Sea of Stars (8 page)

Wide-eyed, I gasp as my back arches in agony and I writhe in pain. My heavy, granitelike lungs don’t feel as if they can process air. Above me, the Bee comes into focus over the shoulder of the soldier who’s patting my cheek.

With a look of disdain, the Bee says, “You’ll live.” She sighs in frustration before her sapphire-blue eyes narrow in contempt. “If Kyon brings you back here, I will kill you,” she promises. “Run, little Kricket. Run far away.”

“Who are you?” I whisper through cracked lips, but I never hear her reply. She evaporates into the ceiling and is gone. The chaos of Trey’s cell becomes loud and disorienting. Soldiers who have roused from being shocked are trying to subdue Trey, who’s pointing his freston at the head of one of the soldiers he’s taken hostage. The soldier next to me has recovered somewhat from his shock as well. He pulls the trigger on a gunlike syringe he has inserted into my arm. As the drug he gave me careens through my arteries, I slip into darkness.

C
HAPTER 5

T
HE DISHERY

I
suck
in my bottom lip as I awake to aching muscles and a stiff neck. A dull pain in my upper arm makes me lift my chin off my chest. A smirking soldier draws a gunlike syringe away from my skin. Trying to move, I find my hands are restrained above my head. I breathe faster through dry, cracked lips, and there’s a saliva trail running over one side of my cheek. I squint, disoriented, my eyes unfocused; I’m aware enough to realize that there’s a metal post against my back.

I push up onto my feet, which relieves some of the pressure on my arm sockets, but I’d give anything right now to be able to put my arms down. Looking up, I find my hands are shackled and latched to a metal peg on the post. The post goes up for as far as I can see through a hole in the ceiling of the room. I’m terrified. I pull as hard as I can against the restraint, hoping it’ll loosen or break. It does neither.

The soldier who revived me walks away. He crosses out of the circle of light in the center of the room, moving into the shadows toward a door on the far wall. As he leaves the room, I think for a moment that I’m alone, until I hear a male voice say, “Your name is Kricket?” It echoes in the open space.

I squint, trying to locate the voice. It’s in the darkest part of the room. I taste blood on my lip. My voice is hoarse and raspy when I answer, “Yes.”

“Do you know who I am?” he asks.

“No,” I answer. “But I’ll be your best friend if you let me go.” He laughs, but I’m not kidding. “How long have I been out?”

“You mean unconscious?”

“How long?” I repeat with growing panic.

He sounds amused as he says, “I was told that you’re psychic. You’re not omnipotent, then?” He moves away from the far wall, closer to the circle of light I’m in. He’s slight in stature in comparison to all the Rafian men I’ve encountered. He’s only a few inches taller than me. To them, he’s probably a curiosity—being short. He stays on the fringes for a moment, walking around me in a circle. I wait to see what he’ll do next.

When he faces me again, I say, “If I were a better psychic, Geteron, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I thought you didn’t know me,” he says in a surprised tone.

“It took me a second to recognize your voice. You’re the one Minister Telek called for after I’d poisoned him. You were the first one in his office.”

“You admit you poisoned him?” he asks with some degree of astonishment.

“Telek murdered Minister Vallen and threatened to use me as a scapegoat. I call what I did self-preservation. Are you in charge in his absence?”

“I’m his second in command. I’m in charge until he recovers.”

I raise my chin. “Congratulations on your promotion.”

“Apparently, I have you to thank for that.”

“You’re welcome. Now let me down.”

“I don’t think so. I have a few more questions for you.”

“I have one for you too. How long have I been unconscious?” My mouth is dry, as if I hadn’t almost drowned recently.

“Why is it important?”

“There’s going to be an Alameeda attack at sixteen parts on Fitzmartin. It’s an aerial assault. You need to prepare for it.”

“I’ve heard the rumors you started regarding this attack from a few sources.” He checks his watch. If what you told my soldiers is true, then we only need to wait a couple more parts to see if you’re correct.”

“It’s Fitzmartin?” I ask in a panic. I try to pull my hands down, but the chains holding them merely rattle and clang.

“It is a little earlier than midday. We found you less formidable unconscious.”

“There will be an attack soon!” I warn. “You can’t afford to refuse to act on what I’m telling you. It’d mean the destruction of this entire floating fortress—your military headquarters.”

He gives me a skeptical look. “There has never been an attack like the one you describe in the history of this ship.”

“This ship will
be
history. Please save us.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because you can’t afford not to!”

“Give me something to build my trust.”

