Uh-huh.
“It proves we can work together,” Trystan disagreed, edging his way toward another turn. With a crook of two fingers, he motioned that it was clear. He’d taken the lead again but hadn’t checked back on her nearly as many times as he had when they’d started.
“It proves neither one of us wants to get shot,” she corrected him, scanning the rooms as they passed. “Or, in your case, wants to get shot again.”
The corner of his mouth curled up before he got a handle on it and returned it to that damning stubborn line. “You’re teasing me.”
“Nothing new there.”
He was silent a moment, and then: “Teasing is generally something done between friends, Delaney. Insulting is what one does with an enemy. I enjoy the idea of us being friends.”
She frowned.
“But I enjoy the fact that we’re bondmates more,” he added privately, fortunately turned the other direction so that he missed her shiver.
Nope. She wasn’t going there, not while they were currently in a high-stress environment being spied on by the coordinator, his daddy, and possibly everyone else on the planet.
“Not here,” she told him aloud.
“Of course,” he agreed, purposefully misinterpreting. “Here we are partners.”
“Trystan.” She understood that people were listening, but she also knew him well enough to know that he was still trying to mess with her. And it was working.
A hand shot out of nowhere, grabbing on to her upper arm. Her fritz was already aimed and she fired, not waiting to process the Teller who’d just leaped out of the room they’d passed. She’d glanced inside and hadn’t seen anything. He must have been hiding. With a shake she turned back to Trystan, who was now facing her with an angry look on his face.
A figure appeared over his shoulder, and knowing there wasn’t time to warn him, she pushed Trystan aside and shot.
The Teller at the end of the hall went down in a heap.
When she lowered her arm and glanced over, Trystan was watching her.
“What was that about shoving?” he asked, his voice little more than a purr. This time he caught her reaction, the tingle that swept down her spine. He grinned wickedly, chuckling when she quickly spun away.
Delaney continued forward, not bothering to answer him. It’d been either shove him aside or let him get shot. She just didn’t want to lose, she told herself.
“Wait.” She’d taken the lead and they’d come to a four-way stop. At the edge of each connecting wall there was a different-colored shape. She scanned over them, spotting the yellow circle she’d recalled from earlier. “Do you think that’s it?”
He followed her line of sight, then glanced over to the blue mark they’d been following, debating.
“If you know the way,” she said, and waved him forward, “let’s do it. You were right before about the blue marker.”
“Yellow wasn’t even on my map,” he disclosed. “When you mentioned it earlier, I started to wonder if we’d gotten separate ones to further throw us off. Were there any blue dots on yours?”
She hadn’t been able to recall before, which probably meant no. “I don’t think so.”
If they’d gotten different maps, did that mean there were multiple ways out, or was one of them a false lead?
“We’ve been going my way,” Trystan said suddenly. “Let’s try it yours.”
She couldn’t help the surprise. “Are you sure? I feel in this particular instance we have a better chance if we continue on the path you chose. I didn’t do a very good job memorizing my map, to be honest.”
“But you’re certain about the yellow trail leading to the exit?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Only because it’d been the one path she’d latched on to and forced herself to follow all the way. It would definitely take them to the end, but whether that way was faster than the other … she had no clue.
It was a toss-up.
She breathed out slowly, turning back toward the hallway with the yellow circles. “Let’s hope this is the right decision.”
“I trust you,” he said assuredly, then gently brushed past her toward their chosen exit.
“Why do we have to navigate this while simultaneously fending off attackers?” she questioned after they’d taken down another six Tellers. It showed that they could work together, sure, but the fighting? Were they meant to defend each other? Throw themselves in the way of incoming zees to prove their love or some such nonsense?
If that last part was the case, how did the coordinator actually expect both members of the party to make it all the way through to the end? Maybe that was why she’d mentioned it so firmly. What happened to regular couples if they failed this particular exercise? Were they not allowed to bond?
She didn’t know why she was so curious about it—she and Trystan were not an actual couple. The whole thing seemed … sad. If you couldn’t make it through a maze while being shot at you weren’t allowed to marry the person you loved? Seemed like bullshit to her. Cruel, unusual bullshit.
Unbidden, she pictured Trystan doing this with Olena, and outwardly cringed at the sight. There was no way the former Lissa would be of use here, let alone defend him if need be. Hell, she’d probably be the one to shoot him in the back, and then try to claim it’d been an “accident.”
Yet Trystan hadn’t been expecting to use a coordinator at all, so perhaps the two of them wouldn’t have even been here. The Rex would have just let Olena marry his son to get them Vakar, without bothering to test if they were a good match or not. The only reason Delaney had to go through it was because she was human. And even then, she was almost certain if the planet had miraculously rejoiced in the idea of her on the throne, Hortan End would never have suggested it.
Which was further proof he didn’t care at all about his son’s happiness.
“Kint respects strength and military prowess,” Trystan answered. “This proves we’re both good soldiers and that we can work as a team. It’s also partially so that we can impress each other.”
