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Authors: Amy A. Bartol

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BOOK: Under Different Stars
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“Why?”

“Because you’ll have gifts…gifts that will make you very valuable.”

“How do you know that?”

“You’re the daughter of an Alameeda priestess…it’s a certainty. Had you been male, it may have been different, but genetically, female offspring always inherit the trait.”

“Always?”

“Always,” he replies, and I close my eyes, feeling like I’m going to cry. Seeing my expression, he says, “You may like the palace—”

“Don’t.” I hold up my hand. “I
really
don’t want to hear it.”

“Fine. I’m posting agents outside the door,” he frowns at me before turning and leaving the room. When I’m alone, I sink into a chair, staring out the window, not really seeing anything at all.

It can’t be more than fifteen minutes later when the door opens again. Glancing over my shoulder, my heart leaps into my throat when Trey closes the door behind him. He looks incredible in a long, tailored vest that’s dark gray pinstripe with dark, tailored pants and very expensive-looking black boots. He looks thinner somehow…less muscular than he appeared in his uniform—or in the shower.

“Trey!” I say, bolting to my feet and grinning. “How did you find me? What are you doing here?” I rush toward him.

He frowns at me, and there’s something in his eyes that makes me stop before I do something impulsive, like throw my arms around him. Searching his face as he’s assessing me like he has never seen me before, I take a step back, realizing that he isn’t Trey.

“You’re not Trey.” I say, confused and disappointed.

“No. I’m Victus,” he replies, placing a communicator on the glass surface and taking a seat at the head of the conference table. “My brother asked me to come.” He seems completely irritated with the fact that he’s here now.

“You’re twins,” I say stupidly.

“He said you were smart,” Victus replies in a derogatory way.

“Why did he ask you to come?” I wonder, feeling a blush creeping into my cheeks at his last comment.

“He said he’s concerned about you,” he answers, as he looks me over again from head to foot.

“Oh,” I murmur, taking a seat as much to hide from his assessment of me as to sit before my knees show him that I’m shaking. “Why didn’t he come then?”

“He wanted to come himself, but he’s required to meet with Skye and he could not refuse.”

“What did he say?” I feel something stir inside of me at the knowledge that Trey is concerned about me.

“He sent me this.” Victus holds up his communicator, showing me the picture of Trey and me together on the trift. “Do you know how damaging this can be to his reputation?” Victus asks me accusingly.

Shaking my head and feeling my face becoming redder at Victus’ scowl, I find my voice enough to say, “No.”

“Trey is practically engaged to a childhood
family
friend. This could end that, not to mention that the breech of confidentiality in his line of work could come with severe penalties.” Victus seethes.

All my elation is crushed in that moment. Feeling instantly sick to my stomach, I look down. “Erase it,” I say in a small voice, not looking at his face. “I won’t tell anyone. I—”

“What do you want?” Victus sounds angry. “Are you blackmailing him?”

“What?”

“Why would he risk everything to send me this?” Victus scowls.

“I don’t know,” I murmur, “we’re friends—”

“He has all the friends he needs. He doesn’t need an Alameeda priestess for a friend. So, whatever you’re doing to him, I want you to stop,” he demands. “In exchange, I will help you with your case. What do you want? A reduced sentence? Currency?”

My eyebrows pull together in a frown. “Oh, that’s so
gross
,” my lips twist into a scowl, feeling like he kicked me in the stomach. “You think I’m doing something to Trey? Like what?”

“I don’t know. You’re the priestess. You tell me,” he glares at me again.

“Ugh, this is…too much,” I mutter, putting my face in my hands. “You have no right—I’m not what you think I am. I’m just a human being,” I stammer, feeling like I’m choking. “At least, I was last week—now I’m…some total freak.”

“What are you talking about?” Victus asks in confusion. He looks so much like Trey that it hurts that much more to see scorn in his eyes. “You’re not human.”

“How much do you know about me?” I bite my lip so I won’t cry.

“I didn’t get details—just that you’re an Alameeda priestess. Trey couldn’t tell me about his mission. He just insisted I help you and the picture he sent is telling.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, knowing I won’t like his answer.

“Are you lovers?”

“No.” My heart twists again.

