Within Ash and Stardust

by Chani Lynn Feener

  Trystan watched it spiral in the air, plummeting toward a patch of snow-covered ground. He remained where he was, flying at the side of the Ander’s ship, long enough to feel like it was safe for him to head after the enemy without getting caught up in their gravitational pull. Because he’d already tipped his face toward the ground, he heard more than saw when Fawna changed their ship’s trajectory to do the same.

  He’d never say so aloud, but Ruckus had selected impressive people for his team. Vaguely, he wondered how much of their skill had been honed on the actual battlefield. Trystan had never encountered any of them during the war, or if he had, he had no knowledge of it. Though it was doubtful, seeing as how the Ander was well-known—so he would have recognized him. And those who went up against Trystan tended not to survive.

  As Ruckus’s ship passed him, he was forced to hang back, a bit annoyed. He was eager to get down there and check the enemy ship for survivors. Even more so to get back to Delaney. He’d known as soon as she’d figured out how to operate the controls that she’d handle the cannons on the ship just fine, but there was still a nagging thought in the back of his head telling him he had to see her to be sure she was all right.

  The Ander appeared just as Trystan’s boots were about to touch the ground, a little closer to the side of the ship. Before either of them could make their way toward it, the door at the side slid open, revealing a row of metal stairs unwinding to sink into the snow.

  Delaney appeared at the top, breathing heavily, her eyes jumping back and forth between the two of them as both men trudged their way over.

  The snow was up to their knees, and Ruckus stumbled just as he was about to reach the end of the stairs. These particular suits weren’t exactly made with good traction.

  She was at his side in a matter of seconds, wrapping her arm around his waist to help him tug himself free and get onto the first step. “Don’t slip.”

  Trystan expected her to follow the Ander up, and he actually hesitated when she simply directed Ruckus halfway there before turning back. He was grateful for his helmet, because the glare from the sun, even as low as it was, probably kept the Ander, who glanced over his shoulder, from seeing his expression.

  “Would you hurry up,” Delaney called, and a thick puff of white burst past her lips as she did. “It’s freezing.” When her gaze dropped down to the snow, it was clear she was struggling with being near it.

  Was she afraid because of what happened with Olena?

  Before he could even think to ask, she surprised him again, stepping down to the final step to stretch her arm out toward him. Any trepidation was gone, replaced with determination, and a bit of irritation. Probably at having to retrieve them out here at all.

  When he was close enough, Trystan grasped her hand, allowing her to help ease him closer to the stairs, and then onto them. The melting ice and snow the Ander had trailed made it a dangerous climb, and he slipped a few times, only to be immediately caught by Delaney.

  They reached the top, and as soon as they were inside, she let go. He tried not to acknowledge how the loss of her touch stung.

  “You.” She waved a frustrated hand at the Ander, who was already stripping out of his suit. “So much for ‘I won’t be stupid if you won’t be stupid.’ That? That was stupid.”

  He must have replied through their fittings, because after a silent moment she snorted and vehemently shook her head at him.

  “Don’t even try that bullshit,” she said. “You two”—she turned so she could address both of them with her angry glare—“drive me crazy. Next time one of you has a plan like that, I’m coming with.” She held up a finger as Ruckus opened his mouth, silencing him before he could speak. “Nope. I know damn well Fawna could have managed to steer the ship and fire those guns at the same time. Trying to deny it will only piss me off.”

  “Unlike how you are now,” Ruckus teased, “which is calm.”

  Trystan frowned, watching their exchange. Instead of getting more angry at him for his comment, Delaney actually started to smile. He was almost certain that if he’d said anything like that, he would have received another scathing remark for his efforts.

  That realization pricked and he took a breath, hoping neither of them noticed the hitch there.

  Which was of course wishful thinking—kind of like believing he’d be unaffected seeing the two of them interact. The sound immediately drew Delaney’s attention, and the smile on her lips wavered.

  “Ruckus,” she said, looking at him, “since your suit’s off, can you go check in with Fawna? When I left, she was scanning the enemy ship for survivors.”

  He hesitated, but to his credit he didn’t glance suspiciously Trystan’s way. “All right. I’ll meet you back here as soon as I have an update. If there are survivors, we’re going to have to get moving, fast.” He disappeared quickly around the bend.

  This was only the second time they’d been alone since the cave, and Trystan found he didn’t know quite what to say. Actually, that wasn’t really true; there was a lot he wanted to say, but their time was limited. The Ander would come back soon. The last thing he needed was Ruckus walking in on the two of them discussing emotions and feelings. He had a reputation as dangerous and uncaring to uphold. That was what was going to help keep them safe, after all.

  Besides, he’d already tried talking to her about what had happened, and she’d changed the subject so fast, he’d practically gotten whiplash.

  Delaney was staring at him, her lips slightly pursed. Her eyes roamed down the suit he was wearing, noting the puddle that was forming beneath his boots from all the snow he’d tracked in. “Can you take that off?”

  “Want me out of my clothes now that the Ander is gone?” he couldn’t help but ask, feeling a little bad about the remark when she dropped her gaze before regaining her composure.

  “It looks like the cilla suits,” she said.

