Under Different Stars (10 page)

I follow his lead, asking, “How do I know the difference between a peer and…urr…royalty?” I try to match the refined sweep of his arm with mine.

“You should be introduced to royalty. You will not greet them unless you’re introduced,” he explains as we both stand again.

“Ah ha—snobs. So, you’re royalty, right?” I ask, and his eyes go wide, not understanding how I know this about him. “Victus is the one to inherit, but you’re minor royalty—no one seeks your favor,” I repeat almost verbatim what he’d said in the limousine.

“You were listening to us…in the car,” he states, frowning.

“I’m always listening—chameleon, remember?” Sinking to my knee again, I incline my head, while bringing my hand up to my shoulder, saying, “Greetings, Trey Allairis.”

“How do you know my last name?” Trey grasps my upper arm and pulls me to my feet.

“Kyon mentioned it,” I reply, looking at his hand on my arm. “Uhh, no touching. It’s impolite,” I scold him prudishly. “Now, how would you greet an Alameeda priestess? Would you take a knee for her?”

“You mean, how would I greet a delegation from Alameeda?” he corrects me. “She would be accompanied by an entourage and I would kneel. Victus would not. He would incline his head. But I wouldn’t kneel if I was a Cavar in the capacity of protection.”

“Interesting.”

“You’re a Rafe citizen, Kricket. Your affiliation with the Alameeda will only make you seem less like one of us,” he warns.

“I’m both. To deny my mother would be wrong.”

“There may be some who will want to see you crawl because of your heritage.”

“I’m stone, remember?” I ask, quirking my brow. “I can’t be afraid to fail, or I’ll be stuck wherever you leave me. I can’t hide what I am and there’s always a way around those people—or through them. Don’t worry about what I’ll do next. You won’t be there to see it.”

“She’s got you there, Trey,” Jax says. He stands up. “You’ll be at the swanks with the blushers. I need you to get me into one.”

Trey is silent for a moment, not taking his eyes from mine. Then he says, “I don’t know, Jax…I’ll be responsible for you, if I get you in. Do you even know how to comport yourself at a swank?”

“Yes,” Jax replies. He goes down on one knee before me. Rising up, he asks, “Would you care to comport with me?” He stands at my side holding his arm out in front of him with his other arm behind his back.

In my most arrogant tone, I say, “Indeed.”

Jax raises his chin. “You may lay your hand on my arm and I will guide you to the floor.”

“The floor? Like the dance floor?” I ask, laying my hand on his arm.

“Mmm,” he agrees with an arrogant nod, looking straight ahead.

“How does one dance on Ethar?” I ask, extremely curious as he leads me a few steps away from the fire. “Is there touching involved?”

“Some.”

I bring my fingers to my lips. “Scandalous,” I reply. I drop my hand. “Are you going to break it down for me?”

Jax looks a little less arrogant. “Well, I could use some instruction, too. Trey, can you demonstrate?” he asks.

“But, you were comporting so well,” Trey replies sarcastically.

“Oh, you gotta show us your moves, Trey,” I say.

“Why must I?”

“Because…you’ll ruin my first kidnapping if you don’t,” I reply, quirking my eyebrow challengingly. “How will I be able to compare it to any future abduction if you don’t at least attempt to show me how you dance?”

“You’re not being kidnapped. You’re being remanded,” Trey replies, but his eyes soften in the corners.

“Well then, the least you can do is entertain me before I get
remanded
..”

Trey holds up his finger and says, “I will show you
one
dance, if you promise to show me one that you know.”

“Deal,” I agree immediately.

He positions me to face him. Then, he asks, “Do you know any music with stringed instruments?”

“You mean, like orchestral music?” I wrinkle my nose.

Yes.”

“Um…‘Ode To Joy’…Beethoven,” I reply, unsure. “But, I only know the refrain…”

“How does it go?” he asks.

Humming the classical music as best I can, he smiles. “Yes, that’s good, keep humming. Now,” holding his hand toward me above our heads, he continues, “Touch your fingertips to mine…no, left hand to left hand. Doing as he instructs, he adds, “Make sure you keep eye contact with me. Now, we will turn so that you will be standing where I am and I will be in your position.”

“Half turn…got it,” I back around as he moves forward.

“Now, we switch hands and repeat the same movement.”

After we do, he says, “Now, we drop our hands and you curtsy and I bow to you.”

“Curtsy?” I falter, grinning. “How does one curtsy?” Jax, standing by us, demonstrates a curtsy, which I attempt to imitate.

Wayra chimes in, “Why are you so good at curtsying, Jax?”

Ignoring him, Trey says, “Then we both face the far wall. I will extend my hand up to you again and you will meet it with yours, just allowing our fingertips to touch again.”

