by Lyn Forester
I think of the long, empty halls of Lonette Manor, the silent servants and the ambient temperature kept three degrees too cool to be comfortable. I’m too old for tutors or nannies, now, and my private maid will have been reassigned the day I left. There will be no one for me to see.
“I’ll be excited to come back here.”
“On that, we will agree.”
“Bastian, please move aside. I need to get Caitlyn.” Connor’s calm voice comes from outside our door before his dark head appears around the frame, glasses glinting. “Caitlyn, come on. Dec’s shuttle is landing. Felix is with him, now.”
My heart trips with panic. Shuttles shouldn’t arrive for another twenty minutes. “Sorry, Myrrine, I need to go.”
She waves with a sad smile. “I will message you while we are apart.”
Connor’s long fingers curl around my arm as soon as I join him in the hall, and he hustles me toward the stairs. When I stumble, he glances down and frowns. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were wearing those shoes again.”
He slows at the stairs, hesitates for a moment, then bends to scoop an arm under my butt and lifts me. His shoulder digs against my stomach, and I stiffen my muscles to keep myself from pitching over his back.
“What are you doing?” I grab his shoulders, precarious as he hurries down the stairs. The steps blur past with a disconcerting sensation of moving backward.
He dodges around other students with heavy bags on their shoulders, the arm beneath by butt tightening as his other hand covers my lower back to keep me in place. “Last time you wore those things, you almost broke your neck.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks at the startled smiles we receive. “This is embarrassing.”
“It’s less embarrassing than falling down the stairs.” His arm loosens as he reaches the ground floor and runs for the front door. “Besides, we’re in a hurry.”
The stone stairs of Lonette Hall rush past, and Connor heads right on the circular pathway toward a break between the library and the building where we attend classes. Another path there leads to the administration building at the dome’s exit.
My stomach rolls, unsettled by the backward movement. I grip Connor’s shoulder tighter. “I could piggyback like Felix does.”
“In a dress?” Connor’s hand drops to my hip, and he squeezes the pale blue material. “As interesting as it is to see you dressed like a girl, this outfit has restrictions.”
I forgot about the skirt and blush with embarrassment, glad he refused. Even though I wear stockings, the idea of wrapping my legs around Connor while in a dress feels far more indecent than if I were in my school issued slacks.
But still, being carried like this is not okay. “Let me down. I’ll keep up.”
Connor stops in an instant, lowering me to the ground. Surprised, I glance up at him, his dark hair blending with the night sky overhead. He lifts his eyebrow. “What, you thought I’d refuse?”
“No, I guess not.” Of the three, Connor pushes me the least, allowing me to set the pace.
“I’m not my brother, Sparks.” His fingertips touch my cheek. “And I’m not Declan. If you don’t like something, all you have to do is say the word, and I’ll stop.”
My pulse flutters, and I lick my lips. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” His fingers drift down to my chin as he gives me a wry smile. “I thought I’d have more time to woo you.”
“Woo me?” I sway toward him.
“If we had more time, we’d dance under the stars.” He leans closer, and my breath catches, sure this is the moment he’ll kiss me and uncertain if it’s what I want. But then his fingers lace with mine, and he tugs me back into motion. “We need to hurry.”
The moment vanishes as I concentrate on not tripping while we run for the administration building. When we make it out the other side, dark sedans hover in the circular drive, waiting to pick up their charges.
I spot Declan and Felix near the front of the line. Declan has an arm around Felix, the other man hunched with his arms folded over his chest, his dark head down. Declan whispers into his ear, and Felix shakes his head.
When we near, the two pull apart. Felix steps to the side, and Declan grabs me in a fierce hug. “Sparks, you made it.”
As his spicy scent envelops me, I realize why Myrrine sniffed me so much. No one else smells like Declan, this unique blend of cologne and warm, natural body. The need to commit it to memory rushes through me as I hug him back.
His lips touch my ear. “Remember our pact.”