“You’re lying.”

“Why do you say that?” He looks me over again and I straighten in my chair. “You know what? Get out!” I point to the door.

He straightens in his chair, like
I
just insulted
him
. “I’ll leave when I’m finished,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

“Ohhh, you’re
so
finished, Victus,” I state, getting up from my seat and walking back to the window.

“I want your word that you’ll leave my brother and my family alone,” he follows me to the window.

“Done,” I promise. “Goodbye.”

“What?” he asks, looking surprised.

“I will leave all of the Allairises alone. I don’t hurt my friends,” I say. “Just tell Trey I said I’m stone and I don’t need a babysitter. Then make sure he deletes all of those pictures. There are about six…no seven. Oh, and his men, Jax and Wayra, might have a copy of a few. Make sure you get those, too. If someone leaks them, you can blame it on the mission. He had to pretend to be my consort in order to get me to Rafe from Earth. It was just a mission—you have nothing to worry about. He’ll be on to his next mission soon and he’ll forget all about me.”

“If you’re not blackmailing him and you’re not his lover, then why would he ask me to help you?” Victus asks, still unconvinced.

“Guilt. He thinks that since I was born and raised on Earth and he was sent to bring me back that I won’t be able to survive here on my own…so he feels guilty,” I explain, not looking at him, but raising my chin. “He’s wrong and you can tell him I said that his lack of faith in me is insulting.”

“You’re her,” Victus says softly.

“I’m who?”

“You’re the one. You’re Hollowell! Of course!” he says, like he just put two and two together. Smiling, he looks just like Trey.

“Oh. I’m the urban legend—crazy priestess—run and lock up your sons. Freak on the loose, well, not really loose,” I say sarcastically. “Listen, I’m kind of having a really bad day. Do you think you can just leave me alone before I say something I don’t mean?”

“I apologize, Kricket. I have misread the situation here,” he says in a quiet tone. “My brother was very upset when he spoke to me and he couldn’t tell me details. I rushed to the wrong conclusions.”

“Don’t stress, Victus. It’s not the worst thing that happened to me today.”

“I may be able to help,” Victus offers, now a total gentleman. “I was a wigg before I became an Ateur.”

“What’s an Ateur?”

“A member of the House of Lords,” he says, surprised that I don’t know.

“You better not. It will look suspicious for Trey. He might get in trouble. In fact, you should leave before Ustus gets back. He might think you’re Trey and he’s not happy with him.”

“Why?” Victus asks, confused.

“Oh,” I wave him off, touching my sore neck absently. Victus must’ve seen something because he walks over to me and his hand goes to my collar. Pulling it back gently, Victus frowns at me again.

“Why is your neck bruised?” he demands, just as pushy as Trey.

“That collar thingy was too tight,” I reply, stepping away and feeling embarrassed. “It’s okay. Trey made them take it off me.”

“They used a restraint on you?” he sounds outraged. “You’re a female...and you’re so small.”

Rolling my eyes at his comment, I sigh, “I’m not small!”

“Kricket, you’re small,” he frowns.

“Whatever,” I mumble. “I’m strong and I’m smart and once I figure all of this out, I’ll be fine.”

“I insist that you let me help you,” Victus says, using a superior tone again. “You should have proper representation.”

“Oh, don’t be a knob knocker, Victus,” I reply, rubbing my eyes. “You can’t bully me. This is bad for your family. The Regent is involved. They have a deal already.” I gesture toward the door. “It’s done. I’m theirs. I just have to figure out how to navigate in this world and you can’t help me with that.”

“No one has called me a ‘knob knocker’ in a very long time…in fact, Trey was the last person to call me a knob knocker,” Victus says, fighting a smile.

“Yeah? Well, I learned that word from the Cavars on our way here. I need some more good swears for the Regent.”

Victus sobers instantly, “No you don’t, Kricket.”

“Don’t worry, Victus. They went through a lot of trouble to get me. They’ll want my cooperation so they may play ball,” I say, almost to myself.

“Play ball?” he asks, his brow wrinkling.

“Come to the palace some day and I’ll show you how it’s done.” I smile despite the situation.

“Is that where you’ll be?” he asks, studying everything about me.

