Sea of Stars (Kricket #2)

by Amy A. Bartol

  We spend our time the next night hurrying from one copse of trees to another until the landscape turns hilly. The change in the terrain to dense trees climbing in a gradual slope signals a change in our pace. It becomes a steady clip, neither pausing nor running, but with the underlying urgent need to be somewhere else. We move through paths in between gray stones where water trickles down over the rocks in petite waterfalls. In the distance, mountains rise with smoky peaks covered in green and white trees.

  We find a small cave and make our camp. Throughout the day, the Cavars take turns patrolling the area, looking for signs that we’re being followed. Nothing turns up. Even the aircraft are less frequent now, not that I can stay awake long to listen for them. As soon as I eat a meal, I find my eyes drooping, and the next thing I know I’m being roused from sleep and hustled to an already saddled spix as darkness falls.

  Progressing uphill throughout the night, the grade continues to get steeper. Wearily, I lean back against Trey to keep my seat. “Sorry,” I murmur at my weakness.

  “I like the feel of you against me,” he says in my ear, causing me to smile. I turn my face and kiss his neck. He leans his head down so that our lips can meet. When they do, I reach up, laying my hand on his cheek. Our kisses turn heated. My legs squeeze Honey Badger’s sides, causing him to trot ahead next to Wayra.

  When Trey notices, he has to rein in our spix, breaking our kiss. We both look over at Wayra, who is smirking at us. He nods his head in greeting to Trey. “Sir.”

  Trey nods back. “Wayra.”

  “Did you need something, sir?” Wayra asks with amusement in his tone.

  “No. I have everything I need,” he replies. “Carry on.” Trey pulls us back behind Wayra once more.

  “Do you have everything you need?” I ask him.

  Trey smiles and kisses the top of my head. “Yes. Everything I need is right here.”

  Every now and then we pass through rocky tunnels that cut through the hills. They’re shockingly unkempt by the standards of most Rafe construction. Water seeps down stone walls by green crawling vines. Loose rock makes the ride treacherous.

  “These tunnels are rarely used anymore,” Trey explains, echoing my thoughts. “Once air travel became the preferred mode of transport, there was little need to maintain them. The local population of a few spix ranchers and trainers use them to work the spixes.”

  As we exit a tunnel, the sun is rising over the valley. We have a clear view of a winding path to a valley below. Low fieldstone walls hem in paddocks and connect several barns and outbuildings. In the corner of the clearing, a large estate spreads out among an orchard of fruit trees and serenely planned-out gardens. I take off my night-vision glasses, staring in wonder at the incredible vista.

  “Whose place is this?” I ask Trey.

  “Technically it’s mine, but I own it through a charitable foundation that’s not overtly attached to my name. It serves as a camp for developmentally challenged youths. The campers are all gone now. When I knew war was imminent, after my conversation in the lodge with Kyon, I had the place closed and the children sent home.”

  “Why do you keep it a secret?”

  “Because I sometimes like to hide away from the world here. If I were to attach my family name to it, then every wealthy Rafian with too much time on his hands would want to come and use it for a hunting lodge because of its proximity to the restricted area. That’s not what it’s for, and I don’t have time for it.”

  Trey directs Honey Badger with more urgency now. There are a few moments when I fear I’m about to be bounced off the spix. Trey doesn’t seem at all concerned by the precarious fall over the edge of the cliff should the spix misstep. His confidence speeds us through the descent.

  When we reach the valley floor, I’m overwhelmed with relief. I sag against him in complete fatigue. But as we trot down the tree-lined dirt lane, I have to admire the beauty of the place. It’s a secluded valley, hidden by mountains and cut off from the constant buzz of technology that I’ve grown accustomed to seeing in Rafe.

  After traversing a rustic-covered wooden bridge, two riders approach us at an easy gait on the other side. I recognize Trey’s brother, Victus, immediately. They’re identical, with the same dark hair and violet eyes, except Victus is not as broad-shouldered as his brother, and he lacks thick, military tattoos on his throat, chest, and abdomen. Next to Victus is a willowy Etharian woman dressed like him in an outfit made explicitly for riding. Her mount is a dappled gray spix with a white mane knotted in intricate braids, just like Victus’s.

