by Kara Jaynes
“I’m protecting you from any potential danger.”
“Oh.” Slipping away may be harder than I thought. Eldaren is on high-alert and shows no signs of lowering his guard. I need to help him out.
“Wow,” I say, peering around. “It looks a lot safer here than it used to.”
“How so?”
“Well, drugs aren’t being sold for one thing. Oh, look,” I point. “Fish. Want to see?”
Eldaren follows close behind.
I’m not overly fond of fish, but Quinn and I eat it a lot as it’s much cheaper than other animal meats. I stare at the stalls, overflowing with salmon, herring, perch, and several other types. There’s even crab and octopus. The sound of buyers and sellers is deafening, the ground wet with fish guts and water.
Eldaren is now peering around at the vendors and wares with a glimmer of curiosity. Maybe if I can get him absorbed enough in the activity of the market, I can give him the slip. Maybe.
We pass the seafood and are soon surrounded by an assortment of jewelry. Necklaces, brooches, rings, bracelets and bangles, they’re all here. I’ve never purchased any, as jewelry is an extravagance I can’t afford.
The crowd is thinner, now. It would seem many people these days can’t afford jewelry. But if one can, this is the place to get it. My father used to tell me stories about how, long ago, people used to communicate through the air, purchasing jewelry, food, books, and more, through something called the web. Things would be delivered to your doorstep without one ever having to leave their home.
I don’t know what he meant, but it doesn’t sound true. Or rather, it’s not anything that is even remotely accessible to the commoners now. The only way to buy something is to go to a shop and buy it with cold, hard cash, or barter with goods.
“What is this?” I turn around at Eldaren’s voice and see the prince standing in front of a machine. The words “Learn your Fortune” and “Seize your Destiny” are emblazoned on the front.
“It’s a fortune telling machine, I guess,” I reply. “You stick a few coins in the slot, and it’ll read your future.”
Eldaren frowns. “What utter nonsense.”
“I’ve never tried it,” I admit. “I don’t have coins to spare, and yeah, it seems weird that a clunky bucket of rust would know anything about me.”
“Fortunes can be read,” Eldaren says, his brow furrowing, “but good rarely comes of it.”
“It's all superstitious nonsense,” I say, “regardless of where it comes from.”
We continue looking at shops. Some vendors sell purses; another sells books. I’m particularly interested in the books. I run my hand down the spines of some green, clothbound books. They’re a collection of historical novels from the Victorian era. I glance at the price and bite my tongue. It’s far more than I’ll ever be able to afford.
“You’re interested in the Victorian age?” The prince is standing behind me, studying the volumes over my shoulder.
“Yeah,” I say casually. “It's my favorite era to read about.”
“Interesting.”
I see Eldaren is holding a graphic novel. “Do you like to read comics?” I ask.
Eldaren shakes his head. “Not particularly.” He flips through it, and his face scrunches up in confusion. “Why does the heroine wear so little? It would be extremely foolish to fight in such apparel.” He closes the book. “No armor to speak of. In fact, almost no clothing to speak of. She’d be very easy to kill.”
A laugh escapes me. “I don’t think that’s the point.”
The elven prince stares at me blankly for a moment before his eyebrows lift. “Ah. I see.” He puts the novel back on the shelf, red flushing his cheekbones.
I laugh at his embarrassed reaction and my stomach flutters. I mentally squash the feeling. I will not let myself feel anything for the prince. I can’t be distracted by emotions that aren’t my own.
“Let's go,” I say, and move away.
Eldaren's gaze flickers over to the green, hardback books before looking at the entrance. “Very well.”
He leaves, and I follow him out of the shop. Worry is beginning to creep into my thoughts. How am I going to get away without his knowing?
We walk past several more stores and soon find ourselves in an alley, but I hardly notice, my brain cloudy with growing panic. We're going to go right back to the fortress, and I won't be any closer to saving my brother.