“What?” She scrunched up her nose, eyeing the muscles tensing in his back as he moved.
“Are you saying you don’t appreciate watching me fight, Delaney?” There was humor in his voice, though she couldn’t see his face from where she followed behind. “That you don’t like the way I move?”
She tore her gaze away from his back, even though there was no way he could actually have known she’d been staring.
They took one last corner and she let out a sigh of relief. At the end of the hall was a set of massive double doors, identical to the ones they’d passed through to get into the maze.
“There,” she said, despite the fact that he had to have seen it, too.
Just as they took the final turn, a half dozen Tellers stepped out from hidden rooms, effectively blocking their path. The two of them jumped back out of the way.
Delaney let out a groan, unable to keep her irritation inside any longer.
At the sound, Trystan cocked his head at her, lifting a brow. He had that deadly half smirk on his face again, and excitement flickered in his eyes.
“Come on, Delaney,” he offered. “Against you and me? They don’t stand a chance.”
* * *
“I HATE YOU,” she mumbled as he worked her palm, massaging the muscles of her hand with strong, deft fingers.
They’d come out of the maze less than ten minutes ago, and the shock waves from the zee she’d taken to the knuckles hadn’t abated. She’d been so close to making it out unscathed, but no. At the last second she’d miscalculated, and one of the Tellers had shot her right where she’d been holding her fritz. The only reason she hadn’t dropped her weapon to the ground was because it was attached to her wrist.
Trystan had gotten them the rest of the way out, taking down the remaining two Tellers with ease, and Gailie had been on the other side of the doors.
“This hurts way worse than you let on.” She tried to flex, but all that did
was cause the electric pains to flutter up to her elbow. He’d been in pain when he’d gotten hit in the arm, sure, but she was embarrassed to admit she was close to tears. Stubbornly, she tilted her head back and stared at the overhead lights until she felt the tears receding.
“Come now,” he coaxed, “it isn’t that bad. Give it another minute. You’ll feel better then, I promise.”
“If it helps,” Gailie said, a huge smile on her face, “you both did spectacularly.”
“We were both shot,” Delaney reminded her.
“Yes, but neither of you went down.” She typed something into the device she held. “You both made it to the exit, left together, and, believe it or not, getting shot only once is a record.”
Her eyes widened. “No way.”
“Oh yes. I’m afraid couples usually come out of the compatibility test much more bruised and broken than the two of you managed. And we got the whole thing on film. Should work wonders helping prove to the people this bond is legitimate.” She said it like they should both be jumping for joy, and seeing as how she usually worked with couples who were actually together, she probably expected them to.
But Delaney just didn’t have it in her. Especially now that she knew how dangerous their situation had actually been. Really, no one had even expected them to make it out of there unharmed? That should have been mentioned at the beginning. Like, a warning label or something.
“So.” Gailie was back to staring down at her screen. “I’ve been informed the Unveiling has been moved up to the day after tomorrow. It’s unconventional, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”
All at once, Trystan tensed, his hands, still holding hers, pausing in their ministrations.
Noticing his change in demeanor, the coordinator paled. “Apologizes, Zane, I assumed you’d been made aware.”
“No,” he said in a clipped tone, “I was not.”
“It was the Rex’s order,” she told him.
“Unsurprising.” He was not pleased, not even a little bit, and was doing absolutely nothing to cover that fact up.
“Well,” she said, and cleared her throat. “I’m still trying to work out when exactly everything will be ready for the two of you. I’ll have the reworked schedule delivered as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Co Gailie,” he stated. “You’re dismissed.”
She was clearly taken aback by his swift command, but only froze for a split second before bowing her head and moving off. It seemed even the lady in charge of their weird exercises knew better than to mess with him in his current state.
“Trystan.” Delaney forced his attention back her way, not liking how tightly he was holding his shoulders, or how loudly he was grinding his teeth. “Come now,” she parroted once he was looking at her, “it isn’t that bad.”
“You don’t even know what it is,” he pointed out, but all the anger he’d been storing up seemed to drain from him at once. He sighed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done. How’s your hand?”
Tentatively, she wiggled her fingers, blowing out a slow breath when everything felt relatively normal again. “Better.”
“Excellent.” He turned his left hand around so that now their palms were pressed together, and pulled her away from the maze room. “We finished just in time.”
Delaney considered taking her hand back, then opted not to bother. He’d only grab it again anyway.
“In time for what?” she asked, pressing him for answers when he didn’t immediately reply. “Trystan. Come on. Finding out we were meant to get hurt back there was surprise enough for one day. Tell me where we’re going.”
He paused, easing himself closer as he turned, his grip on her firming. “I wouldn’t have allowed anything bad to happen to you.” He glanced down at her hand where she’d been hit, some of that ire from earlier returning to sweep across his expression.
