“There’s your Ander,” he said, tapping a finger against the glass to indicate the other craft.
Even though there was no way she’d actually be able to see Ruckus from where she was, she rushed over to get a better look.
“Where’s Inkwell?” What she really wanted to know was if it was some kind of torture facility, if that was why he was bringing Ruckus along, but of course he didn’t answer.
“I’ll be back in less than a minute. Don’t try anything foolish.” He headed toward the door, pausing. “I really am doing this for my people.” Trystan rested a hand on the door frame, one foot already in the hall. “It doesn’t seem that way to you right now, and I understand your reasoning. But I hope, one day, you’ll see it the way I do. I may not be good, but I’m not the bad guy, either.”
She turned away and, after a moment, heard him leave.
He wasn’t gone long.
This time when he entered, the door slid shut behind him, and he went to the small table to set down a metal tray. It held a plate of triangular biscuits and two steaming white mugs. She was beginning to note he had a strange obsession with that one chocolate drink.
He caught her watching, which ruined any plans she had for ignoring him, and motioned her toward one of the empty chairs. When she silently refused, he shook his head and sat down, reaching for one of the biscuits. He’d slipped into a long jacket the same shade of red as his eyes, and had another in white draped over his left arm.
“It’s going to get cold,” he said. “You really should put this on.”
“I think I’d prefer to freeze to death.”
“Really?” He settled back in his chair. “Have you come close to freezing before? I have. It’s a special kind of suffering, starting with a numbness that’s more irritating than anything. Then there’s the muscle clenching, and the shivering. In the end, you feel like you’re on fire. But the disorientation is my least favorite part. Somewhere between the start and finish you begin losing your mind. I hallucinated that I was sitting with my mother in her reading room.”
Delaney frowned at the way he stared off, distracted all of a sudden. There was an air of sadness settling around him, a dimness to his eyes.
His mother, the Regina, had died when he was a child. She’d never considered how Trystan still felt about it.
“When did this happen?” she asked, mostly to get him to snap out of it. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him, not after everything he’d done and was going to do.
“A few years ago,” he said, then cleared his throat. “When the war was still going on. My ship was shot down over Morray in the middle of winter. Out of twenty-seven of us Kints, only three survived. Two of my men and I.” He met her gaze, his momentary distraction over. “Brightan was one of them.”
“If you want me to say I’m sorry you had to kill him, you’re out of luck.” His right hand had been leading the Tars. Not a single part of her was upset he was dead.
“I don’t.” He held up the jacket, and she realized she was shivering.
“Don’t you have a heating system in this thing?” she grumbled, moving over to snatch the jacket out of his grasp. The material of the white coat was velvety soft, and she wanted to rub her face against the gold trim.
Now that she was here, she figured she might as well sit and warm herself with the hot drink. She selected one of the biscuits as well, practically moaning when the sugar hit her tongue. She was starving.
“I must remember to feed you more regularly,” he said to himself. “I procured this ship very last minute, actually, so no, the heating system is broken. The one I usually use was sent on ahead this morning, with the coordinator.”
“So you’ve known this entire time Ruckus was coming?” She took another biscuit. “Why put on the production? If you knew what we were going to do, why didn’t you say something during the movie?”
“I was curious to see how you acted with the Ander when you thought no one else was there to bear witness,” he said. “This way I was able to capture him and his accomplices. If I hadn’t, he would have simply tried again. We can’t afford distractions like that right now. Neither of us wants to be looking over our shoulders every five seconds.”
“Love how you’re lumping us together there,” she drawled. “Almost like you actually believe you and I want the same things.”
“We do.” He leaned forward, propping an arm against the edge of the table. “You want your people to be safe, and so do I.”
“The only thing we have in common,” she said, “is that we both want to be free. Difference is, you getting your wish means ensuring I don’t get mine. The Vakar aren’t my people. Why should I give a damn about them?”
His mouth twitched. “You aren’t callous, Delaney. Don’t bother pretending to be. I know you better than that.”
“You don’t know me at all.”
“Don’t I?” He quirked a blond brow.
“Hacking into my fitting doesn’t allow you to read my mind.” All it did was give him access to thoughts she broadcasted, and generally only if she did so to him specifically. Of course, because she hadn’t known there was anyone else tapped in to her frequency, she hadn’t bothered shielding herself mentally during her conversation with Ruckus.
“I don’t need to read your mind to understand your inner workings,” Trystan told her. “Even as Olena, you wore your personality like a cloak. It was nearly impossible not to get to know you. And I did try, trust me. I was controlling, abrasive—”
“Domineering, gruff, creepy, intrusive, a complete and total asshole, et cetera, et cetera.”
“I’m almost positive those first two things hold the same meaning as the two I started with,” he said, not the least bit affected by her insults.
“Basically you’re saying I did a crap job pretending to be the Lissa. Great. Now that we’ve got that cleared up, I’d like to point out you’re virtually telling me to do the same thing. You want me to act like I like you, but I don’t, and you already have firsthand experience with how shitty of an actress I am, so…” She pretended to be heavily invested in her drink when she didn’t get a reaction.
