by Lyn Forester
The woman on the couch groans, ending any further conversation.
I tighten my hold on Connor. “Come on, concussion man, let’s get you back. We’ll find you a pain reliever and some fluids, then you can rest for a couple hours.”
“Avoid any vigorous activity until he doesn’t look ready to puke,” Felix teases.
I pat Connor’s arm in sympathy. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”
Connor grins goofily. “I love my concussion.”
“I should have let the Blue Guard deck me.” Felix eyes the woman slowly coming to on the couch as if she might still be able to.
“I’ll punch you if you really want,” Declan grumbles.
I glance back at him. “Think about what I said. It could work.”
“Interesting life you’re choosing to lead, Councilor,” Skittles murmurs as we pass her, and I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or Connor.
Not that it matters.
I give her a nod. “We’ll be in touch.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
With one last look at Declan and Felix, we leave the room, once again dividing our team.
“What happened?” Nikola demands as soon as we step into the shadowed theater. “Where’s Felix?”
“He’ll be coming back at the next shift change.” I take Connor’s ventilator mask and goggles, stashing them under my sweater. “Let’s get back to your room.”
“You cut it too close this time.” Nikola heads for the exit. “The suns are already rising. People will be getting up soon.”
“Then less griping and more speed-walking.” I stay close to Connor’s side as we hurry out of the Entertainment Hall and around the walkway to the dorms.
He looks paler than when we left Skittles’ building. Having to run across the sky bridges can’t have been good for his head.
By the time we jog up the steps to Lonette Hall, he leans heavily against my side, sweat on his brow and his eyes half-closed. His weight slows my steps, my strength not up for half carrying him.
I catch Nikola’s eye as he holds the door open for us. “Can you get Connor upstairs? I need to raid the snack room.”
Without a word, Nikola slips Connor’s arm over his shoulder, wraps an arm around his waist, and practically lifts him from the floor.
I run to the snack room, using the light on my palm-port to find the pain relievers tucked into the small medicine cabinet next to the energy tablets, sleep aids, bandages, and antiseptic wipes. Anyone who requires more than the bare minimum has to go to the clinic in the administration building.
I grab a couple jars of water and a protein shake, too, though I doubt Connor will be able to stomach it right away. Maybe after the pain relievers kick in.
When I make it up to Nikola’s room, I find it empty and panic for a moment before reason sets in. If they’re not here, then the nausea probably got the best of Connor, and they’re in the bathroom. I drop off the supplies on the empty desk on the right side of the room, then hurry back out.
I find Nikola in the shower room, standing outside a sanitizer, and he looks up as I enter.
“Connor threw up, but he seems to be doing okay. He has a concussion.” At my nod, his lips tighten. “A pretty bad bruise on his face, too.”
I nod again.
His black eyes skim over my face. “You should probably use one of the sanitizer’s as well. You have black makeup in your hairline and under your jaw. If someone sees you like this, they’re going to ask questions.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you guys back in your room.” I walk over to the shelf and grab one of the clean robes. “Can you make sure Connor takes the medicine I brought up for him?”
Nikola’s hand lands on the shelf next to my head, his body warm against my back. “Are you injured anywhere?”
My heart skips a beat at the concern in his voice, and I turn slowly, the fluffy white robe a barrier between us. “No, I’m fine. Connor and Declan were the only ones hurt.”
He presses closer, gaze intent. “But you could have been hurt.”
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway, the events of the night replaying in my head. The fear, the knowledge we might not make it to sunrise. All the regrets of things left half-done.
Until tonight, everything had still felt unreal, like a game. Yes, Declan had been hurt, almost died, but even that felt second-hand, a story heard, but not something that really happened. Declan was still alive, and while logically I knew that this investigation was dangerous, it hadn’t quite sunk in that we could actually die. We’re Councilors’ children. The elite of the city. Untouchable.
Not until we crouched in that alley, heard the guards acknowledge who we were and plan to kill us anyway, did it fully sink in that our names and positions won’t shield us in this. It just made us targets.
A tremor runs through me, and once it starts, it takes over my entire body.
“How close did you come tonight?” Nikola whispers as he pulls me into an embrace.
“Too close.” The bathrobe falls from my hands as I clutch his waist, fighting back the tears. “We were cornered. They planned to kill us.”
His hold on me tightens, and one hand lifts to tangle in my air. “But you survived. That’s what matters.”
“We killed Blue Guards,” I whisper against his hard chest. “They’re supposed to protect us, but they were being paid to kill Declan.”
Only one had died in the alley, but I’m not naive enough to believe the other guard will walk out of Skittles’ building once they’re done questioning her.
Nikola pulls on my hair until I tip my head to look up at him. “You had no other option.”
“I don’t feel anything about their deaths,” I whisper. “I should, but I don’t. Doesn’t that make me a monster?”
“Surviving does not make you a monster. Taking money to murder someone does. Killing innocent people does.” His voice turns harsh. “Someone is killing the heads of the government, and we’re trying to stop it.”
“Why, though?” I ask, my eyes burning with unshed tears. “We’re students. We should tell our families, let them take care of this.”