“For now.”

“And you’re sure that there is nothing that I can do for you?” he poses the question and when I shake my head, he almost looks disappointed. “Do you want me to tell Trey anything else…other than you’re a stone and you don’t need to sit on babies?”

“I don’t need a
babysitter
,” seeing his confused look, I murmur, “never mind…just tell Trey…tell him that honey is nectar that bees create and it’s very sweet and that…I miss it…more than pizza.”

“You don’t have to miss it, Kricket. We have that here. We call it homitie.”

“Oh. Just tell Trey what I said, okay?” I can’t help holding my breath a little. He nods and I exhale. “Thank you for coming, Victus.” Victus inclines his head. Picking up his communicator off the table, he walks to the door.

Victus pauses there before he says, “I don’t think it’s guilt.” When I look back at him, he smiles. “No, it’s definitely not guilt.” He closes the door behind him and I ponder his words as I stare out the window.

CHAPTER 13

THE PALACE

I don’t even try to look out the window of the fast moving hover car on the way back to the palace from the corrective court. “So, what’s the verdict, slim?” I ask Ustus, watching him tap on his communicator.

Ustus ignores me, probably because I called him “slim.” I try again, “Ustus?”

“You’re a ward of the Regent until your twentieth birthday,” Ustus states, not looking at me.

“The Regent?” I ask, wanting an explanation. “Is that normal?”

“It is unusual.”

“You want to give me the odds on that one?
Is it ‘four-leaf clover’ kind of unusual or ‘man-with-four-heads’ kind of strange?”

“The latter, I think.” He tries to ignore me again.

“Anything else?”

“Your wigg had the penance waved.”

“Wow, what do you know? Maybe you guys have better public defenders than I’m used to,” I mumble.

“No, your other wigg argued for the penance to be rescinded,” Ustus’s glare pins me to my seat.

“My other wigg?”

“Your court appointed wigg was recused by Ateur Victus. He took over for him on what he claimed was your behest. He renegotiated the penance portion of your sentence, having it dismissed. Custody he could not wrangle, however, since he’s not a family member. No, you are now the ward of the Regent.”

This new information shocks me. Victus got involved, even when I specifically told him to step off. “You don’t approve?” I watch Ustus’s face. “You think I need penance?”

“Yes, you do need penance, but not as a punishment to you.”

“What other reason could there be for penance?” I’m completely offended that he thinks I deserve to be punished for something I had absolutely no control over.

“Public image, Kricket…the crown has stepped in, instantly elevating your position by giving you its protection. They sought to counteract this political move by showing that you would still be responsible for what has occurred. Now, we will need to rethink how you are presented to society.”

“How many wards does the Regent have?”

“One,” he says, nodding toward me.

“Well then, giving me penance would be just like putting a hat on a spix to disguise its horns, Ustus,” I reply.

“It’s what?” He attempts to stop himself from smiling.

“Giving me penance won’t distract anyone from the fact that I’m now the Regent’s ward,” I bite my thumbnail in agitation.

“Don’t bite your nails, you’ll ruin your teeth,” Ustus says, looking at me. “A light punishment would have gone a long way with most citizens. If people thought that you had been punished, they may be far less likely to shun you,” he watches for my reaction.

“Some people will shun me? What are we, Amish?”

“Many will have a hard time with your Alameeda heritage. Penance may have made you a little more…sympathetic to your peers.” He is trying to be upfront with me, and I appreciate it.

“Ah, they want to see me put in my place, huh? Grovel a little and then maybe we can be friends.”

“Your grasp of the situation is impressive,” he replies, forgetting his communicator for a second.

“What were you all planning…I mean, for my penance?” I ask with a sense of morbid curiosity.

“Nothing too tragic…a rotation in the public square.”

“Huh?”

“You would’ve been made to stand in the public square for a rotation or so,” he explains, shifting his eyes back to his communicator while I glare at him.

“Are you saying that I would’ve been put in a stockade or something and put on display for a day—a rotation—to be ridiculed?” Color floods my cheeks.

“You would not have been put in restraints…if you cooperated with the court,” he explains defensively, and his face flushes a little too, while avoiding my eyes.

