Darken the Stars

by Amy A. Bartol

  He looks at me suspiciously. “What happened? Did you do this?”

  I shake my head and raise my shaky hand to my brow. I don’t have to pretend to be scared. I am scared.

  He helps me up from my seat. The other guards are beginning to regain consciousness as well. All of a sudden, it’s a pukefest inside the cabin of the Hallafast as my bodyguards suffer the same kind of nausea I had endured upon waking. Keenan ushers me to the door and helps me descend the stairs. “You should go see if anyone needs your help inside,” I tell him. “I’m okay.”

  “I should stay with you,” he objects. “Do you want me to take you to your room?”

  “No, I won’t be able to sleep. I’d like to go to Kyon’s study and wait for him to return.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks. “Maybe I should take you to the medical facility instead. You look like you’re going to fall down.”

  “I’d rather go to the study. There’s a sofa there. I can rest on it if I need to.”

  He doesn’t argue with me further, and takes me to Kyon’s study. Once there, he orders Oscil to stoke the fire and makes me sit in the emerald chair Kyon had been sitting in earlier. “I’m going to call Fulton. I want him to examine you to make sure you’re okay.” Before I can object, he says, “Oscil, summon Fulton to Foundation, garden level.”

  Oscil replies, “Fulton Coalfax has been summoned. He indicates arrival in two fleats.”

  Fulton enters the room with a serene look on his face. His eyes go from Keenan to me, and he immediately comes to my side. Kneeling down, he looks in my watery eyes. “Oscil, send a visor,” he commands. He lifts my wrist and holds his fingers to it. “Did you have a trying evening, darling?” he asks me. I nod my head, choking back tears.

  Fulton takes my hand and holds it. He looks up at Keenan, who is hovering near us. “What happened?”

  “Plenty.”

  “Where’s Kyon?” he asks. I watch the firelight shine in the silver streaks of Fulton’s blond hair.

  “He sent us home. Nezra crashed their outing. He’s dealing with her. We had a problem upon arrival here.”

  His brow furls. “What sort of problem?”

  “The Hallafast malfunctioned and the landing was a bit unstable,” Keenan replies.

  Fulton turns his attention back to me while Keenan retrieves the visor that Oscil sent to the room in a hovering pod. He hands the body scanner to Fulton. I allow Fulton to put the sunglasseslike contraption on my eyes, knowing that it will take all my vital signs and display them on the surface of the glasses.

  “The blood flow to Kricket’s brain was momentarily interrupted, but it seems to be satisfactory now. There’s no sign of clotting or blockage. It’s all very curious. Did something happen to the cabin pressure in the descent?” Fulton asks.

  “Possibly,” Keenan replies.

  “Submit the Hallafast to maintenance immediately. I want them to go over every aspect of it. When they’re finished with their evaluation, I want it to remain out of service.”

  “It will be done,” Keenan replies.

  “Keenan, go see to yourself. You look as if you’re about to collapse. I’ll sit with Kricket until Kyon returns.”

  Keenan hesitates. “She’s my responsibility.”

  “She’s safe here. I’ll see to it. Have another team double the patrols outside if you’re worried. Otherwise, get some rest.”

  Keenan debates it for a second and then he nods. To me he says, “Kricket, have Oscil locate me if you need me.”

  “I will,” I agree.

  Keenan drags himself from the room and Fulton gets to his feet and walks over to a wall near the fireplace. “Drink?” he asks. Touching a panel, a bar opens up for him. Shelves of different sizes and shaped bottles make him look like salesman pushing his elixirs. “Would you like a Winslet?”

  “I don’t drink,” I reply.

  “That’s why I offered you a Winslet; it’s mild. You should have one.”

  “Okay,” I reply. I realize I really don’t care if he were offering me poison. It really doesn’t matter anymore.

  He’s a little surprised that I’ve agreed. He runs his fingers over the holographic menu. An ice-frosted flute emerges from the countertop. He grips the long stem in one hand and a fat tumbler of amber-colored liquid in his other, bringing the icy one to me. He sits in the emerald-colored seat next to mine.

