“Watch,” he said quietly. “You can use it almost as a crayon, to mark the edges of things you pass by. Or you can press on the pad of the finger, like this, to spray ink.” He paused awkwardly. “Does it still hurt?”
“No,” Aryn managed. “No, it doesn’t.” She looked up into his eyes, and at the jolt of awareness, drew her hand away as if she was being burned, turning away so he could not see her face.
“Are you all right, Ms. Beranek?”
“Perfectly fine.” It was better, she reminded herself, if they did not enjoy one another’s company. It would be better if she were not taken in by his false concern, his attempts to gain Ellian’s favor by protecting her. She had learned at least a part of how the world worked, after all. Everyone was out for something—and no matter the subtle humor in this man’s eyes, the awareness she felt in his presence, it was better if she remembered that she just didn’t know what he wanted yet.
“Ms. Beranek?” There was something in his voice that she could not name, and she swallowed reflexively, turning back with her practiced smile.
“What was the next thing you wanted to show me?”
Chapter 9
One of the things Cade had learned in the Corps was that you could tell a lot about a person from how they ate, and the first thing he noticed about Aryn and Ellian was that they had both grown up poor. No matter how good their manners, both of them ate quickly, not evaluating their food for flavor or texture before starting in. Aryn ate any fruits or vegetables first, meat second, and grains last; sweets other than chocolate, she did not seem to care for. For her, then, it was what she considered luxurious that drove her. Ellian made a point of eating one bite of everything in succession, as if to remind himself that he did not still subsist on rice or sorghum, as many might.
Many people would claim to have come from poverty, but few in Ellian’s station truly had. It was interesting, Cade thought, that their mannerisms gave them away so clearly. Interesting as well that he now realized he had been looking for lies in both of them.
Mostly, however, Cade observed the minutiae to avoid focusing on the whole. It had been four agonizing days since he began this job, and every night, he considered tapping on the door of Ellian’s office and quitting. In the wildest fantasies, if that was what they were, he even said the truth: I can’t stop thinking about your wife.
But even a fool knew that was the best way to wind up dead in an alleyway somewhere and so Cade, therefore, contented himself with working out until he was weak with exhaustion. He’d kept himself fit no matter what the job, doing pushups and pull-ups in his spare moments. A Dragon learned quickly that the ones who trained harder were the ones who had the edge in combat; Talon liked to say that it was what separated them from their enemies, and Cade knew it was true. Even gone, even swearing that he would never fight again, he hadn’t been able to lose the habit. It was a very different thing, indeed, to work out to escape...
Hatred. He was going with hatred.
What unsettled him the most was that he was beginning to doubt his own perceptions. At times, he almost thought Aryn was sincere. The faint flashes of sadness in her eyes, the edge of desperation in her self-control, all of it pointed to a woman who was—
Hiding something. She was hiding something. And that something was that she did not love her husband. Cade reminded himself of the fact at least ten times daily. He had seen enough of her false smiles, seen her close her research tabs abruptly when he walked into the room, that he knew not to trust her.
So why did he want to, so badly? Why did he want to hold her hands in his, look into those shadowed eyes, and promise her that whatever was saddening her, he would help? Why could he not stop thinking about taking her in his arms, about wiping a tear away from her cheek, about coaxing a true smile from those lips?
Because she was the best actress money could buy, that was why. And money had bought her. So Cade stood at her shoulder through every interminable minute of seeing her primped and dressed for her appointments, tried not to watch as she swam and ran and fenced, and did anything he could to ignore the fact that the very smell of her made him half-crazed.
Thinking about it didn’t help.
He let his eyes unfocus slightly, seeing the scene as Dragon would. It was best to watch that way. Ellian, after all, should be as interesting to him as Aryn. Cade kept wanting to ask Talon how he knew the man.
The sudden tense silence in the room told him that he’d missed something important.
“We’ve spoken about this,” Ellian said warningly, and Cade’s attention snapped back to Aryn. What had she said? A quick glance showed the tension between them, and Cade felt a spark of interest. Was she pushing Ellian in order to dizzy him with emotions? If so, now she would retreat.
But she did not. Though she had gone white in the face, she put down her fork and stood her ground.
“They’re running out of time,” she said quietly. “The bombing hasn’t stopped.”
“Nor will it,” Ellian snapped, “until—” He took a deep, slow breath. “Mr. Williams.” His gaze never wavered from Aryn. “Leave us.”
“No.” The protective instinct flared to life so suddenly that Cade had no opportunity to stop himself from speaking.
At this, at last, Ellian looked at him.
“I beg your pardon?” His voice was soft. Too soft.
Cade resisted the urge to swallow. He could see Aryn staring at him, her mouth open, but he could not look at her. It would be too big a signal, and if there was hope in her eyes—
“No, I beg your pardon.” He ducked his head to Ellian. “I’m afraid I’ve been fending off what I’m sure were well-meaning attempts by society ladies to bring your wife to unsafe locations. I spoke automatically. Forgive me.”
Ellian watched him for a beat, eyes searching Cade’s face.
“It’s no trouble,” he said finally. His voice was mild. “You may go.”