“Resist assimilation.” I pull away from him, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“Hey, there’s no need to be so sad.” Connor grips Declan’s arm with forced cheerfulness. “We’ll see each other soon. Not like we don’t all live on Level 12.”
Despite the words, three pairs of doubtful eyes focus on me. We went eighteen years and, despite the small population, never met on the level we resided on. But now that I know who they are, I can seek them out myself. I won’t be under house arrest anymore.
Dread creeps down my spine.
At least, I shouldn’t be under house arrest. There’s no reason for Father to lock me in the manor now that I’ve given in to attending APA.
“You have my contact in your palm-ports, right?” I dig mine out to double check, even though logic tells me they won’t have disappeared since the last time we exchanged messages.
“Mr. Arrington, your shuttle is waiting,” the chauffeur calls the gentle reminder from his place next to the rear passenger door. “We need to clear the landing pad.”
Declan backs toward the waiting vehicle. “I’ll message when I land.”
“Have a safe flight, Dec.” Connor nudges his twin, who stands off to the side, unhappiness clear in his hunched shoulders.
Declan stares at Felix for a long moment. “Be good, Vice.”
“Get bent.” He raises a hand to flip off his former racing lead. “I’ll be what I want to be.”
“Don’t be like that.” Connor grabs his twin and shoves him toward the car as Declan climbs in. “Dec doesn’t have any more of a choice in leaving than we do. Stop being an ass.”
Felix shoves him back, but then goes to the hovering vehicle and ducks his head inside.
I move closer to Connor, worried. “Why’s Felix so upset? Don’t you guys see each other a lot when you’re home?”
Connor shoves his hands into his slacks pockets. “Not as much in the last year, outside of the races. We were actually happy to come here, just to be back in school together.”
I glance up at him in surprise. “Weren’t you in boarding school together?”
“Declan’s family is…strict.” The muscle in Connor’s jaw ticks as he clenches and unclenches his teeth. “They pulled him out for tutoring in the final year. He only attended exams at school.”
Surprised confusion washes through me, followed by self-recrimination. What have we been talking about in these last few weeks that I wouldn’t know this about Declan? Then, I think of what I’ve told them of my own family life and realize we’ve all kept secrets. We’ve spent so much time looking forward that no one bothered to speak of the past outside of racing.
Felix straightens away from the car and shuts the door, giving the roof two solid thumps before he strides away. His steps bounce, his face relaxed back into his easy smile. Whatever passed between him and Declan wiped away his previous unhappiness. Declan’s vehicle pulls away with a quiet hum of propulsion, and the next car slides into its place at the front.
As Felix walks over to us, he rubs his hands together, grass green eyes focused on me. “Okay, Sprinkles. Let’s talk about house visits. What kind of security are we talking about at Lonette Manor?”
I smile, glad he’s back to normal. “I have a front door, you know.”
He waves a hand in dismissal. “Front doors are for the weak. Is the fence electrified?”
“Of course.”
“Back up battery in case of sky skipp
er infestation?”
I fold my arms under my breasts. “Is there any other method?”
“Security guards?”
“Drone and organic.”
Felix cuts a glance to his twin. “Bro?”
“Bro,” Connor confirms.
Caught up in the absurdity, I laugh. “You guys can’t be serious.”
Connor pushes his glasses up. “I’ve always wanted to rescue a princess in distress.”
Felix bounces forward to sling an arm across my shoulders, his weight warm against my side. “Sprinkles, please say your room is in a tower.”
“Lonette Manor doesn’t have towers.” I lean against him. “And I’m not in distress.”
Felix gives a long-suffering sigh. “Bro, we gotta work on Sprinkles’ imagination.”
One side of Connor’s mouth tilts up. “She’ll be plenty distressed when she hears her security guards shot you.”
Felix’s eyes widen with affront. “Bro, no.”
As the two bicker good-naturedly, I glance at the new vehicle as the chauffeur gets out, and I vaguely recognize him as the one who brought me to school three weeks ago. Reality crashes back in.
