She didn’t say anything, allowing him to tip her head up toward him after a moment.
“I have to do this, Delaney,” he reminded her, scanning her face for understanding. “I don’t have a choice.”
She licked her lips, not liking the flash of fear in her chest. “And if you did?”
He let out a stuttering breath and ran the knuckles of his right hand across her cheek. The caress was featherlight and over in a matter of seconds. The sun was coming up now, so the hallway was starting to turn umber and dust motes danced around them like specks of glitter.
“I’d stay with you,” he whispered, almost too low for her to hear. Another boom rent the air, this one closer than the last. The glass in the panes across from them shook from the force. Grabbing her hand, he rushed them on their way. “Come on!”
There wasn’t anything else she could do but try to keep up. It wasn’t right of her to ask him to hang around because she was scared, not when he was supposed to be out there putting a stop to whoever was currently attacking them. Could it be the Tars? What were they trying to do, get their people back? She recalled the Basileus mentioning earlier that he’d caught them.
“Olena!” a sharp voice called out at their backs. Trystan was making his way toward them, not quite running but certainly not taking his sweet time, either. His long legs seemed to eat up the space, so that he’d reached her even without them having slowed.
His large hand wrapped around the wrist of her free arm, holding on when Ruckus would have continued to pull her away.
She froze between them.
“Let go,” Ruckus growled out the warning, lifting his left hand into the air in a whip of motion. There was a thick metal band, like a bracelet, that extended into his palm when he tapped the edge with the tips of his fingers.
Before her eyes, a gun formed, four flashing green lights flickering at the side. He curled his pointer finger, and a loop dropped from the base of the metal, circling, while another curved piece slid down so that he was now holding the trigger. She didn’t know much about weapons, but this didn’t look like any type of gun she’d seen before.
That explained why she’d never seen any of the guards armed. They actually had been.
Ruckus kept the gun aimed at Trystan, his other hand squeezing hers with a mixture of assurance and possessiveness. Another blast went off, and while he didn’t waver, the Zane’s eyes flared.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ander?”
“Let her go,” Ruckus repeated. “Right now.”
He didn’t. Instead he took a threatening step, so that they were all close enough to one another to look like a group having a private conversation. His blond hair was rumpled, long strands in disarray around his stern face. He’d missed the top button on his jeanlike gray pants, and the blue shirt he’d thrown on was wrinkled and torn an inch at the collar.
With a frown, she realized his feet were also bare.
“As the Zane,” he said, his tone barely restraining his fury, “I am ordering you to drop your weapon and back away.” Nothing happened. “Do it now, Ander Ruckus.”
“Ruckus.” Delaney squeezed his hand back, waiting for him to dart his gaze sideways at her. His eyes didn’t linger long before shooting back over to Trystan. They’d literally just had a conversation about things he couldn’t do without getting in trouble, and yet here he was, holding a gun against a regent.
“If you won’t listen to me,” Trystan said, his voice tightening, “then you should at least listen to the Lissa.”
“I’ll lower the fritz the second you let go of her arm.”
It was obvious he did not want to do that, but after a moment, when Ruckus didn’t so much as flinch, Trystan finally released her and took a step back, putting both hands in the air, palms toward them.
“Have you lost your mind?” he growled.
“Until I know exactly what is happening,” Ruckus informed him, “no one touches the Lissa except me. As her head of guard, I’m clear of all political laws in regard to treatment or station. From here, until I know without a shadow of a doubt that she is safe, I am the one who calls the shots. So, when I say get your hands off her, you do it.”
Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Ruckus eased Delaney to the side and waved his gun at the Zane. Being that he was royalty, he’d clearly been going to the same place, and though he didn’t like it, he started walking, leaving the two of them at his back.
“I could have shot him,” Ruckus said directly into her mind. “I get political asylum when it comes to protecting you.”
“Sure,” she drawled, “until the Kints got pissed because of their dead Zane and called the war back on. Just”—she mentally sighed, not sure if he could hear it—“don’t point that thing at him again.”
“It’s a fritz,” he told her, voice finally starting to calm some. “It blasts apart particles. Would have blown a hole straight through his chest so you could have seen to the other side.”
“Lovely.”
With quick steps, he led them down the corridor and around a sharp corner. At the end there was another portrait, this one of an animal she didn’t recognize; it was somewhere between a bear and a rabbit. She wanted to take a better look, but before they’d even made it halfway there, it opened from the inside.
A man poked his head out, checking over their shoulders before waving them frantically toward him. He was dressed like the other Vakar soldiers, and addressed Ruckus by title once they’d reached him. Stepping back, he allowed them to pass, inclining his head toward both her and Trystan.
The entrance didn’t lead to a stairwell like it had with the one Lura had passed through. Instead there was a small square room about ten by ten, with four bulky doors, including the one that doubled as the painting.
Ruckus moved to the one on the left, rapping his knuckles against it in a discernible pattern. Almost before he’d finished, it was thrown open, a gust of stale air spewing toward them, kicking up the dust at their feet. He yanked on it, stepped through, and pressed a hand against her lower back to urge her forward into the darkness.