The urge to say no again was so strong that Cade only barely held it in check. This time, however, he had been ready, his jaw clenched tightly to prevent any word from escaping. He nodded once and went to the door.
Unwisely, he looked back. Aryn was staring at him, and the plea in her eyes was unmistakable.
Don’t leave me. She was terrified.
“Mr. Williams?” Ellian’s voice.
“Of course.” Cade let himself out of the door without a second look and leaned against it, shaking. What had just happened? What had he seen?
“Sir?”
The voice made him jump, and he swore softly. The man standing behind him was one of Ellian’s menservants, as clean-shaven and unremarkable as any of them. Michael, Cade thought. Or perhaps this one was Matthew. All of them seemed to have names starting with M. It must be hell for bookkeeping. This one was handing out a silver tray with a flute of something to drink.
“Would you like a refreshment?”
“Yes. Thank you.” But Cade paused before taking the flute. “You don’t have to treat me like this, you know.”
“Like what, sir?”
“Like…” Cade gestured back into the dining room, his stomach twisting at the thought of what was going on in there. Every room in this place was soundproofed, and his instincts raged for him to haul the door open and get Aryn out. “Like one of them.”
To his surprise, the servant smiled.
“We’re glad you’re here,” he said simply.
Cade blinked, unsure of how to respond to this. He took a sip of the water instead; Ellian had given strict orders that Cade was not to drink anything other than water or stimulants while guarding Aryn.
Aryn, who was alone with Ellian. Cade cast another look over his shoulder.
“You’re very much like her,” the servant said.
“What?” Cade looked back sharply, and the man’s face turned wary. “What did you say?”
“I said, you and Aryn are very alike.” The man smiled. “We are glad she has you to watch her. She…” His voic
e dropped, low enough that Cade knew he was trying not to be heard on Ellian’s surveillance systems. “She needs someone kind,” the man said, almost defiantly.
“Why?” Cade asked.
“Because she’s alone,” the servant said softly. “And she’s afraid.”
“Of what?”
The servant didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.
“She’s…” Cade felt his voice trail off. The litany was beginning in his head again. She’s here for his money. If she doesn’t want it, she can leave.
“She’s very kind,” the servant told him.
“No.”
“She is.” The man did not back down. “They say you can take the measure of someone by how they treat people of a lower station, and she’s kind to us. Ask Emala if you don’t believe me.” He opened his mouth to say something more, but Cade shook his head suddenly, urgently. The faint tremor in the floor had caught his attention, and when he waved his hand, the servant almost ran.
A moment later, the door opened to reveal Ellian.
“Mr. Williams, would you accompany my wife back to her rooms?”
Cade nodded, and a moment later, found Aryn half in his arms as Ellian guided her out the door and shut it behind her.
She almost did not seem to notice Cade at all. Her face was still pale, and tension vibrated through her body. In the end, he guided her with his hand in the small of her back, stooping slightly to stay close to her smaller frame. There was no heat between them now, nothing but her unseeing eyes; she moved like an automaton. When they reached her rooms, her hand went out automatically to the door handle.
“Aryn.” It was a plea. He was genuinely afraid for her.
The sound of her name caught her attention and color came back to her face in a rush. Her lips parted, life came back to her eyes. She stared at him, looked to where his hand was still holding her.
He did not know what to say. More than anything, he wanted to tell her that he had not wanted to go, had not wanted to leave her.
But he could not. It was crossing a line—never mind that he didn’t know what line that was.
“Good night,” he said quietly.
She did not respond. Her grey eyes filled with tears, and then, horribly, she smiled, her face as perfectly pretty as it had been that first day.
“Good night, Mr. Williams.” And she was gone.
Cade leaned against her closed door and tipped his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. He stayed for what felt like hours, hoping. Hoping. But she did not open the door, and he did not have the courage to open it himself. At last, slowly, he made his way back down the hallway to his own rooms.
Chapter 10
She waited, her hand on the doorknob. It would take so little effort to press the handle down, go out into the hall. She could come up with something, tell Cade that she heard a strange noise. He would be there with her, someone to watch, to distract her from her own thoughts.
And when, exactly, had he become Cade instead of Mr. Williams?
Too quickly. And he was gone now, of course, as Ellian had ordered him to be. He had brought her back to her rooms and left her, just as he left her at the dinner table. She took her hand off the doorknob and backed away from the door, swallowing her tears. What had she expected? That Cade would protect her from Ellian, from the very man who’d employed him?
And protect her from what? She turned to look in the mirror. There was not a bruise on her, not the mark of fingers or nails. She was not a complete innocent. She had grown up on Ymir. She knew what cruelty looked like, and she knew there was nothing to fear from Ellian. He would never harm her. He had been angry, that was all. Angry because she questioned him when she should have listened.
She felt very small, she realized. She could feel all of the space above her head, see the vastness of space and the tiny dot of New Arizona, the deep blue sky and the snow falling and a tiny tower, all glass and polished steel, and inside it, her, smaller than the tiny orb of the planet, smaller even than the needle of the skyscraper. She felt her shoulders curving forward and lifted her head with great effort.