“You’re taking this rather well,” he said once she’d placed her cup back down and could meet his gaze again.
“You expected me to cry? Throw a tantrum?” She lifted a mocking brow. “Thought you knew me better than that.”
“Touché.” He cleared his throat. “By capturing your only friends here on Xenith, I’ve just stopped your escape plan and ensured there’s no chance of your ever coming up with another, yet you’re calm.”
“I’m panicking, actually,” she said, crunching down on her fifth biscuit. “You should know when people are covering up their emotions. You’re so good at it.”
“Am I?”
“You aren’t humble, Trystan. Don’t bother pretending to be,” she parroted, keeping her voice serious. “I know you better than that.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“I do so frequently,” she said. “You just don’t seem to notice very often.”
“That’s good. I like it.”
“You do?” She wasn’t expecting that.
“If your instincts are to tease me, it means we’re making progress.”
She wanted to argue with his reasoning, but before she got the chance, he canted his head and got that familiar far-off look.
A moment later he grunted and rose from his chair carefully, adjusting his jacket to smooth any wrinkles. He took his cup, which was still pretty full, and sipped it while she watched him.
“I’m needed elsewhere,” he said.
“You so often are.”
It appeared as though he had a comeback to that, but he opted not to give it. Instead he smiled and continued, “We’ve only a couple of hours before we reach our destination. I’ll leave Sanzie here to keep you company.”
Trystan didn’t wait for a reply, going straight to the door. He also didn’t bother leaving Sanzie with in
structions; he merely passed her in the hall and disappeared around the corner.
Despite his choice of words, the Teller wasn’t here so Delaney had someone to talk to, but why waste an opportunity?
“The last time I was alone with one of Trystan’s Tellers, he tried to kill me,” Delaney said.
Sanzie frowned, genuinely perplexed by her statement. “Harming you would be committing treason, Lissa.”
“You don’t have to pretend. You probably don’t like me.”
“My approval doesn’t matter. It’s not my job to have an opinion about you, your station, or how you got it,” Sanzie replied.
With a sigh, Delaney reached down and yanked the zipper up on her jacket, and glanced longingly at her now empty cup.
“I can have another cup of squa brought, if you’d like,” Sanzie offered, noticing where Delaney was gazing.
“So that’s what it’s called.” She’d been referring to it as faux hot chocolate in her mind. “I can probably wait until we get there. How cold is it? Where we’re going, I mean?”
The thickness of the jacket she was wearing indicated cold.
“It’s the middle of winter in Kint right now,” Sanzie answered. “The temperatures can quickly turn deadly.”
Her stomach tightened. She’d never been to Kint before, and she definitely had no desire to visit now.
“I’d suggest keeping indoors if you’re not one for snow and ice.”
“Noted.” Could that be why Trystan was relocating her here? To keep her from wandering off? If so, it was going to work. Getting herself lost in a frozen tundra did not sound appealing.
“Trystan mentioned you know Ruckus?” Delaney certainly wanted more details about that.
“I did,” Sanzie confirmed, that impassive mask on her face slipping marginally to reveal either guilt or sadness. “A long time ago.”
“How?”
“I was part of the Vakar guard.”
Delaney blinked. “I’m sorry, what? But aren’t you Kint?”
“I am now,” she said, her voice proud. “Vakar was where I was born, however, so that’s where I began my initial training. The Ander and I were part of the same squad for a while.”
She licked her lips. “So, you grew up together?”
“We did.”
“How did you turn Kint?” Delaney hadn’t been aware that was even an option for people.
Sanzie smiled lightly. “What you mean is, how did I get the Zane to trust me, considering where I come from?”
Okay, yeah. That was what she meant.
“I’m loyal, Lissa,” she said. “I hope that you’ll see that, and realize that that loyalty now extends to you.”
“Because I’m betrothed to Trystan?” she snapped.
“In part. But also because as I just told you”—she met Delaney’s gaze—“I was once Vakar, too.”
CHAPTER 10
He despised the smell. That dank, musty hint to the chilled air mixed with cleaning solution. The first was a byproduct of the dungeons being part of the original structure, the second created in a poor attempt to mask the first.
When he’d taken over the castle at Inkwell, he’d thought it quite brilliant leaving the lower levels with the holding cells as they were. Not that he’d intended to hold prisoners here, but he liked to plan ahead, and in the off chance one day he would have someone worth holding, he wanted to ensure there was a proper place to put them. And a properly uncomfortable place at that.
Aside from a few technological updates—like electrified walls and reinforced doors—he’d kept it all the same, right down to the circular stone stairwell that was meant to draw out a prisoner’s misery by giving their imagination more time to play out the coming horrors.
It seemed like a complete and utter waste now, however, when he was the one in a rush to reach the bottom.
Something was always pulling him away from Delaney right when he wanted to be near her most. They’d stepped off the ship less than fifteen minutes ago, and he was curious how she’d react to the rooms he’d had her escorted to.
Which was foolish, because it didn’t matter whether she liked them; she was staying there either way.
