“I wouldn’t really call conversations with you conversations.”
“Good.” She took a deliberate step back. “Then we can end this one and go our separate ways.”
“The last time we did that,” he pointed out, “you ran off.”
“I didn’t run.” Olena had. “Besides, what does it matter? I’m here now, aren’t I? I came back.”
“Did you?” These words were whispered, his lips barely moving along with the almost inaudible sound. Louder he said, “You’re not clever enough to be up to something, Lissa. Whatever it is you think you’re doing, I advise you to end it now.”
“I’m not up to anything,” she stated matter-of-factly, hoping he’d buy it.
“Really?” He didn’t. “You’re holding books, standing in a library I’m fairly certain has never seen you before. You didn’t seek me out—you’re naive, not suicidal—so what else could you possibly be doing?”
She switched the book to one hand and waved it pointedly in the air. “Reading.”
“In English,” he noted.
“Got a problem with English?” Which she knew the second it was out was a stupid question. He was Kint, after all. He hated everything from Earth.
“I have a problem with your tone.” His expression darkened, and he took a single step forward, a step that would have made up five of her own.
“Best way to solve that?” Maintaining her ground was taking all of her courage, and only because her instincts warned that he was the type of predator who chased when the prey ran. “Leave me alone. We can’t bother each other if you’re not here.”
“I was here first,” he reminded her.
She wished she could go, she really did, but knew that if she tried, it would become all too clear she had no clue which way was out. She was fairly certain she was tiptoeing on a thin line already; she needed to avoid doing anything that would tip him off.
Delaney must have taken too long to respond, because the next thing she knew, he was crowding her up against the side of the same bookshelf she’d pulled her books from. One of them dropped out of her arms, clattering to the ground like a slap. Her breath caught in her throat, and she tightened her grip on the book she’d been reading.
Could she use it as a weapon if she had to?
Against him? Yeah, right. She wasn’t so sure a bazooka would be useful against the Zane.
“You’re trembling,” he said, that taunting purr back in full force. “That’s more like you.”
She narrowed her eyes but bit her tongue. There was less than a foot of space between them right now, and while he didn’t seem in a rush to close the gap, she’d already gathered his was a mercurial nature.
Why couldn’t Olena have been nice? Not that she thought his actually liking her would have made this ruse any easier, but she might not even be in this situation at all if Trystan and Olena had actually wanted to marry each other.
He reached out and plucked the end of her T-shirt, rubbing the soft material between his fingers. “You haven’t changed clothing.”
She snatched her shirt back and pressed it against her hip to keep him from grabbing at it again. Inwardly, she couldn’t help but curse herself for the mistake. She hadn’t even thought to change, but that was because she hadn’t intended to sneak out, not until the opportunity had presented itself. It didn’t make sense for Olena to continue wearing Kint colors, especially not here in her own castle.
“It’s comfortable,” she stated, which wasn’t a lie. One hundred percent cotton all the way. “And I’ve got—”
“Gotten used to it?” he cut her off, a single blond brow lifting in challenge. His eyes homed in on her, the interest there more frightening than his ire from earlier on the ship had been.
The sound of approaching footsteps cut off anything else he was going to say, and he turned his head toward the direction she’d come. His expression altered, annoyance setting in and turning his gaze to ice. It was that frozen look that Gibus ended up turning the corner and walking in on.
The Sutter stilled instantly, eyes widening and then snapping between the two of them. He opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again. His lab coat was slightly wrinkled, and his curly hair was in disarray. He’d clearly been lost in thought just then, and it was taking him a moment to put the pieces together.
“I didn’t realize there was anyone else here,” he said finally, shaking himself out of his stupor. He bowed to them. “Apologies, Zane Trystan. Lissa Olena.”
“That’s all right, Gibus.” Delaney moved to him, making sure to keep her steps brisk but as casual as she could manage at the same time. It was a struggle not to outright run. “I’m actually glad you’re here. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.” She waved a finger at their surroundings. “Save me from having to go through any more of these books.”
“Questions?” He blinked at her, then understanding dawned and he cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, of course. I’d be happy to help in any way I can.”
“Wonderful.” She stepped toward the row of stacks he’d just come from. “Why don’t you escort me back to my rooms? We can talk as we go.”
Trystan watched their exchange closely, moving to prop his shoulder against one of the stacks almost absently. He wasn’t fooling anyone, though; the wired way he held himself, muscles tensed and ready, was indicator enough that he was prepared for anything.
“Off so soon, Lissa?” he asked evenly.
Now that escape was actually possible, she refrained from returning with a biting comment. Instead she nodded at Trystan and grabbed Gibus’s arm in a silent plea to get on with it.
“Good night, Zane.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, the two of them turned the corner and moved out of sight. She didn’t breathe again until they were out in the dark hallway, leaving Trystan and the labyrinthine stacks far behind.
* * *
“WHAT ARE YOU doing out here?” Gibus asked five minutes later. He’d kindly given her time to collect herself, but was now full of questions; she could see them in the set of his mouth and the flare in his eyes.
