I turn back to him, he takes my wrist in his hand and applies a gel-like sticker to it. I recognize it for what it is: a locator. “Just in case we should become separated, I can find you faster,” he explains.
It reminds me of the one I wore for Trey, and it makes me feel like a huge traitor. Is Kyon really my consort? Did I just agree to that when I let him put his flower around my throat once more?
I don’t have time to think about it, because Kyon takes my hand and escorts me from the Hallafast. As we descend the stairs, Kyon puts a small, round bead into his ear. It’s a communicator. He presses it and a microphone snakes out to hover by his lips. “Oscil, take the Hallafast to the hoverpad. I’ll call for it when we’re ready to depart.” He touches the earpiece again and the microphone retracts, recoiling into his ear. We reach the bottom; the stairs to the ship retract and the door closes. The aircraft lifts off straight into the air and disappears from sight.
I shiver, chilled to be out in the mountain air. I feel exposed. I haven’t been in a public place in so long that it feels threatening. “Are you cold?” Kyon asks.
“I forgot my wrap,” I reply, gazing at the crowded street fair ahead of us. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of people wandering everywhere between the tall buildings and hovering vender carts. This place makes the Taste of Chicago, the largest annual outdoor food event in that city, look like a neighborhood block party.
“Here.” He takes off his navy jacket and drapes it over me. His arm goes around my shoulders. We walk through the crowd of people; they fill in around us when we reach one of the grassy avenues. No one seems to be paying any attention to us. I glance at Kyon, who’s watching the crowd. I pull up short, trying to avoid a rowdy pack of men who are running through the crowd and jostling each other. Kyon scowls at them, ready to take the nearest one of them by the throat, but I quickly lay my hand on him. “Relax,” I order. “I’m fine.”
“He touched you!” Kyon retorts with barely suppressed rage. “No one is allowed to touch you.”
“It was unintentional—we’re here to fit in—don’t beat anybody up! You. Must. Chill. Do you know what that means?”
He looks at me in exasperation. “I never know what you’re trying to say. I have no idea what being cold brings to this situation.”
For all the stress we’re under, his words make me smile a little. I place my arm around his waist. “Walk with me.” As we stroll, I marvel at the carnival-like atmosphere around me. Everyone is celebrating the victory over Skye. It makes me shiver. Do they know what they’ve done? Do they understand that people are being slaughtered? Would they care if they knew?
I don’t get much farther before I start to attract attention. The first person to notice me gasps when I walk next to her. She holds her hand to her mouth, and then she turns to the man next to her and says behind her hand, “It’s Kricket and Kyon Ensin!” She nudges him until he turns and gazes at me. Recognition shines in his eyes. I smile at them as we continue down the crowded street.
“They know me? Us?” I ask, looking up at Kyon’s face.
Kyon nods, glancing over his shoulder at the couple that is now openly gawking at us. “You’ve been major news. The Brothers have been talking about you ever since you arrived on Ethar. They’ve given news conferences. The media here, which is controlled mostly by the Brotherhood, has reported that you have been a hostage in Rafe all this time and were being forced into an engagement to Manus.”
Their propaganda has truth to it. I was never allowed to leave the palace in the Isle of Skye. Manus had attempted to force me into becoming his consort before the Alameeda attacked us. Us. Us? Was there ever a moment when I was one of them, or was I only fooling myself? My own father doesn’t even want me. Did they use me? My heart squeezes tight as I think of Trey. No, that was real. Everything else may have been a lie, but the way I felt about him was true. I loved him and he loved me.
It’s over now, though. I know that. I have to let him go or I’ll crush him. I have no future. He isn’t made of stone, like me.
I glance behind us to find that we’re attracting a crowd. People are beginning to follow us. “Welcome home, Kricket!” a girl calls to me, waving her hand like she knows me. I smile back, seeing delight on her face at my response. She’s absolutely radiant.
Kyon leans near me. “They’ve never been this close to a priestess before.”
“Really?”
“It’s unheard of. You’re to be protected at all times from all possible threats.”
“That’s no way to live,” I reply.
We walk farther on. Kyon stops at a vendor who has the most beautiful wraps in colorful displays from his hovering caravan. “Would you like one?” he asks.
