Between Frost and Fury

by Chani Lynn Feener

  It was hard to breathe, even harder to think coherently, with him so near.

  “Of course we were going to retaliate once we discovered the truth, Delaney,” he continued. “My father has his limits, and being manipulated the way that he was crossed a line. Peace was over the second you stepped foot on that ship with the Ander.”

  So the Rex, the king of the Kints, had ordered an attack on Vakar, even after everything she had gone through to prevent it. Guilt and frustration assaulted her, and she struggled to maintain an even tone when she spoke.

  “How does killing Magnus Ond and taking his family hostage help you?”

  She hadn’t exactly been fond of the Basileus, but he hadn’t deserved to die, either. Everything he’d done, he’d done for the same reasons that Delaney herself had. He’d been trying to protect his people.

  “The Kints have taken temporary control—” he began, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

  “No, I’m not asking how it helps the Kints, Trystan.” She licked her lips, bracing herself. “I’m asking how it helps you?” Because there was no good reason for her to be here if there wasn’t some hidden agenda that benefited him specifically.

  “I’ve taken temporary control of Vakar,” he said, not even bothering to hide the partial smirk now. “It took some convincing, but my father, who wanted to destroy the entire Ond family outright, saw my reasoning. We don’t need to annihilate the Vakar when we can add them to our forces instead. Soon the control I hold over them will be official and permanent. All I have to do is marry the Uprisen heir to the Vakar throne.”

  It was the ease with which he said it that had her hackles rising. He’d always spoken about his and Olena’s joining with derision. Just now there’d been something else in his tone.

  “The Basilissa would do anything to spare her daughter’s life.” He eased even closer, sliding his arms against the wall to trap her head between them. “Including agree to all my terms. Amazing, really, that there was even a single person alive who cared enough about Olena to make sacrifices for her. And Tilda made many sacrifices, not just for herself.”

  Delaney gulped. “That’s how you found out my name.”

  She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. Maybe he wouldn’t lie, but he certainly didn’t have a problem withholding.

  “The Uprising is an extremely traditional ceremony,” he said. “It has determined the next in line for both the Vakar and Kint thrones almost since the beginning of our civilization. The law clearly states that only someone Uprisen can succeed the previous ruler.”

  Delaney still wasn’t following, until he lifted her right arm, pinning it next to her head. When he motioned with his chin, she glanced over and her breath caught.

  The dime-sized tattoo, a small, glittery green V on her forearm at the curve of her elbow, winked back at her in the overhead lights. She may have looked like Olena to everyone during the actual ceremony, but it had been Delaney’s body going through the process. She’d been the one branded.

  She’d always intended to get rid of it, cover it up, but she’d been so distracted acclimating to life with Ruckus, she’d put it off.

  “No.” The word shot out before she even realized she’d spoken.

  “Yes.” There was no room for argument in his eyes, but of course she did anyway.

  “I’m not from Xenith. And I went through the ceremony for Olena, as Olena! The oath—”

  “Did not require you to speak a name,” he interrupted. “Yours or hers.” He was right about that, too. “You said the oath. You were the one Uprisen. As for the fact that you’re from Earth, in your speech you proclaimed yourself a member of the Vakar people, and a citizen of Xenith.”

  “This is insane,” she said. “Do the ceremony again! Uprise Olena. She’s the one who’s supposed to take the throne. She’s the Vakar Lissa!”

  “Yet you are the Uprisen heir. Vakar takes that very seriously. Their people value tradition above all else. Not even their Basilissa can go around breaking customs easily,” he said, putting his face dangerously close to hers.

  “You can’t do this,” she whispered, forcing away the tears that threatened to choke her.

  “I’m not the one who did this,” he declared. “You took the oath. I had no part in that.”

  The air stuttered out of her lungs. Delaney had gone through with that ceremony only to protect her cover; no one could honestly expect her to have taken that oath seriously. Could they?

  The hold on her anger snapped, and it must have surprised him just as much as it did her, because when she shoved him, he actually moved away. The renewed space between them helped her push through the fog of fear.

  “You’re going to turn this ship around,” she hissed, “and take me back. Now.”

  “Am I?” There was a dark note to his voice, which she ignored.

  “Yes, you are.” Her hands fisted at her sides, and his eyes trailed down to them, his expression tightening with annoyance. The fact that he so clearly saw her as a non-threat pissed her off even more.

  “I knew you were arrogant,” she snapped, “but I didn’t take you for a kidnapper. You can’t just expect people to agree to do whatever you say. The world doesn’t work like that, Trystan!”

  He lifted a brow, and she let out a frustrated growl before she could stop it. She’d be damned before she rolled over and went along with his asinine plans.

  “My world doesn’t work that way,” she corrected. “I am sick of you aliens and your complexes, thinking you can just swoop in whenever you like and uproot people’s lives. My life! You have no right to—”

  “I don’t need rights. You are not the one who gives orders here, Delaney.” He said her name like it was an accusation. In a lot of ways, it was.

  “I’m not doing this,” she stressed.

