Shattered Stars

by Theresa Kay

  Who is that guy? I ask. He looks familiar.

  Lir’s words pulse with anger. That is Adviser Brin. He is the one who took your brother from the clearing and left me behind to die.

  Brin’s silver eyes fall on me, pause, and widen. A sly glint enters their metallic depths, and a self-satisfied smirk curls his lips.

  Something is wrong here. Something big. All of a sudden this feels very much like a trap—one we have no choice but to walk into.

  THE NEW COUNCIL ROOM IS similar to the old one: an indoor amphitheater with staggered seating in a circular formation and a large rectangular dais at the bottom. Four of the Vi’askari break off from our group and head to the top level while Kai and Miri lead the rest of us downward.

  My stomach churns at the memory of the first time I stood before the Council, the first time I faced off with Vitrad. And lost. Badly. A shudder runs through me, and I close my eyes for a moment to clear my thoughts and get my breathing under control.

  I can do this.

  Vitrad, Rym, and Trel find seats at one of the two tables on the dais, and Kai and Miri move into a recessed alcove behind the Linauds. Lir leads me to the other table and moves to pull out a chair, but a hand grabs his arm. Brin. Silver eyes flashing with hateful glee, he shakes his head and says something in the E’rikon language.

  Lir pulls himself up to his full height, shoulders back and chin tilted upward. “Brin, you know as well as I do that these seats have belonged to the Vestra family for generations. I have been absent, but I will be taking my rightful place now. I believe that you will find my uncle’s previous—”

  “Steliro.” Vitrad’s voice is sharp, but without inflection. “Come, sit with me. Chancellor Brin—”

  Lir jolts and spins toward his uncle. A simmering rage crashes through the bond as he hisses something through his teeth.

  Vitrad’s mouth tightens, and he gives a single brisk shake of his head. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes convey a pretty clear message: Shut up and get over here.

  Lir narrows his emerald eyes at Brin and then his uncle before tensing his jaw and striding to his uncle’s side with me in tow. He pulls out a chair for me, then takes the chair next to mine and leans forward with his elbows on the table and his hands steepled in front of him. He’s pointedly ignoring his uncle beside him.

  Vitrad catches my eye. His brow furrows, and there’s a whisper in the back of my mind. I guess Rym mentioned he’d been able to chat with me but… nope. I’m not letting him in my head. I shove away the tendrils tickling at my mind.

  Vitrad grunts, and his chair bumps backward an inch or two. The look he gives me may be a pissed-off one, but there’s interest in it too, as if he’s intrigued by what happened. Considering I have no idea what I did, the way he’s studying me makes unease twist in my stomach. I was, at best, a curiosity to him before. Now… I don’t know.

  More E’rikon file in through the two doors at the middle level on either side of the room. As they take their seats, many of them regard Vitrad with shocked suspicion—and Lir with open hatred.

  My alien boy ignores them, staring down at his hands on the table before him, his muscles stiff and his jaw twitching. He swallows and takes a deep breath as he fights an internal battle between fear and rage. I brush my leg against his in a subtle show of support, and some of his tension trickles away.

  The room may be similar, but this is a very different type of meeting—and a very different Council—than the last time I was here. For one, they spoke in English before, but now all I hear is the E’rikon language. How can I help Lir bargain or ask for anything here? It seems as if they’ve already written him off. And strangely enough, it doesn’t appear as if Vitrad is particularly well-liked either. If he hasn’t been attending meetings, how much sway can he possibly hold?

  It could be worse, I suppose. I could be flipping out, or losing control of my abilities and blasting everyone. There was a time when the idea of being around this many people would have sent me into a panic attack, so it says a lot that I’m able to keep my head even while this combination of memories and a pervasive sense of unease floods through me.

  Brin’s voice pulls my attention back to the center of the room where the silver-haired E’rikon is now standing and addressing those in the seats along the walls. I fold my hands in my lap and try to pick up on what he’s saying by his body language. I don’t have much luck.

