Within Ash and Stardust

by Chani Lynn Feener

  “What did you guys end up doing with the bodies?” Olena wasn’t the only one they’d brought with them. She tried not to picture the way Pettus had looked, lying in her arms on the ground. His skin had already begun turning an ashy gray, and he’d been cool to the touch in a matter of moments. There’d been a lot of blood, but Delaney couldn’t remember now if she’d gotten any on herself.

  “They’re in the lower deck,” Sanzie told her tentatively, “and out of sight for now. Once we’ve presented the Basilissa with her daughter, I assume the Ander will have your friend cremated.”

  “So you don’t bury the dead?”

  “We do not.” She’d taken up a soldier’s stance as soon as they’d gotten to the device, her arms crossed behind her back, her feet squared. It was the flash of interest in her eyes that ruined the stiff appearance now. “I read somewhere that it’s something your people do, though. You put them underground?”

  “Does that seem strange to you?”

  “I guess I just don’t understand,” she admitted. “Is there a reason?”

  “Different ones for different cultures.” The machine made the same sounds, indicating her order was done, and she removed the cup she’d gotten for Ruckus. “We have many cultures on my planet. You guys just have the two here, right?”

  “We have Kint and we have Vakar,” Sanzie confirmed.

  “What about belief systems?” When the other girl frowned, Delaney elaborated. “Religions?” More confusion. “Why do you cremate your dead?”

  “Bodies take up space.”

  “Ruckus mentioned there was a ceremony,” she said. “A way to honor the dead?”

  “Yes,” she nodded, “we have that.”

  Delaney wanted to ask more, but the drink in her hand was at risk of getting cold. “I need you to do something for me.”

  “Anything, Lissa.”

  Her quick agreement made Delaney feel slightly guilty about what she was going to ask next. Not enough not to do it, though. Part of her wanted to note the Sworn’s reaction, try to see if she could figure out how deeply this dislike she had for the Ander went.

  “Bring this to Ruckus, please.” She held up the cup, lifting a brow when Sanzie merely stared at it. “Come on.” She shook the cup, careful not to spill its contents. “I’m not trying to make you friends. You can tell him it’s from me, even.”

  “Perhaps—”

  “We’re on the Ander’s ship, Sanzie.” It was easy enough to figure out what she’d been about to say. “I’m perfectly safe here. I’ll be fine alone.”

  “And the Zane?”

  “Oh,” Delaney rolled her eyes, laying it on thick, “there’s no way those two are still in the same room together. You get this to Ruckus, I’ll make sure the Zane doesn’t die of thirst.”

  It was probably the least funny thing she could have said, and they both sobered instantly. But it wasn’t long before the sad look in Sanzie’s eyes morphed into something knowing. Almost as if the Sworn were thinking about how messed up Delaney had been when they’d brought Trystan’s body back. How she hadn’t been able to leave his side …

  “He saved my life,” she said, by way of explanation. “I owed him. It doesn’t change anything.”

  “Of course, Lissa.” Sanzie took the cup still being held aloft and then nodded her chin at the device. “Seventh icon, three rows down. That’s the symbol for squa, in case you weren’t aware.”

  Delaney nodded, sort of wondering how this had turned on her so quickly.

  “If there’s nothing else, Lissa?” Sanzie waited for Delaney to shake her head, and then the Sworn took a deep breath and openly scowled. “Then I guess I’ll be taking this to the Ander now.”

  * * *

  DELANEY AMBLED DOWN the corridors, not really knowing where she might find the Zane. They had some time before they’d enter Vakar territory, which meant she could afford to search for him.

  Deciding to be productive while she did, Delaney began to think of all the ways to deliver the news of Olena’s death. There was no good way to tell someone their child was dead, even one as awful as Olena had been, and she dreaded having to do so almost as much as she did having to go back to the palace at all.

  While she hadn’t had to worry about Kints as much there, at least in the sense that during her initial stay Vakar had still been under its own rule, she hadn’t exactly been safe. Actually, she’d been safer in Inkwell, with Trystan, than anywhere else so far.