The sound of his boots clicking down the stone steps echoed off the walls and he schooled his features, trying to mask his ire and impatience. He didn’t need the Ander to know how much of an inconvenience this was going to be. Killing him, and the others, would be the easiest course of action, not to mention the most satisfying. Unfortunately, the conversation he’d had with Delaney had been accurate. Ruckus was worth more to him alive.
For now.
After what felt like an eternity, Trystan finally reached the foot of the stairs, ignoring the silent greetings of the two sentries there. He turned the left corner, adjusting his jacket, and headed toward the far cell, where he’d ordered Delaney’s friends be placed.
He had to admit, if only to himself, that he admired them for their attempt to help her. It was a rare occurrence to find someone, let alone someones, truly willing to do anything and everything for a friend. There’d only been four of them, and yet their plan might have worked if Trystan hadn’t thought ahead and tapped into Delaney’s fitting.
The conversation between Delaney and Ruckus he’d overheard ran through his mind, further darkening his mood. He’d been partially curious about how they would speak with each other in private, it was true, but more than that, he’d hoped to glean some understanding of how comfortable the two of them were physically. It was one thing to compete with a man who Delaney viewed as her savior and ally, another to try to get between her and someone she thought of as lover and friend.
He knew it was already too late to prevent the last, but the first …
Trystan shook his head and inwardly cursed himself. This entire line of thinking was a waste of time. What did it matter how close to the Ander she’d gotten on Earth?
He arrived at the end of the cell block, and moved so that he was standing in the wide center of the hall.
There were six cells in this section of the dungeon, three on each side, all connected by thick white stone walls. The bars had been replaced with electronic shields that would leave second-degree burns on a person if they touched it. The shield was a sheer light blue, easy enough to see through, but still a clear visible barrier to keep prisoners from getting any ideas.
He’d ordered the others into a separate cell, directly across from the one he’d placed the Ander in. The three of them were badly bruised, and the Teller—Pettus, if Trystan recalled correctly—was favoring his left arm.
There were five Tellers, all Kint, stationed around the box-shaped room, and he jutted out his chin to dismiss them. Whatever was said between him and the Ander, he wanted it to remain private.
“How’s the eye?” Trystan asked, slipping with ease into the role of arrogant Zane.
One of his men had landed a decent punch back at the palace, and Ruckus’s right eye was swollen three sizes too big, already coloring purplish blue. Navy, like the Kints’ official color, which gave Trystan a sick twist of pleasure. He would have pointed it out if there weren’t other matters to discuss.
“I’ll return the favor,” Ruckus said gruffly. “Trust me.”
“Bold, coming from someone currently out of moves.” Trystan pointedly ran his gaze over the edges of the cell wall, where the blue hue was darkest.
“You can’t actually believe people are going to accept a human on the throne,” he growled. “You’re not that naive.”
Trystan merely stared at him.
“No,” he said, seeming to realize, “you’re just that arrogant.”
“You know something of arrogance, Ander. You did just attempt to steal my betrothed.”
“It eats you up inside, doesn’t it?” Ruckus growled. “Going through all this trouble for someone who’s never going to want you back? I didn’t come to steal anyone. I came to rescue my girlfriend from the delusional bastard who actually thinks this is going
to end in his favor.”
“Clearly,” he drawled, forcing composure, “you’ve been taking lessons from the silver-tongued Delaney. Is that how you spent your Earth days? Her training you how to properly deliver a verbal barb?”
“We did other things with our tongues, actually,” Ruckus said.
Before he knew it, Trystan was standing close enough to the cell wall to feel heat radiate from it. This side wasn’t dangerous to touch, but the heat signature was an added level of precaution to remind people that the force field was activated. He let it brush against his skin for a moment, sucking it up until he was uncomfortably hot and had something outward to focus on.
“This isn’t just about avoiding Olena,” Ruckus murmured, though it was clear it was more to himself. “I knew it.”
“Care to share?” Trystan asked, glad when his voice came out deadpan.
“You’re in love with her.”
He grunted, ignoring the strange buzzing sensation that flittered over his body. “Hardly.”
“You are.” For a second it was obvious the Ander couldn’t decide whether he felt cocky at being right, or angry about it. He settled on the latter. “She’s never going to love you, and if you really care about her, you’ll put an end to this insanity now. We both know you’re putting her in danger by keeping her here.”
“I’ll say it once, and only once.” He took a deliberate step back from the wall. “This is about what’s best for Kint, and while I admit it also benefits me in the sense that I no longer have to tie myself to Olena, any connections I have toward Delaney are sheer byproducts of circumstance. I am no more in love with her than I am with you, Ander Ruckus. Feelings, especially those of the heart, are fleeting and fragile.
“My interest in Delaney is born of curiosity and necessity. She has a purpose, and once she’s completed that task, I’ll have no further use for her.” Even as he said that last part, he knew it was a lie.
Trystan needed time to go over that in private, figure out what exactly he was going to do with her once they’d taken crowns, if not dispose of her. Keeping her around would probably cause more problems than not, especially once his father announced his plans for Earth. But getting rid of her …
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