Milek stared at the surface of his desk. She could tell her intensity was making him uncomfortable, but she didn’t care. It didn’t matter if it was a fling, a fleeting moment between them. She didn’t want him to have regrets. She and Pyralis had carried theirs for nearly twenty-five years.
“I keep trying to convince myself I don’t have feelings for her.” He looked up at Galena, a wry smile flitting across his lips. “But the truth is, ever since I found out she was a girl . . . ever since I saw her stand up to the boy she’d been seeing, declaring herself a flyer—a fighter—to save you, I’ve been lost.”
With unexpected tears clogging her throat, Galena confessed, “Aris is the only woman I’ve met with even a hope of being worthy of you, dear.”
“The Military will make it forbidden sooner or later,” Milek said, his voice dragging. “I can’t be with her if it means she’ll lose her job. I refuse to make her choose.”
Galena wished, more than anything, she could be in that room with him. He might be twenty-two years old, nearly twenty-three, but he was still her little boy. “You don’t know what the future holds, Milek. All you have is now. Steal your happiness while you can.”
Chapter 10
The day was hot—sundress weather—and Dysis Latza could appreciate not having to confine herself within the stifling layers of a uniform. But as she walked home from the sprawling glass school building where she taught mechanics, her dress swinging loose around her, she still found herself stretching her legs, squaring her shoulders, just as she’d done when she was disguised as a man. As her hands swept against her thighs, she could almost feel the smooth fabric of her Military-issued pants instead of the rumpled cotton of her dress.
Which was stupid.
She had everything she wanted: her brother Jax, a spy who’d been injured escaping the same Safaran prison camp where Ward Vadim was held, was home and safe. She had her old job back and an honorable discharge from Military sector. She’d cut all ties to that part of her life, except for an occasional comm from Aris, begging her to come back. Dysis was moving forward, taking care of her brother, falling back into the comfortable, familiar routines of her life.
It was blighting boring, and more nights than not, she dreamed of missions past and future. A future she had absolutely no interest in.
She told that lie so often and so well, she almost believed it herself.
As she rounded the last bend in the trail before the edge of her street, she rubbed her hand along a pockmarked, misshapen chunk of concrete rising out of the ground, an ancient monument to the vast city that had once stood on this ground. There were slabs of broken wall throughout the town, piercing the sky in a vast array of sizes, an eerie collection of standing stones that tourists had once visited before the war. Now the only visitors were refugees.
It was considered good luck to rub the bumpy, weather-stained surface. Dysis didn’t believe in luck, but she liked the feel of the rough stone against her fingertips.
She turned onto the street, which sparkled a little. At night, the pavement would glow a pale blue, making it easy for terrans and pedestrians to navigate after dark. At the corner, the house she’d lived in all her life leaned back against the forest, its steep, solar-paneled roof angled up toward the trees. Jax’s terran, a little two-seater, sat out front.
Inside, Dysis slipped her hardpack off her shoulders and dropped it next to the door. “Hey, Jax! I’m home!”
She kicked her sandals off next to a myriad assortment of flying boots, sandals, and a single pair of needle-thin heels that she never wore and couldn’t believe she even owned. She was too tall for shoes like that. But when she’d come home from Spiro, after months in uniform, she couldn’t help herself. She’d worn them the day she bought them, and they’d sat by the door since, tipped on their sides like abandoned toys.
The shoes that caught her eye now rested next to the silly silver heels. They were large, tan boots, so familiar she almost ignored them, until she realized why they were so blighting familiar. They were Military issue.
“Jax!” she called again, a new edge to her voice. The hallway opened to the large living space where they spent most of their time. The white walls and furniture hid nothing. Jax wasn’t there.
Dysis fled to the back of the house, where the glass wall exposed a view of the forest. Outside, in the shade of the tall trees, her brother stood talking to a man in full Military uniform.
Dysis slammed her hand against the panel beside the glass wall. As soon as it slid open, she slipped out. “Jax!”