  Brin’s speech is slow, but heated with an undercurrent of anger. The E’rikon around the room are nodding in what looks like agreement, while Vitrad is leaning back in his chair with a somewhat bored expression. Lir straightens and removes his elbows from the table. There’s still nervousness in him, but it’s gradually being overcome by a slow burning fury as he glares at Brin.

  Vitrad presses his lips together and tries to get Lir’s attention with a few side-eyed glances. No luck. Finally he sighs noisily and rises to his feet, interrupting whatever monologue Brin has going on. “I would respectfully request we hold these proceedings in the human tongue out of courtesy for my nephew’s bondmate,” he says in a bored monotone.

  Is he… defending me? I don’t know who’s more shocked: me, Lir, or everyone else in the room. Even Trel looks up at her father with her mouth hanging open. I guess I know now why they spoke English the last time I was here. Lir—or maybe Stellan?—must have requested it.

  “We shall certainly respect your request, Vitrad.” Brin lowers his chin and sweeps an arm outward.

  Something in his careful selection of words—or in his eyes—sends alarm splashing through me. My breath catches and my palms go sweaty. That feeling from before—like this was some sort of setup, like everyone else knows something I don’t and is waiting for me to fall on my face—is back with a vengeance. Maybe this doesn’t feel so different from that other Council meeting after all. That one was a trap too.

  Brin continues. “I am happy to extend this courtesy to our guests.”

  The air in the room presses down on me, heavy with anticipation and uncertainty, as Brin directs his gaze to me with a subtle smile on his lips. It’s clear he’s expecting my question.

  “Guests?” I ask, drawing out the ‘s’ to emphasize it, knowing damn well I should be the only person here who doesn’t understand the E’rikon language.

  A full smile breaks across Brin’s face, and he looks at me like I’m some kind of dog who did a trick on command. I want to hit him. Badly. His hand comes up, and he twitches two fingers toward his palm while keeping his eyes glued to me.

  To see my reaction.

  And he gets one. My eyes widen, my stomach drops, and I have to swallow back the cry of outrage trying to work its way up my throat as Gavin, Harrison, and the two other men are half-shoved through one of the doorways. Four E’rikon follow close behind and herd them down the stairs toward the dais.

  Lir jolts beside me and leaps to his feet. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Vitrad pulls Lir back down and makes a slicing motion with his hand under the table.

  “This?” Brin blinks twice and smiles as the group of wary humans and sneering E’rikon reaches the outer edge of the dais. “I might ask you the same question. These humans were found with a stolen E’rikon ship just outside the barrier. And they were armed. One of them told the askari who captured them that they were here as part of your… delegation? That you had returned to finalize the alliance between our two species.” He surveys the room slowly before turning back to Lir. “I was not aware of any alliance. Or that you were in any position to broker one.”

  Gavin winces, and the two guys sent by General Carter narrow their eyes in suspicion.

  Well, I guess that secret’s out. Isn’t that great.

  “Peachy,” mutters Lir under his breath.

  I crack a smile, but it’s quickly washed away as Brin’s gaze finds mine again.

  “I am aware of your claimed heritage, but would you care to inform me how the humans came to believe that either of you spoke for
any of us?”

  Another E’rikon in one of the back rows stands and says something in their language. She’s joined by five or six others, all of them rising to their feet and speaking in raised voices.

  Vitrad, who’s been sitting silently, slams a hand down on the table. “Quiet!” His hardgolden eyes scan the crowd of E’rikon. “I gave my nephew that authority.”

  What? I mean, it’s about time Vitrad did something, but this was not what I expected at all.

  Vitrad sends me a look I can’t interpret and rises to his feet. “Due to my recent illness, I have been neglecting my duties.” His lips curl with distaste. “That has never been more clear than right now. You are not in charge here, Brin, and whatever you hoped to achieve with this little demonstration of yours, you have failed.”

