by Tania Hutley
“So he didn’t mean any of that?” asks Cale. He’s sitting on the other side of the table, and like me, he’s almost cleaned his plate. Sentin is beside me, and still has half his meal left.
Sentin lifts his fork, but doesn’t take a bite. “Negotiations will resume tomorrow. I’ll present my offer again, and eventually he’ll accept.”
Cale raises his eyebrows. “You sure? He seems to think our food is toxic and our scientists have cloven hooves and forked tongues.”
“Maybe he’s right about our food being toxic. Deiterran food tastes nothing like it.” I put the last of my dinner into my mouth and try to chew slowly. “It’s delicious,” I mumble with my mouth full.
“Why are you so set on trading with Deiterra?” Cale frowns at Sentin. “And don’t try to tell me it’s for the joy of sharing this amazing food with Tritoners, because I don’t believe you.”
“Trade is the first step in a very long journey.”
I’m expecting Sentin to say more, but his eyes have gone distant as though he’s deep in thought.
Cale and I exchange a long, meaningful glance, having an entire silent conversation in which we both share our mutual frustration over having to drag information out of Sentin piece by piece.
“And…?” I prompt.
Sentin focuses on me. “My eventual goal is for the wall to come down, and for Deiterra and Triton to be a single nation. The first step is a gate in the wall, to facilitate trade. Information will flow through that gate, and common ground will be found. Our communities will become more alike. Eventually, the wall will be seen as an unnecessary hindrance.”
“How long will all that take?” I ask.
He gives me one of his slow blinks. “Why do you persist in thinking the duration is important?”
“Years?” I ask. “Decades?”
“While somebody uses a Skin, their human body can be kept in a form of stasis. Assuming the Skin is regularly maintained, its user could live for centuries.”
“Centuries?” Cale coughs out the word. “You can’t seriously be planning that far ahead?”
“To achieve an ambitious outcome, it’s necessary to maintain a high vantage point.”
I lean forward, meeting Sentin’s eyes, and speak in a low, determined voice so he knows my words are a warning. “But I don’t like the view from up there. Not if you can’t see Old Triton.”
He cocks his head. “Old Triton wasn’t kind to you, though, was it? When we met, you wore your defiance like armor. Underneath it, your fear was strong enough I could have detected it even without the sensors in my glasses.”
“That’s not true,” I protest. He holds my gaze, and my face heats. “Showing fear only attracts sharks,” I mutter.
“When you’re subjected to a dangerous situation over a long period of time, it can rewire your brain to create permanent trauma. I was interested to see how using a Skin reversed that trauma.”
I scratch my cheek before I realize what I’m doing. My cheek doesn’t itch, because this Skin doesn’t have any scars. It’s just that talking about my old life is making me uncomfortable.
“You and I have always been outsiders.” Sentin is still focused on me. “But that’s a strength, not a weakness. Embrace the power your new Skin gives you. Don’t cling to old feelings toward Old Triton, or try to reverse past wrongs. Take a step back, and you’ll realize a greater perspective only comes with distance.”
“What are you saying?” Cale sounds annoyed.
When I drag my gaze from Sentin’s and my eyes land on Cale’s perfect New Triton face, it hits me how right Sentin is about having been an outsider. I’m the opposite of Cale. He fits in everywhere, and gets on with everyone. He once told me he’d never been in a fight. But I bet Sentin’s been in plenty.
Cale gives Sentin a puzzled frown. “Are you trying to say that Old Triton doesn’t matter?”
Sentin turns to Cale, and his expression shifts almost imperceptibly, all trace of emotion smoothing away. He’s the one with armor, not me. But maybe Cale was right about him being willing to let me in, and give me a glimpse of whatever he’s hiding.
“I’m merely suggesting we evaluate events dispassionately.” His tone goes bland. “We should ensure our affiliations don’t color our perception of the facts.”
Cale opens his mouth, then closes it again, unable to argue.
I don’t say anything either, because Sentin’s words are going around and around in my head. He’s right about my fear. I lived on a razor’s edge for years, and my Leopard Skin freed me. Now, thanks to my new Skin, I’m both fearless and powerful.
Maybe he’s right about everything. What did he say I was trying to do? Right past wrongs? Thinking about it that way, it seems like an impossible task. I mean, how can you change things that already happened? You can’t, that’s all. At some point, you have to move on.
I suck in a deep breath and blow it out in a loud rush of air.
From across the table, Cale shoots me a questioning look. Sentin is closer, and his eyes are on me too. But I get the idea he already knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Chapter Twelve
Dinner is long over, and I’m in the room they gave me, lying in the darkness trying to sleep, when there’s a knock at the door.
Cale. It must be him. Who else would knock so late at night?
I slip out of bed and cross quickly to the door, my pulse speeding up as I think of the night we spent together in the safe house. Pausing for a moment at the door, I smooth the knee-length shift I wore to bed and lift a hand to check my hair. I have no idea what kind of complicated technology keeps it looking so perfect, but my silky bob is as neat as always.
When I throw open the door, it’s not Cale on the other side.
