Within Ash and Stardust

by Chani Lynn Feener

  Before she could ask where they’d gone, Sanzie tapped more keys, and a second later a new hallway flashed across the screen. The angle was different this time, showing them heading toward the camera before vanishing out of sight. The Sworn traced their path through another five feeds, until finally the men came to a room with double doors, entering with the Zane.

  They didn’t come out again.

  “There aren’t any cameras in that room.” Sanzie cursed, even going so far as to slam her palm against the tabletop. “None of what we just saw was in real time, either. This all happened a half hour ago. Who knows what’s been done to him in that time frame?”

  “Do you know where that is?” Delaney pointed to the now closed doors they’d gone through, trying not to allow the same panic the Sworn was feeling to infiltrate her defenses. Clearheaded, that was what the guys were always telling her. The one constant in both Ruckus’s and Trystan’s lessons.

  She couldn’t allow herself to lose focus, or allow fear to get in the way. That was how people got killed. That was how she’d let people get killed. And there were way too many people counting on them right now for her to do that.

  “In the far corner of the North Wing,” Sanzie read off the screen. “About fifteen minutes from here, give or take.” She stood, fast enough that the chair shot back a few inches.

  Delaney stopped her from moving farther from the computer. “You’re not coming.”

  Sanzie opened her mouth to argue, but snapped it shut again when she received a pointed stare.

  “I need you to stay here and work on getting a message out to Vakar. We need to warn Tilda in Varasow,” Delaney said.

  “They could be there already,” Ezran reminded her, but she ignored him.

  It didn’t matter. If there was even a slight chance the attack hadn’t started yet, then they needed to try to get word to Vakar before it was too late.

  “You can’t go out there.” Ruckus grabbed her by the elbow, not roughly, but firmly enough to convey how he really felt about the idea. “It’s too dangerous. For all we know there are Tellers everywhere.”

  “And if I run into any,” she reassured him, “I’ll handle them. We know where Trystan is. I can’t just leave him.”

  “You don’t even know how to use that thing.” He motioned to the gorud.

  “Connection’s down anyway,” she said. “I haven’t been able to access the computer’s mainframe.” At his frown she elaborated. “Fawna’s been helping me. She’ll help me now.”

  “If it’s not connected, she can only see what you see,” he stated. “How is that helpful?”

  “You’d be surprised. Besides, we haven’t gotten what we need. I’m sure there’s a record button on this thing she can show me. We can still complete the mission.”

  “No way. Gibus will look here and copy any information on the device’s development. It’s not a lot, but it’s what we can get.”

  “Ruckus—”

  “Then I’m coming with you,” he said, changing tactics determinedly.

  She took his hand, squeezed once. “You know you can’t. You have to stay here and help get ahold of Tilda. Vakar needs you.”

  “You need me more,” he argued.

  “We don’t know that. Could be the only thing waiting for me is an unconscious Zane. Maybe they just put him in there until the Rex gets back. We all know he’d want to deal with his son himself. It’s probably nothing.”

  “We don’t know that,” he fed back stubbornly, and she sighed. “I’ve already lost Pettus. I’m not about to lose you, too. Besides, I don’t recall putting you in charge.”

  “Don’t you?” She quirked a brow, waiting for him to catch her meaning. She felt a little bad when guilt flashed quickly over his face, but she didn’t take the words back or offer an apology.

  “You all made me Lissa,” she continued when he didn’t say anything, tightening her hold on his hand. “Now let me do my job.”

  His hands were suddenly in her hair, guiding her to him, even as he bent to meet her halfway. When he pressed his mouth against hers, her eyes shut of their own accord, and a rush of warmth flowed through everywhere they touched.

  “I’m not trying to stop you,” he said stubbornly, pulling away in the process, “but if you’re the Lissa, I’m your Ander, which means I’m coming with whether you like it or not. We can stand here arguing all day, or you can just get onboard.”

  For a moment she was blank, not sure what to say or feel. Then she took a shaky breath and gave a curt nod. He was right, after all: It was safer if the two of them went together, and the others could handle contacting Varasow without him.

  “We get Trystan, and then we get out.” Steeling her shoulders, Delaney tapped the side of the gorud, making sure it was still on, and then headed for the door across the room.

  You still with me, Fawna? she asked, visualizing the words.

  A second later Fawna’s response came through, actually making Delaney smile a bit despite what she was about to do.

  Yes, and next time, remember that before you make out?

  CHAPTER 23

  He felt like he was dying.

  Trystan woke with a sharp ache at the front of his skull. Before he’d even opened his eyes, he was squeezing them tighter, instinctually trying to avoid more pain. It felt as if someone had been rummaging through his head, an altogether unpleasant thing to wake up to.

  Once the pounding had abated, he risked movement, shifting slightly. He was sitting in a chair, the material beneath him uncomfortable and rather solid. The details of what had happened were a bit fuzzy, and he struggled to sort through them as he flexed his arms and legs.

  And realized they were bound.

  His eyes popped open and he swore, tugging at his wrists even though it was clear he wasn’t going to be able to get loose. Metal bands secured them to the arms of the chair, and another band stretched across his chest, preventing him from leaning forward to check his legs. Not that he needed to. He could feel the ties on his ankles.

