by Tasha Black
Aurora shook her head silently. That explained it.
Franc and Ethel thought they had been made. But Aurora knew the truth.
A local police force might head all the way to Clotho for stolen art.
But Recon Brigades had only two jobs - transporting VIPs and capturing highly dangerous criminals.
Aurora was pretty sure she knew which purpose this one served.
“Franc,” Kade said softly. “We have no idea what you’re talking about. And we would be happy to forget everything you’ve said. You and Ethel have been so kind to us. We actually just came to ask another favor.”
Franc blinked at him, and then let go of his shirt. “M-my apologies, son.”
“No, I am very sorry for knocking on your door so late in the evening,” Kade said. “I’ve gotten myself into a predicament, and I need the knowledge of someone who’s been on this moon longer than I have.”
“Well, now you know we haven’t been here that long,” Ethel said. “But we’re glad to help. Let me just bring out a plate of something.”
“I’ll help you,” Aurora offered, leaving Kade to show Franc the paper with the mysterious docking event on it.
“I’m sorry you’re on the run,” she told Ethel. “I’m, um, in a bit of hot water myself.”
“I don’t know anything about it,” Ethel said, turning away to pile doughnuts onto a platter.
“I think you do,” Aurora said quietly. “You thought you recognized me that first day we met. Did you figure out who I really am?”
Ethel put the platter down and turned to Aurora with tears in her eyes.
“I don’t care who you used to be before you came to Clotho, girl,” she said firmly. “What you are now is a good neighbor with a kind heart. The rest is none of my business.”
Who you used to be…
Aurora surprised herself by wrapping her arms around the older woman.
“What’s going on in here?” Franc bellowed happily, rounding the corner.
“Oh, just a little female bonding is all,” Ethel said, wiping away a tear. “Help us out with these doughnuts. I’m going to tend to the boy’s leg.”
“How did you know?” Kade asked.
“How did I know?” she scoffed. “Franc and I raised three strapping boys, so I’ve seen my fair share of males shuffling home, trying not to show their injuries. But you can’t nurse a piranha pig bite without antibiotics. The infection could cost you that leg. Come on into the kitchen, and let me get you patched up.”
Kade grinned at her and handed Lyra over to Aurora.
She followed Franc into the dining room, Lyra snuggling cozily into her neck.
Aurora was starting to realize that she had some friends.
Friends, and a family.
Things were looking up.
18
Kade
Kade drove the coach into town the next morning with Aurora by his side.
Lyra was in a happy mood this morning, squealing and wiggling her fingers at the birds and bugs that sailed past the coach.
She ought to be happy. She and Aurora had fallen asleep together in the big bed while he was showering last night.
So Kade had spent another night in the rocking chair, instead of the arms of his mate.
He would set that right tonight after winning the Sheriff’s Cup.
“Remember to hold your breath when you aim,” Aurora was telling him.
“Yes, I will remember,” he promised her. Of course he would remember all she had taught him. She was remarkably skilled, and he had paid close attention.
They pulled up closer to town than usual.
The streets were filled with thongs of people. There were fewer tents and stalls than before, but it seemed that at least some small portion of the population was able to pay the higher protection fee.
The idea of it upset him all over again and he had to concentrate to settle his dragon.
They got out of the coach, and he wrapped one arm around Aurora’s waist, keeping her close as they walked toward the plaza where the competition for the Cup would begin.
Several other competitors had already gathered there - a very young man who kept glancing back at a passel of kids in the crowd who must have been his younger siblings, a man big and burly enough that he must be a farmhand, and a few others who were less remarkable.
Kade paid them no mind. They wouldn’t impede him winning the cup and restoring his honor.
“Gather one, gather all competitors,” a well-dressed man was calling into a microphone.
Kade leaned down to press his lips to Aurora’s forehead and stroke Lyra’s soft cheek with his rough finger.
Then he stepped into the center of the plaza with the others.
“Calling nine, calling eight,” the announcer shouted.
Another farm hand type leapt into the center of the plaza.
Then the crowd parted and the Sheriff of Clotho Village swaggered onto the stones.
Instantly, his eyes went to Kade.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I am here to fulfill the challenge,” Kade said, wondering what was going on.
“You didn’t challenge me,” the sheriff scoffed. “She did.”
The crowd went silent as the sheriff pointed at Aurora.
Kade turned to his mate.
She looked so small with Lyra in her arms, the scarf hiding her fiery hair, skirts down modestly around her ankles.
“No,” Kade said.
“Yes,” the sheriff retorted. “Where are my witnesses?”
Out of the crowd came a gang of men in uniform, more than had been there to bear witness, more than Kade thought could possibly be necessary to keep the peace at a small-town fair.