  All it takes is a sharp look and a curt nod from Vitrad, and the askari holding Gavin and the other men release their holds and step back to line the wall opposite the Vi’askari. Brin’s expression hardens, and he steps toward Vitrad, his eyes flashing with anger. The Vi’askari step forward, but Vitrad lifts a hand signaling them to stay where they are. With only those subtle gestures, Vitrad has demonstrated his control of the askari to the entire room. An intense staring contest commences between Vitrad and Brin—ending in Brin storming back to his table and taking a seat.

  I can almost feel the power shift.

  Vitrad steps out into the space between the two tables. He clasps his hands behind his back and paces back and forth, maintaining eye contact with the E’rikon gathered around the room. “I will first address what Chancellor Brin called my nephew’s bondmate’s ‘claimed heritage.’ She is all that she has claimed—a human-E’rikon hybrid—and more.” He turns back to me with raised brows. “She is the granddaughter of Jastren Reva.”

  Voices break out around the room, both in English and in E’rikon, some scared, some confused, and many, many outraged. What the hell does Vitrad think he’s doing? And why?

  When I make no move to respond, frustration flashes across his face. “We all know what the Reva enhancement is and what it can do. And we know that we stripped him of that enhancement even before the Exodus. What you do not know is that Jastren found a way around the emhasin. Worse, his shikiza appears to be much stronger than it was before—with stronger effects on both the bearer and those he chooses to use it on.”

  He makes a subtle gesture toward his own chest. Murmurs fill the room, and Vitrad holds up his hands and makes a calming gesture.

  “Jastren Reva has fooled many of us, and he is a threat to all of us, but my nephew’s bondmate is on our side. She is here as an emissary from the humans, just as I sent my nephew to be an emissary for us.”

  My head is spinning trying to follow where this is going, and Lir is radiating his own confusion. I glance at Rym, who just shrugs. Is this another power play? I’m pretty sure Vitrad wants the E’rikon to think everything is under his control and orchestrated by him… but why? To validate Lir’s actions in the eyes of the E’rikon? But why not just tell them the truth? He pretty much admitted he was under Jastren’s control at some point, so why carry on the charade that an alliance with the humans was his idea? Because he wants to take credit?

  Because admitting the truth would require him to admit to the more… unsavory things he did to me—and that would show weakness, says Lir in a tightly controlled voice that’s flooded with loathing. This way he redeems me to the Council without losing anything himself.

  Why does he keep looking at me?

  Lir shrugs. Perhaps he expects you to back up his story?

  But I don’t even know what his story is. I’m more liable to screw things up.

  Another shrug. I did not say it was a logical idea on his part.

  A soft chuckle escapes my mouth. I’m not cut out for this. At all. Vitrad is playing a game I don’t know the rules to, and one I don’t have the option of losing.

  Lir nudges me with an elbow. He has invited you to speak. You should go up there.

  “Huh?” My head jerks up to find Vitrad and every other E’rikon in the room staring at me expectantly. I turn wide-eyed to Lir, but all he does is helplessly nod while offering me a nervous smile.

  I’ll do my best to assist you, he says. But I’m not certain what my uncle’s… game is either.

  Crap. I stand up. Time to put my non-existent public speaking skills to use I guess. Shaky legs carry me across the dais to stand beside Vitrad, where I look out at the crowd with a forced smile.

  My mind races through options as I stand there desperately searching for the right words. I finally settle on starting with a brief introduction, but before I can get out so much as a “hello,” a high-pitched noise needles into my mind, growing louder and louder until it’s screamingly painful. My palms fly up to the sides of my head. Through eyes watering in pain I see I’m not the only one affected by whatever this is. The E’rikon around me are pressing their hands to their heads in a similar fashion. Some fall from their chairs, and Vitrad crumples to the floor.

  It’s all too much. I close my eyes and dig my fingers into my temples. Ithurts. Ithurts. Ithurts.

  The noise amps up to a screeching wave of sound, pushing me to my knees. Blood drips from my nose. My lungs struggle to pull in air. I can’t breathe.

  And then, as quickly as it started, the strange noise stops. But the echo of it remains, like the throbbing after the initial pain of an injury.

