“About what?” Dex pressed.
“I...” Valen paused, growing frustrated as he remembered the interrogations. “None of it made any sense.”
“Can you elaborate? Can you give us any information you may have come across about Queen Nor?”
Valen felt the change in his chest.
Like something suddenly broke, or slipped loose.
He felt the rage unlock inside him. And this time, he didn’t try to control it.
He simply got up and left the group behind as quickly as he could.
Chapter Fifty-Three
* * *
ANDROMA
AFTER VALEN’S ABRUPT departure from their quarters, Andi left her crew to prepare for Revalia while she tracked him down. She knew that being alone with him might not be the best idea, but she had to find him. Make sure he was safe.
He wasn’t in his room. She’d scoured Alara’s fortress, determined to find him. Everywhere she looked, from the many scattered balconies to the mountaintop temple to the steaming, fragrant kitchens deep in the bedrock, she was met with wide-eyed workers with no recollection of seeing Valen.
Even a little rusting sweeper droid, its arms replaced with dusty brooms, had simply turned away when she’d asked it about Valen, wheels squeaking as it disappeared around a corner.
“Thanks for the help,” Andi muttered.
Valen was gone, disappeared without a trace.
Andi’s worries intensified.
It wasn’t that she cared about him, specifically. Clearly, he didn’t care a bit for the likes of her. It was that she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if the general got word she’d lost his son, he’d have her head.
And every member of her crew’s, as well.
Valen was a prize worth thousands of Krevs, a lifetime of freedom from the law and all the mistakes she’d made as a Spectre.
Fuming, Andi stomped her way down the twisting, narrow halls in the carved-out mountain, heading downward to the ground-level exit.
She quickly patched in a message to the girls’ channels.
Going outside. Still haven’t found him. Might need your help looking.
Gilly’s response was instantaneous.
Havoc + Me. On it.
“She’s not bringing that damned fuzzball on my ship,” Andi muttered under her breath as she blinked the message away and slipped outside, walking past two Sentinels stationed by the massive wooden exit doors.
Adhira had taken on an entirely new shape in the darkness.
She walked down the hillside, her boots leaving rocky mountain terrain behind, suddenly landing on the lush edges of Aramaeia.
The terraformed quadrant was so odd. So beautiful. Massive tree trunks as large as buildings stood like sentries around her. The farther she walked, the more the undergrowth began to take over the ground—strange, fernlike plants with jagged leaves, green melding into purple ends that gently swept across her calves.
Andi looked up, craning her neck to see into the canopy. It was magnificent tonight, the sky like a painted ceiling, the wink of distant planets and moons glowing in otherworldly shades through the darkness. Every so often, a blazing ball of fire shot past overhead—a meteor, falling through the sky. The air was comfortably cool, enough to fill her chest with a spark of life, and when the wind blew, the leaves on the trees seemed to whisper overhead, then tumbled down like a colorful rain, twisting and dancing as they neared the ground.
Andi felt herself relaxing as another meteor shimmered past and faded behind the treetops.
It was the perfect view for a painter, were it not blocked by leaves the size of her head. At that thought, a hunch tugged at Andi’s mind.
Valen would be somewhere with a full, unobstructed view of this. Somewhere that made him feel closer to who he used to be. Somewhere that made him feel closer to Kalee.
At the thought of her old friend and charge, a little pang snipped at Andi’s gut.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and Andi whirled, reaching for her swords.
Lira’s twin brother stood there, bare chested and beautiful. His blue eyes locked on hers.
“Exploring?” Lon asked. “The rainforest is dangerous after the sun goes down.”
Andi lowered her arms and crossed them over her chest, her cuffs cool on her skin. “I’m not worried.”
Lon looked so much like Lira that Andi felt herself staring. “You may be a skilled fighter in the skies, but this is Adhira.”
Andi sighed. “So you’re here to escort me back to the mountain?”
Lon shifted on his bare feet. Another thing he shared with Lira—a hatred for the confinement of boots. “I’m actually here to help you. I saw where he went.”
“Yeah?” Andi ran her fingertips across a fern leaf. It shivered and curled inward, away from her touch, as if it were sentient. “Nobody else saw him pass by. It’s like no one pays attention around here. They go about their lives, gliding about, smiling like everything is always okay.”
“Maybe you should spend a little more time on Adhira,” Lon said. Then he chuckled when Andi scowled at him. “I see where Lira learned that expression.”
“She’s learned a lot of things on my ship.”
“Like how to lose control of her emotions and nearly die while crash-landing a glass starship?” Lon asked. His words weren’t acidic. They simply...were.
“It’s varillium,” Andi said. “Something you would know if you took any interest in Lira’s passions.” She sighed. “I don’t have time to argue about Lira. If you would excuse me, I have a general’s lost son to recover.”
She turned, heading into the sea of ferns without a word, happy to leave him behind.
But Lon was soon at her side again, silent on his feet as he said, “Not that way. Follow me.”
