He led her over the small rise to the second part of the course, which looked very similar to the first. There were a few extra poles for obstacles, and the teams were already halfway through them. Without a word, he picked up the pace, almost tugging her along before she managed to find her footing.
Delaney’s fingers inched toward the hem of her skirt, finally giving in and tugging it down. She managed to get it half an inch, but within three steps it’d ridden up again. The faster they walked, the quicker it rose, and she inwardly cursed for what felt like the millionth time that she’d allowed Lura to convince her that wearing it was a good idea.
Then an odd sense of awareness had her turning her head slowly toward the man at her right.
Trystan was watching her, but more so, he was looking at where her hand was still pressed against the end of the gold cloth and her thigh in a poor attempt to keep the skirt in place. Sensing she was now looking his way, he glanced up.
“Uncomfortable, Lissa?” he asked in a husky voice.
The crowd to the right cheered, and a breeze blew by, bringing with it a hint of roses and sweat. She’d stopped paying attention to where they were going, knowing only that they were following the trail of the course, but suddenly she was uneasy. It was bad enough that she had to be here with him; now she was also missing the actual event.
Ruckus had been right, too. She’d been enjoying it up until Trystan had appeared.
“I’m fine, Zane.” She cocked her head. “You?”
He chuckled. “What reason would I have to be uncomfortable?”
Not having a good enough response to that, she shrugged a delicate shoulder and returned her attention to the game.
“It’s a bit curious what you’d want with a book comparing human and Vakar customs,” he said, breaking the silence when it became apparent she wasn’t going to. He didn’t look at her when he did it, letting this information sink in.
He’d been paying way more attention to her at the library than she’d even guessed.
“It contains Kint customs, too,” she said, spitting out the first thing that came to mind. Which apparently wasn’t the right thing.
“First the shirt, now this?” He quirked a blond brow. “Careful, I might start to think you’re trying.”
They’d caught up to the game and were close enough that she could pointedly turn her attention its way. She watched as the players swerved through the obstacles, fascinated by how swiftly they were able to do so.
“Do they learn how to ride at an early age?” she asked, momentarily forgetting in her curiosity that she shouldn’t.
Trystan, who’d still been moving them briskly along, paused and glanced down at her.
“Never mind,” she blurted before he could respond. A second later one of the Vakar players fumbled, and she sucked in a breath.
The egg dropped to the ground with a vicious splat, releasing a thick perfume of cloves into the air. The innards were a milky white, which the clawed feet of the ung smashed farther into the ground as the creature wobbled. The Vakar player was half out of his seat, trying, and failing, to right himself. After a short struggle, he fell out completely, landing with a sharp sound on his shoulder.
Delaney winced, watching as the Kint team continued on to the other course even as a few Vakar came running onto the field to check on the fallen player. He was sitting up, but he clutched at his left shoulder, clearly in pain.
When she finally pulled her eyes away and looked back at him, Trystan was grinning ear to ear. It wasn’t the boyish and innocent kind of smile, though. There was something darker lurking just beneath the surface, and before she could fully place her finger on it, he was bringing them to a stop.
They’d moved away from the wire by some ten feet, putting more space between them and the few others watching on this side. There was another tree ahead a few yards, short and stubby, maybe only a foot or so taller than the Zane. Its leaves tinkled when a warm breeze blew by, like pennies being dropped into a glass jar.
“Should we continue on, Lissa Olena?” he asked her, indicating the next course. “Or would you prefer we stay behind and watch the Vakar attempt to catch up?”
He tried to pull her forward, but she stalled by slowly removing her arm from his. When his hand settled at her elbow, lightly urging her now, she ignored it. Delaney searched for Ruckus out of the corner of her eye, realizing with a start that he wasn’t behind them. At least, not close enough for her to see. Where’d he go? He wouldn’t have left her alone with the Zane, would he?
“Do you think he’ll be all right?” she asked, voicing the first thing that came to mind.
On the field, two Vakar were helping ease the injured player to his feet.
Trystan frowned at her, dropping the hand he’d still had on her arm. “Do you care?”
Because Olena was a self-centered brat who wouldn’t, Delaney recalled too late.
“I’m just concerned we might not win now,” she said in a poor attempt to save face. “His clumsiness cost us.”
If anything, this only caused his frown to deepen.
“Did you develop a liking for sports while you were away as well then?” he wondered, and it was clear from his tone that she’d piqued his interest. Which was the exact opposite of what she was trying to accomplish.
“Right,” she drawled, “along with my newly acquired witty tongue.” Deliberately, she took a step back the way they’d come. “As great as this has been, Trystan, I’m afraid I must excuse myself.”
She was a bit surprised when he didn’t immediately try to stop her, yet he didn’t have too long to ponder over it. Hearing her name, she glanced toward the beginning of the course, squinting against the harsh glare of yellow sunlight. Weird, that the sky was a different color, but the sun and the ground were the same.
“Olena.” Ruckus was quickly making his way toward her.