  Delaney turned the corner and paused. Somehow, she’d managed to find him just by wandering aimlessly.

  The door to one of the supply rooms was open, giving her the perfect view of the Zane as his finger slid across a shing screen. He had an assortment of items set out on one of the shelves before him, and kept pausing to physically check them, picking an item up, setting it back down, only to repeat the process on another.

  It sort of looked like he was doing inventory, which was a little funny, considering that was the type of job someone should be doing for him. He seemed pretty focused, movements easy and confident. The same way he handled everything.

  There was no logical reason for her to be nervous, and yet … The last time they’d been alone had been in the cave, and not only did she not want to think about that, she also didn’t want to talk about it.

  She took a step back the way she’d come, decidedly chickening out. The Zane could get his own damn drink in any case.

  Unfortunately, her movement caught his attention and he glanced up before she could duck around the corner. When he noticed the two cups she was holding, the corner of his mouth tipped up.

  With no other options left, she headed toward the room, already in the process of handing him the squa.

  He set the shing down and took the cup, quirking a brow. “Aren’t you going to sip it in front of me first?”

  “Funny.” She grunted, settling against the doorframe. He’d made a habit of taking the first sip of all her drinks back in Inkwell, to show her that none of them had been poisoned. To get her to trust him. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Keeping busy mostly,” he admitted.

  “What? Not enough excitement going on for you?” It’d been meant as a joke, but she knew the second his mood changed. Straightening, she retreated a step back into the hall.

  “We should talk,” he said, not attempting to follow her.

  “Sure”—she motioned to her left—“later. I’ve got to go say hi to Fawna.”

  “Delaney.”

  “All right.” If he wanted to talk so badly, she’d do it, but they wouldn’t be discussing what she figured he hoped they would. “I need to know we’re on the same team here.”

  “Of course.” He took a step toward her, stopping when she held up a hand.

  “I mean all of us. History leads me to believe you’re not exactly willing to play nice with Ruckus.”

  “Nor he with me,” he reminded her.

  “Yes,” she said, sighing, “I know. I’ve had this conversation with him, too, believe me. This is a weird situation, but we need one another.”

  “Did you purposefully come find me alone so that we might speak about him behind his back? So you could ask me if I intend to … What? Shoot him while you aren’t looking?”

  She didn’t respond.

  The next step he took forward was stiff. “Because you’re right, and there are other things for us to focus on at the moment, I’ll soothe your fears by promising not to kill the Ander. But I should also remind you, Delaney, that we had a deal. The past few days change nothing.”

  She bristled, but forced herself not to crack in front of him. Before his father revealed his deception, she’d agreed to cooperate with Trystan in exchange for her friends’ freedom and safety. But now Gibus had been kidnapped and Pettus was dead. Truthfully, things had gotten complicated, and she didn’t know how she felt about anything anymore. Except the Rex. That was crystal clear.

  “I’d say a lot has changed, actually,” she sa
id. Then, without giving him the chance to counter, she started down the hall.

  He didn’t try to stop her, and she made it through the rest of the ship without bumping into anyone else. It wasn’t long before she spotted the familiar path leading to the cockpit.

  The mechanical whirs and beeps flooded out the open doors as she approached, heading up a slight ramp to get there. Inside, the room was all curved walls and ceiling, with different computer setups lining the way to the front, where the main controls were located. There were two seats there, and the one on the left was currently occupied by a tall blond woman.

  Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and at Delaney’s approach, she tilted her head, scanning her with fuchsia eyes rimmed in dark blue.

  Fawna never dressed in Teller uniforms, opting instead to keep a more casual appearance. This made sense, considering the woman wasn’t technically a member of the army, but a freelancer. She got to use Ruckus’s ship in return for taking his jobs above any others. The two were good friends anyway, so the arrangement was more for show than anything.