  “Trey, who is that with Victus?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. I’ve seen her face in the video picture in her room.

  “That,” he says with a soft sigh, “would be Charisma.”

  CHAPTER 14

  CANDYLAND BOOGEYMAN

  Charisma is an incredible rider; her back is ramrod-straight, and the way in which she sits her spix makes me believe that she may well have been born upon its back. I try to keep my emotions reined in when Trey halts our spix in front of the pair.

  To the Cavars behind us, Trey says, “You can go up to the main house over there. They’ll provide food and show you to where you can get some rest. We’ll go over your assignments after you sleep.” The Cavars move around us, continuing on to the large estate.

  Trey’s hand slips from my waist to my thigh. He squeezes it in an intimate caress before he dismounts from our spix. Victus and Charisma dismount as well. Walking the short distance to them, Trey extends his arms and they both walk into them, group hugging like only a family in my dreams would do. I immediately feel like a lurker. My posture becomes even more stooped and all I want to do is slide to the ground and lie there for hours; I’m so tired. I can’t let them see how alone I feel in this moment, so I try really hard to adopt a blank expression.

  “Pasdon and Mamon are here?” Trey asks them while they continue to hug. Victus pulls away from Trey first, leaving Charisma to shift in Trey’s arms for a solo hug.

  “They’re at the main house,” Victus affirms. “Mamon will be relieved to see you—you know how she worries.”

  “She makes a career of it at times,” Trey replies, while his hand rubs the girl’s back tenderly.

  “She has every right to worry,” Charisma says, wiping a tear from her eye as she pulls away from Trey’s side. “You don’t make it easy on her with your lifestyle choices.” The statement is a fact without the malice of an accusation.

  “I know. You’re right. I have this thing for danger, though, Charisma.” Trey smiles at her.

  The next tear that slips down her cheek is wiped away by Trey. “Shickles,” she says in a very cute and completely sweet way, “I promised myself that I wasn’t going to cry.”

  Trey hugs her again and she cries more on his chest. I feel sick. Not because it’s a disgusting display of emotion, but because it’s not. It’s love. Victus moves away from them, joining me. He reaches a hand up and rests it on my hip. “Kricket,” he says in an affectionate way. “You look like you might need some help getting down from your spix.”

  “I think I can manage—”

  He doesn’t let me finish, but reaches his other hand up to my waist, plucking me off the spix as if I weigh nothing. He hugs me to him like a brother would. “We were worried about you too, Kricket,” he says in my ear and my heart squeezes tight, but I refuse to cry. I’m not weak—I need to figure out how to be stone again before this paper heart of mine is the death of me.

  I rest my head on Victus’s shoulder, because fighting tears is exhausting and I’m already so tired. Trey is by our side an instant later. “Hey, you want to stop touching her, grabby hands?” he asks Victus in a good-natured way.

  “No. I don’t.” Victus continues to hug me with a teasing smile for his brother. “This is my soon-to-be sister and look at her. She looks like she can hardly stand on
her own at the moment.”

  All humor is erased from Trey’s face when he gets a better look at me. “Give her to me,” he orders, reaching out and pulling me away from Victus as he hands me over. “She never says anything!” Trey complains to his brother. “She never whines or shows vulnerability. It’s so frustrating.”

  “She’s right here and she can walk,” I say, wiggling to try to make him put me down.

  “See what I mean?” he asks Victus, reluctantly setting me on my feet with an exasperated sigh.

  “Ahem.” Charisma clears her throat near us.

  Victus grins. “You still want to do this?” he asks.

  She rolls her eyes at him and nods vehemently.