“Don’t trouble yourself,” Aurora called out, in her bell-clear voice. “I’m coming.”
“Aurora, no,” Kade murmured to her.
“It’s better this way,” she said, handing him the baby and snatching the gun from his back to hang around hers before he knew what was happening.
“Root for mama,” she advised Lyra lightly as she jogged into the ring.
Kade was sucked into the press of the crowd as the announcer pointed to the field where a flock of wing-steeds awaited.
“Ride,” the announcer screamed.
And without any chance to debate it, the competitors were running onto the field.
Aurora was running onto the field, trying to chase down a wing-steed and ride it bareback without ever having mounted one before in her life.
Her scarf streamed out behind her as she ran, and despite the circumstances, there was a lightness in her steps that he could only have described as joyous.
Even as he feared for her safety, Kade could not help loving his mate’s bravery and wild spirit.
“She’ll be okay, baby,” he whispered reassuringly into Lyra’s soft fluff of hair.
He was speaking to the whelp, but he knew that he was really trying to convince himself.
19
Aurora
Aurora’s heart pounded as she approached the wing-steed.
While she had managed to befriend the two that pulled Kade’s coach, this bird was a stranger to her, and she didn’t have much time to earn its trust.
It had been snuffling around in the tall grasses for seeds or insects.
As she drew close, it lifted its head and shook out its feathers.
Aurora took a deep breath and pulled the last bit of cold johnnycake from her pocket.
“Hey there, beautiful one,” she greeted the creature with as much calm as she could muster. “I have a favor to ask you. Would you like to have a snack while you hear it?”
The wing-steed cocked its head to the side, as if considering, but still eyed her suspiciously.
Aurora held out the treat in her palm, wishing she had another.
The bird took one step closer, then another.
She watched the other contestants mounting the steeds across the field and memorized wh
at they were doing to get onboard without harming the creatures.
At last her own wing-steed lowered its plumed head to her hand and ate.
“Do you want your neck scratched?” Aurora offered.
The bird didn’t answer, so she eased her other hand to the place where its head met its neck and massaged the small feathers that seemed to always be itchy on birds.
It made a happy sound in its throat and leaned into her touch.
She looked up at the field before her.
Nearly everyone was already riding toward the woods.
“I need a ride,” she told the bird. “Can you help me with that?”
It blinked at her.
“Good enough,” Aurora said.
She had one chance to get this right, so she concentrated with all she had before swinging herself onto that broad back.
“Let’s go,” she murmured to the animal once she was firmly seated.
It seemed to know what that meant, because with no warning, they began hurtling across the field at top speed.
Aurora ducked her head into the wind and held on tight. The only other visible competitor was the young boy who had been looking to his brothers and sisters back at the plaza.
She was about to overtake him when his bird stopped suddenly, throwing him forward onto the grass.
His body was limp and still, and looked even smaller than before.
She looked around, but there was no one else in sight. There must not be enough referees for the Sheriff’s Cup to keep the whole game under surveillance.
“Wait,” she told her bird. “Stop.”
She barely remembered to cling to its neck before it skidded to a stop.
“I have to help him,” she told it. “Please wait for us.”
The bird made a low crooning in the back of its throat as she ran to the boy.
By the time she reached him, he was already beginning to stir.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He turned to look at her, his expression dazed.
He tried to scramble up, but his legs were wobbly.
“Don’t rush,” she scolded him as she offered him a hand. “First listen to your body. If you’re badly injured, you could make it worse by jumping up.”
“I think I’m okay,” he mumbled, clearly more embarrassed than injured.
“I can’t believe you’re competing, you must be the youngest one of the group,” Aurora said casually as she helped him up. “I think it’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. Were those your brothers and sisters back there?”
“Yes,” he said, brightening a little.
“They really look up to you,” she said.
“They won’t after this,” he said darkly.
“They won’t know about this part,” she said. “We just have to catch the others.”
“They’re too far ahead,” he said. “It’s hopeless.”
“Isn’t sharpshooting next?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s my thing.”
“Mine too,” she said. “We’ll make up time there.”
“Thanks,” he said, grinning. “I’m Dal.”
“Aurora,” she said offering her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” he said, shaking her hand firmly. “Let’s get out of here.”
She watched as he boarded his wing-steed.
Once he was moving again, she turned to her own.
“Want to keep going?” she asked.
It lowered its head as if to make it easy for her to mount, so she leaped onto its back and they took off again.
Though she knew realistically she could never make up the time she had just lost, at least she knew the boy was okay.
And secretly, she was glad to be competing.
While Kade would have needed to win, she had a different plan. The best way to appease someone like the sheriff wasn’t to win.