It’s time to return to Lonette Manor.
LONETTE MANOR
“How was your flight, Ms. Lonette?” the chauffeur asks as he slides behind the wheel of the dark town car.
“It was uneventful.” I ease back in the plush leather seat, stifling a groan of relief to have the pressure taken off my sore feet.
Overhead, stars twinkle in the holo-sky. On any other level, we’d be in Lights-Out, but Level 12 never goes fully dark. Fatigue drags at my limbs, the desire to sleep almost overwhelming.
As we pull away from the landing strip at Level 12’s Central Plaza, I resist the urge to turn in my seat to stare out the back window.
Declan’s shuttle departed ahead of mine, while the twins were still awaiting theirs when I left. There’s no need to search the landing pads for their own dark vehicles, carting them away from me. As quickly as we came together, we’re reminded once again of how easily we can be separated.
I grip the converter coil through my dress. I’m no longer sure if I keep it as a reminder of my dreams or a symbol of how fast they can be destroyed.
The blue sparks on my school issued bracelet blink green, distracting me, and I dig my palm-port out my satchel. I took little with me when I left, unwilling to risk my few possessions being scrutinized. But the slender devices the school gave us should be safe enough from Father.
A matching green light blinks in the upper part of the screen, and I thumb it on to read the message. Do you miss me yet, Sprinkles?
I check the timestamp. Felix sent it an hour ago, right after the shuttle flew me away from Level 13. Warmth fills my chest, and my fingers hesitate over the keys, unsure how to respond. Do I simply admit that I do? Or maybe I should try for something flirty. What does flirty sound like?
“Here we are, Ms. Lonette.”
Surprised, my hand drops to my lap as I glance between the seats and out the windshield. A long driveway stretches out before us, vibrant, burnt-orange grass on either side. The latest fashion trend of dying the grass to match the house colors bewilders me almost as much as the useless grass itself. As leaders of Leton, we should use our land to grow edibles, not as a status symbol of how many resources we can afford to waste.
The driveway curves to the right to form a large loop in front of the manor house. A statue of Captain Lonette, our founding father, crouches in the middle of the circle, his cupped hands spilling clear water into a large pond.
I tuck my palm-port back into my satchel as the car glides to a stop, dipping slightly as it hovers in place. The driver gets out to hurry around the front and open my door, one white-gloved hand out to assist me.
“Thank you.” I swing my legs out and touch my fingertips to the center of his palm, a bare brush of nails against fabric. To do more would be to show weakness. With the ever-watchful eye of the servants around, I make sure to keep my fingers straight, the point of contact almost nonexistent as I stand.
Pain courses up my calves from the bottoms of my feet where it feels like spikes drive into my heels. My ankles wobble for a moment as I find my balance, once again trapped within unfamiliar heeled boots I dug out from under my bed. They match the gold cardigan and knee-length blue dress I wore when I left the manor three weeks ago. I resisted the temptation to return to Lonette Manor in my school uniform, the risk of angering my father not worth the comfort of slacks and a simple, button-up shirt.
Lucky for me, whoever designed our family house chose to frame the double wide doors with four-story, white pillars instead of a sweeping staircase. As I take small, steady steps toward the entrance, the doors swing inward, perfectly timed so I need not slow my pace to enter the house.
“Welcome home, Ms. Lonette.” The butler bows from his place beside the servant who holds the right door open. “Please, allow us to take your bag to your room.”
At the wave of his hand, a maid hurries forward and takes the satchel from me, disappearing through a servant’s door hidden behind one of the interior pillars. The color-changing paint on the large colonnade has been set to burnt-orange to match the lawn outside.
“If you will wait a moment, Councillor Lonette will be down shortly.” He takes a sharp step to the right and bows again.
“Thank you, Mr. Purnell.” My heels echo against the holo-floor as I move away from the entrance to take my place to his left.