  “You should have thought of that before you allowed your friends to convince you to take part in a traditional ceremony. Especially one you knew so little about.”

  “There has to be a way around that,” she murmured. “If you want someone to replace Olena, fine, but that’s not me.”

  “I’m hardly the only one who wants another option,” he said. “The Tars went through a lot of trouble to attempt to achieve that goal themselves, if you recall.”

  When Delaney had been to Xenith last, a rogue group known as the Tars had repeatedly attacked her. Their hope had been to kill Olena, claiming that she would not only make a terrible partner for Trystan, but also a horrible ruler.

  “An entire organization dedicated itself to keeping her off the throne,” Trystan continued, watching her closely. “It can’t be too surprising that people are more willing to stick to tradition and choose the Uprisen girl over the Lissa they hate.”

  Delaney couldn’t immediately come up with an argument for that logic, but she was certain she would eventually. She had to.

  “I’m curious—did you ever meet her?” The look on her face must have been answer enough. “Interesting. How many times?”

  “Twice,” she replied. “Technically.”

  He made an accusatory sound in the back of his throat, but when he spoke, he sounded conversational. “Once is usually enough, but of course you’d have to be different. Difficult.”

  “I’m assuming there’s a point?”

  “You left me with Olena Ond.” A hint of anger sparked in his eyes. “That is the point.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Delaney waited, expecting more, and when he didn’t continue, she crossed her arms. “Seriously? So this is about your ego? I bruised it by not wanting to stick around on a foreign planet, and that somehow justifies you punishing me?”

  “This isn’t a punishment,” he objected. “It’s about doing what’s best for my people. Now, would you like me to tell you what to expect, or would you prefer to go into this blind?”

  She opened her mouth to argue further, but his expression darkened. Yelling at him was getting her nowhere. Her only real option was to stall and trust
that Ruckus was on his way. He’d have a plan.

  “I’m not agreeing to any of this,” she said, but waved a hand, indicating he could continue.

  “Xenith is in a higher state of unrest since you left,” he said. “While we’re in Vakar, it’s crucial you do exactly what I tell you. Their Basilissa has already announced you as her successor, but you’ll be expected to make a public appearance, accept the position in person.”

  “And the Vakar are just going along with this? Because of a mark on my arm?” She highly doubted it.

  “There’s slight resistance,” he confirmed, “which is to be expected. But nothing I can’t handle. You needn’t worry about that.”

  “Trystan.” She took a breath, already regretting what she was about to say, but she had no other moves. “Please.”

  “Don’t beg, Delaney. It’s unbecoming.”

  Punching him momentarily came to mind before she tamped down that suicidal notion.

  He smoothed the hem of his shirt and reached back to tap a panel on the wall. “I meant it earlier. I never lied to you before, Delaney,” he said evenly. “I’m not going to start now. It might not be in the way that you initially thought, but you are going to pay with your life.”

  The door opened and a woman dressed in Kint colors stepped into view. Her hands were clasped before her, a fritz bracelet on each wrist. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail that made up one single massive curl, and she kept her gaze locked on Trystan.

  “This is Teller Sanzie. She’ll be keeping an eye on you when I’m not around to do so,” he said, not sparing the soldier so much as a glance. “If you need anything, there’s an intercom on the door panel that connects to the hall where she’ll be standing guard.”

  “It’s an honor to meet you, Lissa Delaney.” Sanzie bowed her head.

  Delaney flinched at the title.

  “We’ll be arriving in a few hours,” Trystan said. “Try not to cause any trouble.”

  He left before she could even think about how to respond.

  * * *

  DELANEY’S EMOTIONS WERE all over the place; one second she was angry, the next scared or sad. During her first kidnapping, she’d had Ruckus to soothe her. He’d been the tether that had grounded her through all the new crazy alien experiences.

  But now she was alone.

  The only friends she had on Xenith were Vakar, and she doubted Trystan would allow one of them near her. He was too smart for that; he would predict that someone close to Ruckus would attempt to make contact. And she knew they would, too. Ruckus was as well loved as the Zane; they just happened to garner the favor of different people.

  The Teller, Sanzie, had brought her food a couple of hours ago, but Delaney had barely touched it. Her legs were aching from all the pacing by the time the door opened again.

  Trystan motioned to her from out in the hall and, when she didn’t budge, let out an annoyed sigh.

  “We’re on planet,” he declared. “There’s nowhere you could go even if you somehow managed to get past me and the five dozen guards stationed around the hangar. That’s not even counting those covering the castle grounds. Think this through.”

  She was trapped on a ship that was now parked on Xenith. It was either stay in this room as long as she could, or get all this over with. With Trystan’s patience running thin, she didn’t know how plausible staying was, which really only left her one choice.

  “Where are we exactly?” she asked as she moved toward him.

  “The Vakar palace.” He’d hinted to as much earlier while talking about the Basilissa, but Delaney wanted to be sure.

  There was a small relief at being somewhere she was at least partially familiar with.