“I told you,” she said breathlessly, still a bit shaken from her encounter with the Zane. “I was looking for answers.”
“Answers?” His frown deepened. “To anything specific?”
“To everything,” she stated. After having been in the heated library all this time, the hallways were now like an icebox, and she rubbed at her arms. She had no clue where they were going, and was forced to trust that Gibus was leading her back to Olena’s rooms, though she refused to ask outright. “I assume you’ve heard?”
“About your indefinite stay?” he guessed, and he at least had the decency to appear guilty. His cheeks even heated some, reddening enough that she noticed every time they passed under a light. “Yes.”
“So then help me,” she said, waving a hand at him, her frustration welling. “You are part of the reason I’m in this mess.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
“If I’m going to be her, I need to know her, at least a little. Who is she?” She stopped him when he went to speak. “Besides a raging bitch.”
While he openly pondered this question, she inspected him. He wasn’t like the others: He wore every thought and emotion that crossed through him on his face. She could see him going through the range of them: contemplation, distaste, eureka, etc.
He wasn’t as tall, either, something she’d noticed before, but now, standing next to him, that fact became even more apparent. Probably around six feet, which still left him a few inches shorter than even Pettus. He smelled a bit like mint, though it was subtle and hit her only whenever they turned a corner, forcing them closer to each other.
“Ruckus said Olena was able to steal the device because she hung out with you in your lab on the ship,” she reminded him, remembering this detail herself. “You had to have spent time with her.”
He snorted. “She only went there to get away from him. She
complained he pried too much, that he wouldn’t give her space to breathe, which, you know, is pretty much his job. Sometimes she’d feign interest in my work, ask me things using big words she clearly didn’t understand, but at least then I could talk and pretend like what I was saying wasn’t falling on deaf ears. Otherwise, it was just my listening to her whine.”
“Not the first person to tell me she’s a whiner.” Which wasn’t good, because Delaney hadn’t whined a day in her life. Tantrums, even as a child, hadn’t been her thing. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.
“If you can’t do it,” he said then, as if having read her mind, “that’s okay. Five years away will change a person, even a person like Olena. None of us would have thought her capable of pulling something like”—he motioned at her body—“this off. Not in a billion years. Just don’t show an interest in anyone. Let them approach you if they must, but never approach them.”
“Yeah,” she said with a grunt, “not a problem.” The last thing she planned on was walking up to a random alien and starting a conversation.
“From what I’m gathering,” she continued, “Olena doesn’t have many friends. Should I even be concerned about people trying to talk to her?” Trystan’s words about conversations not really even being conversations filtered through her mind. Hopefully that part had been true. If Olena was a terrible conversationalist, no one would expect much talking out of her.
“My guess is they’ll avoid you as often as possible,” he confirmed, smiling at her relieved exhale.
“Pettus told me a story,” she suggested, hoping he’d get the hint.
“Well, she stole that device—an illegal prototype that no one was supposed to ever know about—knowing full well that it could get me killed for treason, so”—he stared at her pointedly—“you already know the worst she’s done to me.”
“Killed?” She hadn’t realized it was that bad for him. Though a quick perusal showed he looked rather well for someone accused of treason.
He waved off her concern, turning them down yet another dark corridor. “Ruckus was able to convince the Basileus not to go that far. It took a while, from what I understand, but he managed it just the same. I did lose a large amount of my funding and now have to run every idea past the Basileus before I can start working on it, though.”
“He’s a good guy? Ruckus?” She didn’t know why she was asking, and hated the unsure tone her voice took on at doing so. She knew Gibus was staring at her, but she refused to meet his gaze, finding sudden interest in the darkness stretched before them.
“He feels awful for allowing Olena to trick him into taking you. In his defense, Pettus and I bought it, too. I’d still be buying it now if I didn’t know better. Unless…” He squinted his eyes at her jokingly. “How do I know you’re not really Olena pretending to not be Olena?”
“Ha-ha,” she drawled, but the corner of her mouth turned up.
“No, seriously. For all we know, she’s really an evil genius.” He couldn’t hold his expression, and ended up laughing through the last two words of his sentence. Shaking his head, he sent his thick curls flying around his forehead until they settled back, covering his ears.
He came to an abrupt stop before she could ask him anything else. It took her half a second to recognize the large dark wood door as the one she’d been brought to earlier. Great, they were here. Time to pay the Pied Piper—or in her case, pissed-off alien soldier.
If Gibus noticed her bracing herself, he was kind enough not to point it out. Instead he lifted a hand to the door, waited a moment—possibly to give her more time—and then pulled it open. It didn’t make a single sound, but the second it was cracked, the yelling from within hit them.
“You had one job, Pettus.” Ruckus’s voice was deep and threatening. “One!”
Delaney pushed past Gibus, moving into the main room. She spotted Pettus first on the other side of the room, his hand rubbing at his neck, head hung. There was sweat on his brow, and he looked very uncomfortable, maybe even a bit frazzled. She immediately regretted tricking him.