“We don’t know who we can trust. If Mr. Blue is really behind this, and he’s in league with Mr. Black, we have no way of knowing who in the government is helping.” His fingers flex against the back of my head. “Even the High Houses are suspect.”
“Morteum killed Declan’s family,” I whisper. “Grandma grows it in her solarium.”
He doesn’t rush to reassure me that my family has no hand in this, and why should he? My father and grandmother are ambitious people and implementing their goals would be so much easier without twelve other Houses holding them back. The same can be said for any of the High Families.
Nikola cups my cheeks. “Don’t let tonight destroy you. You’re strong. We’ll get through this together.”
My heart pounds. His gaze holds mine intensely, as if trying to force his confidence into me. I don’t know that I’m strong enough to face another night like tonight, but I want to live up to his belief in me.
I lick my lips, and his eyes drop to my mouth. My pulse races. If he kisses me now, I won’t pull away. I almost died tonight, and a part of me yearns to reaffirm life.
But he releases a shaky breath and slowly steps back, his touch falling away.
“Nikola?” Uncertain, I reach for him. “Aren’t you going to...”
He swallows thickly. “No. Not right now. When I kiss you, it’s going to be because you want me.” He bends to pick the robe up off the floor and hands it to me. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll get Connor back to my room.”
And with that, he turns away, leaving me alone and wanting.
Naked Time
I step out of the sanitizer, the robe wrapped around my body. My curly red hair snaps with static, every particle not belonging on my body vaporized away by the magical cleaning box.
A glance down the aisle shows Connor’s stall empty.
Grabb
ing the tiny data-disc with the botanist’s information on it from my pants, I slip it into the pocket on my robe. I dump my soiled clothes into the laundry shoot to be cleaned before I hurry out into the main room.
Impatient to be back at Connor’s side, I grab a cleaning wand from the dispenser at the sink, cram it between my teeth, and stride for the door. The sanitizer only took a minute once I stepped into place inside the box, which means Connor and Nikola aren’t that far ahead of me.
Or not ahead of me at all, I discover as I step out into the hall and run right into them.
Nikola glances back at me, and I yank the wand from my mouth before he sees me with glowing blue cheeks. “What’s going on?”
He shakes his head. “Not sure. The school band started buzzing a few seconds ago.”
I peek around him to see for myself. Up and down the hall, students still in pajamas stand outside their dorm rooms, sleepy and confused. Quiet conversation fills the hall, then falls silent as two security personnel appear from the far end.
Trevor walks between them, sniffling into the pillow he clutches to his chest. His glassy, red-rimmed eyes stare straight ahead, unseeing as the security team leads him past us. A third man follows behind, a suitcase in one hand.
As soon as they disappear down the stairs, the conversation picks up once more, louder as students abandon their doorways to form small clusters of speculation.
“Come on,” Nikola says as he loops an arm around Connor’s waist.
“Caitlyn!” Myrrine’s melodic voice rises over everyone else’s.
I glance back toward the stairs to see my roommate waving one opalescent arm for my attention. As if I could miss her. She towers over almost everyone else. Bastian stands like a statue at her back, a looming presence that discourages anyone from coming closer.
“Go on,” I whisper to Nikola.
With a nod, he drags Connor toward his room while I wave Myrrine over. Bastian makes a path through the students to let her pass. She draws unwanted attention, but at least it means no one will look too closely at Connor. I don’t know what to do about his face. He should see a doctor, but that will bring more unwanted attention.
We move off to the side as some of the students decide to get ready for the day since they’re already awake and make a beeline for the bathroom.
Myrrine cuddles up to my side while Bastian uses his body to create a barrier in front of us. “What’s going on?”
I keep my voice low. “Connor was hurt.”
She clutches my arms. “Are you injured?”
I give her a reassuring pat. “No, I’m fine.”
“Perhaps I should check you over.” She reaches for the tie on my robe. “Sometimes, one does not know when they are injured.”
I catch her wrists, though I know I can’t stop her if she persists. She’s just that much stronger than I am. “Myrrine, I’m fine. I promise. Connor is the one injured.”
Still doubtful, her bright-blue eyes search my face and neck for any sign I’m lying. At last, she sighs. “Is Connor hurt badly? Do you need the healing salve?”
“He has a concussion and a bruised cheek.”
She nibbles on her plump lower lip. “It won’t help a concussion. It only assists with surface injuries. But removing one pain may help with the other.” She turns to Bastian. “Go get the salve and meet us in Nikola’s room.”
His crystalline eyes narrow on his charge. “I will see my lady safely to her destination first.”
She tosses her head, her pink braid sweeping over one shoulder. “It’s not as if I’ll be attacked in the hall, surrounded by everyone.”
“It is not everyone I worry about.” He sweeps a pointed glance down the hall to where a halion third year towers over the classmates around him.
He wears his long, fiery red hair in two plaits on either side of his head and his skin glows like heated gold under the hall lights.
Myrrine sniffs with derision. “I do not fear a male from the Koevhern clan. Such passions burn bright and die quickly.”
Bastian rumbles with displeasure. “He is still a male who must be guarded against.”