  After he settles in and the fire and alcohol have had a chance to mellow us both, I glance at him. “Tell me about Excelsior,” I say, as Fulton takes a sip of his drink. He nearly chokes on it.

  “My, you’re direct,” he says with amusement.

  I don’t reply. Sipping my drink, I find that it’s a dry cranberry-flavored sparkling wine. It’s good.

  “Why do you want to talk about my ex-employer?”

  I toy with the stem of my flute. “Because everyone here who knows about the prophecy thinks I’m going to kill him.” Fulton’s glass hovers near his lips as he studies me. “Even Excelsior is laboring under that impression. I’d like to know some things about him before I murder him. It’s one of those quirks I have.”

  “Excelsior Ensin, Excelsior Ensin . . . where to begin . . . Ah! I can say without hesitation that I know of no other person more deserving of a horrifyingly painful death than Excelsior Ensin. What else would you like to know about him?”

  “What does he do if he wins?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean walk me through it. You’re Excelsior Ensin. You’ve managed to slaughter your son, Kyon, and your daughter-in-law, Kricket. There’s no longer any threat to your reign. What do you do?”

  “If I’m Excelsior Ensin?” he asks for clarity. I nod. He thinks for a moment and then he says, “I assassinate the rest of the Brothers. They’re in my way. I then begin to stage assaults against the leaders of the other Houses. I find ways to crush and rout them from power.”

  “What do you do to establish yourself as the leader of Alameeda, before you take on the other leaders of the remaining Houses?”

  He thinks for a moment. “Excelsior is one for pageantry. He’ll probably throw himself a coronation.”

  “What? Like with crowns and stuff?” I ask.

  Fulton laughs, delighted by that. “Exactly like with crowns and stuff—maybe even a scepter.” He smirks. “He’ll be the emperor. He’ll need a symbol of power. A crown would be fitting. The Ensin family is supposedly descended from the ancient kings. It’s something that Excelsior bragged about often—or at least it was when I was in his employ. He has made several pilgrimages to their perch at Diadem Rock. It’s a stone circle high upon the Cliffs of Mogotrevo.”

  “I’m familiar with Diadem Rock,” I reply, remembering the stone circle where Kyon met Giffen for our hostage exchange.

  “Excelsior might be smart enough to model himself after one of the ancient kings—play on the supposed lineage.”

  “Do you have anything written down about these ancient kings?” I ask.

  “Yes.” He lifts his hands to the sheer cliff face of books that reaches in tiers up to the towering ceiling above us. “You are among kings,” he says dramatically. “Kyon has a collection of their artifacts here that is the envy of any museum. I believe the only reason he collects them is so that his father won’t get them.”

  “I’m not the only one with daddy issues then,” I mumble.

  “What was that?” Fulton asks as he lazily lifts his glass to his lips once more and takes another sip.

  “I was wondering what you think Excelsior would do if Kyon and I had a coronation of our own.”

  He pauses. “You’re a dangerous woman.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “I really do,” he says.

  “You say the sweetest things, Fulton. Maybe we should try on some of the crowns—the more ancient, the better.”

  “You’d look nice in a tiara,” he replies. He sees my face light up. “Oh . . . you were serious?”

  I nod emph
atically.

  “Shall we have another drink and make a production of it?”

  “I insist,” I say, holding out my empty glass to him.

  Two hours later, Kyon bursts into the study at a run, his feet pound on the plank floor. “Kricket!” he calls, searching for me.

  “Shh!” Placing the book that I was reading aside, I uncross my legs on the floor. Crawling forward on my hands and knees, I poke my head through the wrought-iron railing four levels above his position on the garden level. “You’ll wake up Fulton!”

  “What?” he asks, sounding a little less panicked than he did a moment ago. “I was just told that the trift you were in crash-landed in the courtyard. Are you okay?” I hear him jogging up the spiral stairs on the side of the room.