Ruckus caught her eye next, over by the side of the bed. He was seething, pacing back and forth so that the single orange lamp on her nightstand that had been turned on dashed his shadow across the window wall. He swung around and came to a stop when he noticed her, mouth dropping open as if he were about to turn his anger on her.
“I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” she said to Pettus before anyone else could get a word out. She felt bad, but she wouldn’t apologize.
“He’s not in trouble,” Ruckus practically growled. “You are. When I left you—”
“Exactly,” she stopped him. “You left me. In here, alone, moments after telling me that my entire life had been hijacked by aliens I never wanted to know about much less actually know.”
He sucked in a breath, but she wasn’t done. The fear and the frustration she’d been holding in while in the company of Trystan burst out of her now that it had a safer outlet to aim for.
“You can’t just expect me to be okay with this,” she told him, dropping the single book she still carried onto the ground. “Any of this.”
It took him longer to reply than usual, and it seemed like that was because he was trying really hard to choose his words. That guilt was back, swimming behind his eyes, mixed in with residual anger at her for leaving. They stood there glaring for what felt like hours but was really less than a handful of seconds.
“I don’t expect that,” he finally said in a breathy tone, “not at all. You have every right to be upset, to want to go off and do things on your own, but, Delaney”—he pressed his palms against his chest—“I’m trying to help you. I want to help you.”
“And you can’t do that when you don’t know where I am,” she finished for him when it became apparent he wasn’t going to say anything else. Sighing, she rubbed at her face, all the energy she’d had a moment ago draining out of her. Was that going to be her new normal? Her own emotions playing tricks on her, roller-coastering up and down again on a whim?
“Precisely.” Ruckus looked over to Pettus and then motioned absently to the closed door where Gibus still stood. “You can go, Teller. I’ll take it from here.”
“Sir—”
“Just,” he said, appearing every bit as exhausted as she did then, “go. Be back here to relieve me in the morning.”
Pettus hesitated, wringing his hands before giving a curt nod. “Yes, Ander.”
“Wait.” When Pettus went to breeze past, Delaney grabbed his arm. “I didn’t do it because I thought it would be funny.” She’d done it out of a misguided notion of self-preservation, but she kept that part to herself. She figured she’d insulted all of them enough for one night.
Pettus picked up on the reference she was making, and though it seemed like he wanted to stay mad at her, he ended up sighing instead. “How about next time you just tell me you’d like to go somewhere, all right?”
She nodded.
There was a lengthy awkward silence after Pettus and Gibus left, shutting the door behind them with a soft click. Fortunately, this room was warmer than the halls had been, so Delaney didn’t feel the need to dive under the covers on the bed for warmth. That gave her a couple of extra minutes to just stand uncomfortably by the window. That sweet smell of the room was slowly being overpowered by Ruckus’s.
It made her homesick, made her yearn for her parents’ backyard in the fall the few occasions in her childhood when her dad had found the time to play with her. He’d pile leaves five feet high, and they’d spend the day jumping and crawling through them. Those moments, with the chilling breeze stinging her cheeks, the smell of dirt and browning leaves, the off taste of bitter air on her tongue, were some of the best of her entire life.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to apologize to me?” Ruckus asked, yet it was clear from the lightening tone of his voice that he already knew the answer. He’d relaxed some, not much, just enough to be noticeable because she was looking at
him so closely.
“No,” she clarified.
“Right.” He hung his head, contemplating. “I was sleeping, you know? Pettus woke me up to tell me that you’d disappeared.”
“I didn’t disappear,” she corrected him. “I walked out. And…” At the reminder of exactly where she’d ended up, she frowned. Two unpleasant encounters with the Zane were enough to last her a lifetime, and she was already dreading the possibility of having to experience another one with him tomorrow.
“What?” He went to move closer then stopped himself. It was clearly a struggle for him to maintain his distance. She was beginning to understand that this was just the type of person he was. He took his responsibilities as seriously as he’d claimed earlier. “Tell me what happened.”
“Gibus found me in time.”
“In time for what?”
“To avert an even bigger disaster,” she admitted. “I found a library.”
He grimaced. “Olena hates the library. She says the smell of books reminds her of rotting wood.”
“Which brings me to my main point.” She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to ignore how out of place she looked in her T-shirt and jeans next to him. “If someone had just told me something useful about her, I wouldn’t have ended up there in the first place.”
“When you meet with the Basileus and Basilissa tomorrow,” he told her, “they’ll tell you things. Anything they think you’ll need to know.”
“Which could be nothing.”
“It could be,” he agreed, and for a moment she was just grateful that he hadn’t bothered lying to her. “But again, that’s why I’m here. If you have questions, ask me, Delaney. I’ll do my best to give you answers. This isn’t an ideal situation for either of us, and it certainly isn’t going to be easy.” He paused; then: “But there’s something else you’re not saying. The fact that you ended up in a library can’t be the reason you went pale a second ago.”
Amid Stars and Darkness Page 7