“Sentin?” I blink at him. He’s still dressed in the smart black suit he wore to dinner, and the licorice and aniseed scent of his aftershave smells even better than before, as though freshly applied. He’s as handsome as Cale, in his own way. Darker and more angular. Tall, and with an unevenness to his features that I’ve come to appreciate.
He inclines his head. “I’m going outside, and I’d like you to come with me.”
“Outside?” I ask. “Where?”
“There’s a bar within walking distance. You should see a little Deiterran nightlife while you’re here.”
I resist the urge to ask aloud whether I’m asleep and this is a weird dream. Sentin never does anything without a reason. If he wants me to go drinking with him at a Deiterran bar, then I’d better go. No matter how bizarre this is.
“Give me a minute to change.”
I shut the door on him so I can slip into trousers, flat shoes, and a shirt. When I open it again, I ask, “Is this okay for where we’re going?”
He holds out a strip of cloth. “Drape this over your hair.”
I take it, frowning. “Why?”
“Because you don’t look Deiterran.”
Of course. I remember the hostile looks from the people who were working in the fields, and make a kind of hood with the fabric, pulling it forward at the sides so my face will be hard to see.
As Sentin leads me down the hall, I wonder about stopping to get Cale. But Sentin walks past the door to Cale’s room, and I think better of it. Cale looks as foreign here as I do. Besides, my best guess about why we’re going out is that Sentin needs to talk to me privately. Maybe he’s worried there are listening devices here, and we’ll be overheard. Although after our dinner conversation, it’s a little late to worry about that.
“Will the Deiterrans mind us leaving like this?” I ask.
“Why should they mind? We’re just going to enjoy ourselves.”
I raise my eyebrows at him, doubting that Sentin’s ever gone to a bar to have fun in his life. There’s definitely something clandestine going on.
At least he seems to know his way around the palace. He leads me down several long hallways, and manages to find the front entrance with no problem. There are two
legionnaires stationed at the door. To my surprise, he takes my hand and tucks it into his arm before we walk up to them.
“We’re going to a bar for a drink. We’ll be back in an hour or two.” His tone is more casual than I’ve ever heard it.
The legionnaires both salute. “Yes, sir. We’ll call you a car.”
“No need. It’s a pleasant evening for a walk.”
“Sir, our safety protocols—”
“We’d like to stay unaccompanied. I take full responsibility for our safety.” Sentin leads me out the door, keeping his hand over mine, so I have to keep hold of his arm. To the legionnaires, we must look like lovers, which I assume is what he wants them to think.
I wouldn’t have thought the imperator would let us walk out the door like this, but as we stroll down the grand driveway, nobody tries to stop us.
Tall, ornate lamps illuminate our path. The street in front of the house isn’t lit up, but I guess it doesn’t need to be when it’s basically deserted. There are a few houses with lights on, and the occasional car drives past, but compared to Triton, it’s a ghost town.
Sentin keeps hold of my arm while we walk, not letting it go even when we’re out of sight of the palace. I look around curiously, my vision sharp in spite of the darkness. Besides, it’s not really dark here, not compared to the oppressive black of an Old Triton night. The moon and stars are incredibly bright. Even brighter than they are in New Triton.
It’s cool tonight, and I shiver, wishing I’d worn a warmer shirt. When the sun goes down at this time of year, it can get cold. But it’s not winter yet, so at least we won’t freeze. At least, we wouldn’t in Triton.
“Where are we going?” I ask eventually, when Sentin doesn’t volunteer any information.
He shoots a quick glance behind us. “Speak softly, and don’t look over your shoulder. The legionnaires are following us, but we should pretend we don’t know they’re there.”
I resist an overwhelming urge to look back at them. “Okay.”
“We’re going to find out what happened to the knights, because the swarm network has gone offline.”
“What?” A fresh chill runs down my spine. I haven’t checked whether my band is working, but if the knight’s network is down, it can’t be. “You can’t contact them? What do you think’s happened?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
“If we’re being followed, how are we going to get to the knights without the imperator knowing?”
“We’re going to the bar first, then we’ll lose them. It’s just up here.”
Sure enough, there’s a building ahead with a couple of empty tables outside on the sidewalk. A sign over the door says Have A Rusty Nail. I’m not sure if it’s the name of the bar, an invitation to try a type of drink, or a threat of violence. Maybe all three.
Inside, soft, unfamiliar music is playing. I’ve never actually been inside a bar, but this place looks a little like New Triton bars I’ve seen on the holo. It’s a medium-sized room filled with tables and chairs, and there are some booths against the wall. At the back of the room is a counter with tall stools lined up against it. A woman is wiping glasses behind the counter, presumably keeping busy seeing as she’s not serving drinks. There are less than a dozen people sitting at the tables, which doesn’t seem like many for the size of the place. I check their faces, just in case Tori’s here. A long shot, at best.
The bar is dimly lit, and small flickering lights on the tables give it a homely atmosphere. After doing a quick scan, I keep my head down so my headscarf hides my face. The people in here are ignoring us anyway, probably assuming we’re just two more regular customers.
Sentin drops my arm and walks to the counter. “Hello, Bayley.”