“Then, what?” I feel the heat of his fingers on mine. A slight blush begins coloring my cheeks while I gaze in his eyes.

Trey’s expression is serious. “Then we drop our hands and look straight ahead, taking a step.” We do as he says. “Then, we turn our heads toward each other again, make eye contact and our hands touch again.”

“So, this is a weird kind of line dancing,” I say, continuing to follow his moves.

“Hmm?” he asks, raising his brow.

“Never mind,” I wave my hand.

“Those are the basics for that particular dance.”

“What’s it called?”

“The revel.”

“Well, no one will accuse you all of being b-boys,” I murmur, smiling at him. “I’m almost afraid to show you how we dance. You might have a heart attack.”

“Why? Is it dangerous?” he asks, looking confused.

“Uhh…you could say that. What can I show you that won’t totally freak you out?” I ask rhetorically, thinking. “OH! I know. I’ll teach you salsa! My roommate, Bridget—her real name is Brigida, she’s Cuban-American—she changed it to Bridget because she thinks it helps on job applications,” I explain. “She makes me dance with her all the time.”

Spinning around him, I show Trey how to turn and then to shift me in his arms so that I will spin away from him. “Once I’m out here, pull my hand to bring me back to you,” I instruct, feeling him pull me back. Winding inward on his arm, I end up pressed to his chest. Smiling and looking up at Trey, I say, “And that’s basically how…you…salsa…” I trail off, my fingers curling on his chest at his intense expression. He drops his chin down, his face coming close to mine.

“I’m next,” Wayra says behind me, coming closer.

“No way. I’m next,” Jax counters.

Trey freezes with his face very close to mine. “No one’s next. It’s time to go,” he says softly, letting go of me and turning away. “Pack up the gear and put out the fire, I’ll scout the area before we leave. We’ll move silently tonight. No talking once we exit the cave. Do you understand?” Trey asks in a tight tone, turning back to me. He looks angry, like I did something wrong. “We need to complete the mission so we can get back to our lives.”

Raising my chin a notch, I say, “Got it.”

Trey nods, leaving immediately for the mouth of the cave. I follow more slowly, mentally kicking myself for being so stupid. These guys aren’t my friends, not even close. They're being paid to do a job. They’re delivering me to some kind of scary institution where I’ll be subject to someone else’s whims. My heart twists inside my chest, because I can’t help feeling as if they’re betraying me.
I’m stone…nothing touches me…nothing
, I repeat in my head, while putting on my night-vision glasses and walking into the darkness.

CHAPTER 9

SPLIT THE WORLD IN TWO

Running through the night, I’m dodging between trees and over terrain that’s as magical as it is dangerous. I’m directly behind Trey; he’s blocking branches for me while maintaining an easier pace than before. We stop before a clearing that’s carpeted with wildflowers and singing insects and I accept the canteen from Jax.

Gazing around, everything is clear to me, almost as crisp as daylight. My night-vision glasses allow me to see the colors of the flowers: brilliant vermilion and fuchsia, with intoxicating fragrances. I lean down and bring my face close to the beautiful red bloom near me. Inhaling its scent, the petals brush against my cheek; it feels like the silk of a scarf my mother once owned. I pluck the bloom, tucking it behind my ear.

In seconds, Trey grasps my arm, tugging me to him and pulling the flower from my hair, throwing it on the ground. Grasping my chin painfully, he turns my head as his fingers sweep the place where the bloom had rested. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” Trey asks in a low, harsh tone. Turning my chin so that I’m forced to look at his face, his eyebrows shoot together as he scowls at me. He points his finger in my face. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What?” I ask feebly.

“Don’t you know what lives on those flowers—what kind of poisonous insect inhabits them?” I can’t read his eyes, because his glasses are blocking them, but his mouth is stretched in a grim line.

“Uhh—” I breathe, not able to think because he’s right in my face, looking furious enough to hit me. My heart jumps into my throat. I want to run, but I can’t because he’s still holding my chin. “I won’t—touch anything. I’m sorry—” I stutter in a low whisper, feeling all of the color leaving my face. I hate myself in this moment. I misjudged him. He’s more dangerous than I gave him credit for.

His tirade is far from over as he continues to question me. “Why would you put something like that in your hair, so close to your ear?” His grip tightens on my chin. I try not to flinch or pull it away from him.

“I…thought it was…pretty.”

His hand on my arm tightens, “You think a turbine worm, drilling in your ear would be pretty?” he asks me, like I’m the dumbest person he’s ever met.

“SIR!” Jax yells in an agitated tone behind Trey. “Can I speak with you?”

I hold my breath, hoping he’ll let me go. Slowly, Trey’s grip eases as he drops his hand from my chin. “Report,” Trey barks, still glaring at me.

