Invaded (19 page)

Isaac took the jar, careful not to make contact with Aelyx’s skin, then stuffed it
inside his jacket pocket and wiped his hand on his pants as if he’d touched filth.

What a bastard.

“Well, that didn’t go too badly,” Colonel Rutter said after Isaac had left. He stood
and clapped Aelyx on the back. “Now all we have to do is keep you alive till
spring.” Gathering his supplies, he beamed and said, “Easy peasy.”

When Colonel Rutter returned Aelyx to the hotel an hour later, the penthouse was crowded
with politicians and publicists—none of them smiling. Confused, Aelyx made his
way into the room, then stopped short when his gaze landed on the television screen.
Someone had paused the program, but he recognized it at once. His own image stared
back at him from a hotel sofa
he shared with Cara’s parents.

Somehow the botched interview with Sharon Taylor had aired.

Stomach dropping, Aelyx glanced around the room for an explanation. He grew cold when
he noticed the ambassador glaring at him from the dining room table. No doubt, Stepha
would punish him for
this.

“What happened?” Aelyx asked.

“She leaked the whole thing,” the PR specialist said. “We’re not sure how she did
it, but I assume she was wearing a hidden camera and transmitting the footage
offsite.”

“So it’s…”

“Everywhere. And the response isn’t pretty. HALO leaders are already calling for your
arrest.”

The room exploded in simultaneous conversation as everyone bickered over who to blame
and what to do next.

Colonel Rutter’s voice carried over the crowd. “Simmer down. We’ve got backing from
Isaac Richards now. Whatever the damage from that interview, we’ll call a press
conference and have him put out the flames. This isn’t the end of the—”

Stepha raised a hand and silenced the colonel. “It’s late. We will continue this discussion
in the morning.” A few objections arose, but Stepha insisted that everyone leave,
even David, who begrudgingly agreed to wait in the hallway. Within minutes, the room
cleared until only Aelyx and Syrine remained.

“I’m sorry,” Aelyx said. He doubted it would help, but he meant every word.

The ambassador showed no sign of emotion. “You know what has to happen.”

Aelyx could only nod.

Stepha led the way into the living room, where he settled in his armchair and instructed
Aelyx and Syrine to take the sofa. Right away, Aelyx noticed the
iphet
resting on the coffee
table and his shoulders clenched of their own volition.

“I haven’t administered a Reckoning since I accepted the post of ambassador,” Stepha
said. “I find the task demeaning.” He wrinkled his nose. “And I loathe
the smell. It reminds me of my own childhood indiscretions.”

Syrine shifted beside Aelyx on the sofa and wrung her hands. She’d nursed him through
his first Reckoning at age six. Afterward, she’d empathized with his pain so acutely
she’d
vomited her breakfast. Aelyx wished Stepha would dismiss her. She didn’t need this
anxiety.

“Stepha, please,” Syrine whispered. “Aelyx is repentant. Perhaps you can spare him
the
iphet
. The Way doesn’t have to know you waived his penalty. I won’t
tell anyone.”

Aelyx expected the ambassador to chide her for suggesting such a crime, but he didn’t.
Instead, Stepha studied them for several minutes, never initiating Silent Speech—just
watching.
When at last he spoke, his voice was eerily calm. “I’m not going to administer a Reckoning.”
He leaned forward and took the
iphet
in his hands, then turned it over,
inspecting the deceptively delicate wiry rod attached to its handle. He held it toward
Syrine. “You are.”

Syrine brought a hand to her breast. “Me?” She shook her head so fiercely her ponytail
escaped its clasp. “I can’t! Please, if you consid—”

“I believe you mistook my order for a request.” Stepha tossed the
iphet
onto the table, where it rolled toward the sofa. He locked eyes with Aelyx but chose
to speak aloud.
“Do you see how your insubordinate actions have corrupted this girl? In defense of
your treachery, she has proposed a lie by omission—seeking to deceive The Way, whom
she has sworn to
obey in all things. Do you see how your poor example has led her astray?”

“Yes,” Aelyx said, offering a silent prayer to the Sacred Mother that Stepha would
reconsider. Syrine didn’t deserve this. “And I’m deeply sorry.”

“In the end, rebellion hurts us all.” Stepha showed no signs of relenting. “Syrine
will deliver your Reckoning and share in your anguish, to teach you that everyone
suffers
when you defy The Way.” Without moving an inch, he glanced at the
iphet
. “She will administer twenty strokes.”