“What is this?” Eldaren’s voice is thick with disgust, and I blink, pulling myself out of my thoughts.
We are standing beside a crumbling brick wall, covered with wads of previously chewed gum. I laugh. “It’s the gum wall,” I say. “It’s where you stick your used gum. You know, for fun.” I look around. “It should probably be called ‘gum alley,’ though.” The gum wads have been stuck on both sides of the uneven street.
It’s messy, but I like looking at all the different colors that pepper the walls. I step forward, eyeing a vibrant green blob when Eldaren’s arm shoots out, pulling me back.
“Don’t touch it,” he gasps. He’s staring at the wall in horrified fascination.
“I wasn’t going to,” I snap.
He doesn’t seem to hear me. “It’s completely unsanitary,” he says. “Why you humans would do something like this is beyond my comprehension.” He nods. “It must be cleaned. I’ll send some of my people to take care of it, tomorrow.”
“Oh, no, please don’t,” I say. “It’s historical, Eldaren. It’s art, and a part of Liberty. If you take it away, it just won’t be the same. Please?” I earnestly stare up at him.
His mouth is a thin line of disapproval, but he finally exhales and looks away. “Fine,” he says.
I pat his shoulder. “Thanks. It’s not so bad, you know. I think it’s kind of cool.”
“It’s nothing of the sort,” Eldaren grumbles, but he allows me to pull him away and back into the main street.
Men, women, children, and stray dogs and cats clutter the road, the air filled with the roar of chatter. One voice rises above the others.
“Drive them from our land! Send them back to space!”
I peer around, trying to locate the voice.
A woman stands in the throng, head held high, passing pamphlets out to passersby. “The space elves don't belong here,” she shouts. “This is our land.”
Eldaren has gone very still, his back and shoulders stiff, his gray eyes narrowed.
“Leave her alone.” I grab his arm and try to tug him away. He doesn't budge. I try again. Now I know how it feels to try and move a stone wall. “She's just one person. You don't have to care what she thinks.”
“A single pebble is all it takes to start a landslide,” he replies, and I roll my eyes.
“Quit trying to sound like a monk or something,” I counter. “She doesn't matter.”
“Yes, she does.” Eldaren strides through the crowd, toward the woman. I release his arm, shock flooding me as I suddenly realize that he's distracted. Eldaren isn't watching me.
This is my chance.
To run.
To hide.
To save Quinn.
But that will mean possibly leaving the prince forever, and with a jolt, I realize I don't want to. I want to stay.
I shake my head and stiffen my spine. Don't be a fool, Stella. That’s not how you really feel.
Heart pounding in my ears, I turn around and slip away.
25
Eldaren
“What is the meaning of this?” I step forward and stand before the woman, staring down my nose at her. “What you speak is treason.”
The female pauses her tirade and glares up at me. Her gaze flickers to the edge of the cap I’m wearing, and I know she’s looking for the hidden points of my ears. But even with them covered, my face gives me away.
“It’s only treason if you are speaking in favor of invaders,” she sneers, and I have to admit, she has guts. I admire her for that. “You’re just a stinkin’ space elf.”
“Screw the laws,” the woman flings back. “They aren’t our laws. You came without our permission, and you made your own government without our consent. This land is ours.”
I can’t hold my smile back. “No,” I say. “Land doesn’t inherently belong to anyone. Land belongs to those who will fight and die for it, woman. You must put your land before your very life. Are you prepared to do that? Are you prepared to lay down your life?”
The woman’s face goes ashen, and I realize that she thinks I’m about to kill her. She fumbles about for words, but I’m not finished. “It’s called history, young one.” She’s older than me in human years by a good decade, but I’m older in raw years. “You must be willing to fight for land at all costs. It must be more important to you than anything else. That is why we are here. And that is why we will win against any humans who resist. You’re all bluster, hot air, and no action. We elves care about this earth, and we care about this land. It belongs to us until we decide it no longer needs us.”