“What do you want?” I ask in desperation.

“Tell me where they are.”

“Where who are?” I ask.

“Your companions.”

“Trey?” I ask in confusion. “He was in the cell with me—did he escape?”

“He did, and so did the other one.”

“What other one—Jax? Wayra?” I ask.

“Your accomplice: the Comantre Syndic who tried to rescue you.”

“He’s not my accomplice and he wasn’t trying to rescue me! He was attempting to kidnap me, and when he failed, he tried to kill me.”

“Who is he?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I reply, “but he’s not Comantre. He’s something else entirely.”

“He picked up my men and threw them without touching them.”

“I know. I saw that. He has gifts.”

“Is he Alameeda?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Did you lose him?”

“He escaped from his cell when you created a diversion for him.”

I scoff. “It wasn’t my plan to almost drown in my cell. The diversion was created by someone else.”

“It wasn’t our plan either. Something went wrong. Your cell was set to rain—nothing more.”

“Someone changed the setting to tsunami.”

“So it wasn’t you trying to distract the guards?” he asks.

“I don’t have any abilities like that, and if I did, I would’ve picked a different way to distract them,” I retort. “I can’t swim.” I want to ask him about Trey, but I can’t. I don’t want to give him any information that may lead them to Trey. If he’s hiding on this ship, I need to find him. “What about the other Cavars? Did they escape as well?”

He mulls over what I said, approaching me with caution. “No. We still have them—your bodyguards from the palace. They’re still tucked away safely in their cells. When we locate the other two, they may not be so fortunate.”

“What do you want to know? I’ll tell you anything—just don’t hurt Trey. He’s only trying to protect me, nothing more. He loves this house. He’s loyal to Rafe.”

Geteron steps into the ring of light I’m in. “How do the Alameeda get past our defensive shields?” he asks.

I exhale a deep breath, because he wants information on something I don’t know. I’ll have to bluff him. Before I can answer, though, a loud, squeaky hinge sounds from behind Geteron. From the open doorway, Kyon strolls into the room. His arrogant mouth twists into a smug smile. “It’s not very difficult to infiltrate your defenses. You deny the supernatural. You find her gifts illogical, even when the proof of her abilities stares you in the face.”

Geteron is confused for a moment. I’m not. I beg him, “Let me go! Please! He’s going to kill us!”

Kyon ignores me; his focus remains on Geteron. “How many times did she tell you I was coming?” he asks Geteron as he moves closer to us. “A handful? More?”

“Who are you?” Geteron asks with a wary tone. “Who let you in here?”

“No one let me in here. I killed all your guards. You didn’t answer my question. How many times did she warn you that I was coming?”

“You’re Alameeda!” Geteron sneers in an outraged tone.

“I was worried she’d convince you of our arrival scheduled for a few parts from now. I decided to change our plan—make it earlier. I thought if we arrived silently, I’d have a chance of locating her before we decimate you. I believed she’d at least attempt to warn you of my new plan. She doesn’t trust me at all; it’s a failing of hers. So I have to assume you either didn’t believe her or you harmed her in some way, making her unable or unwilling to help you. Which one is it?”

“Please let me go,” I whisper to Geteron, eyeing Kyon as he shark-smiles at Geteron.

Geteron reaches for his harbinger, but he’s not quick enough. Kyon throws a star-shaped blade; it lights up, glowing with blue fire. It makes a whirling sound as it whips forward, striking Geteron in the middle of the forehead. Once implanted, it does the scariest thing I’ve ever seen, it latches onto his skin and drills into his head, boring completely through until it comes out the other side. The shiny stars continue to spin, boomeranging back around. Kyon lifts his wrist in the air as the killing star comes back to him, docking itself on the metal wristband. Geteron teeters on his feet for a moment before he buckles and falls backward to the floor. Brains shoot out of the hole in his forehead upon the impact.

Kyon walks to him, kicking his foot with the toe of his boot. Then, his eyes lift to mine. My stomach clenches in fear as he assesses me with a cold stare. “For someone who can see the future, you don’t do it so well.”

I laugh humorlessly, belying my terror. “It sometimes sneaks up on me,” I say as I raise my chin.

“You shouldn’t allow it to do that,” he admonishes.

“It’s a moot point now.”

“Why’s that?”

“You said you’d kill me when you found me.”

“And I always keep my word with you, don’t I?” he asks.

“No. Not always. You seem to flake a little when I outsmart you.”