“Twenty?” Syrine cried. “But that’s a dozen more than—”

“Twenty-five,” Stepha corrected. “You may begin at your leisure.”

Syrine clenched her fists, but she didn’t argue. Aelyx knew her well enough to imagine
she was punishing herself for adding five lashes to his penalty. He couldn’t let Syrine
assume
the blame. This wasn’t her fault.

He claimed the
iphet
and handed it to her. When their eyes met, he said,
Don’t be afraid. I’ve been through this so many times I barely feel it anymore. You
won’t
hurt me.

Of course she knew he was lying, but she nodded and took the handle in her trembling
fingers. Aelyx showed her how to power it on, then removed his shirt and knelt in
front of the sofa, resting
his folded hands atop the cushion.

“I’m ready,” he told her.

She positioned herself behind him, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. She began
to speak but must have thought better of it, because the next thing Aelyx knew, she’d
struck him directly
between the shoulder blades.

Aelyx tasted the electricity before he felt it, but the sting quickly followed. His
muscles clenched, skin burning as the stench of singed flesh filled his nose. She
struck again and then again
in quick succession. Sweat beaded across Aelyx’s brow. His lungs ached to cry out,
but he gritted his teeth and refused to make a sound. He wouldn’t burden Syrine with
the knowledge of
his pain.

On and on it went. The sickening
zap
of the lash echoed against the high ceilings, punctuated by Syrine’s wet sobs. Once
she reached twenty strokes, Stepha told her to stop.

“Are you contrite, brother?” Stepha asked.

Aelyx couldn’t speak, so he nodded. He’d never felt so contrite in his life. Black
spots danced in his line of vision, and he knew he’d never make it back to his room.
With
limbs weaker than onionskin, he pushed away from the sofa and lay on the carpet, letting
the air flow freely over his lacerated back.

After the ambassador retired to the master suite, Syrine knelt by Aelyx’s side. She
dabbed medicated salve on his burns and whispered “I’m sorry” a hundred times. He
wanted to tell her this wasn’t the kind of apology he’d wanted, but those dancing
black spots merged into one, and he surrendered to oblivion.

The next morning, Aelyx awoke facedown on his bed, unsure of how he’d made it there.
He squinted against the early sunlight and discovered Syrine on the floor beside his
mattress, fast asleep with an open bottle of salve in hand. Before he had a chance
to whisper her name, she blinked awake, as if sensing him.

She sat up and flashed a palm, her eyes reddened by tears. “Don’t move. I added another
layer to your
fahren
wrap an hour ago. I need to wash it off.”

Syrine rushed to the bathroom and returned with several damp towels. When she placed
the first on Aelyx’s back, he held his breath and braced for the pain, but all he
felt was warm
moisture. He relaxed at once.

“Okay?” she asked, blotting his skin. “Is this too hard?”

“I barely feel a thing. What did you do to me?”

While removing the dried salve from his back, she whispered, “I gave you two analgesic
injections and a healing accelerant. The
fahren
wrap is cosmetic, so you won’t
scar.”

Those medicines were hard to find on Earth. “Where did you get all of that?”

“Easy,” she said. “I liberated the medic kit from Stepha’s suite after he fell asleep.”

Grinning, Aelyx glanced at her over his shoulder. “I truly
have
corrupted you.”

Syrine didn’t return his smile. Her eyes welled with fresh tears as she dried his
skin and smoothed on a final layer of ointment. “He never said I couldn’t heal you.
Technically, I haven’t disobeyed him.”

When the treatment was complete, Aelyx sat up and faced her.
Thank you. I’m sorry you had to do that—any of it. I shouldn’t have put you in that
position.

Syrine gaped as if he’d told her the Sacred Mother wore combat boots.
You’re apologizing to me?

Yes, it was my fault.

No.
She shook her head and burned a glare into his skull.
Don’t say that. I hurt you, not only last night, but months ago on the transport.
And I never said I was sorry. Now
I’m saying it: I’m sorry.

After last night, Aelyx didn’t need to hear it anymore. He held out a hand.
I just want my friend back.

Tears spilled down Syrine’s cheeks as she took his hand in both of hers. She gave
him a watery smile.
I never left.

“
N
o crying,” Troy ordered. “You promised.”