“In confidence,” Jax replies, frowning at me, too. Trey lets me go completely and I immediately back up from him, putting some distance between us. Trey continues to scowl as he gestures Jax toward the woods behind them.

I perch tentatively on a large rock and wrap my arms around my body. I scan the ground for anything that could possibly resemble a turbine worm. My chin aches a little, but I refuse to rub it or show any sign that what just happened had hurt me in the least.
Never show weakness.

“Kricket,” Jax says my name and I duck my head like a guilty criminal.

“What?” I answer, rising from my rock to face him. Trey is only a few steps behind.

“How often do you see flowers growing wild in Chicago?”

“Uh…” I clear my throat because it feels tight all of a sudden. “Well, corporate buildings sometimes have small terrariums…” I mumble.

“Are those flowers wild?” he asks, frowning.

“No,” I reply, feeling like an idiot as my face gets redder.

“And if you picked one of those flowers, what would happen?”

“Um, I’d probably get fired and security might escort me out of the building.”

“You wouldn’t be worried that it could kill you?”

Shaking my head, I drop my chin a little more, feeling stupid again. Tears burn my eyes but I refuse to give into them, forcing them back down.

“Because you’ve never seen any flowers that can kill, right?” he asks in a gentle tone. “And there has been no one in your life who stood by you—protected you by warning you about things like dangerous plants?”

I try to appear casual as I shrug. “My friends weren’t concerned with botany.”

“No, it was all about urban survival and if we were in Chicago, you could show us what not to touch.” He smiles at me.

I shrug again. “That, and maybe a free meal at happy hour—I know a place in the loop that serves free pasta marinara and you only have to buy a coke.”

“I’d bet a thousand fardrooms that you do,” Jax says sadly. “We should go. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

I nod, keeping my shoulders back and my eyes averted as I walk by Trey. We move slower through the open fields, Trey and Wayra are both leading the way now and using the scopes on their recurves to scan the surrounding woods. Skirting a herd of what looks like horses, my skin prickles, noticing that each one has two long, wicked horns growing out of its head just behind its ears. Shivering, I ask, “What are those?” because I’m learning that everything here should be treated with the utmost caution.

“Spixes,” Wayra answers me.

“Friendly?”

“Not particularly. Those are wild ones,” Wayra replies, nodding toward the herd. “But they can be trained and ridden.”

“Yeah?” I ask, watching a beautiful brown and white spix rise up on its hind legs, pawing the air when it sees us moving past the herd.

“Do you have a spix?”

“No,” Wayra smiles. “Trey’s family has some. I’ve ridden with him at his family home.”

Not wanting to hear anything about Trey or his stupid family who know all about stupid flowers and riding spixes, I say, “It’s kind of sad to think that some people would want to tame something that is meant to be wild. Maybe there ought to be a law against it.”

Looking up, I see Trey try to suppress his grin. “You only say that because you’re the wild thing we’ve been sent to tame.”

“Like you could tame me,” I scoff, and Wayra laughs.

“She’s a fire woman,” Wayra says, grinning at me.

“That she is,” Trey mutters. I ignore them because I’m not sure if I was just complimented or insulted.

An agitated nicker from a spix makes Trey’s head snap up. He scans the area behind us just as the spixes begin surging forward, looking wild and deadly as their hooves rattle the ground like thunder. But that’s not half as frightening as the roar that tears the very air around me.

In the next moment, my elbow is seized by Trey. He pulls me forcefully in his direction, making me veer out of the path of the spixes as they pour around us, screaming like wildly fleeing people from a burning building. He positions me in front of him and urges me to run with his hand on my back toward a shallow ravine. When we reach it, Trey pushes me down into it, covering me with his body. Turning my face as a louder roar sounds, a huge, gold and gray-striped feline pounces on a spix a few feet from us, tearing the spix’s neck open and shaking it wildly with its saber-toothed jaws.

I struggle to get Trey off of me so that I can run. “Don’t move,” Trey breathes in my ear. I still as a low, long growl sounds behind us. A second cat, the size of a SUV, slinks nearer to the one eating the spix.

“They’re going to fight over their dinner. When they do, we’re going to get up and run to the trees to your left,” Trey instructs me in a calm tone.

“Can’t you just shoot them?” I ask, looking desperately at the recurve on the ground near us.

“No,” he says grimly. “I can’t kill saers with a recurve. Their pelts are too thick.”

“You stupid boy scout!” I hiss at him in a low whisper. “You come out here with saers and bring a cap gun? You should break the rules just once, Trey. You might enjoy it!”

“You can give me your opinion if we make it to those trees. Now, let’s move!” he says, hauling me up with an arm around my waist and pushing me to run ahead of him in the direction of the trees. Loud snarling sounds come from behind us as my heart drums in my ears. Stumbling, Trey’s arm grasps my waist again, helping me regain my balance as we continue to retreat.