  “Okay,” Victus sighs. “Charisma still thinks she can’t greet you, Kricket, until she’s been formally introduced. I told her it’s unnecessary, given the circumstances, but she doesn’t want to offend you. So.” He makes a grand sweeping gesture toward me as I stand by Trey’s side. “Fay Kricket Hollowell, coriness of Rafe and priestess of Alameeda. Soon-to-be Dreykaress Kricket Allairis, it is my honor to present my intended consort, your soon-to-be sister, née Minness Charisma Aleesia Sandersault. Soon-to-be Hautess Charisma Allairis of the Valley of Thistle, ancestral lineage House of Rafe, Isle of Skye, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera . . .” He trails off in a bored tone.

  Charisma sinks into a deep curtsy before us. When she rises, I have no words to say to her. They’ve all run away from me when Victus introduced her as his intended consort. I glance at Trey to gauge his reaction. He’s grinning from ear to ear.

  “My new sister, huh?” He glances at Victus with a quirk of his eyebrows. “Well, it didn’t take you very long once I called off our engagement, did it? I saw your clothes in her closet, you knob knocker,” he says playfully.

  “So you’re not upset?” Charisma asks as she exhales a deep breath she’s been holding. The relief on her face is exponential.

  “The only thing that I’m upset about is that you both made me be the bad guy again,” Trey replies honestly. “As if it’s my job with you two or something. Why do you think I volunteered for that mission to Earth? I wanted you two to admit that you love each other. I was sick of being in the middle of it, stuck in between you both.”

  They both look shocked. “You planned for us to betray you?” Charisma asks, looking ashamed. “And you put yourself in extreme danger to do it?”

  “No,” Trey says softly, “I planned for you to be in each other’s company without me around so that you could realize just how perfect you are for one another. You complement each other. Charisma, you like to take care of others. It frustrates you that I won’t let you do that with me. But Victus loves all of your attention. You can baby him until next Fitzover and he will be the most contented Etharian to ever walk Thistle. The danger of the mission I agreed to was just a thrill.”

  “I don’t enjoy being babied,” Victus lies with a grin.

  Trey snorts, “You’re a fuss bucket, Vic.”

  “I love her,” Victus says quietly, looking his brother in the eyes with all the banter gone from his expression.

  “I know you do. I’m happy for you,” Trey returns with a genuine grin.

  “Victus and I must look like awful people to you, Kricket,” Charisma says to me in a melancholy tone.

  I turn my gaze upon her; my emotions over what I’m hearing are a jumbled mess. I don’t know what to think or feel. I say the first thing that comes to mind. “It just feels bad right now because your secret’s out. But it can’t be as bad as it was before, can it? It’s not like having your love be an unspeakable thing that you carry around—something you can only daydream about—about the places you’d go with him if you could—the things you’d do—the person you’d be with him. You no longer have to hide behind pretend smiles whenever he’s near, hoping no one else will guess what he means to you—hoping he won’t guess, either, because he’s meant to be with someone else. You must have wondered if you’d ever have a real smile again, and it must have been torture when your paths remained aligned straight ahead, never allowed to intersect, just continuing with the same common symmetry pulling you to him but keeping you apart at the same time.”

  “How did you know all of that about me?” she asks, stunned. “Is that one of your priestess gifts? Reading people?”

  “No,” I laugh humorlessly. “I’ve just drowned in the dark before too.”

  Charisma links arms with me, tugging on mine gently. “I’ll take you up to the house. You need to rest,” she says. Trey takes my other hand and follows with Honey Badger’s reins in his other hand. Victus trails us leading the two dappled gray mounts.

  Charisma takes me up the fragrant garden path where tiny violet flower heads litter the walkway of gray cobblestone and green moss. Nearing a water feature, I want to dive into the elegant fountain that creates a centerpiece to the courtyard. I would rather face Trey’s parents soaking wet than in the state I’m in: dust-covered and spix-scented.

  Ahead of us, ledgestone steps lead to a long, wide, wraparound porch. The entryway is ledgestone as well, with copper doors. Copper bolts create a beveled framework around them. On either side of the ledgestone are transparent walls like the ones in Charisma’s building, allowing the outdoors into the living area of the building. There are multiple rooflines of a gray material I’ve never seen before. It appears similar to slate, but as I near it, the tiles shift, as the scales of a living dragon do, to seek the most advantageous angles for which to catch the sunlight.