  “It’s nice to have you back,” Fawna said, smile stretching wide when Delaney dropped down into the empty leather seat next to her. “I hear we’ve got some rotten cargo. Need me to stop anywhere, drop it off?”

  “If you’re referring to the Zane”—Delaney leaned forward to peer out the large glass screen before her—“then no. He stays, actually.”

  “Hmm.” Fawna clucked her tongue. “Gotten used to having him around, huh? Can’t really blame you. All that muscle … and the hair … that smoky way he talks…”

  Delaney stared at her, completely forgetting about the frozen scenery they were speeding past outside.

  “Close your mouth, Lissa,” she teased. “I’ve got eyes, you know. And just because I like the sound of his voice, doesn’t mean I have to like the things he says with it. I don’t. He’s sort of got a reputation for being a bastard.”

  “I can’t really argue with you there.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Ruckus tried to ignore her, he really did, but it was difficult having Sanzie so close—and so cross with him—after all this time. Truthfully, he’d done his best to not think of her over the past six years. After a while it’d even started working. It was impossible not to notice the Sworn now, though, especially when she was burning hotter than a full-blown furnace.

  And it wasn’t the good kind of heat.

  She’d come in and practically dropped the hot cup of dalla on the table before him, mumbling something about how it was from Delaney before stepping off to the side. He’d expected her to exit the room after that, but she hadn’t.

  Instead she’d lingered, typing away at her communicator as if she actually had something important to do. Which he was almost certain wasn’t the case, because Trystan had gone off to handle any remaining issues with Inkwell almost an hour ago.

  Ruckus had chosen a small room off the main cargo hold, a space where he tended to go over information on missions or, after he’d become Ander, to check up on Olena. He felt more secure close to the exit, where he could get off the ship as soon as possible if anything happened and he was needed elsewhere.

  Unfortunately, the current occupant was someone he didn’t want there. With an annoyed sigh, he tossed aside his shing and stood, making his way across the small room to where Sanzie sat against the wall.

  Once he was a few feet away, she lifted her head, cocking her brow in silent question.

  “We should talk,” he said, hating that he had to, even if it was the smartest thing to do. It was obvious she was still upset, and they needed to clear the air before her anger got in the way of what they were trying to do here. “It makes the most logical sense.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” she disagreed. She brushed off her uniform pants in an attempt to avoid looking at him again, so she missed seeing his jaw clench.

  “We aren’t good to anyone if we’re distracted,” he tried again.

  “If you’re having issues with focusing, that isn’t my problem.” Finally she straightened, and didn’t bother hiding the ire in her eyes this time. “If it’s that you feel guilty, I’m certainly the last person who wants to help you alleviate that.”

  That, right there, proved what he was saying was true. She was angry, and the tension between them was thick enough to rival the tension between him and the Zane—almost. He didn’t hate her the way he hated Trystan, and he also didn’t blame her for her feelings. Not entirely, anyway.

  She thought he’d abandoned her, left her out in Morray to die.

  “It didn’t happen the way you think it did,” he said, his voice dropping slightly with the weight of memory. He could still picture that day, see his breath freezing in the air. Feel the way his frozen toes had sat in his boots. The fear he’d felt when he thought he’d lost her. He’d disobeyed orders and gone after her; only, he’d been too late.

  She’d already been saved by the Zane.

  “That doesn’t matter.” Sanzie stepped away quickly, angling herself toward the open doorway. “It was a long time ago.”

  “I don’t want this to be a problem between us. We used to work well together.”

  “We used to do a lot of things together, Ruckus. It was a long time ago,” she repeated a bit more vehemently. “We don’t need to discuss it.”

  “Are you harassing my Sworn, Wux?” Trystan appeared in the doorway, lazily propping a shoulder against the frame. He glanced between the two of them casually. Too casually, the way a predator sized up its prey just before the pounce. “Or are we taking a trip down memory lane? Shall I participate?”