  “You have got to be kidding,” he stated, giving one final tug for good measure.

  The events leading up to his obvious capture filtered back, causing him to grit his teeth. He’d been in one of the halls with Delaney and the others when the gorud had suddenly stopped functioning. Then … He thought it might have electrocuted him, which was puzzling, because he’d never heard of that happening to anyone before.

  The Rex chose that moment to appear, entering from the opposite side of the room, directly across from where Trystan was being contained. His dark blond hair was perfectly smoothed back, and there wasn’t so much as a wrinkle anywhere on his uniform. The only thing not impeccable about him was his scowl.

  A Sutter entered directly behind him, keeping a pace back. She was one of the heads of the Kint bioengineering department.

  “What did you do?” Trystan growled, giving one final tug on his restraints before forcing himself to settle down.

  “Used the gorud to overload your fitting just enough to knock you unconscious without causing permanent damage. It must have slipped your mind that I have access to your frequency. I’m disappointed in you, son,” the Rex finally said, when he was only a few feet away. It’d taken him a while, since the room was actually pretty large.

  There were multiple projects set up in different corners, and even a few placed oddly at the center of the room. Trystan didn’t recognize any of it, but that only meant it was probably more dangerous, not less so. Some of the various machines were recognizable, yet he couldn’t even begin to guess what his father’s Sutters had been working on in here. The space was all whites and silvers, with specks of color in the forms of wires sticking out from within machines, poking from behind some foreign objects.

  He’d been placed in a section surrounded by computer towers, stretching at his sides and, he assumed, behind his back. When he tipped his head, he could just make out the top of a few of them, and the flashing lights they emitted.


  Despite the size, however, they were the only three there. A quick assessment told him the room had been cleared rather quickly, everyone else made to drop what they were doing and exit without the time to properly put things away or shut things off. The Rex had made this all happen in a rush.

  Whatever happened next, it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  “Likewise, Father,” Trystan drawled, slipping into his nonchalant Zane persona with ease. “You’re moving against the people’s best interests. I was told your ship left for Vakar. You must have gone through some trouble to ensure no one realized you weren’t actually on it.”

  The Rex snorted. “Their best interests? Honestly, what’s come over you? What’s best for them is what I say is best for them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “How is working with a terrorist group good for them?” he asked, watching as his father ambled toward one of the computers attached to the tower on his left. “Your subjects have always been loyal. There’s no reason for you to have done this.”

  “Oh, they’ve been loyal, all right,” he agreed, then lifted his steely gaze. “But not necessarily to me. You think I haven’t known about your little side projects? Haven’t noticed you lurking, always sneaking off at odd hours, returning in a better mood than when you left? I’ll admit, for a couple years I actually thought you were seeing a woman, someone I wouldn’t approve of, sure, but still, just a woman. Nothing to be concerned about.”

  Trystan struggled not to let on that he knew exactly what his father was talking about, and where this conversation was leading. He’d believed himself so careful, all this time, going to speak with the army members on his side. Keeping them hidden, and out of the Rex’s notice.

  Until he’d brought Gibus straight to them, that was.

  He clenched his hands into tight fists but kept his expression blank. Whether or not his father was telling the truth now—and he really had already known about Trystan’s loyalists—didn’t matter. He’d exposed them, confirmed their existence, when he’d asked for their help getting him and the Sutter out of Kint.

  “But,” his father continued, “you’ve been plotting against me for some time now, haven’t you, son? Why else would you need a bunch of secret networks? A hidden communications link within my own systems?” He clucked his tongue. “Clever. I’d be proud if its purpose hadn’t been to be used against me.”

  “That was never its intention,” Trystan said. It was most likely futile, but if there was a chance he could convince the Rex he had it wrong, he had to try.

  “Are you trying to protect them?” His father canted his head. “There’s no need. They’ve already been dealt with, right before my men headed off to deal with that lecherous Basilissa. She’s unworthy to wear a crown, so you and I are going to take it from her, like we’ve always planned.”

  “You’re lying.” There’s no way the Rex could have done what he claimed, not unless he’d taken out more than half of the Kint army. But that didn’t rule out the group who’d aided Trystan and Gibus.

  There was little doubt in his mind that those were the people who’d been “dealt with.” Anger warred with disgust, but he banked those emotions down, still intent to come off cold and disinterested. Showing he cared about something was only going to further his father’s attempts to destroy it. He might not have been able to protect those men already dead, but he could try to keep the Rex’s interest from trailing toward the others.

  “I’m not the liar here, son,” he sneered, a spark of fury entering his eyes. “Or did you forget?”

  The Rex entered a sequence into the computer, and one of the screens a little ways away from Trystan came to life. Across it, an image of an unconscious Delaney being dragged down the hallway greeted him in bright Technicolor.

  “You reported she was dead,” the Rex stated, watching closely as Trystan felt his defenses begin to crack. “She doesn’t look dead to me. Not yet, anyway.”

  His gaze shot to his father’s before he could stop himself, and he tugged at the bindings around his wrists hard enough to shake the chair beneath him.