He headed off into the darkness, and Andi followed reluctantly, yet she was also grateful to have a guide—even if he did seem to have a grudge against Andi and the girls.
“There’s something strange about him,” Lon said as he held aside a massive, spiked plant so Andi could pass unscathed. Behind it, a trampled path led deeper into the trees. “Something I don’t quite like. Especially since he’s been on a ship with my sister.”
“Lira is capable of defending herself,” Andi said. “She loves what she does, you know. And we love her, too. We’re a family, all of us on the Marauder.”
“Family?” Lon asked, a bit of heat creeping into his voice. “Has she spoken to you about what her real family...what my aunt...has planned for her?”
“No one plans anything for Lira,” Andi said. “You and Alara shouldn’t, either.”
Lon sighed. “So she hasn’t told you, then.”
For an Adhiran, he sure was making a valiant effort at getting under her skin. “She’ll speak to me about it when she’s ready.”
“And if you don’t like what she has to tell you?” He pointed a long finger ahead. “Take a left here.”
They followed a fork in the path, heading deeper into the rainforest.
Andi mulled this over in her mind. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not here to anger you, Androma.” Lon said, stepping over a small stream that ran through the path. “I’m simply making sure that when my sister speaks to you about her conversation with my aunt, you’ll help Lira see what is best for her.”
Andi stiffened. Whatever Lira had debated sharing with the girls earlier, it was deep. Enough to make her pilot sad in a way Andi had never seen. Enough to make her hide her words, when Andi had offered her a chance to share them openly.
Was she going to leave the crew?
No.
Andi refused to think it. Lira would never leave the Marauders. Especially not now.
“Whatever it is that you’re getting at, Lon,” Andi said, stopping to fa
ce him, “I hope you know that I love Lira as if she were my sister. Whatever she has to tell me, I will listen with an open mind and heart.”
“And you will not try to sway her decision?”
Andi laughed at that. “No one sways Lirana Mette.”
He smiled at that, a look that again reminded Andi so much of her Second.
“She’s a great pilot,” Andi said. “She loves her life, up there in the stars.”
Lon nodded. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” He stared ahead at the path as it curved again. “Go a bit farther. Valen is up ahead, at the stream.”
“Thank you.”
“I will be here waiting, should you need assistance.” He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Lira’s orders.”
“Of course.”
Andi walked down the path that soon opened wide, revealing a clearing with a stream running through it, moonflowers blooming in the darkness, some of them glowing as if made of strands of sunlight.
In the distance, Andi could hear the faint string music of a sumdrel floating in the wind from a nearby village. Revalia was already beginning, the start of a wild, carefree night.
Andi scanned the clearing, eyes finally settling on a figure who sat alone on a large rock by the water. She practically slumped to the ground with relief.
From here, he looked peaceful, as if he hadn’t a care in all the world.
He sat with his head bowed, his skin aglow from the flowers and a steady beam of moonlight that lit the water nearby. He was drawing something in the wet mud on the bank of the stream, his hands moving effortlessly as if the stick were a paintbrush, the mud a fresh canvas. Andi approached slowly, hoping for a glimpse of his art. But she didn’t get to see what it was before he turned at the sound of her footsteps. His face was unreadable.
“Andi,” he said softly. “How did you find me?”
She took another step forward, approaching him slowly. Half of her wanted him to keep spouting painful words, tearing at the scabs on her heart until they ripped open, and the truth of the past bled out.
The other half was relieved that he now seemed so much calmer in her presence.
“A Sentinel saw you leave,” she said. “Thought I’d check in to see if you were alright.” She paused, waiting for a response he didn’t give. “We need to head back to Rhymore.”
She started to turn, but he stopped her.
“No, wait.” His voice sounded pained, but then he swallowed and nodded. “I...need a few more minutes. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the outside.”
In all the years they’d known each other, this was perhaps the only time they’d ever been alone. Andi was acutely aware of that as she slowly walked forward and settled down next to him, a full arm’s length away.
They sat in silence. The stream burbled cheerfully. Every few seconds, Andi heard the telltale swish of a tail flicking out of the water.
She remembered, with a sad smile, the times she’d tried to catch fish with her bare hands on Uulveca. How hopeless she’d felt, ten times larger and stronger than any animal beneath the surface, yet still incapable of catching one to feed herself with.
If Dex hadn’t given her a meal, she might not be alive today.
Valen shifted beside her, his clothing rustling, and she got a whiff of his scent. Not fresh paint, like she remembered, but not the rotten smell he’d had on Lunamere, either.
It was fresh and cool, like the air around them, like the strangely comfortable silence they shared.
Who was going to speak first? She couldn’t imagine it would be her, because what would she say?
I’m sorry I killed your sister.
She noticed in her peripheral vision that Valen was drawing in the mud again. Peering over, she finally got a good look at what he was sketching. It was a woman, a crown atop her head and hair swaying in the phantom wind.
“Who is she?” Andi asked.
“No one.”