  When neither of them said anything, he pulled a smaller shing from his pocket and held it out to Sanzie. “I just got off the coms with Ezran, telling him to send someone to Dominan’s house to ensure he and his mother stay indoors until this is over. I don’t feel as if simply avoiding the castle is enough. Can you ensure that order was followed?”

  “Yes, Zane.” Sanzie nodded, almost gratefully, then took the device and fled.

  That left the two of them standing there, facing each other, Ruckus glaring, Trystan’s gaze impassive.

  “She doesn’t need you to fight her battles,” Ruckus stated when it became obvious the Zane wasn’t going to speak first.

  He feigned surprise. “I wasn’t aware the two of you were about to do battle. What would Delaney think? She’s actually pretty fond of the Sworn, chose her for the position herself, even. I doubt she’d appreciate you causing trouble where it doesn’t need to be.”

  “Don’t tell me what Delaney wants.” Even though he knew the Zane was merely trying to get under his skin, he couldn’t help but take the bait. It was a sore spot, obviously. Hadn’t been before, but ever since Ruckus had seen the way she’d looked at Trystan lying in that hospital bed, he hadn’t been able to shake this jealousy.

  He hated it, hated that he felt it and that he felt it about the Zane. But it was fine. It was only an emotion, and he could handle it. Once this was over, if they survived, the Zane would no longer matter anyway. Ruckus and Delaney would head back to Earth, where they belonged, and resume their lives. He knew that. Trusted it.

  He had to.

  “The only reason you’re still breathing,” Ruckus found himself saying, despite his thoughts, “is because we need you. As soon as that’s no longer the case—”

  “You’ll what, Wux?” Trystan straightened, though he kept his hands in his pockets, where he’d placed them again after handing off his device. “Don’t forget who we are. The fact that we love the same woman changes nothing when it comes to station. I am still the Zane, and you are still merely an Ander.”

  Ruckus felt the air leave the room all at once. He struggled not to show it, that he suddenly felt unbalanced, but he wasn’t sure if he pulled it off. His skills at playing pretend only stretched so far.

  “Yes”—Trystan pulled out a hand to smooth down his shirt—“you happened to be correct in this
one thing. I do love her. Congratulations.” He seemed to recall himself, stilling his motions to grin darkly. “Though, I suppose you actually wish otherwise, no?”

  Back in his cell, Ruckus had goaded Trystan, egging him on by pointing out that he had legitimate feelings for Delaney. At the time, it’d been a smart move, exposing to the Zane that he wasn’t merely doing this out of necessity or some misguided duty toward his people. His words had sent the Zane stomping angrily out of the dungeons. It’d felt like a small victory.

  It didn’t anymore.

  “So you’ve admitted to yourself how you feel,” he said, reining in the uncomfortable, foreboding sensation in his gut. “Good for you.”

  “Oh, I didn’t just admit it to myself.” Trystan chuckled, took a moment to search his expression, and then smirked. It was actually more insulting than his grin had been, because there was way too much satisfaction in the look. “She didn’t tell you that, did she.”

  It wasn’t a question, so Ruckus didn’t bother giving an answer.

  Not that he had the time to anyway. Just then the ship jolted, shaking them both off their feet.

  Ruckus slammed hard into the wall, his left shoulder taking the brunt of the hit. His skull rebounded and he hissed, biting his tongue when the ship suddenly tilted in the other direction, sending him careening into the opposite wall.

  The Zane swore and caught himself against the doorframe as the ship righted, and the siren blaring overhead signaled that whatever had just happened, it wasn’t yet over. He moved back into the hall at the same moment Ruckus took a step forward.

  “We’re under attack,” Trystan growled as they began to run.

  Ruckus took the lead, winding them through the ship toward the cockpit. He wanted to find Delaney first, make sure she was okay, but she wouldn’t be if they didn’t figure out who was shooting at them and why.

  His worrying wasn’t necessary anyway. He spotted her the second he entered the cockpit, the knot in his chest loosening some at seeing she was all right.