  Blissfully cool air floods into my body in shuddering bursts. The room spins around me, and it’s all I can do to stay upright and breathing. There’s a hand on my shoulder, shaking it gently, and a voice peppers me with an endless stream of questions I don’t have the mental capacity to answer.

  “Jax? Can you hear me? Are you okay? What’s going on? Jax?” The shaking stops. “You weren’t affected?” A pause. “Yeah, she’s still awake. Maybe you can do something.”

  New hands on my shoulders. Someone kneels in front of me. Familiar green-gold eyes come into view, and my hands fly out to land on his shoulders, to anchor myself, to keep myself from drowning in the whirlpool of panic and pain still trying to pull me under.

  Warmth floods through our connection, washing away the edges of the panic and allowing the world to come back into focus. I release Lir’s shoulders and lean into him. His arms wrap around me, holding me so tightly against his chest that I can feel his racing heartbeat.

  “What happened?” I ask in a pained whisper.

  He shakes his head. “I have no idea. But this is not good.”

  ANOTHER METAL TRAY SCRAPES ACROSS the floor as it’s pushed through the slot in the door. I wait until the footsteps recede before scarfing down the dry bread and lumpy soup. It’s bland and tasteless, but I’m going to need my strength if I want to get out of here. And I have to get out of here.

  I’m covered in sweat and filth and blood and my head still aches, but my mind is… present. More so than it’s been in I don’t know how long. I’m not sure if that’s because Grandfather has been conspicuously absent from my head for a while or what, but I’ll enjoy the reprieve while I can.

  And hopefully make some use of it.

  Whatever has Grandfather’s attention right now, it isn’t me. I try not to think about what else it could be. The kid’s face flashes through my head and I flinch. God, I hope it’s not him.

  Of course, Grandfather would have to be awfully far away to go after the kid…

  Guilt slams into me. How can I wish his manipulations on a child?

  The food sits like a rock in my stomach, glued together with guilt and self-hatred. No matter how awful it makes me feel, no matter how awful it makes me, I can’t stop that tiny part of me that doesn’t give a damn where Grandfather is, as long as he’s not here. There must be some limit on Grandfather’s range, and if I can get beyond it… maybe I have a chance.

  Not that I deserve one.

  At that thought, the memories attack. I pull my legs up to my chest and rest my forehead on my kne
es as I try to navigate the rapid stream of pain, hate, and despair without being pulled under. Flint’s face, his eyes, his blood… everything about him plays out behind my eyes. Over and over and over again.

  Just put me out of my goddamn misery already!

  My fist flies into the wall, and the ache in my bruised and bloodied knuckles finally allows me to pull my mind from the whirlpool of images. A slow, deep breath fills my lungs. Too bad it’s not that easy to fill the dark and gaping hole inside me, that raw and aching emptiness that threatens to consume me with every beat of my heart.

  Who am I kidding? I’m never getting out of here. The best I can hope for is… what?

  Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

  My fingers twine through my hair, and I shake my head, my heartbeat pounding in my ears and my breaths coming fast and hard.

  I can’t let it get to me. I can’t let him win.

  I won’t let him win.

  I won’t.

  I won’t.

  I won’t.

  As I jump to my feet, two clumps of hair slip from my fingers and hit the floor in small puddles almost the color of blood. I pace to the other side of the room, the air stirred in my wake dispersing the not-quite puddles of not-quite blood until it’s like they were never there. So much easier to clean than real blood. I shudder and wipe my hands briskly against my pants. Real blood never comes off.

  Now, to the task at hand… How do I get out of here?

  My eyes dart around the room. Nothing. Nothing. No way out. I’m panting so hard black spots are forming at the edges of my vision, and I have to force myself to slow down. Passing out—again—won’t do me any good.

  Peter! The memory of his presence is like a flash of lightning. He’s here. He can help. I just have to get to him… There’s only a wall between us. How thick could it be? Maybe I could…

  I eye my knuckles. No. I’m strong, but not that strong.