She needed to make him think she wanted to win, and then make sure he beat her, barely. That was the way to put him in a good mood, the way to earn back the ability for the farmers in the market to make a living.
Kade had his honor, and she respected him for it. But honor was too costly for newcomers in a place like Clotho.
As much as Aurora liked her plan, it would only work if she came close to beating the sheriff. And right now, that seemed like a pipe dream.
She lowered her head and rode on, determined to make up as much ground as possible. Before long, the shade of the trees embraced them. The dark forest was cooler than the meadow. The wing-steed ruffled its feathers as if to protest the lack of warm sunlight.
“Can’t be too much longer now,” Aurora assured the beast, though in truth she had no idea how long it would be, or even where they were going.
If it weren’t for the bird, she wouldn’t even have the means to follow the others. She patted its soft feathery back in thanks.
A few moments later, the trees thinned and then opened into a large clearing. Other competitors were already shooting at moving targets on the other side of the clearing.
She watched them as she dismounted and caught on to what was happening. It seemed like the only way to advance to the next round was to hit all three of your targets.
“Thank you,” she told the bird as she pulled her weapon off her back.
The creature gave her a gentle head butt between the shoulder blades as she walked away that caused her to stumble slightly.
“Hey, watch where you’re going,” the enormous, burly man from the plaza yelled as she bumped his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Oh, no worries, madam,” he said, looking mortified as he turned to her.
She rolled her eyes and headed for the field.
The boy, Dal, was there already. He had managed to hit one of his targets, and was looking decidedly cheerful.
Aurora moved to an empty space and lifted her weapon.
As far as she could tell, the targets were just robotic drones. Each player had a slightly different color to shoot for. Hers were purple.
She lifted her weapon to her shoulder and took aim at the first one.
When her heartbeat was a slow lob, she fixed one of the purple things with her mind.
It darted back and forth as if it had forgotten something.
She memorized its movement, which was jerky and random in direction, but not really in distance.
She would have to guess at its destination but could predict how far it would travel in each burst of movement.
She held her breath and pulled the trigger once.
No luck.
On her second try, she downed it.
“Nice,” Dal called to her.
She nodded to him and winked.
Several more tries and her second target was down, too.
She really was making up lost ground - most of the competitors were still struggling to hit their first.
“Hot damn, young lady,” the beefy farmhand said appreciatively.
She grinned and nodded her acknowledgement. She was about to take aim for the third when someone began loudly cursing at the other end of the clearing.
The sheriff.
She tried to figure out which targets were his without being too obvious about it.
It looked like red, and if that was the case, she had a problem on her hands.
He had been here easily three times as long as she had and only one of his targets was hit.
She took a deep breath and thought it through.
She would just have to kill a little time.
She scolded her weapon as if it had malfunctioned, and unloaded it to take it apart.
“Giving you trouble, eh?” the farmhand wanted to know.
“She’s a little finicky from time to time,” Aurora said, inwardly apologizing to her weapon, which was never less than one hundred percent accurate. “Best to give her a quick clean.”
“Mm,” the farmhand grunted in agreement.
She
drew out the process as long as she could, but even after she put the thing back together and reloaded, the sheriff was still cursing and trying to hit his target.
Dal had moved on to the next event and so had the farmhand, when the sheriff finally took his second target.
Thankfully, the others were having trouble, too. She and the sheriff could catch Dal and the farmhand if they were quick.
Without letting herself stop too long to think about it, she took aim for the last red target the next time the sheriff aimed.
They shot at the same time and her bullet knocked his target out of the air.
“Yes,” he roared from his side of the field.
She sighed in relief that she hadn’t been caught.
Then she took out her last target and headed for her wing-steed, trying not to think about the next event.
Franc and Ethel had explained that Docking was in reference to the docks on the lake.
The Docking event was entirely based around water.
And Aurora had been raised on an arid planet.
She didn’t know how to swim. She’d never even seen enough water in one place to swim in before arriving on Clotho.
20
Aurora
Aurora clung to the wing-steed as they sailed toward the glassy surface of the lake.
The crowd had gathered by the shores, excited to see the last leg of the tournament.
She spotted Dal and the burly farmhand, both pulling some strange, scaled-looking gear from their rucksacks.
“Aurora!” Kade’s voice carried to her through the crowd.
She dismounted and patted the bird’s soft feathers in farewell, then turned to find him.
“You can’t do this, Aurora,” Kade told her.
“Who has Lyra?” she asked, shocked to see the big man without the baby.
“Ethel,” he said. “She took her so I could come after you. They will be waiting for us at the finish.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I’m here to tell you it’s time to stop, Aurora,” he said, looking out over the water. “This is too dangerous. Do you even know how to swim?”
“I’ll figure it out,” Aurora said with more confidence than she felt.