Reaching out, I smooth my hand over a soft ivory-colored one that feels like cashmere. “This is lovely,” I say to the vendor. He smiles shyly at me.
“We’ll take this one,” Kyon says. He holds his hand to a scanner. A bright light flashes over it. When he removes his hand, he gently takes his jacket from my shoulders, replacing it with the ivory-colored wrap.
“Thank you,” I say.
Something is wrong with me. I never would’ve allowed anyone to give me something without feeling indebted or feeling the need to somehow repay him. I’m surprised that I don’t feel that way now. I just feel grateful.
As I puzzle over it, several round, one-eyed camera-bots come upon us. Shaped like white, hovering basketballs, they circle us blinking, clicking and filming our every move. I see myself reflected on the side of building surrounding the thoroughfare. It’s like Time Square’s Jumbotron, but on a much larger scale—my image encompasses every side of every building I can see. I exhale deeply. Smile fading, my heart is a frantic drumbeat in my chest.
“Welcome home, Kricket!” someone in the crowd calls to me. I force another smile. I resume walking, but faster.
“How does it feel to be home?” Someone else calls out. I’m nervous. This is bad for me. Everyone will see this—not just the Alameeda. Whatever I say now could be used by Excelsior to damn me as a traitor. Everything can be spun. Innocent words can be made to appear sinister. The same goes for my answers in Rafe and New Amster. What I say now could make me a traitor there as well. They’d have even more reason to kill me, not that they need it.
“I—I miss Earth,” I stammer. My enormous images reflect my confusion. I appear fragile, probably because I am.
The crowd begins to murmur. Kyon gathers me closer to him. “My consort has only just arrived home. We must all make her feel welcome.”
Another ripple of discussion passes through the crowd. Within moments, the low rumble of voices becomes full-on shouts of my name accompanied by applause and whistling. The cheers become louder and more boisterous. People extend their hands to me as I pass, touching me as if I’m some kind of celebrity or cult leader. It becomes harder to walk more than a few steps without having to nod and smile at all the well wishes coming at me from everywhere.
“Are you ready to go?’ Kyon asks in my ear. “I can call the ship. We can be back home shortly.”
“No,” I reply, hearing music up ahead. “We’re not running. Anyway, you promised me a dance.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, you did,” I say with a smile. I pull him along to where the music is playing in a lighted pavilion. W
hen we reach the place where people are turning around the floor, I tug on Kyon’s hands to get him to come with me. People are gathered in a circle around the dancers, clapping and singing along to the music. It’s not something I’ve ever heard before. If I had to liken it to anything, it’d maybe be a modern version of polka. I join in the clapping. It makes me giggle because if they came to Earth, some of them might find the dancing criminally vulgar. “Do you know how to do the dance they’re doing?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says as if he’s admitting to a crime.
“Why do you say it like that?” I ask, continuing to clap.
“I was in that club where you worked on Earth. I saw what passes as dancing there. This must be very provincial.”
“You must think I’m very judgmental,” I say. “I actually think that if more people spent their time dancing, we’d all be better off. Any form of dancing, especially if it’s with someone they love.”
He takes off his jacket and takes my wrap from me, tossing them in a pile of castoffs behind us. His large hand swallows mine. He brings me out onto the floor. The music changes to an elegant composition. It sounds postclassical with a haunting pianoforte minimally adorned with electronica beats. With one hand in mine, and the other on my hip, he turns me around the pavilion like we were always made to be here. As I spin with him, I wonder which direction Earth is. Does it matter? What if I allow myself to be lost here in the moment with him?
I let go of everything around me and live on borrowed time. I act as if it’s my last night alive. Who wants to live forever anyway? Laughing, I try to catch my breath while Kyon whirls me in an intricate move.
Fireworks go off, booming and rumbling loudly, the sounds reverberating in my chest. It startles me until the flash and sparkle of colorful light shines on Kyon’s hair, turning it from red, to rose, and then to silver in strobing patterns. Everyone stops dancing to watch the explosions rain down. Watching the fire spread across the sky, I promise myself that I’ll get back the upper hand.
Kyon turns to me with fire in his eyes. Our time is limited. We’ll go our separate ways soon. If all goes well, I’ll never see him again. How was I to guess that that thought would hurt me like it does?
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