If you can’t trust me to keep my word, Aryn…
She had to stop thinking about this. Aryn shrugged out of her evening gown and hung it up, trying to smile at the thought of what Emala would say tomorrow. Why didn’t you call me, ma’am? I’d have helped you, and hung this up. But she always thought Emala was a little bit pleased to come into the room in the morning and see that there was nothing to tidy. Once, it had been one of the few genuine moments of warmth in Aryn’s day, and the shift began so slowly that she did not even feel it. She only noticed that one day, her smile to Emala became the same as the one she gave Ellian: the perfect mask. Aryn no longer knew any other smiles.
She was being ridiculous. She had not been harmed, not even hurt. Her husband had not raised his voice to her, even. And she was here, safe and warm, well fed, away from the mines. Her parents were safe in their house in the city, and her sister could have the same if she wanted it. Ellian had saved them all. She sank down at her dressing table, staring at her reflection. Every fact was so simple. Why could she not remember them anymore?
She was so lost in her reverie that at first she did not notice the beep of the incoming message. When she did, she was across the room in seconds, opening the window and pressing a hand over her mouth when she saw Samara.
“You’re alive.” The words came out too high.
“You’re…naked.” Samara raised an eyebrow.
“Oh. I…” Aryn looked around herself and didn’t see anything close to hand. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Samara. “I heard the message. I’ve been so worried. It’s been days, Samara.”
“I know.” Samara’s eyes were shadowed. “I called as soon as I could, I swear. We had the bunkers on lockdown because of the bombs, and…Aryn? Are you crying?”
She was, and in a rush that she could neither keep silent nor turn into pretty tears.
“I was so afraid,” Aryn choked out. “I remember—I remember the bombs falling. When we were little.”
“Shhh.” Samara’s voice sounded fearful. “Aryn, you need to breathe. Breathe, now. I’m here, I’m safe. All of us are safe.” Her voice changed, and there was no malice in it, only hope. “And you’re safe. I know the memories are awful, but you’ll never have to face this again.”
“I’m not—I’m not scared for me.” She tried to take a breath and choked on it. “I left you all.”
“Aryn…”
“I left you to die and saved my own skin!” Aryn bent her head, tears falling onto her bare legs. “Sam, I can’t…I can’t do it anymore.”
“Do what? Aryn, what’s wrong?”
She opened her mouth to respond, and one thought penetrated the haze. Ellian did not tap her calls, she was relatively sure of that—anyone on Ymir had learned the subtle signs that their calls were being monitored—but he might be listening through a device in the room.
“Nothing,” Aryn said quietly. She picked up the computer and carried it with her. “I was just worried, that was all. I should really get dressed, shouldn’t I?”
“Aryn? Aryn!” Samara’s voice was lowered to a fierce whisper. “I can’t see anything, are you still there?”
“I’m still here.” Aryn set the computer down in the dressing room and knelt down. The hallway was curved, and there was no clear line of sight from either the dressing room or the main receiving room. “We have to speak quietly.”
“Aryn, are you in danger?” Samara’s voice was low. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks.” Aryn tried to turn it into a joke, but Samara was having none of it.
“Listen to me, if it’s dangerous, get out.”
“I can’t get out.” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. “My parents need that house. Nura could be there, too, if she wanted.”
“You know they would never accept—”
“And there’s no way I’m gettin
g out without him knowing,” Aryn said simply, cutting Samara off.
“Aryn, if you’re in trouble—”
“Listen to me,” Aryn said. Something had snapped inside her, released as she cried—and in the wake of the tears, she felt calmer than she had in months. “You need help. I’ll get you help.”
“What?” Samara looked at her as if she was crazy. “Also, Aryn…you’re still naked.”
“That’s not important.” Shivering, Aryn pulled a robe down at random and draped it around her shoulders. “Ellian is well connected. I will get you the help you need. I’ve asked him and I just…I just haven’t made him see yet.”
“Aryn, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Samara’s voice was suddenly wary.
“Let me help.”
“Listen. I don’t think Ellian is going to help us.”
Had Aryn even considered that to be an option, she might have paid more attention, but she had learned her lesson tonight, along with another, more valuable lesson: that her fear for those on Ymir was stronger than her fear of Ellian.
“Ellian is well connected,” she said, her voice low. “I will get you weapons.”
Samara was staring at her, eyes narrowed.
“You’re going to have Ellian send us weapons,” she said finally. Disbelief radiated through the phone line.
“Of course not,” Aryn said impatiently. “He doesn’t have to know. But someone he works with must know how to get their hands on weapons, mustn’t they? Even he might. I’m sure he has to protect his shipments somehow.”
“Aryn…” Samara’s voice was choked. She turned her face away, but Aryn had seen pity there.
“What’s wrong?”
“Aryn, I need you to listen to me.” Samara seemed to have come to a decision. “Do not do this. If you want to help, run away. But you were never meant to be a soldier, love.” There were tears shining in her eyes. “And you said you want to help, but you did help. You got your parents out to safety, and you got you out to safety. Don’t go against Ellian, Aryn, not with this.”
Never in her life had Aryn seen Samara so passionate.
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