The woman’s gaze shifts to the ground, and she glowers. “You have superior weapons,” she mutters. “We humans didn’t have a chance.”
“Perhaps, but then again, the Colonials didn’t have superior weapons. They just gave the British enough trouble so that England decided it wasn’t worth their effort to keep trying. See, they cared about this country more than the British did. They loved it, and they loved freedom. They had more cause to fight for.”
The woman blinks, her expression changing to curiosity, though the anger is still there, simmering under the surface. “The Colonials?” she asks.
“You’ve forgotten your history?” I stare, unable to hide my surprise. “That is unfortunate. No wonder you humans all act the way you do. You can’t remember. You have no purpose.” I flick my hand dismissively. “I will forgive your actions this once, woman. Don’t let me catch you protesting, again. You are free to go.”
She gapes at me for a moment. She clearly had not expected to get off so easily. And she won’t, if she does this again.
Gathering her wits, the woman turns and darts into the crowd, only to call over her shoulder, “You don’t belong here,” before slipping away.
Frowning, I mull over her words. Someone else said that to me. Who?
You don’t belong here.
Stella.
She spoke those words the first night we met.
A quick scan of the surrounding area confirms she is gone.
She left. She ran.
And I let her. I got distracted. Stella is no longer here.
Panic grips me. I stand perfectly still except for deep, gulping breaths. I’ll find her. Everything will be fine.
Stars, how will it be fine? Liberty is massive. She could be anywhere. What if she leaves the city? What if I never see her again?
Closing my eyes, I force myself to calmness. Breathe, Eldaren. Where would she have gone?
I don’t know. Because she never told me.
The small comm on my belt buzzes and I pick it up. “Yes?” My voice cracks and I cough, attempting to hide my blistering panic.
Sol’s voice speaks from the comm. “Let me guess.” His voice would sound expressionless to a human, but I detect the smugness. “You took Stella on a date into the city, and she dumped you.”
I frown at the small device. “How do you know?”
“I knew it was a bad idea to take her out, so I stalked you.” His voice is shameless. “I saw her give you the slip, and I followed her. She’s booking it up Pine Street. Oh, wait.” Silence for a moment. “She’s turned right onto Sixth Avenue.” His voice is thick with amusement. “Are we sure she doesn’t have magic? Stars in the sky, she’s fast for a human.”
“I’ll be there in five.” Clutching the comm like a lifeline, I bolt. I want to go faster, and I can, but not without hurting the humans that bustle about me. I have to settle for a human-paced sprint. Not quick enough for my liking.
Sol. Thank the stars he followed us. It’s embarrassing that he felt he had to. I should have seen Stella for what she is: a lying, manipulative backstabber. She’s had to be, to survive Liberty for so long. That is why I must not be angry with her, even though rage is coursing through me. I must be patient. She doesn’t understand me yet.
And I clearly don't understand her. My chest hurts with the betrayal.
Less than five minutes later I’m on Sixth, past Union and then University street. Panic has been replaced with grim determination. If I lose her now, I will go mad. Curse the Kenelky. Why me? Why her?
Sol’s voice crackles through the comm. “You’re running slower than my grandmother, and she’s dead. Where are you?”
“I’m on Sixth,” I growl.
“Oh, good. You should be almost here, then.” He chuckles. “I found her little rat’s nest. Fyit, what a disgusting place to live. We need to build some sturdier homes for these humans. What horrible living conditions.”
“Consider yourself hired for the job,” I bark back. In another few moments, I see what he’s talking about.
Stella—thank the stars I found her—is making her way through a collection of tents, shanties, and tarp covered dwellings.
Stella lives here? She wanted to come back here? Why?
Sol is at my side in an instant. He has a smudge of grime on his nose. “I’ve already summoned some guards,” he says in a lowered voice. “She won’t escape again, my prince.”
I don't respond. Sol and I crouch behind a collection of plastic water barrels, staying out of sight. Stella stops at one of the sheds and knocks on the door.