She took a step in his direction, about to call back, when suddenly an explosion rent the air. The blast came from behind, and she was knocked off her feet and tossed a good ways forward. The motion ended up bringing her closer to Ruckus, who was upon her in a matter of seconds.
Her head rang and her vision winked in and out. Disoriented, she clung to his wrists when he dropped to his knees and reached for her. An acrid smell filled the air, like burning rubber, and she managed to swivel her head around to see that the tree she’d been so close to had blown up.
The tree she’d been close to … but not close enough.
She gasped, and as if of their own accord, her eyes sought out Trystan.
He must have gotten on the ground right away. Aside from his hair being a little mussed up, it didn’t seem like he’d been affected by the blast at all. Their eyes met, and there was no denying the feral look in his icy blue gaze.
He’d tried to kill her.
The Zane, Olena’s—meaning her—fiancé, had just tried to kill her!
* * *
“IT WAS TRYSTAN,” she whispered as Ruckus rushed her down yet another hallway in that godforsaken labyrinthine nightmare of a building.
He’d lifted her into his arms and carried her all the way back to the castle, his men falling in around him. Now the other five guards had dropped back, trailing behind while keeping watch. As if they were afraid of another attack.
“Did you hear me?” she asked, tightening her arms around his neck. She’d protested initially when he’d lifted her, but truth be told, she wasn’t sure she could get her legs to work right now anyway. “Ruckus?”
“Are you hurt?” His tone was gruff, leaving no room to discuss anything else. “I don’t see any blood. Are you hurt, Delaney?” Her real name had been uttered under his breath.
“No.” She shook her head, and when he didn’t look at her to see, she answered again, “No.” She licked her dry lips. “Where were you?”
His face remained stoic and his steps steady. Wherever they were going, he was determined to get there as quickly as possible. Even having carri
ed her a good half mile now, he didn’t seem out of breath. His grip around her back and beneath her thighs never wavered or loosened.
“We received an anonymous tip,” he revealed, as if unsure whether or not he really wanted to tell her. “I had to step away to take it. I was only gone a second, but you must have picked up the pace, because by the time I got back, you’d moved farther down the course than I’d expected.”
“What was the tip?” She was pretty sure she already knew.
“An assassination attempt.” He took a deep breath. “On the Lissa. I was on my way back to get you. The tip claimed the Tars hoped to catch Olena off guard.”
“But that’s not what you think.” She wasn’t asking.
Finally his eyes met hers. “That’s not what you think, either.”
“It was him,” she insisted. “I know it. He led me straight there, and why place a bomb unless you can anticipate knowing where and when the target will be?” She shook her head. “It was him.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I believe it was. But that doesn’t matter.”
“What?” She gaped at him. “He tried to kill me, Ruckus.”
“We don’t have any proof,” he pointed out. They turned down another hallway, their surroundings immediately changing. Here, instead of fake wooden walls, the hallway took on a similar feel to that of the ship. White walls loomed around, and while there were still windows sporadically placed, there was no longer any furniture.
Deciding to shelve the subject until they’d both cooled off a bit, she tightened the hand she held at the center of his chest.
“Where are we going?”
“To get you fitted,” he snapped, as if it were a stupid question. “It’s what I should have done the second we landed here.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“There’s no reason to be a dick about it,” she said, bristling. “I was the one almost blown up, remember?”
Without another word, he pushed them through two light-gray swinging doors, entering a large lab complete with metal workbenches and broken machinery parts. At the way back there was another set of doors, and he shoved his way past just as easily, turning his body so that no part of hers ever took the brunt force of them.
She spotted Gibus in the far corner of this room, fiddling with strange dials on the arm of a padded chair. She vaguely wondered if they went to the dentist on Xenith, or if they were spared that special kind of torture.
A second later it became painfully apparent Ruckus planned on putting her in the chair, and she struggled for the first time, forcing him to pause in his haste to get there.
“Stop it,” he said.
“Put me down.”
“I’m about to.”
“Not in that, you aren’t.”
Sensing her fear, his expression eased, some of the anger dropping away. “It’s not going to hurt you, Delaney,” he said calmly, holding her gaze. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She tried to look away but couldn’t.
He must have mistaken her silence for acceptance, and he had her in the seat before she could even begin another protest, his hands pressing down on her shoulders when she tried to stand. Letting out a low growl, he motioned for Gibus to hurry up with whatever his part in this was.
“Okay.” Gibus cleared his throat and winced when she shot a glare his way. “I can’t do it with her moving like that.”
“Damn it, Delaney. Stay still.”
“Absolutely not.”
“And just why not?”
She eased her struggles long enough to chuck her chin out toward Gibus’s right arm, which he was not so discreetly holding behind his back. “I totally saw the needle.”
“It’s not a needle,” Gibus corrected her. “More like a tagger. Sort of like they do with dogs on your planet.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, hell no.”