“You
are
resourceful,” he replies in an offhanded way. “But you appear to be less so now.” He walks around the post, knocking on it behind me. It makes a hollow sound. “Forget how to blend in?”

“Ugh! Just do it already and get it over with,” I snarl. I feel like I’m half dead anyway. I’m sick with fear—that part ending doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. But as soon as the words are out, I regret them.

“Do what? Kill you? Do you want me to?”

“It seems like the lesser evil at the moment.”

He nears me, his massive form has never made me feel as small as I do right now. He extracts a long, sharp dagger from a shoulder holster beneath his arm. With the hilt in his hand, he lays the flat of the blade just under my ear; the metal feels cool against my feverish skin. The fingers of his other hand weave in my hair, pulling it back, forcing my eyes up to meet his steely blue ones. The flat side of the knife shifts in his hand, moving to the back of my neck. He twists his wrist; the sharp edge rests firmly against my nape. With one broad stroke of it, he can probably cut off my head.

“Any last words?” he asks me.

I remain silent, because screw him.

“You’re so defiant,” he says, but there’s an admiration in his tone that he can’t quite hide. His hand tightens on my hair. “Aren’t you going to close your eyes?”

I glare at him.

A smile grows on his lips. “You’re stronger than them all.” With one brutal stroke he cuts off my hair. I bite down on my already swollen bottom lip as my hair is ripped from me. Bringing his massive hand in front of my eyes to show me, we watch my hair turn black and shrivel to dust. Kyon opens his fingers, letting the ashlike residue fall from his grasp. Reaching out, he threads his fingers in my silky blond tresses, which are growing back to their former length before his eyes.

“Do you know why it does that?” he asks me. “Why your hair regrows so quickly?”

“No, do you?” I quirk my eyebrow at him in question.

“It’s part of your genetic engineering. Do you know what happens when I cut your hair?” He lets my newly regrown hair spill over his fingertips, and I’m reminded of a miser and his gold.

“It renders me unable to sell it at Gurlz Need Weaves?”

Kyon’s blue eyes dance with suppressed humor. “Is that a drawback?”

“Where I come from, a little extra money would’ve been handy.”

“You’ll never have to worry about money again.”

“I guess that’s one good thing about dying.”

“Do you know what hair is?” he asks me.

I sigh, tired of his game already. “A collection of dead cells,” I reply.

“To be more accurate, it’s made up of long chains of amino acids joined together by peptide bonds forming polypeptide bonds. When I cut your hair, it forces your body to regenerate cells more rapidly. It rejuvenates you, making you—”

“—freakish?” I ask, attempting to find the word for which he’s searching.

“Immortal . . . or very near to it. You won’t physically grow much older than you are now, if you continue cutting your hair on a regular basis.”

“That won’t make me immortal, because you can still kill me with your knife.”

He trails the sharp edge of steel over my cheek, heading for my mouth. “I find pleasure in your ability to reason. I’m growing tired of inane blonds.”

“That sounds like a cultural hazard for you as an Alameeda. Most of you are pretty stupid.”

He lets my insult roll off him, as if he agrees with me. “Priestesses can be very naïve, and most of them are spoiled to the core.”

“So you deserve each other. How nice for you.”

His blade rests against my lips. He lifts it and holds it away from me so I can see my mouth reflected in its silver gleam. “Look at this . . . your bottom lip is not so broken anymore . . .”

I suck in my lip, running my tongue over the surface of it. The cracks that were there have healed a bit—the marks aren’t gone, but they’re no longer scabby.

A shiver tears through me. “It’s ridiculous that you know more about my body than I do.”

His knife skims lightly over my chin, down the front of my neck, over my chest, pausing above my frantically beating heart. “I should know everything about your body. It belongs to me.”

“Yuck!” I make a face, “I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.”

He stiffens. “You’re so melodramatic.”

“So your plan isn’t to kill me? You plan to keep me,” I say, already knowing I’m right. Part of me is relieved that he doesn’t want to cut out my heart right away, but another part of me is desperate because he still believes he owns me, and I can’t have that.

“We’re going to destroy this ship. I came here to save you.”

“I have another way you can save me: go away and don’t kill anyone. It’s a simple plan, one you can grasp.”

He shrugs. “Eh, my way’s better,” he says with a smug smile. “It’s the prophecy, Kricket. A house will fall. We’re making sure that it’s not our house.”

“You’re the
only
aggressors here,” I counter. “Rafe isn’t looking for a fight.”

“Oh no? Why have they been after the Tectonic Peninsula? It’s a staging point to mount an attack against Alameeda.”