“That wasn’t your fault,” she told him. “And I know nothing permanently awful would have happened, but still. It’s unsettling hearing someone tell you that they’re actually surprised you’re not damaged goods. That it’s normal for people to put themselves through that, knowing they’re going to come out of it hurting.”
“But that’s part of it.” He frowned. “Being willing to risk putting yourself through pain to obtain what you want the most.”
“If that’s the case, why didn’t anyone tell me?” She pulled back slightly, inspecting him. “Did you think I wouldn’t do it if I knew?” That thought bothered her more than it should.
He searched her face. “Would you have?”
“I wouldn’t have had a choice.”
“Which is why I didn’t bother telling you,” he said, weirdly unaffected by her comment. “I knew it would only make it harder on you, and for no productive reason. You were already so nervous about my father watching the broadcast.”
They were alone in the hall, aside from Sanzie and Pettus, who trailed so far behind, there was no chance of them overhearing anything they said. But Delaney didn’t know what to say to that.
Trystan sighed and angled his head back down the hall. “We’re close.”
She kept her feet rooted to the ground pointedly. “To?”
“Dinner.” He grinned. “Of course.”
It hit her then that she was starving. The light breakfast she’d had that morning had long since burned off, and she’d skipped lunch altogether on account of nerves.
Seeing her expression, he chuckled and began walking them forward. True to his word, less than five minutes later they entered a large room she’d never been to before.
The kitchen was massive, with counters lining the right wall. There was an island in the center big enough to be a table seating eight, and across from that another long row of counters. Delaney didn’t recognize most of the devices, though the fridge looked enough like the ones back home.
Across the room, to the far left, was a dining room table, set before a wall made entirely of windows that overlooked the side of a mountain. Everything outside was white and gray and still. Like a silent winter wonderland.
Or the calm before the storm.
CHAPTER 25
Trystan began moving confidently around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets and drawers, removing some foreign and some not-so-foreign-looking objects. His blond hair was smoothed back, the collar of his shirt straight and stiff. There wasn’t so much as a wrinkle on his pants, and the deactivated metal fritz and shield bands looked like jewelry now. And not girly in the least, considering his massive height and the width of his shoulders.
No one would guess he’d just come from an exercise as physical as the compatibility test had been.
Delaney spared a glance down at herself, more baffled by their differences than anything. She still had strands of hair sticking to the side of her neck from the sweating she’d been doing earlier. They hadn’t changed out of those black suits, but somehow hers looked thoroughly used. There were creases at the bends in her knees and elbows, as well as a few dust splotches, probably from those times she’d slammed up against a wall for shelter. She even saw a few scuff marks on her boots.
How the hell had Trystan managed to stay so put together? And, more important, why did he bother? Hadn’t there been enough to worry about with them running through a maze and being shot at?
Distracted by her perusal, it took Delaney a lot longer than it should have to realize what was actually going on in front of her.
“Wait.” She glanced between him and the island where he’d already piled a ton of different things. “Are you cooking?”
“I told you I could,” he replied, rummaging through the refrigerator.
“Sure,” she drawled, stalling because she couldn’t quite figure out how she felt about it. “But being able to cook and cooking for me are two different things.”
“I’ve already cooked for you,” he reminded her.
Right. That was also true. The dinner his father had interrupted, Trystan had made that.
&
nbsp; Straightening from the floor, he piled all the ingredients he’d just removed into his arms and carried them over to the island where she stood. He began organizing everything, quickly spreading it all around in a neater display.
“Do you have a problem, Delaney?” he asked, and while he kept his gaze firmly planted on what he was doing, he couldn’t hide the slight edge to his words. “Would you prefer I didn’t cook for you?”
Sensing that she was standing on the edge of a precipice, she was quick to shake her head. He was trying to do something nice, and she was coming off extremely ungrateful, and even somewhat rude.
“Honestly,” she admitted, realizing the truth herself just in time to give it to him, “I just didn’t imagine you actually doing this. It’s weird, seeing you in the kitchen. Not a bad weird, just an … unexpected one. Is there a recipe?”
He tapped at his temple in answer, lifting a large mixing bowl and setting it before him. Next, he reached for a small pitch-black object, and a glass jar that held something grainy and magenta. After crushing the black items into the bottom of the bowl, he added about a spoonful of the powder.
When he reached silently for something that looked like a blue banana with purple spots, she sighed. He wasn’t angry with her, but she’d clearly hit a nerve all the same. Whatever mood he was suddenly in, there was only one way that she knew of to crack it.
Annoy the crap out of him.
Sliding one of the glass stools from beneath the lip of the island, Delaney delicately perched on the edge and folded her hands under her chin, making sure to stare the whole time. It was childish, but the idea of getting under his skin sent a tiny thrill through her, and she began tapping the tip of her booted toe against the counter. The contact made a satisfying ringing sound, which she repeated, settling into a steady rhythm.
Trystan, pretending not to notice what she was doing, continued using the miscellaneous items between them. The way he went about it, it was obvious he’d made this dish a thousand times before.
Between Frost and Fury Page 27