  Quickly, he began removing it, talking to fill the space between them and possibly distract her from the memories that were no doubt filtering through her head. “I believe they used the cilla suit as the model for this tech. Originally, only my people had them, but then Vakar stole the specs in the middle of the war, and suddenly evened the playing field.… For a short time, anyway.”

  He pulled his arms free and unlatched the pack from around his waist, slipping it off his shoulders next. When it dropped to the floor, it took down most of the material around his chest and waist, so that all he had left to do was peel the cloth from his legs. It took some effort because of how tightly wound around him it all was, but he didn’t feel embarrassed with Delaney watching him balance on one foot then the other to do so.

  “The problem with these are that, unlike the cilla suits, they can’t be easily reused.” He dropped the material in a heap and stepped away from it. “They have to be completely reprogrammed, which takes time.”

  “You were supposed to take it easy,” she reminded him, luckily putting an end to his rambling. “Doctor’s orders.”

  He scoffed. “I’m a Zane. I take orders from no one. Besides, I did what was necessary, and we made it out, didn’t we? Our attackers are felled and we’ve lived to tell the tale. Just another day, really.”

  The main loading dock of the ship was spacious, making it more obvious how far she was standing from him. How badly he wanted to remove the space between them, take her in his arms, and hold her. Prove that she was all right, despite his father’s attempts. If he’d just been a minute later, Olena would surely have killed her.

  This was all a new experience, feeling things this strongly for someone else, and Trystan was actually a bit worried he’d screw it up by pushing too far, too quickly.

  The realization almost made him laugh, because when had he ever cared before about ensuring someone else’s comfort above his own? The truth was, though, he’d been doing that for Delaney a lot longer than just that night in the cave.

  He thought back to that moment shared between her and the Ander. He w
anted that. It seemed so easy between them, so simple. What could he do to get them to that place as well?

  “Trystan…” She paused, then took a breath and set her hands on her hips determinedly. “How are you feeling, actually? I get you don’t understand the concept of rest, being the Zane and all, but if you don’t take care of yourself and something happens to you—”

  “I feel fine, Delaney.” He waited until she was looking at him again before adding, “Really.”

  When she didn’t say anything else, he took a step forward, yet he didn’t pay enough mind to exactly where it was he was placing his foot. Though the soles of his military-issue boots had more traction than the ones created by the suit, the puddle caught him off guard, and he slid, almost falling backward for the millionth time in the past twenty minutes alone.

  Delaney rushed to him, latching onto his waist to help right him even as he caught himself on the wall at his back.

  For a second they just stared at each other, and then she burst into laughter. Her body shook against his, and her grip on his hip eased, though she didn’t remove her hands. When he laughed, too, she briefly dropped her forehead against his chest.

  Before he could stop himself, he reached out, cupping her jaw to tilt her face back up to his. There were tears sparkling at the corners of her eyes, but the smile on her lips died down as soon as their gazes met.

  He hated that he’d ruined the moment for her, but it didn’t keep him from gently running the pad of his thumb across the rise of her cheek.

  Footsteps echoed from the hallway, and Delaney pulled away, moving to renew the space between them. She crossed her arms and turned toward the door, and it was impossible for him not to feel dismissed by the move.

  He opened his mouth to say as much, but the Ander walked back in then, a bundle of jackets in his arms.

  “There are survivors,” he informed them, handing one of the jackets over to Delaney. It was the red one Trystan had had specially made. Then Ruckus tossed the white one at him. “We should go have a chat. Maybe about the weather?”

  “He makes jokes now.” Trystan barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he quickly donned the jacket.

  “Fawna will keep the ship running,” Ruckus continued, “in case we need to make a quick exit. We counted half a dozen on the thermal reader. It’s a tiny vessel, but there could be more hiding deeper within.”

  “We’re just finding out who sent them, right?” Delaney zipped her jacket up and adjusted her fritz bracelet. Almost like they were going out for the evening—not about to encounter a group of trained Tellers.

  “Chances are they recognized your ship,” Trystan said. “It was put on the enemies’ watch list as soon as Kint took over Vakar. I’d thought this course was off the beaten path enough to avoid detection, but perhaps I was mistaken.”

  It would have been smarter to have taken his Kint ship, he was realizing, but that would have meant leaving those who’d remained at Inkwell with no evacuation plan. All other military crafts were too small; at least his could hold more than half of the city’s population, should it come to that. If they failed somehow, and there was a war, both Tilda and his father knew Inkwell was where he spent most of his time.

  If either chose to get revenge against him, for one reason or another, that’d be the first location they’d hit.

  “He admits he’s wrong now,” the Ander mocked. Then: “If that is the case, and they recognized us, we’ll have to make sure they didn’t send any communications out. If the Rex discovers my ship was on its way to Vakar, our cover story could be blown.”

  “Let’s do this already.” Delaney opened the hangar doors, a gust of icy wind slapping her in the face. Immediately her cheeks were stained rosy, but she remained collected. Any hint of that fear Trystan had glanced earlier was completely gone.