She jogged the few steps to them. He can’t be leaving so soon. He’s not ready. Panic clogged her throat. “Jax, you can’t go yet. You’re still limping. The mender said you have another month of recovery—”
The visiting soldier turned and the words froze in her throat, blocked by a lump so big she couldn’t breathe.
Lieutenant Daakon’s brown eyes held an expression that made her want to turn around and run the other way. “Specialist Latza,” he said in his quiet voice. “I’m not here for your brother. I’m here for you.”
Jax cleared his throat. “Ah. I’ll be inside. Dysis, you let me know if you need anything.” He leaned on his stick as he crossed the stone patio, but his straight shoulders told her what she’d been denying for weeks. Jax was almost there—almost ready to be a spy again.
But this wasn’t about him.
With a deep breath, she met Daakon’s eyes again. “What are you doing here?” Her voice came out as strong as she’d hoped it would.
His sturdy dark body blended with the shadows beneath the trees. He was so solid, so strong. But she knew the softness he hid beneath those corded muscles and that steady gaze. Gods, she was going to throw up.
“How could you not tell me?” he asked, eyes narrowed, not answering her question.
Her breath hitched. “Tell you what?” It was stupid, feigning ignorance. But she was nothing if not bluster and fire. No one knew that she was soft inside, too. No one knew how much she wanted to throw herself into his arms.
“You know what.” Harder, angrily, he said, “You let me believe . . . you let me get close to you.”
Dysis closed her eyes for a split second, pulling all her defenses tightly around her. She didn’t want to hurt Daakon. But she didn’t want to explain herself either, explain why she’d let him think she was male, even after it was obvious he had feelings for her. She couldn’t tell him how she felt; it wouldn’t do a blighting bit of good. She wasn’t—couldn’t be—what Daakon wanted, and nothing would ever change that.
So she raised her chin. “I wanted information on Jax. I used you to get it. End of story.”
She expected him to yell. Instead, his face broke. He covered it with his hands for a second, then rubbed his cheeks briskly, as if trying to scour away her words.
“It wouldn’t have mattered anyway,” she said, hating herself. “I’m not what you want, am I? If you’d known I was a woman . . .”
He didn’t finish her thought for her. He didn’t say anything else for a minute, just stared at the ground and scuffed his foot against the smooth, pale patio stones. It was all she could do to keep from grabbing his hands, from pulling him to her. She wanted to feel his arms around her; she wanted to kiss him until the rest of the world disappeared. They’d only shared moments . . . a look here, a short conversation there. An almost-kiss that had haunted her for months.
She forced her gaze to the dappled shadows beneath the trees. She and Jax had played in this forest as children, pretending to shoot each other with solaguns and making forts that fell to ruin each winter under the weight of snow. They’d found all sorts of artifacts among the leaves and rocks that littered the forest floor: broken glass bottles, plastic balls, an armless doll, handfuls of tarnished, twisted silverware. Somewhere out there a treasure trove of lost civilization waited, their hoard abandoned to the years they spent mourning their parents, leaving the forest to its own secrets. Dysis wondered if she coul
d find the cave that hid all those treasures, all the beauty and wonder of her childhood.
Not likely, after so many years.
Her voice gruff, Dysis added under her breath, “Sorry.”
“Specialist,” Daakon said softly, his voice rougher and deeper than she’d ever heard it. “Major Vadim sent me here to bring you back to Spiro. You’re needed.”
She tried to switch gears. “I’m needed?”
“Lieutenant Haan wants you back as her gunner. I think she’s been having trouble with the others.” He scuffed his foot on the ground again.
“Because she’s a woman, you mean.” Dysis glared at their long, thin shadows on the tile. Aris didn’t talk much about her missions—she couldn’t, in case comms were intercepted—but there’d been an edge to her writing since she’d returned to Spiro. And it was impossible to miss the news vids.