  “It was nothing a little Winslet couldn’t fix,” I reply. Or a lot—I haven’t stopped drinking it. Fulton and I had decided just to bring the bottles up here. I’m a little wrecked at the moment. I scoot back to my spot on the floor, leaning up against a glass display cabinet. I try to find my place again in the tome I was reading, as I balance the thick book on my lap. Next to me, Fulton snores. He’s on the floor too, with his back against a bookcase and his chin on his chest. An ancient bronze crown leans at a jaunty angle on his head.

  Reaching our level, Kyon pauses when he sees me with one of his ancestor’s thick metal crowns on my head. “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “Reading,” I murmur.

  “What did you do to Fulton?” he asks.

  “I just had a few drinks with him and we tried on some crowns.”

  “You know he’s over three thousand years old, right?”

  “Really?” I ask.

  Kyon nods.

  “Huh.” I stick out my bottom lip. “He looks good.” As Kyon crouches down next to me, looking me over, I add, “I’m—”

  “—fine,” we say in unison.

  Kyon frowns. “Yes, that’s your mantra,” he says.

  “Here.” I lift up another crown from the ones I’ve collected on the floor. “I picked this one out for you. I think it suits you.” I place the crown on his head. He looks like an ancient Viking warrior. I blink a couple of times, because it’s actually a little startling. “I was right. It looks good.”

  “Why are you picking out crowns?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. I just am.” It’s true. I don’t know, but there’s something here. Something that will give me an edge against Excelsior, I can feel it in my bones, in my blood.

  Kyon reaches over and touches Fulton’s leg. Shaking it gently, he wakes his mentor.

  Fulton yawns, “Ah, you’re back.”

  “Yes. Thank you for staying with Kricket for me.”

  “It was a very amusing endeavor,” Fulton replies. He takes the crown from his head and places it on the floor by the others I have surrounding me. “Thank you for the interesting evening, Kricket,” he says with a smile.

  I lean over and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for your help. I think I may owe you my life.”

  Fulton looks at Kyon. “She’s perfect for you. Try not to ruin it. Excuse me while I retire for the evening.”

  Kyon doesn’t say a word, but helps Fulton get to his feet.

  “Good night,” I say absently with my nose back in the book.

  Fulton leaves us, and I lift my eyes to Kyon’s again. They’re dark and brooding. “How’s your arm?” I ask.

  “Healed.” He flexes his hand, showing me that he has no discomfort.

  “How’s my half sister?”

  “Broken. I don’t want to discuss her. Chandrum is dealing with her and her mess.”

  He reaches for me and plucks me off the ground, hoisting me over his shoulder. I have to use my hand to hold the crown on my head. I drop the book I was reading. “What are you doing?” I ask in outrage. “I was in the middle of something!”

  “You’re about to be in the middle of something else.” We leave Foundation and take a few turns in corridors I haven’t yet been in. We enter a dark room in which soft lighting turns the space to elegant shadows. It’s a massive bedroom. I don’t see much of it before I’m set on my feet.

  Kyon reaches for the straps on my dress and unfastens them. The silky, coral fabric slips from me and pools on the floor. He peels his shirt off. I’m not surprised to see that his skin is flawless once more. It makes me shiver, though, knowing we have both been genetically manipulated. He takes the crown from his head and sets it aside on the table by the bed. I reach up to remove the thick, heavy circlet of gold from my head, but I pause when he says, “Leave it on.”

  Kyon pulls me into his bed and rolls me on top of him. His hands touch my breasts, running over my skin to rest on my hips. I look down at him. “Tell me you love me,” he whispers as he moves inside me.

  “Never,” I whisper back, but I find myself slipping away from never and freefalling toward always.

  I awake from the nightmare I was having, finding Kyon asleep next to me. My heart crashes against my chest in fear. In my dream, I’d been lying in a field of wild znous. The intoxicating smell of their poisonous petals was as strong as the velvety softness of the flowers that closed in around me.

  I pull back the blankets covering me and hop out of bed. I run to the attached lavare. Finding Kyon’s robe, I wrap it around me. It’s ridiculously big, but I don’t care. As I exit the lavare, I say, “Oscil!”

  “Requirement,” Oscil responds immediately.

  “Take me to Fulton,” I demand. Tightening the belt of the robe.