And it was seriously dark.
Unable to see a thing, she instinctually reached out to feel the sides, slinking to the right and waiting for him to direct. A light snapped to life, spilling a vibrant orange hue throughout to expose a room almost identical to the one they’d just vacated.
Frowning, she glanced over at him.
“This way.” He motioned toward the door across the room this time.
Trystan stepped in after them, suddenly a towering presence at her back. Her spine stiffened, and the words she’d been about to speak aloud died on her tongue. Instead she reached out with her fitting. There was no longer a burning sensation when it activated. It was so easy, much more so than yesterday when they’d implanted it. Almost as simple as breathing. She merely thought about talking to Ruckus, and she did.
“It’s a labyrinth,” she said.
“A maze,” he corrected her. “Labyrinths always have a distinct center; this does not. The goal is to keep enemies away from you, not help them get closer.”
She counted another five rooms, passing through silently and following his direction whenever he motioned her one way or the other. Surprisingly, Trystan remained quiet as well, though he kept close. He didn’t touch her again, but his body was always there, at what felt like less than a centimeter from her back whenever they paused and waited for another door.
Finally a door opened, and they were met with a different view. The room inside was three times as big as all the rest, and wasn’t empty. There were piles of packaged foods she didn’t recognize to the left, and a few jugs of water in the far right corner. There were also about a dozen people, including the Basileus and Basilissa.
When she entered, the latter spotted her first and rushed over, taking her up into her arms as if she were really her daughter. No doubt because she’d also seen Trystan over her shoulder.
“Thank the stars you�
��re all right,” the Basilissa said breathlessly, and pretty convincingly. Her arms tightened around her back, and her chin rested on her shoulder. Her silky blond hair cascaded around her. “I was so worried they’d gotten to you.”
“I’m fine,” she said, caught off guard.
“Are the outer doors secured?” Ruckus was asking a tall willowy soldier with light brown hair.
“Yes, Ander,” the soldier replied before she nodded toward the opening. “Shall I escort you out and check on the other locations?”
“Let’s do that.” He glanced over at Delaney and cleared his throat. “Give me one second, Teller. Wait outside.”
“Yes, Ander.”
He approached her and the Basilissa, who’d let her go but hadn’t moved away. His greeting was brief, and then he turned his attention fully on Delaney.
“You’ll be careful,” she found herself saying before he could get a word out. “Right?”
“Of course.” He took a step closer, then hesitated and clearly thought better of it. Stopping a little over two feet away, he rested his hands on the gold square at his belt. There was a click, and he pulled away a piece of it, handing it over.
She viewed the small golden circle in her palm and winged a brow in question at him.
“It’s a tracking device,” he told her softly, ignoring the Basilissa and Trystan, who hadn’t moved nearly as far off as either of them would have liked. “Keep it on you. Don’t lose it.”
“I won’t,” she promised, slipping the tiny disk, no bigger than a dime, into the curve of her bra. Thankfully she’d been too exhausted to remove it, leaving it on underneath the skimpy nightgown. Now, being in so many people’s company, she was glad for it. It provided at least a bit more cover.
Ruckus’s face scrunched up at the move, and the next thing she knew, he was removing his green jacket.
“What are you—”
He wrapped it around her shoulders, tugging it sharply so that it instantly secured her in its thick warmth. On him, the garment was formfitting; on her, it was about three sizes too big. Popping the collar around her neck, he studied his handiwork, fingers remaining close to her jaw just a little longer than appropriate.
It was the Basilissa clearing her throat that finally snapped him out of it.
He was only wearing a black tank top now, painting him in all dark colors. She was worried that he wouldn’t be recognized, that someone on their side might mistake him for the enemy. He must have seen this written on her face, because he made a shushing sound and smiled softly.
“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her, pulling back. “Promise you will be, too.”
“Yes,” she agreed, hugging his jacket closer to her body in a completely instinctual move. She stood there and watched him leave, flinching a little when the heavy foot-thick metal door shut behind him.
She couldn’t recall ever feeling so alone before.
There were only a few lights in the room, all of them pretty dim. Over by the Basileus in the corner with the water was the brightest one, and Delaney certainly didn’t want to go anywhere near him.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Tilda asked. The way her eyes shone, it looked like she really meant it. “What with what happened the other day, and now this…” She allowed her sentence to trail off pointedly.
And Delaney understood. The Basilissa was trying to confirm that she was still up for the job; she just couldn’t say as much with Trystan hovering over their shoulders like a shadow.
“It’ll take a lot more than a few pesky assassination attempts to jar me,” she told her, trying to make her tone light despite the way her stomach clenched at the notion. She never would have guessed that one day she’d act so flip about someone trying to kill her, even if she was faking it.
Tilda must have bought it, though, because she nodded, glancing back over at Trystan quickly. A slight frown marred her dark skin.
“I need to go back to your father,” she said. There was a look in her eyes, almost like she was sorry for something. Maybe for putting her in this situation. “We’re discussing what’s going on with Trump Haggar. Would you like to join us?”