His voice was bored as he said it. And yet his eyes, so much more haunted than the eyes Andi remembered, did not look away from the image in the mud.
The silence swept over them again. Andi tried to find a middle ground between the two of them. A safe topic to discuss. She knew he must hate her, but found herself desperately wanting to mend this bridge between them—and hoping he wouldn’t try to jab that stick in her heart.
“I remember your paintings,” she offered. “Your mother used to hang them up all over the estate. My favorite was the one you painted of the waterfall falling off the gravarocks.” She could still picture the unique hues of green, blue and yellow he’d used. The gravarocks were Arcardius’s most unique feature—large mounds of earth floating in thin air, as if they’d been magicked to stay aloft. Valen had managed to capture their beauty in a whole new way, making them even more captivating than they already were. “You were always so talented with art.”
“When I was locked up, I almost forgot what colors looked like,” he said, lazily brushing the stick back and forth against the mud. “Did you know that black is more than just a single shade?”
He turned and raised a brow at her, his eyes full of a meaning that Andi couldn’t interpret.
She shrugged. “It all looks the same to me.”
Valen leaned back onto his elbows, peering up at the night sky. “There’s a million colors up there. A million shades all mixed together. When you look at the world in more than just black-and-white, you begin to notice them.” He sighed and shook his head. “In Lunamere...I lost even that ability.”
She didn’t know what to say, worried she might set him off if she dug too deep.
“I hated you for a very long time,” he said.
There it was.
That pang of guilt again in her gut, and with it, the sick satisfaction that she was finally getting what she deserved. She’d heard these words from General Cortas and his wife, but never from Valen.
After the accident, he’d never shown himself to her again.
“You took away the most beautiful thing in my life,” Valen whispered. “Kalee was the only person in my life who was true.” He swallowed hard, as if he had bits of broken glass in his throat. “I know that we have a bad past, Androma. There are things you did, choices you made, that I’m not sure I can ever forgive you for.”
“I don’t expect you to,” she said.
He closed his eyes and breathed deep. “But I can never forgive myself, either, for being a part of those choices.”
Andi kept her face calm, her body motionless, too afraid to reveal the shock she felt racing through her at his words. Her earlier accusation must have struck him deeply for Valen to say such things.
She wanted to look into his eyes, to see her own pain mirrored there. Instead, she stared up at the starlit sky, waiting for him to continue.
Valen shifted beside her again. “I could have stopped you that night. I should have stopped you. But instead, I stood there frozen, watching the two of you walk up that staircase without me. I blamed you, for the longest time, for killing her.”
Another stab of pain in Andi’s heart.
Stupid, foolish, feeling thing. She wanted to tear it from her chest.
“In Lunamere, I had nothing to keep me company but my pain and my thoughts. I had lots of time to think about that night, and everything leading up to it. Time to realize that we were raised in a society where perfection is the only option. But that doesn’t mean it’s always possible. We all made bad choices that night, not just you. She got on that transport herself. And I chose to stay behind.”
Andi wanted to speak, but she feared it would shatter this strange, heart-wrenching moment they had somehow found themselves in.
“What I’m trying to say is, I’ve held on to my hatred of you for too long. And while I can’t ever truly forget what you did...I know that you didn’t do it alone. We
all had a hand in that night.” His shoulders bowed as he said the next words. “Even Kalee.”
She had never been sure if the Godstars were truly real. But right now, in this moment, she could almost feel their presence. A soft, calming sense that replaced the dread that had weighed her down since they’d rescued Valen.
“I’m sorry,” Andi whispered. That horrible, hellish pain in her chest returned, bubbling up into her throat. She swallowed it down, forced herself to stay in control. “I knew I shouldn’t take her. Several times I felt this little whisper telling me not to do it. But she was so insistent. I just wanted to make her happy on her birthday. Did you know your father hardly spoke to her that entire day?”
Valen huffed out a breath. “My father,” he said bitterly.
“But that night? Everything was perfect. We were having so much fun, and Kalee was laughing, and it was the most beautiful evening, Valen. The stars were practically alive. And then the wind picked up and I just...lost control.”
She could still remember the empty sky before her.
Then the lurching of the transport. The crash as the wing clipped the mountainside. The tumble down to the ground.
“I wish I had died with her,” Andi confessed.
“I wish I had died, too,” Valen said.
She nodded, staring out at the moonflowers, marveling at how they looked like little delicate flames, dancing in the wind.
“Without Kalee...” Andi began, finally voicing the realization she’d come to terms with these past few days. “Without Kalee, there wouldn’t have been a sentence for me to run from. And without that running, I never would have found Dex. And without him...”
“You wouldn’t be the Bloody Baroness,” Valen finished for her. “My father would not have hired you.”
It was a vicious cycle, one that Andi wished she could have undone before it had ever started. But it was her story. Her life.
And it was her burden to bear.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “Truly sorry, Valen.”
For everything, she thought. Even me.
Zenith Page 29