Ruckus shoved her down with a tad more force this time, shooting daggers over at the other Vakar while doing so. Leaning over, he pinned her to the chair by crowding her in, so that she was blocked by his massive form on all three sides. His head lowered, their foreheads almost touching.
“We need to get you fitted…,” he began, rushing on when she would have argued again. “It’s not up for discussion. If we’d done this earlier, I might have been able to get you away from the blast before it went off.”
“I’m fine,” she said, and her struggles had ceased.
“This time.” He clenched his jaw. “What about next time?”
“If we tell on Trystan, there won’t be a next time.”
“Don’t act naive, Delaney; it’s unattractive.”
Before she could get offended, he motioned to Gibus. The large metallic object that was exposed wiped her mind clear of anything other than the threatening tip. It looked sort of like a cross between a stapler and a tattoo gun. There was a sharp blade at the bottom, about a quarter of an inch long, and a small flat square piece directly above it.
“This part makes a thin cut,” Gibus began to explain, bringing it closer to her and pointing to the blade, “and this part deposits the chip.” He tapped the square. “It’ll only sting for a minute, and it takes less than a second. We’ve all done it.”
“Done what, exactly?” She nibbled on her bottom lip, torn between trying to feign toughness and just allowing her fear to show.
“How much do you know about brain waves?”
She frowned, taken aback by the odd question. Here she was, in an alien workshop, surrounded by torn metal parts that smelled like oil and acid, and he was asking her about brains? Though, it did clue her in on where exactly they planned on sticking that thing. Her hand automatically went to the back of her neck.
Gibus smiled approvingly. “Good. See? Not as clueless as you thought. We’ve found a way to tap into brain waves, deciphering and tuning into them sort of like radio frequencies. Connecting certain frequencies allows two parties to communicate with each other through it without having to speak out loud.”
“You’re talking about telepathy.”
“Yes.”
She was in the last of a row of seven chairs. They all looked exactly the same, with a space between the headrest and the actual backing. It left a good foot of empty space where someone from behind could access the person sitting. More aptly, access their neck.
“That’s what you meant, wasn’t it?” She caught Ruckus’s gaze again, putting the pieces together. “When you said I still wasn’t talking to you back on the ship. You thought I was Olena. The two of you”—she motioned toward his head—“can communicate telepathically?”
“Yes,” he said. “Only a select few are allowed to do that with any of the royal family. As the head of the Lissa’s personal guard, being able to connect with her in that way is an immensely important tool.”
“So,” she said, scrambling to follow what he was saying, “I couldn’t talk to everybody mentally? Even if I’m fitted?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, sending some of the long brunette tendrils loose to cascade over the side of his face. His yellow-and-green eyes held her captive, as if hoping that she’d be able to see he was telling her the truth. “Only those who’ve been tuned into your frequency can hear and share thoughts with you. The chip has already been programmed to work with a human brain; we just have to dial my frequency in.”
“You’ll be able to get into my head.” She did not like the sound of that.
“I’m the only one who will be able to,” he assured her. “You need this, Delaney. Today was a close call: Ten more feet, and you would have been dead.”
Somehow she knew what he was really saying, what went unsaid between the lines.
She needed him.
And he wasn’t wrong. Who else did she have here? There were only five people on this entire planet who knew her true identity, and out of them, she’d only had a full conversation with three: Pettus, Gibus, and Ruckus. The first sh
e’d recently tricked, the second was already walking a thin line with the Basileus, and the last …
He might have taken her against her will, but he hadn’t known what he was doing at the time, and ever since he’d discovered his mistake, he’d done nothing but try to keep her safe. Startled, she realized she trusted him. If he said this was something she needed to do, then she’d take his word for it.
“All right.” She licked her lips and took a deep breath. “Do it before I come to my senses and change my mind.”
He nodded over to Gibus, and she shook her head quickly.
“No, you do it.” She stretched her fingers around the ends of the armrests and squeezed the soft white material.
Ruckus hesitated but ended up taking the device. Switching places with Gibus, he stepped first to her side and then behind her, out of sight. She felt him brush the strands of her hair out of the way, baring the center of her neck right beneath the base of her skull. His fingers were warm, reassuring when they rubbed to give her an idea of where she’d feel the cold metal a second before she did.
“Ready?” he asked, and at her nod, he pressed the lever on the gun. The blade sliced her skin and something slid beneath it.
She hissed in a breath and cursed, finding it difficult to stay still. Her whole neck burned like it was on fire, and the chip they’d inserted felt like a lump pressing down on her skull despite the fact that it couldn’t be bigger than her pinky nail.
When he was in front of her again, she reached back and pressed her fingers against the cut. The spot was wet with blood. Her hand was brushed aside, and she realized Gibus was the one behind her now, applying a small bandage over the entrance wound.
“Your idea and my idea of sting are very different,” she grumbled. Her fingertips were stained red, and she glowered at them. If she ever got her hands on that stupid alien princess …
“That was nothing,” Ruckus admitted sheepishly. “This next part’s the rough one.”
Amid Stars and Darkness Page 10