“Are you compatible?” I whisper as I eye the other halion.
Myrrine glares at her bodyguard. “Bastian refuses to let me near enough to any of them to check.”
“There is no reason to tempt fate.” He sweeps out an arm to move us in the opposite direction. “My lady will join with other Riellios, as is proper.”
As he herds us toward Nikola’s room, I lean in. “You’re not allowed to date outside your clan?”
She shakes her head. “We are already dwindling. To preserve our current talents, we must only mate with those who share similar or complementary talents.”
“Does Camille’s talent compliment yours?” It’s as close as I’ve ever come to asking Myrrine what her talent is.
When we first met, she reassured me she didn’t wiggle into people’s minds like the mind specialist Father sent me to for reprogramming. She had said she didn’t share her family’s talent, which was why they allowed her to be the first halion female in centuries to venture outside of the colonies. She’ll become an ambassador, a symbol of trust between humans and halions, though the more I learn, the more dangerous that position sounds.
She peeks at me from the corner of her eye. “Camille’s talent is something humans often scoff at, but it is most prized among halions.”
“I won’t scoff,” I promise. “Halions aren’t human, and your talents are outside our ability to learn. I understand that something we may question in ourselves isn’t the same as what halions are capable of.”
She frowns at me. “What do you mean?”
I swallow down a sudden lump in my throat. “When humans visit a Riellio mind specialist, they make a show of bringing out equipment and attaching it to our temples, but it’s just that. A show. They don’t need that equipment to get into our minds. But the pretense makes humans more comfortable, lets us believe it’s just a higher level of science than we’re currently capable of.” I attempt a smile, but it falls flat. “Humans can reprogram minds to some extent, but it’s not the same. And if a human claimed to be able to read minds, they’d be laughed at.”
“Halions need the equipment, too,” she says staunchly, then hunches her shoulders. “Well, some of them do. It helps to focus talent in those who are weaker.”
Having felt the school counselor try to wiggle into my mind with no equipment nearby, I question that, but maybe APA has enough prestige, even in the colonies, to warrant a top-level mind specialist.
I bump my shoulder against her. “What has Camille been studying to do?”
“He heals auras.” Awe fills her voice, and I hold back a scoff, because, yes, humans do question the presence of auras for the most part. “And he has minor talent in song, though nothing like what you would hear from someone from the Koevhern clan.”
She rushes to add the last part, as if the need to define the difference between Riellio and Koevhern singing is ingrained in her.
“So, healing auras and singing compliment your talent?” At her nod, I let the topic drop. If she wanted to tell me about her talent, she would have, and I don’t want to press.
We reach Nikola’s room, and I open the door with a swipe of my palm over the reader. With so many people in the hall, I should probably put up a show of needing to be let in, but Bastian creates an excellent wall between us and everyone else.
When we walk inside, we find Connor propped up in Garrett’s old bed, a jar of water held in his lap. Nikola, still in his pajamas, sits at the desk next to him.
Bastian makes a quick sweep of the room, peers into the closet, then leaves to fetch the healing salve.
Myrrine glances around with a frown. “Where is Felix? Should he not be here with his wounded brother?”
“He stayed behind.” I motion to her wrist. “I’ll wear both of our school bands until he returns.”
Myrrine’s frown deepens as she tug
s the thin silver bands from her wrist and passes them over. “You can’t go to class if he’s not back in time. He can’t be registered where he’s clearly not.”
The band, still warm from her skin, slips over my wrist and tightens like a noose. “I’ll hide out in the dorms until he returns.”
“You will miss class, too?” The horror on her face makes me laugh.
“It’ll be okay to miss one day.” I walk over to Connor and sit on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”
“Sleepy.” He blinks slowly, his eyes unfocused.
“You can rest for a bit. I’ll wake you up every hour to check on you.” The jar in his hand still holds most of its water, and I give it a nudge. “Try to drink more water.” I turn to Nikola. “Did you give him the pain relievers?”
He nods to the empty injector on his desk, then pushes to his feet. “I’m going to go shower and see if I can find out what’s going on with Trevor. I’ll bring back some food since you didn’t grab any for yourself.”
As he turns to leave, I catch his hand.
He glances down at me in surprise, and I quickly release him. “Thank you for taking care of Connor.”
His dark eyes flicker to the man at my side, then back to me. “It’s what teams do.”
Then he slips away, his hand leaving a lingering warmth against my skin. He skirts past Myrrine with a tip of his head before he walks out of the door.
With him gone, Myrrine hurries to my side and perches on the abandoned chair. “Brain injuries are dangerous. He should see a doctor.”
“We can’t risk it,” I say in instant refusal. “They’ll ask how he was hurt.”
“It’s not that bad,” Connor puts in around a yawn. “It’s just a minor concussion.”
Myrrine’s eyes narrow. “And what sort of medical training do you have?”
He waves that off. “Felix used to get hit in the head all the time. I’ve seen how this goes. I’ll be fine as long as I don’t do anything too strenuous.”
A knock sounds at the door, and Myrrine goes to answer it. Bastian steps back inside, the jar of healing salve cradled in his hands.