  With a laugh, the Rex flicked another button, and the image on the screen changed. This time, it was an aerial shot of Varasow—Trystan recognized the streets he’d walked with Delaney and the Ander. Instead of the calm, bustling city they’d been in, however, there was chaos. People were screaming and running in every direction, causing cars to crash into one another, or veer off sharply and slam into buildings.

  The reason for their panic became apparent when the camera swept down a different street, immediately highlighting the mass of Tellers swarming the place.

  Tars didn’t have a uniform, no designating symbol or marker. They’d avoided it in part because most of them were Kint, but mostly to avoid detection. Being that they were a secret terrorist organization.

  Which was why it was so strange that the people attacking the city were carrying flags with their name scrawled across it in big bold letters. It was impossible not to realize they were Tars, and not just because of the signs, either. They’d all worn the same color, a rich purple with a navy capital T stitched over the left pectoral.

  They were shooting people in the streets, firing their fritzes at anything that moved, including a few holograms. It wasn’t hard for Trystan to figure out their plan, that they’d surrounded the city, creating a barrier preventing anyone from leaving, and were now moving inward.

  Toward the Vakar palace.

  “What have you done?” The words slipped past his lips, shock making him unable to hold them back. As the capital city, Varasow was home to a fifth of Vakar’s population. Thousands of people lived there, and now every single one of them was about to die. This was exactly the type of thing he’d always tried to avoid, even during the war.

  He’d known his father was capable of great horrors, but this … This was surprising, and that only pissed Trystan off because, really, he shouldn’t be surprised. There’d only been one other occasion when the Rex had done something this drastic and awful—when he’d chosen to drop that bomb, demolishing an entire Vakar town in under six seconds.

  Trystan had been disgusted then, excusing himself as soon as he’d been able. He hadn’t told anyone, but he’d gone straight to the bathroom and thrown up.

  “Me?” The Rex glanced pointedly at the screen, feigning ignorance. “Those are clearly Tars attacking. I have nothing to do with them. All of Xenith knows that. But don’t fret, son; I’ll send help.” He grinned. “As soon as they’ve reached the palace and taken care of the Basilissa for us.”

  “There is no us,” Trystan growled. Absolutely no part of him wanted to be linked to this, not even in conversation.

  “Ever since that human got involved,” he stated, “I agree. She’s done something to you, made you forget your place. Your purpose.”

  “I’m the Zane.” He couldn’t lean forward with the bar across his chest, but he tried. “I’m meant to protect the people!”

  “No!” His father’s voice boomed across the room, causing everyone—including Trystan—to jump a little. “You are meant to do as you’re told. Always have been. Why else do you think I bothered with offspring? I reared you to help me achieve greatness, and that is what you’re going to do, whether it damn well pleases you or not!

  “Now.” As quickly as he’d snapped, he pulled himself back together, smoothing a hand over his hair and adjusting the bottom of his shirt. “Back to the matter at hand.”

  Trystan shook his head vehemently. “I am not helping you destroy a city, Father. You’ve gone too far.” He angled his chin toward the screen. “You think too little of them. They’ll figure out it was you, that you’re the one who sent the Tars to Varasow.”

  “Oh? And how is that?” He grunted arrogantly. “My own son couldn’t figure it out, and he had years to do so. I’ll give you one better; they didn’t even know. I formed the Tars, gave them purpose, and not a single member of that organization had the slightest clue who was t
he master of their creation.”

  Trystan stilled. That wasn’t possible.… Though, the more he thought about it, the more it actually made sense.

  They’d been winning the war, but not nearly fast enough to appease the Rex. So he’d decided to test out a new weapon, bomb one of the smaller towns on the coast of Vakar. The test had been successful—so much so, the Basileus had been open to peace negotiations without hesitation.

  Which must have been his father’s real goal the entire time. He hadn’t used that weapon to help end the war and save lives. He’d done it to manipulate the Vakar royal family into making a deal—binding Trystan and Olena to combine the two houses.

  He’d already admitted to Delaney back in Inkwell that even that had been a half-truth. His intentions hadn’t been equal rule, but an easy takeover. The plan had been to blindside Vakar once Trystan was bound to their heir. An untimely demise for the old Basileus and Basilissa, an event that would force Trystan and Olena into the roles far sooner than anyone expected. After that, the Rex would use his son’s forces, combining the armies of Xenith, and invade Earth.

  Trystan had promised Delaney that he’d talk to his father, work out a way Earth could remain as it was, in peace. What a fool he’d been. All of this playing out right in front of his eyes, and he’d been blind to it.

  But then, that had been part of the plan, too, hadn’t it?

  “You knew the idea of bonding with Olena would keep me distracted.” Bile rose up the back of his throat and he swallowed it down. The screams coming from the still-playing screen were faint, the volume turned low, but he wasn’t looking at that anymore. His father had his full and undivided attention.

  “To the rest of the world you might be a conundrum,” the Rex began, “the mysterious, aloof Zane. But a father knows his son. I knew you’d find tying your life to that spoiled girl beneath you, that you’d focus all your efforts on finding a way to avoid having to go through with it. The Tars were an out you could detach yourself from.”