My eyes narrow. Perhaps she's going to visit someone.
Nothing happens. Stella knocks again, yelling for someone to open the door. She calls two names: Lyra and Quinn.
“I believe Quinn is a male name,” Sol mutters, poking me in the ribs.
Sometimes I feel like breaking Sol's arm.
The door finally opens, and a young woman about Stella's age, with creamy brown skin and long black curls, stands in the doorway. She's shouting, angry that Stella has been gone so long.
“Wow.” The human exclamation sounds strange on Sol's tongue. “Stella isn't much to look at, but her friend almost makes me wish I were human.”
“Elves and humans are compatible, you know.” I'm not really listening to him, my gaze trained on the small slip of a girl with dirty blonde hair.
“And you know that because—?”
“Shut up,” I say irritably, my face reddening. “I'm trying to listen.” Plus, Sol would already know that. Why ask about it at all?
“Is Quinn okay?” Stella asks, and the concern in her voice twists my stomach.
“He's fine, no thanks to you,” is the reply.
I swallow hard. Stella told me she didn't have a romantic interest.
She lied. Has she ever told me the truth?
“I suggest going in through a back way,” Sol whispers. “Surprising her and all of that. Do you want me to take care of Quinn?”
“No,” I say. “That duel is mine.”
“Duel?” Sol sounds puzzled.
Oh. Right. He doesn’t know about the Kenelky. I need to be careful about what I say.
Ignoring him, I stalk around to the back of the house. I feel like my stomach is in my boots.
If Stella were an elf, her behavior would be utterly disgraceful.
I know she isn't like me. She doesn't understand my ways. The elven way.
But her betrayal still stings.
26
Stella
“Run, run,” I pant, forcing my legs to move. I’ve been running since I left the market, and my home is several blocks away. I can do this. I have to. I can’t stop.
I take a different route fr
om the usual, otherwise it would take me far too close to the fortress, and I don’t want to know what will happen if another elf catches me. I could, perhaps, pretend to have gotten lost, but I doubt Eldaren would buy it.
Eldaren. Fresh fear pounds through me. He’s going to be so furious, never mind that he tries to mask his emotion. I’m not sure he will hide his anger this time. There’s also the inconvenient issue of actually feeling guilty for taking off like I did. I’d promised Eldaren that I’d agree to let him court me for a year. Ugh. What had possessed me to agree to that?
I already knew why. I’d had to gain his trust, to shield my brother.
It had nothing to do with Eldaren’s gray eyes or midnight hair.
What would mother think? Is it okay to lie to protect my family, even if it means hurting someone I’m beginning to see as a friend?
I turn off of Pine Street and onto 6th Avenue. My breath escapes my throat in strangled gasps. I can run, and run fast, when needed, but I do it as little as possible. I hate the stitch I always get in my side, the way my legs feel weak, and the frantic pumping of my heart, the way I have to gulp air like I’m dying. If hell is real, I wonder if it’ll be a run that never ends. I sure hope not.
Finally, finally, I see the collection of tents and tarp-covered shacks. I made it. I’m home.
I try the front door, and it’s locked. I knock, hoping Lyra will answer. I gave my key to her when I left, and as the silence stretches, my worry turns to panic.
“Lyra!” I shout, banging on the front door. “Open up, you no-good Drifter.”
Nothing. I bite back a terrified whine and pound on the door again. “Quinn?” My voice shifts to a terrified squeak. “Quinn! Are you okay? Open the door for me, will you?”
I step back, my gaze moving to the roof. It’s a combination of tarp and wooden beams. If I climb up there, I should be able to rip through the tarp, if I can locate something sharp. I look around, trying to find a stone when the door opens.
Lyra is standing in the doorway, her expression a thundercloud of rage. “Where have you been?” she shouted. “Do you have any idea how much time I spent looking for you? How much worry you caused?”