  He’d always been impressed by her ability to absorb things, the way she could so quickly accept a situation, and, if not move on, plan out how to make it better. While he struggled with outside change, needing complete control in all things, she adapted. And if the way she’d handled things this morning was any indication, she’d finally decided to slip into her role as Lissa.

  The corner of his mouth tipped up as he followed the other two back out, glad that he’d taken up the rear, so neither of them noticed him smile.

  They’d landed in an empty field of white, which sprawled out in every direction. The sky above was just as void, gray and looming. Even though Inkwell was technically part of Vakar territory—though that went pretty much unacknowledged by the Kints who lived there—only this small section was experiencing winter. They hadn’t made it far, which was why they’d yet to escape the frozen tundra.

  Another fifteen minutes in the air and they would have begun to see green. The rest of Vakar had already entered its spring season, so temperatures would be warmer and it would be easier for them to travel on foot.

  A thing Trystan was greatly looking forward to, since each step was a struggle as they slowly made their way around their own ship. The single enemy craft that had escaped total explosion came into view as soon as they rounded the nose. At least half of the Tellers that Ruckus had mentioned were already crowding around outside, their weapons drawn.

  One of them fired, and the three of them darted back around the side of their ship. They hunkered lower, activating their fritzes as zees continued to ping at their backs.

  “You go draw their fire; I’ll stay here with Delaney,” Ruckus said. “As soon as you’ve directed their attention elsewhere, she and I will make our move.”

  “Or,” Trystan suggested, “you go, and I will stay. I’m larger, and therefore will make a better shield for her should any of them break formation and come this way.”

  “We have the same build,” he argued.

  “I am an inch taller.”

  “That can’t be true.”

  “Can’t it?” Trystan waved a hand out toward the snowy expanse. “You go, I’ll stay, and should you perish along the way…” He lifted a single shoulder. “Let’s just say, it’s much easier to replace an Ander than it is to find another Zane.”

  “Especially one whose arrogance can rival your own,” Ruckus bit out.

  The sound of zee fire had continued during their discussion, but suddenly cries accompanied it. It was a second before he noticed, too caught up in his next barb for the Ander, but when he did, Trystan frowned.

  It was clear Ruckus had caught on as well, and the two of them looked at each other for a moment before twisting around at the same time.

  Delaney was no longer standing behind them.

  Cursing, they shot around the nose of the ship a second time, their weapons raised.

  And came up short.

  Delaney had already dropped two of the Tellers, and was currently in the midst of a firefight with the remaining four. She retreated to avoid getting hit by one of them, dropping into a low crouch behind a snowbank.

  “A little help here, guys,” she snapped, her annoyance palpable.

  Trystan rushed into motion, coming the rest of the way around their ship, already firing at the enemy. As soon as he passed her, he felt Delaney take position at his back.

  “I’ve got the assholes on the left,” she told him, a split second before she resumed shooting.

  “I’ll take right.” Trystan kept his weapon aimed at the two Tellers there, one of whom had stopped shooting back. Either his weapon had jammed, or he needed to reload. Either way, the Zane wasn’t going to give him the chance to fix his problem.

  It was easy enough to take them out, hitting the Teller still with a working weapon in the shoulder first, and then landing a zee at the center of his chest. The next guy fell swiftly, and after a quick check to make sure they were really out, Trystan finally turned back to see Delaney had handled her targets as well.

  Now that the initial threat had been neutralized, he took a breath, glancing over to find that the Ander hadn’t made it very far from where they
’d started. And he was frowning at them.

  “Well?” Delaney’s impatient voice drew Trystan’s attention toward the enemy ship. A large hole had been ripped through the port, and she was standing next to it, her fritz held tightly in both hands. “Are you two coming or what?”

  It must have been a rhetorical question, because without waiting for them, she twisted around and went straight through the torn gap and into the dark body of the ship.

  CHAPTER 7

  Delaney didn’t exactly know where she was going.

  She wound her way through the smaller ship, peering around corners before turning them, her fritz at the ready. Shooting those Tellers outside had been easy, especially on account of how annoyed she’d already been with the guys and their constant bickering.

  Did it really matter which of them stayed to protect the “damsel”? She grunted, checked the right hall, and chose to head down it once she saw it was clear.

  She could barely recall the last time she’d been a legitimate damsel in distress. Maybe the first time her parents had forgotten her at home alone? Or the time Tiffany Fogolstien had dropped that note in the hall telling their entire middle school class Delaney wanted to sleep with her best friend’s boyfriend? A total lie.

  But, no, she couldn’t even count those occasions, because for the first, she’d hidden her parents’ stuff in anger, and for the latter, well … Tiffany’s friends talked enough shit behind her back, spreading all of her actual secrets, that Delaney never even had to lift a finger.

  So, really, aside from the whole initial kidnapping thing—which, when she looked back on it now, she thought she’d actually handled fairly well—there wasn’t a specific occasion when she’d ever fit the damsel-in-distress bill.

  She’d known they’d follow close behind, yet she hadn’t bothered to wait for them. They were both too stealthy for her to pick up on their movements, but she trusted they’d find her eventually. Besides, as stupid as heading in here alone probably was, she needed to prove to them things weren’t going to be as they’d been.