  Before I reach the first step, the copper doors open up and a couple walks onto the wide porch hand in hand. I stop where I am. I know immediately that these are Trey and Victus’s parents, because the resemblance of father and sons is uncanny. In fact, they could all be brothers, if this were Earth and they weren’t all ridiculously old. Trey drops the spixes’ reins.

  Trey tugs me forward while Charisma drops my arm and hangs back with Victus. I can usually read a room fairly well, but his parents are hard to know. His mom is surprisingly petite by Etharian standards, only an inch or two taller than me. Her hair is very lovely and long, flowing down her back in silky dark brown waves. She could easily be his sister, which is a little disconcerting when you think that parents should be older-looking. Her violet eyes are the shape of Trey’s. I watch as they fill with tears; she fights to keep them from spilling over.

  Trey’s dad is a puzzle; I can’t tell if he’s livid or just extremely upset. Either way, it’s too much emotion for me to handle right now. We stop in front of them; Trey gives his father a formal nod of greeting. It’s not returned. Instead, his father grabs him by the shoulders and hugs him fiercely. Trey’s mom caves in as well, hugging them both and crying softly until they make room for her in their hugfest. I stand there awkwardly with my hand in Trey’s until I feel Trey and Trey’s dad reach over and pull me into the hug-a-thon as well. It’s still very awkward, but it’s also sort of sweet, so I manage to tolerate it until Trey’s dad lets us go.

  “I’m glad you both made the trip here,” Trey says to fill the void of silence while his parents try to pull themselves together. He waits several moments for them to dab at their eyes with handkerchief-like swatches.

  Trey’s dad clears his throat. “Thank you for the timely invitation.”

  “Let me introduce you. Kricket, this is my mamon, Vessey Allairis,” he says while gesturing toward his mother. I sink into a deep curtsy, even though technically I don’t have to, because I’m a priestess and in that circle curtsying to her is considered beneath me. That’s one reason why I do it. The other reason is that I want her to know up front that I respect her as the mother of the person I love.

  “Greetings, Hautess Allairis,” I say formally.

  She’s still recovering from her sob, but she manages to choke out the word “Greetings.”

  Trey smiles encouragingly at me. “Krick
et, this is my pasdon. Do you know what that word means?”

  “Is it like ‘dad’?”

  “It is. His name is Vanderline Allairis,” Trey adds.

  “Greetings, Vanderline.” I try not to stare at him as I sink into a deep curtsy, sweeping my hand across my chest to rest on my shoulder in an appropriate greeting. I know I’m supposed to avert my eyes in a nod, but I can’t. He looks too much like Trey and Victus.

  As I rise, I’m relieved that my knee-jerk response hasn’t offended him. With a nod, his deep voice is similar to Trey’s as he replies, “Greetings, Fay Kricket.”

  Trey’s mamon is still unable to speak, but she has a smile on her face nonetheless. I raise a shaky hand to my forehead, trying to block the glare of the sun as it continues to rise. It takes me a second to realize that I’m so sensitive to it because I haven’t been in the sunlight for several rotations; I’ve seen it only here and there since the war began.

  I think Trey’s dad notices that I’m a tired wreck, because he steps aside so that we can enter the house, saying, “Don’t allow us to keep you out here all morning.” Vanderline ushers us both toward the door. “You both clearly need to rest.”

  I stop before crossing the threshold. “I can’t stay here, Trey,” I say in a near whisper. I grab onto the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention. “Your entire family is dead if I stay here. They can’t be near me. If Kyon finds me here, he’ll show them no mercy.” I’m trembling like an El platform with an approaching train. I try not to show it.

  “Kricket.” Trey strokes my pale cheek, talking to me in a calming voice. “I have a plan. We won’t stay long.”

  “What’s the plan?” I look at his parents’ concerned faces and I know that if I’m responsible for their deaths, Trey will never survive it. They’re his family. They’ve always been his family. He can probably live without me, but he’ll never be able to live without them. “You need to take me somewhere so that if they find me, I’ll be alone and they won’t kill anyone else.”