Just that morning Dysis had seen an interview with Aris’s parents. The pretty blond reporter who’d done so much of the reporting on Ward Vadim’s husband’s death had sat down with them to talk about their “famous” daughter.
The reporter had started gently, asking if they were proud of Aris, if they’d been surprised to find out about her secret life. Aris’s mother had preened for the camera, just as her father shied away from it. But they’d both clammed up when the woman had leaned in with a predatory gleam and said, “Many people in Atalanta feel that your daughter should be punished rather than praised for impersonating a member of Military sector. What do you say to those who feel women have no place on the front lines of the war with Safara?”
Dysis had wanted to teach that smug woman a few very important lessons about life on the front lines.
Daakon shifted his weight, drawing her attention. “We need to get going. Major Vadim wants us back by nightfall.”
Dysis took a breath, steadying herself. “I’m sorry you came so far. But I’m not going anywhere. Jax needs me.” The words came out brusque, even though the voice in her head sounded young and terribly afraid.
Through the windows, her brother met her gaze. Even from the distance, she could tell he saw the scared little sister beneath her overbearing exterior; it was written in lines of sympathy on his face. She tore her gaze from his.
Daakon took her hands, shocking the ever-living hell out of her. “Your brother will be returning to duty soon, and you’ll be here alone. Aris needs you. Your dominion needs you. But Jax . . . Jax doesn’t need you. Not here, anyway.”
All the breath left her lungs. It wasn’t fair, how well he knew her.
“That isn’t my life anymore,” she said, the words sounding weak even to her own ears.
Daakon dropped her hands. “Liar.”
Dysis glanced at Jax again. Already, he felt so far away.
But Daakon was right. She’d been lying to herself for months, about Jax and herself. It was time to face the truth.
Chapter 11
Aris sighed as the tiny wingjet shimmered back into visibility around her. Twilight sent golden streaks across the landing pad as she touched down. It was her second solo mission in as many days, and she was no closer to finding Elom than she had been back in Lux. Both leads had gone nowhere; this one had been even more frustrating than the first. She’d flown practically to Safara’s capital, holding her breath as she dodged one Military wingjet after another. Invisibility had its drawbacks; she had to be vigilant every second to avoid an in-air collision . . . and it was impossible to forget the land she flew over was enemy territory.
She hit the lever and the windshield slid back. All she wanted was a hot meal, a hot shower, and her bed.
“Lieutenant Haan.” Milek waited for her on the tarmac, squinting into the last rays of the setting sun. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you, sir.” A new wave of adrenaline coursed through her as she jumped down beside him. But she kept her voice steady. “Another dead end. Maybe Elom is sending false information out to mess with us.”
“I’ve no doubt he is,” Milek replied. “But we need to chase down every lead. It’s the only way to distinguish which sources of intel are legitimate.”
“If you say so.” She didn’t have the energy to be optimistic.
He kept pace with her as she headed for the door. “Aris—”
“I’m tired, sir,” she interrupted. “Can we talk later?”
Milek’s hand snuck to the inside of her elbow, drawing her into the shadows made by two wingjets at the edge of the tarmac.
“Aris,” he began again. “I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk.”
It’d been a week since that day in his office, when she’d ended up on his desk with her legs around his waist.
She shrugged, trying to pretend her heart wasn’t tearing through her chest to be closer to him. “There’s nothing to talk about. We agreed it was a mistake.”
“But it wasn’t.” His hand drifted up to trace lightly along her scar before cupping her cheek. “Not for me.”
Aris resisted the pull of his touch. “But you said we shouldn’t—”
“I was scared.”
Her eyes widened.
Milek smiled at her expression. “It does happen on occasion, you know.”
“I just . . . never expected you to admit it.” Her body drifted closer to him of its own accord. “So you’re saying . . .”