“That’s archaic,” I accuse, resting my head against the seat. “Would you have sewn an ‘A’ for ‘Alameeda’ to my chest and allowed people to throw rotten cabbages at me, too?”

“No, really your imagination is flamboyant. No one would dare throw anything at you. It would just cause enough embarrassment and discomfort to you to show everyone that you have paid your debt for violating our laws. It would also give everyone a chance to view you and get accustomed to you. It would make some citizens completely sympathetic to your cause, because some would see the punishment as unjust.”


I
see the punishment as unjust…I don’t grovel,” I retort, crossing my arms. “There will always be haters, Ustus. I can handle them on my own.”

Pulling through the gates of the palace once again, we take a different driveway, heading to the west entrance. Complex lawns of intricately patterned hedges and water features drift by the window as we move at a more sedate speed along the outer drive. Turning and approaching the palace, I sigh, feeling small compared to the enormous fortress ahead of me.

After exiting the car, Ustus ushers me up the impressive stone steps to the towering front doors. Speaking quietly to uniformed men who clearly work here, Ustus inclines his head. In moments, a tall, willowy woman who is at least 6’ 4” enters the foyer, approaching us.

“Ah, Ustus.” She smiles at him and inclines her head. “This is Fay Kricket?” She turns her violet eyes on me, smiling again.

“Fay Kricket, this is Thea Moore—she’s the chatelaine. She will show you to your room,” Ustus says. “I will see you again at supper this evening.”

“Can’t wait,” I reply absently, still studying Thea. Her hair is shorter; it only reaches to her shoulders, but it’s dark like all the Rafes’ around here. She appears to be middle-aged, which probably makes her freakishly old, but with that age is an obvious air of sophistication and refinement.

“Please follow me,” Thea says, and waits for me to walk beside her. “We have put you on the west arcade. You’ll be among other young females who are staying here for the summer solstice.”

“The solstice?”

“Yes, you’ve arrived just in time for the swanks that take place at this time,” she informs me, like I’m an invited guest. “Do you like parties?” She tries to make conversation while climbing a sweeping staircase that could accommodate a Humvee with no problem.

“Mmm, I live for swanks,” I say, trying to be agreeable. “But I really have no experience, err…comporting in a venue such as this one.”

“Yes, you were raised on Earth, were you not?” Thea asks, like it’s not a crime.

“I was,” I answer as we turn down a long gallery. Encountering a pair of really tall ladies, they both stumble to a halt just before we pass, becoming completely mute as their eyes follow me.

“I will mention this to Tofer,” she says as we pass tall, carved columns of etched marble, pretending that didn’t just happen.

“Tofer…the physician?” I ask, remembering the doctor who looks like a sexy drummer.

“Yes. He and Yazer will be instructing you on everything from the basics of our daily life here to the history of Ethar.”
Uck, Yazer,
I think, remembering his awkward questions.

Before I recover from my cringe, we turn into a substantial sitting room with an immense fireplace. A large gilded mirror hangs above the mantel reflecting the sunlight from the two sets of French doors that lead to a stone terrace. Tiffany blue silk covers the furniture. Wooden doors lead directly into a bedroom with blue silk draperies and a matching coverlet. The bed is insanely beautiful; the posters and headboard are made of white marble, which is carved to resemble creeping vines.

Going to the doors on the side of the bedroom, Thea pulls them open, revealing a large array of clothing. “These just arrived for you. If you need help choosing something for dinner, you can ask Aella when she comes to dress your hair,” Thea informs me before reaching out and touching the pale fabric of a gown near the door with her elegant fingertips.

“Uh…this is…I,” I try to think of something to say, but words fail me.

“The Regent is having a small dinner party this evening. He requested that you attend. You should rest…these things are known to be quite long. Is there anything that you need before I leave you?”

Shaking my head no, I feel panic rising in me. Thea smiles, turning to go. “A communicator,” I blurt out. “Can I have one?” I hide my hands behind me because they’re shaking.

“Let me inquire and I will let you know,” she replies smoothly before leaving me alone in my new room.