  An orb of light appears before me. “Please follow the light and I will guide you to Fulton Coalfax. Shall I advise him that you are on your way to him?”

  “Yes.”

  The orb of light begins to float away from me. I follow it. “Kricket?” Kyon mumbles sleepily from bed. “What are you doing?”

  “Be right back,” I say over my shoulder. “Faster, Oscil.” The orb of light takes off at a pace that has me running to keep up with it. Holding on to the end of the robe so I won’t trip over it, I nearly wipe out on a loose rug as it skids out from under my bare feet when I round a corner to another corridor. From somewhere behind me, I hear Kyon growl my name as he follows me.

  The orb of light passes through a closed door and I stop in front of it and pound on it with my fist. A startled Fulton opens his door. Panting, I say, “Can you have a special crown made for me?” I rest my hand against the doorjamb, leaning over and pinching my side.

  “A special—”

  “One that I design? And I want a party. A coronation. Can you arrange that for me?” I ask. Kyon creeps up on me from behind. I glance at him over my shoulder. “Hello,” I say, “I’m just working out a—” I notice that he’s naked.

  Fulton tries to hide the confusion from his face when I look back at him. “Kricket,” he says placatingly, “you can have anything you want. If that’s a party or a crown, I’d be happy to arrange it for you.”

  “Thank you,” I exhale the word like it’s my last breath. “Okay. Sorry. You can go back to sleep now.” I straighten up and start to move back down the hallway. Fulton stops me and says, “Next time you can just hologram with me.”

  “Yeah? Okay,” I say. “Good night.”

  Kyon comes up next to me. “Are you going to tell me what that’s all about?” he asks.

  “Yes. I need your help to design a crown. Do you think you’re up for it?”

  “I’m up for a lot of things,” he replies. “Start explaining.”

  CHAPTER 16

  WINSLET AND WHISPERS

  Sitting on top of Kyon’s worktable in his study, I pore over his sketches for the crown. He’s so talented it’s scary. I just had to tell him what I wanted last night and he stayed up all night working on it. “What do you think Excelsior and the Brotherhood will do when they hear that we’re planning a coronation?” I ask Kyon.

  He hunches over his worktable, testing a spring latch he’s designing. “They will accuse us of treason.�
�

  “That’s perfect. What will happen after that?” I ask.

  “They’ll try to arrest us. Why don’t you project into the future and tell me if this all works out so I can decide whether or not to keep going here?”

  “I can’t. Your friend coolered me last night—Vilma—”

  “Her name is Verka,” he corrects me. “I’ll fix you in a few moments, as soon as I’m done here.”

  “I don’t need to see the future. This will work.”

  “How do you know?” he asks.

  “I know because I met your dad’s gigantic ego. It’s almost as big as yours,” I tease him.

  “I’m nothing like him,” Kyon replies, as if I hurt his feelings.

  “I know that,” I say contritely. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re forgiven,” he says.

  “Am I?” I ask.

  “Always.”

  “How fast can we get this done? We need to leak word of the crowns and the coronation soon.”

  “I’ll have it done within the next couple of rotations.”

  “Good. I have to go plan the party with Fulton. Everything has to look legit.”

  “The coronation will be legit,” he says with a frown.

  “It will be,” I agree. “I have to go.” I jump down from my perch and start to walk to the door, but Kyon pulls me back.

  Turning me to face him, he plants a kiss on my lips. “Did you forget something?” he asks. He lets go of me.

  “No, I don’t—” He shoots me with something that looks and feels a lot like a Taser. Electricity courses through my body and I immediately lose my ability to stand upright. Luckily, Kyon catches me in his arms and holds me against his chest while I twitch.

  “I just burned the Verka out of you. How do you feel?” he asks in my ear.

  “Not good,” I whisper when I regain the ability to speak. I rest my cheek against his chest.

  “Should I have warned you first?” He strokes my hair.

  “I don’t know,” I reply honestly, “maybe.”

  “It should stop stinging in a moment.”

  “Should I do you next?” I growl, as feeling returns to my arms and legs once more. It’s enough so I can stand again on my own.