The freshly polished hologram screens glow with the illusion of white marble, and I shift uncomfortably at the knowledge its reflective surface acts as a mirror. Keeping my knees tight together, my hands flatten against the front of my skirt to minimize the display. I much preferred the slate tiles of last season.
Quiet steps swoop down the staircase, one set clipped and the other tinging like metal against glass. I release the front of my skirt to fold my hands behind my back, shoulders straight as I turn to watch my father pause on the second-story landing, beneath the holo-portrait of Captain Lonette. His red hair, cut short enough to hide the curl, perfectly matches our ancestor’s, his broad shoulders a mirror image. Years of the Lonettes genetically engineering their offspring had finally resulted in an almost perfect copy of our founding father. Only the eyes differ, a pale hazel instead of the piercing blue of the captain’s.
Father’s gaze lands on me, and a brief flicker of annoyance crosses his face before it smoothes away. He resumes his descent, his secretary a step behind him.
Her sleek black hair, clipped up on one side, flows down over her shoulders in an inky sheen. The dark purple dress she wears perfectly matches Father’s vest, her black high-heels, with their silver spikes, a compliment to the silver dat-band around his wrist. Her stride matches Father’s so they move as a single unit, years of practice making it look effortless.
Together, they form a stunning image. As they’re designed to.
Father stops in front of me, his gaze raking over me from head to toe. “Daughter, welcome home.”
I keep my chin level, despite our height difference, and only lift my eyes. “Thank you, Father.”
“I trust your studies are enlightening?” His cool tone shows little interest in my answer, the question a mere formality.
“I have much to learn from the Academia for Planetary Alliance.” The weight of our house’s expectation settles over my shoulders, smothering the brief moments of freedom I found while away. “I look forward to the challenge.”
His lip curls as he studies me. “I hope no one saw you in that outfit. It would not do to have you in the news wearing the same thing twice.” Dismissing me, he glances over his shoulder. “Nadine, has Nikola arrived yet?”
“Here, sir.” A quiet voice sounds from behind me.
I trap the flinch before Father sees and wait as the young man circles into visibility. Two years my senior, Nikola looks like a more masculine version of his mother, his black hair
buzzed short around the sides and left long on top. Whatever DNA the incubation company used to combine with Nadine’s had left no outward mark on his appearance.
He bows to my father. In the mirror of the floor, his black eyes flicker in my direction, and I fight the urge to push the skirt of my dress flat against my body as his eyes linger at my feet. For a moment, his lips part, nostrils flaring. Then, the expression vanishes.
“Good, you’re here already.” In a rare show of affection, Father pats the other man’s shoulder and unease turns my stomach into a hard knot.
Why would Father call Nikola back to Lonette Manor?
The younger man straightens. “I left school the moment I heard of the coup.”
“As expected.” The corners of Father’s lips lift in the barest hint of approval. “You have your instructions?”
The younger man nods. “Ms. Lonette will be well taken care of.”
Nadine glances at her son, her expression cool. “At Councillor Lonette’s request, the stylist will be here by Quarter-Light.”
Father’s pale gaze returns to me, narrowed in calculation. “Talk to the cook. Restricted diet. We need my daughter back to standard weight before the first meeting.”
My hands fist behind my back, nails digging into my palms to fight the surge of anger. If anything, I’ve lost weight with APA’s limited meal choices.
Not taking his eyes off my father, Nikola nods once more. “Of course, sir.”
Father snaps his fingers, the sound sharp in the large foyer. “Come, Nadine. We’ve kept the council waiting long enough.”
“Yes, sir.” She extends her arm, and a maid hurries forward to slip a briefcase into her hand.
“Do not embarrass me, Daughter.”
“Yes, Father.”
The pair sweep from the house without another word, the servants shutting the doors in perfect harmony so that the latch closes without sound.
Nikola pulls a palm-port from his vest pocket, gaze glued to the screen. After a solid minute, he nods to the butler. “All clear. Return to your duties.”
“Yes, sir.” Mr. Purnell claps his hands, and the servants disperse to their daily chores.