The woman’s eyes widen. She puts down the glass she was wiping and drops her cloth on top of it. “Sentin. You look exactly the same.” She shakes her head. “I should know by now that you always do what you say, but I didn’t think you’d actually turn up. Not after all these years.”
Then she turns her gaze to me, and frowns at the part of my face that’s showing. She’s around Sentin’s age and pretty, but in an untweaked Old Triton kind of way. Not like me. With my deep, rich chestnut skin, sleek bob, and smooth, ageless face, I must look like an alien to her.
“Who’s this?” Her eyes narrow.
“Some legionnaires are following us,” he says.
“No shit.” She’s still staring at me. “You’re from Triton?”
I nod. “My name is… Felicity. It’s nice to meet you.” It’s the first time I’ve introduced myself with the president’s first name, and it feels awkward on my tongue. Like the first time I said I was Rayne.
She doesn’t reply. Her expression isn’t hostile, but it’s guarded. I can see that she’s wondering what I’m doing here, and whether my presence will be a danger to her.
“We’re going to sit in the far booth, the one you can’t see into from outside,” says Sentin. “We’ll have a drink, make them think we’re settling in. Then, after you bring us a second one, we’ll slip out through the back door.”
Bayley tilts her head, her lips thinning. “I haven’t seen you in ten years, and instead of a proper hello, you expect me to bring you drinks, then clear a path to the back door for you? Nobody uses that door. There are boxes piled in front of it.”
“I apologize for being abrupt, but if we talk for too long, the legionnaires will realize we know each other. It’s better if that doesn’t happen.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, giving her an apologetic look. I don’t know their history, but it seems like Sentin’s asking an awful lot from her, especially seeing as she probably has plenty of reasons to hate Tritoners. And Sentin isn’t exactly asking nicely.
She shakes her head. “Same old Sentin. The years haven’t changed you a bit, have they? Fine, I’ll clear the path to the door but you have to help me move the boxes.”
“Thank you, Bayley. And please, would you serve two drinks to the booth? Give us anything, so long as they look alcoholic, but aren’t.”
Bayley shoots another narrow-eyed look at me. “Make sure you keep your face covered. I don’t want trouble.”
Sentin leads me to a booth, and we sit on either side of the table. The flickering lights I’d noticed on the tables are actually candles, nestled in glass cases.
Bayley comes over with two small glasses filled with a clear liquid, and puts them in front of us. “So, that’s it, then?” She fists her hands on her hips. “Now you want me to start clearing a path to the back door?”
“I’m sorry about the circumstances.” He hesitates. “In spite of our haste, it’s good to see you, Bayley.”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “Nice to see you too, Sentin. I only wish you were here to catch up, instead of using me to dodge some legionnaires.”
His brow creases, and his eyes are dark. He looks genuinely upset that he’s upset her. “As I said, we’re pressed for time. But here.” He digs something out of his pocket and hands it to her.
She wrinkles her nose at it like it’s nasty, and puts the object back on the table. “Keep it. I don’t actually need it. Not that you’d know how I’m doing, but I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
The thing she’s put down is a metal coin. I get a jolt of recognition. It doesn’t look exactly like the coin my father gave me before he died, but it’s close.
“I’m sorry, Bayley.” Sentin’s mouth twists, and he looks more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him. “If the legionnaires weren’t at the door, we could talk. As it is, we’ll have to save it for next time.”
“Fine.” She turns to leave, then hesitates and turns back. “On second thought, I may as well keep this. I figure I deserve it, and you don’t use money in Triton anyway, right?” She picks up the coin and tosses it in one hand. “Do you know Julius and Newport both died? I mean, not that you’ll be sad, after the way they treated you. But I thought you should know. When the wall came down, they rushed to fi
ght against the knights.”
“I didn’t know. Thank you for telling me.”
“Lots of people died, but I…” Shaking her head, she shoves both hands aggressively into the pockets of her jeans. “Like I said, they gave you no reason for you to cry for them.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” His tone is careful.
Bayley turns quickly on her heel, stalks back to the bar, and slips through a door behind it.
Sentin’s gaze drops to his drink. He studies it, his eyes distant, as if he’s too deep in thought to actually drink it. I take a sip of mine. It’s just as delicious as I’m coming to expect. In fact, it tastes a little like one of the fruits I tried.
I’m burning to know who the woman is, but instead of asking, I just give him a pointed look with my eyebrows raised. If the silence drags on for long enough, maybe he’ll get tempted to fill it.
It doesn’t work. Of course. After sipping my drink and holding in my questions for what seems like forever, I have to speak up.
“Who is she?” I ask.
He lets out a long breath. “My cousin.”
“The daughter of your father’s… brother? Sister?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’m interested in your family, and what your life was like over here.”
The flickering candle casts stark shadows on Sentin’s face, and makes his eyes even harder to read than normal. It also highlights his elegant features. I finally understand why he doesn’t look overly tweaked, because they don’t seem to have tweaking in Deiterra. But I like that his features are mostly natural. It makes me feel closer to him, somehow, even though he’s closed off and secretive.
“My life in Deiterra was difficult,” he says in his slow, precise way. “I was always regarded as a Tritoner. As a foreigner. Much the same way I was treated when I returned to Triton.”