Making it to the trees, Trey pulls me behind a rock. Kneeling we both pant, turning to see if we’re being pursued. “They didn’t…notice us,” Trey says, breathing hard next to me, sounding surprised.

“You sound like...you didn’t think…we’d make it,” I pant, turning toward him, feeling adrenaline coursing through me.

“I didn’t,” he admits, clutching me to his chest and hugging me tight. Kissing my hair near my temple he whispers against it, “You’re so brave.”

“I’m not brave,” I turn to look at him. “I’m just going to hang on long enough to kill you.”

“Is that right?” he asks, grinning in amusement.

“Yes, and that’s the third time you’ve tried to kill me,” I push against his chest as anger erupts in me. His grin falters as his eyebrows come together.

“Third time I’ve…what are you ranting about?” he asks, looking almost offended, while holding me away from his chest so he can peer down at me.

I hold up one finger. “First, you nearly drowned me!” Another finger joins the first. “AND THEN you made me run until I about died of heat stroke!” A third finger completes the trio. “AND THEN—THEN, you take me across a field TEEMING with SAERS just WAITING to eat us!” I rant at him, shaking in the aftermath of nearly being a meal for vicious saber-toothed tigers.

Trey’s grin is totally gone now as his frown deepens. “I didn’t try to drown you, I was the one who had to swim with your limp body in my arms and pound on your chest to get you to breathe,” he counters, looking sullen. “And I didn’t
make
you run, I stopped you when I noticed how red you were getting. And it was either take our chances with the saers by moving at night or let us all fall prey to the Alameeda…it was a calculated risk, one that has paid off so far,” he says in a softer tone.

“So far? SO FAR? TREY!” I yell at him. “What are our chances of actually making it to Rafe?” I ask, still breathing hard.

“With you, better than I thought. You keep up and you follow orders fairly well—when you choose to—and you’re smart—when you’re not trying to kill yourself with flowers and cranium-boring insects,” he adds sarcastically.

“You thought that I was trying to kill myself with a flower?”

“What was I supposed to think? Znous are known to be swarming with turbine worms and you put it next to your ear…I thought you had become suicidal.”

“Trey, I thought that the Znou was beautiful and I wanted to keep it,” I say, explaining myself to him. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself. If I get suicidal, you’ll know ‘cuz I’ll be dead. The only thing I’m feeling right now is HOMICIDAL, so watch your back.”

Trey’s smile comes back all of a sudden, like my anger toward him is amusing. “Why is it that you’re only angry with me?” Trey asks, getting to his feet.

“What?” I ask sullenly.

“You aren’t angry with Jax or Wayra…just me.” He extends his hand to help me up.

Ignoring it, I get to my feet unassisted, dusting dried grass off of me. “Because you’re the one who’s driving this mission. And maybe they’re more likable.”
Take that, egomaniac
, I think to myself, watching him stiffen as he picks up his gear.

“We need to move if we plan to locate your
likable
Cavars,” Trey replies, looking stern.

“They’re not mine. I plan on giving you all back when we get to Rafe.” I follow him as he weaves a path through the trees.

“Why? We can help you—”

“Yeah!” I scoff. “You’ve helped enough. Any more help from you guys and I’ll be dead.”

“If it was not for us, you’d be with Kyon now and you would be…” Trey doesn’t finish.

“I’d be what?”

“Their prisoner,” he says softly.

“Oh, as opposed to your prisoner,” I say sarcastically. “I’m starting to think there isn’t a very big difference.”

“It is a big difference!” Trey replies, and he believes what he’s telling me.

“Really? Why?”

“Because, they’d consider you a priestess. You’d never have a life of your own. Every decision will be made on your behalf, without your input. You’d be taken care of—worshipped almost, but never free—never able to live as you choose. You’d be their property. If they want to align with a family or a house, they can barter your services, or even you, to gain it.”

“You mean, they’d treat me like chattel—a possession?” I ask, feeling ill.

“Precisely.”

“What kind of services would they have me perform?”

“Depends on what you can do—what gifts you possess,” he replies. “They’re secretive about their priestesses, but word leaks out. It’s said that some can move things with their minds…”

“Like telepathy?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “and some are persuasive. They can make you believe any lie.”

“Handy,” I say, shivering.

“And some can see what the enemy is planning,” he murmurs, unconsciously flexing his hand that was reattached. “A strategic edge.”

“How do you combat something like that?”

“You make your plans and then, at the last second, you do something random,” he says, looking grim. “Sometimes it works.”

Paling, my head feels like it’s spinning. “So they were bitter when my mother left their little party?”