Cara dabbed at her eyes with her tunic sleeve. “Who’s crying?”

“You are, dorkus.”

“Nope, not me.” Tears didn’t count unless they spilled over, so she hadn’t violated
their deal. “Must be something in the recycled air.”

Troy had wanted to say good-bye at the Aegis, and when Cara begged to tag along to
the spaceport, he’d agreed on one condition—no sniveling. He’d said it was hard enough
leaving her behind, and he didn’t need one more reason to feel like crap.

“Well, get it in check,” he said. “Or I’ll have Jeeves take you back early.”

The capital guard who’d shuttled them to the spaceport—whose name was Aloit, not Jeeves—pointed
to the station manager and gave Troy a command in L’eihr. Troy looked to
Cara for an interpretation.

She translated for him. “You need to turn in your orders and get a travel band.”

“Impressive,” Troy said with an appreciative nod.

“I know, right?” Cara never imagined how quickly she’d pick up the language. Cultural
immersion really worked.

That didn’t mean she wanted to stay. Her decision to leave Earth was starting to feel
like a knee-jerk reaction, and she would stow away inside Troy’s duffel bag if she
could. She
wondered if The Way had sensed it. That would explain why they’d sent a guard instead
of a mere pilot to shuttle her to the transport.

“Okay. I’ll make it quick.” Troy backed away by slow degrees as if the two of them
were tethered at the waist by a bungee cord. Cara could tell this was hard for him,
and she
suddenly regretted dragging out their good-bye. She should have given him a clean
break at the Aegis like he’d asked.

“Take your time,” she said, hitching a thumb toward the spaceport window. “I love
the view from up here.” To make it easier on him, she turned and strode away.

Once she reached the window, she darted a glance over her shoulder and found Troy
making his way to the transportation official, orders in hand. Aloit had joined two
other middle-age guards in
browsing goods for sale along the vendors’ corridor.

“Huh,” Cara said to herself. “Shopping.” She hadn’t considered that. Maybe she should
send home some presents with the credits she’d earned from all those
nights sanitizing the kitchen. If she hurried, Troy could stuff the gifts in his bag
and deliver them once he arrived on Earth. But just when she’d taken two steps in
the other direction, her
com-sphere buzzed to life. She rushed to a quiet corner to answer it, careful to keep
Troy in sight so she could wave him over when he was done.

After whispering her password, she set her sphere on the floor and sat cross-legged
facing it. The floor’s steely panels chilled her bottom, so she pushed to her feet
and crouched low,
hugging her knees.

Tori’s upper torso appeared in miniature from Mom’s kitchen table. Cara smiled so
widely it hurt. If anything could make this day bearable, it was a call from her best
friend.

Tori’s ebony eyes beamed against skin the precise shade of toasted caramel, her jet-black
hair cut in a meticulous bob that followed her jawline. She still had that familiar
spitfire in
her gaze, the kind that warned a zinger was coming. “You’re in the fetal position,”
Tori quipped. “I would be, too, if I were on Planet Freak.”

Cara laughed, drawing a few glances from nearby crew members. “I was literally freezing
my ass off. I’m at the spaceport saying good-bye to Troy.”

“Good,” Tori said. “Now get on board with him.”

Cara figured her friend couldn’t talk long, and she didn’t want to waste one minute
arguing for the hundredth time about the exchange or listening to a litany of complaints
about
L’eihrs. “You know I can’t do that, so drop it and tell me how much you miss me.”

Tori answered with her middle finger, a strangely welcome sight.

“Are you okay?” Cara asked. “Is it safe to be at my house?” Tori and Eric had joined
HALO before they’d understood the Patriots’ violent nature. Since then,
they’d had to pretend not to associate with Cara’s family or face the same “accidents”
that had befallen those who openly supported the Sweeneys.

“Safe and sound.” Tori’s face broke into a grin. “You’re not gonna believe this.”

Cara noticed Troy scanning the room for her, so she stood and waved to get his attention,
then crouched low again. “Believe what?”

“Isaac Richards is backing the alliance.”

“Right,” Cara said with a snort. “And I’ll ride a unicorn back to my gingerbread dorm.”

“I swear it on my
abuela
’s grave.” Tori raised one hand in oath. “He said the L’assholes have more to offer
than he thought. We should still be careful,
but no more protests or he’ll disband our chapters.”