I unbutton my jacket and shrug it off before sitting down on the edge of the massive bed. I stare at the closet.
No one has that many clothes,
I think.
Bridget would freak if she were here. Bridget...
Choking fear hits me in waves
. Nothing is ever free. Nothing. They want something from me.

I turn and crawl up to the huge pillows that rest against the headboard; I lay my head on one. Studying the room, I spot something that looks like an expensive cell phone on the bedside table. I scoot over and pick it up. Examining it for a second, I touch the display and it illuminates. Running my finger over the screen, the wall in front of me changes drastically, becoming a city scene where a couple of life-size Etharians are taking a walk. The holographic image of a woman is telling the man she is with, Rathis, that there are problems with her skiff and how is she supposed to deploy all the underbits without a treston? “Yes…how will she do that, Rathis?” I ask, mumbling to the images on the wall. “You’re her boo—you figure it out.” Watching them, I realize that this is some kind of soap opera.

A light rap sounds on the door in the other room and a moment later a very tall girl enters my bedroom. “Ohhh, is this
Violet Shadows
?” she asks me, setting down a tea set on the table near my bed. She’s wearing a long, flowing skirt that accentuates just how tall and long limbed she is. Smiling at me, her violet eyes go to the wall as Rathis begins trying to talk sense to his emotionally overwrought girlfriend.

“I…don’t know,” I answer, wondering who she is. “I’ve never watched
Violet Shadows
.”

Her violet eyes widen as she studies me. “You really
are
from Earth!”

Nodding, I introduce myself, “I’m Kricket.”

Sinking to her knee, the young woman says, “It is an honor to greet you, Fay Kricket. I’m Aella.” And, even on her knee, she’s still really tall.

“Uh…hi, Aella. You don’t have to call me Fay Kricket. Just call me Kricket,” I say, watching her rise.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that…it’s very familiar and I’m to be your liaison,” she replies with a blush.

“My what?”

“Your…assistant?” she falters, attempting to explain.

“Oh, then you
really
don’t need to kneel. Why do I need an assistant?” I ask, seeing her eyes drift back to the wall where Rathis is showing all his white teeth as his fingers reach out to stroke his girlfriend’s cheek.

“I believe they think I’ll be helpful to you?”

“Oh.” I scoot over and pat the bed next to me. “Here, sit down and explain what’s happening here. Is this Rathis’ girlfriend?”

Grinning at me, Aella climbs next to me, pointing at the girl on the wall. “That’s Gizelle. She wishes she was Rathis’ consort, but he’s all but promised to Drea.”

“So, Gizelle is a skeeza?” I take the cup of what looks like tea that Aella hands me.

“What’s a skeeza?” she asks before pouring a cup of tea for herself.

“Boyfriend stealer.”

“Yes,” Aella nods adamantly, “she’s a skeeza—we call her a lurker.” I smile because she is so into it. “Don’t let me watch too much of this. I’m supposed to get you ready for dinner.” Then, she inhales a deep gasp. “LOOK!” She points at the wall, “Her skiff is not even faulty!” I try not to laugh, realizing a “skiff” is a type of hover car. Sneering disgustedly at the wall, Aella says, “Oh, turn it off. He’s a nim.”

“What’s a nim?” I ask, handing her the remote.

“An annoying Etharian” she replies. Taking the remote, she speaks into it, “Stream melody…what do you like to listen to, Fay Kricket?”

“You mean, music?” I see her nod. “Do you have anything human?”

Shaking her head, she says, “No, it’s illegal…but,” she continues in a conspiratorial voice, “I know where to get some illicitly, if you’d like.”

“You mean, bootleg human music? There are pirates even in Ethar?” I ask, seeing her nod again. “You better not. I’m sure they’ll be watching me closely. Just put on something you like.”

“You are not at all what I expected,” Aella says, putting on some music that sounds like some sort of new age Celtic music.

“Really? Is that bad?”

“No…it’s good,” she smiles.

“How did you think that I’d be?”

Shrugging and blushing a little, she says, “Well, you’re part Alameeda…I thought you would be…mean.”

“Are all Alameeda mean?”

“I don’t know…I’ve never met one,” she replies.

“How about a human?”

“I’ve never even seen a human before,” she says, looking a little nervous. “What are they like?”

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