He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I have no idea what I’m saying. I just know I don’t want to stop this—” He kissed her temple. “Even if it means we have to keep it a secret.” A third kiss, to the hollow of her throat. “The other day, the moment caught me by surprise. Not the feelings; I’ve had those for months. But I didn’t expect . . . I didn’t know how you felt.”
When she stretched up to kiss him, his lips yielded, soft and warm. “Now you do.”
He drew her tightly against him, deepening the kiss. Her breath caught between them, forgotten, as she responded, flames leaping under her skin.
“Milek, what are we doing?” she breathed into the space between their bodies.
Against her lips, he murmured, “We’re seizing a moment for ourselves. We’re stealing time.”
The screech of the loudspeaker tore them apart. “Lieutenant Haan, report to Commander Nyx’s office immediately. Lieutenant Haan.”
Disappointment raged through her.
“I guess I’m late to my debriefing.” She smoothed her hair.
Milek grinned as he gave her a little push toward the door. “This is one debriefing you’re going to enjoy.”
She slanted a skeptical look back at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He pushed her again, lightly. “Go see. And tell Daakon to meet me in my office after dinner.”
Before she could ask him to clarify, the door slid open.
She hurried to Commander Nyx’s office, running Milek’s cryptic words through her head, resisting the urge to touch her lips, which still pulsed with the echo of his.
The empty corridor smelled of lamb and roasted potatoes; as soon as she was finished, her first stop would be the mess hall.
Commander Nyx’s door was open. And there, in the doorway—
“Dysis!” Aris slammed to a halt and stared slack-jawed at her friend.
The tall girl’s olive skin had darkened in the summer months they’d spent apart. Her short black hair stood up in spikes, and the small key-shaped Tech brand on her temple offset her dark-brown eyes. Aris remembered the very first time she’d seen Dysis, in the room they shared. Dysis had stabbed at her temple, bemoaning the fact that their original brands weren’t removed when they’d volunteered. Aris had just nodded, struck dumb by the intimidating, angry man standing before her.
Dysis had always been good at playing her part.
“Oh, hey, Mosquito,” she said now, as casually as if they’d seen each other minutes ago, not months. Trust her to use Calix’s old nickname for her; Dysis had always enjoyed teasing her about it.
Aris was not deterred. She launched h
erself forward and the two girls embraced, a combination of laughter and back slapping, awkward and exuberant all at once.
Commander Nyx’s sardonic voice cut through their reunion. “Lieutenant Haan, if you would join us inside, please?”
Aris filed into the room behind Dysis, a huge smile still plastered to her face. Lieutenant Daakon stood in the corner of the office, his face unreadable. She wondered how his reunion with Dysis had gone.
“Lieutenant Haan, Specialist Latza will be bunking with you and Specialist Pallas for the time being. I’ve sent someone to move a third cot into the room. I trust this is acceptable?”
“Yes, sir,” Aris replied.
“Please escort Latza to dinner. We’ll debrief on your recent mission tomorrow morning after formation. Oh, and I understand you’re both going to the ceremony in Ruslana. You leave in two days’ time. Find some dresses to wear.” Nyx’s attention was drawn to her digitablet.
Dysis straightened. “Why can’t we wear our uniforms?”
Nyx didn’t bother looking up. “Ward Nekos requested dresses.” Dysis opened her mouth, but Nyx raised a hand. “I don’t care if you disagree. It’s not your decision. Get going.”
As soon as they reached the hall, Aris turned on her former sectormate. “I’m so glad you’re back. I can’t even tell you.”
Dysis made an exasperated noise. “I couldn’t exactly refuse when Daakon showed up at my door.”
“Yes, you could have.” Aris shot her a look. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”
Jax is going back to work soon. After the ceremony, I think. So . . .” She shrugged, focusing her attention on the blank white walls.
Just before they reached the main hallway—and the cafeteria—Aris paused, ignoring the insistent growling of her stomach. “I told Mile—Major Vadim that I wished you’d come back, but I had no idea he would send Lieutenant Daakon for you.”
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