“No, thank you. I was in the middle of sleeping. I think I’ll just go rest”—she pointed at the opposite corner, where there was a single cot and no one else around—“over there.”
“Sure, darling.” She placed a hand on her cheek momentarily, then moved away. It was dark enough that for a few seconds she was no longer visible, until she stepped into the circle of light provided by the lantern hung over the Basileus’s dark head.
Delaney was already lowering herself down to the secluded cot when she realized with a sick twist in her gut that Trystan had followed her. When he eased down next to her, she squished over as far as space would allow, pressing her shoulder up against the freezing wall. It was cold down here, even with Ruckus’s uniform jacket.
The room smelled of frost. That bitter, biting kind that only came around sunrise, while most people were still sleeping.
In the distance, she could hear the blasts of more explosions, and fear at the thought of Ruckus out in that gripped her. She should have tried harder to make him stay, have thrown a Lissa-sized fit, the kind that these people would believe. They all thought Olena was a spoiled brat anyway. This was one time she really should have owned up to that image.
How were the Tars managing such a large-scale attack? She couldn’t count further than six without hearing another shaking boom, and if that was possible from where she was tucked away in a metal room …
“You’re putting on a brave front,” Trystan spoke then, eyeing her coyly in the dark. “How unlike you.”
She just had to choose the darker, secluded corner.
“Seriously?” This was not the time or place for one of his rambles. “You didn’t know me all that well. Quit acting like you did so we can move past your being surprised every time I open my mouth.”
“I knew you well enough,” he countered. “You were vapid before, a coward. Now … You never did tell me about your time on Earth.”
“Veni, vidi, vici,” she mumbled under her breath, only half paying attention to him. It was dangerous, he was dangerous, but Ruckus was out there, and she didn’t know what was happening to him.
“‘I came, I saw, I conquered’?” A single golden brow winged up. “How very Kint of you.”
That got her attention. She glared at him, making sure to push all her annoyance into that one look.
“I am not a Kint. I’ll never be a Kint.” It was probably wrong of her to be so prejudiced against his people. She didn’t actually know anything about them except what she’d been told. The only two she’d ever even spoken with had been him and Brightan, neither of whom had helped boost her opinion.
“You will be,” Trystan said then, voice cutting through the tight darkness. She could make out the outline of his large body, see the contours of his face and his eyes. He was close enough that his expressions were as visible to her as if the two of them had been in broad daylight. “Once the binding ceremony has been completed, you will be.”
Great, now they were talking about marriage again. The arrangement never made either of them happy, and caught in this confined space, it really wasn’t a good topic to discuss.
Still, she couldn’t help but rise to the bait, adding, “Well, then that will also make you a Vakar.”
“We’d be responsible for each other’s people, yes.” He didn’t appear the least bit upset.
Which made her suspicious.
“Trystan,” she said, somehow managing to keep her tone as sweet and even as possible, “do you actually intend for us to be bound?”
His grin was wicked, the kind you’d expect to see on a serial killer right before he added another trophy to his collection.
“Vapid before,” he repeated, leaning in a bit closer. “Not anymore.”
“Perhaps we should all take a trip to Earth,” she stated, for lack of a better response. H
is reaction to her question unsettled her, and she was all about covering it up. “Go ahead. Take five years, or ten. I’ll wait.”
“If I went, you’d go.”
“And why is that?”
“Because neither of us is leaving here without the other. Not until this whole thing gets settled.”
“Not until you find a way out of our binding, you mean.” Why she pressed it was beyond her. Maybe it was morbid curiosity; maybe it was her need for preparation. She couldn’t prepare for the worst if she didn’t know all he was capable of.
“Smart girl.” He inched toward her even more. “Except, you’re off about one detail.”
“What’s that?” Blood rushed through her ears, and it was obvious when he smirked that he knew he’d finally gotten to her.
He brought his head down to hers conspiratorially. “I already found a way.”
She froze, unable to breathe.
“A couple, actually. I’m the type of man who likes to keep his options open.”
“Always have a plan B,” she found herself murmuring.
“Precisely.”
Because he hadn’t said it in so many words, she couldn’t prove it, but she was positive he’d just admitted to trying to kill her the other day. Was that what was going on outside right now? Were all the explosions an attempt to get a lucky shot and blow her up?
For some reason, it felt like they’d been doing this dance for a lifetime. At the very least, a week, not the mere few days that had actually passed.
Another explosion ripped through the air, dimmed from where they were but still discernible.
“Seems like you aren’t receiving a very warm welcome home, are you?” He reached up and swept a loose strand of hair out of her eyes.
She couldn’t help it—she shivered. He could break her with that hand. A glance over his massive form showed only blurry outlines of the others. If she couldn’t see them, they certainly were unable to see her.
You’d think with her being the Lissa—false or not—they’d be paying better attention. Her life right now was the deciding factor in a war, after all.
“It appears I’m not the only one who dislikes you,” Trystan continued, though he kept his hand in her hair, fingers sweeping back until he was cupping her skull.
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