  “Act like you want to be here when we exit the ship,” Trystan said, warning her in a low voice so that the guards they passed as they moved through the halls couldn’t overhear.

  “Like hell.”

  “Don’t do it for me, Delaney,” he said. “I told you, there are still some who don’t like the idea of you on the throne. Any sign of weakness will only prompt them to attack sooner. I would like to avoid a bloody battle on your first day back, wouldn’t you?”

  Honestly? Not really. But she wasn’t too keen on getting caught in the cross fire, and she remembered all too well how good the soldiers of this world were. If it hadn’t been for Ruckus—and, she was loathe to admit, Trystan—she would have been killed. It sucked, but for now she’d need him to help protect her.

  Using him to keep herself safe until there was an opening for escape was as good a plan as any at this point.

  They came to a stop at the side of the ship, and he made a motion before the door sensor. When it whooshed open, it exposed the hangar and the sixty or so Tellers who were waiting for them.

  “Five dozen strong, huh?” She bobbed her head, slipping into that good, old-fashioned security blanket called humor. “You must be so proud.”

  Without a word he stepped out, not bothering to wait and see if she followed, which of course she did.

  All the Tellers were dressed in Kint colors, navy blue with silver trimmings. There were three times as many Tellers in the castle than when she’d been there before, but that didn’t surprise her. Trystan had taken Vakar by force and twisted the law to suit his own needs. Even with the queen backing his story, there were people here who would rebel against him. It wasn’t just Delaney who had to worry about being attacked.

  “You know,” she said, casually waving a hand, “this seems like a lot of hassle. Convincing me to go along with your plan, which isn’t going to happen. You’re not really the type who enjoys trivial arguments.”

  He lifted a single golden brow as they passed under the arch that would lead them into the castle proper. The hallway was white, and lined with even more Tellers. At the end, the color scheme changed to match Vakar tradition, with fake-wood-paneled walls that were really metal, and deep forest-green carpeting and curtains.

  “You believe your freedom to be trivial, do you?” he asked, obviously finding the possibility amusing.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Of course not. But you do.”

  They traveled up a familiar flight of stairs, and across another section of the castle toward a room Delaney had only entered twice during her last visit. There was a set of Kint guards flanking the office, both men bowing their heads low at their approach.

  Trystan didn’t bother knocking, swinging the door open and stepping through without hesitation.

  A fire roared in the hearth to the right, the orange and purple flames flickering wildly. The sweet smell of burning wood—more sugary here than it would have smelled on Earth—tickled Delaney’s nose as she entered.

  The Basilissa came into view then, seated behind the large desk positioned in the center of the room. She stood and held her chin up, her hands clasped before her. Her normally warm eyes, golden-brown surrounded by a rim of violet, went cold when she set them on Trystan.

  Her hair was long, past her elbows, and so blond that it appeared as though she’d been standing in the sun for days. Her dress was formal, a deep forest green made of silk and sheer material that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

  “You swore to give me news of my daughter.” When Tilda spoke, her lyrical voice was firm, far harsher than Delaney remembered it.

  “That’s why I’m here,” he replied. All of a sudden Trystan cocked his head, looking to the ceiling.

  Delaney knew that look. She and Ruckus still spoke telepathically all the time, especially during Mariana’s lengthy stories about her most recent crush.

  Everyone of importance on Xenith went through a process called a fitting, where a tiny computer-type device was inserted at the base of their skull. It worked a lot like a radio, giving off and receiving frequencies. To communicate with another person who’d been fitted, their specific frequency had to have been imprinted onto the receiver’s device. Sort of like a password to access the brain.

  Clearly, the message Trysta
n was receiving was a lengthy one, because he remained silent for so long, Delaney began to grow antsy.

  He finally shook his head and took a deliberate step back. “Something has come up, if you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He held Delaney’s gaze. “I won’t be long.”

  She gave him a mock salute. “Got it.”

  He clenched his jaw, clearly wanting to say something, but changed his mind. Without another word he spun on his heel and exited the way they’d come.

  She waited until he was gone before turning back to the Basilissa.

  Tilda gave her a once-over. “Shorts and a T-shirt. That’s not really the look of a Lissa, Miss Grace.”

  “Probably because I’m not a Lissa,” she snapped.

  Tilda glanced away, guilt flashing over her perfect features. There was a single couch positioned in front of the fire and she motioned to it, waiting for Delaney to come around and take a seat before following suit. They kept a good foot of empty space between them.

  “For what it’s worth,” Tilda began in a low voice, “I regret your being here. Again. You did my family a great service, protected us and our daughter, and this is not the way you should be repaid.”

  “From the sounds of it, neither of us was given much of a choice in my being here.”

  Tilda nodded, then hesitated, biting down on her lower lip and wringing her hands in her lap. Finally she eased herself closer, dropping her voice to a mere whisper despite the fact that they were alone.

  “Do what he says,” she urged.

  “We don’t really know each other,” Delaney said, “but I think you know me well enough to know that’s not going to happen.”

  “I’m not saying don’t fight,” she replied. “I’m telling you to pick your battles. Whether we like it or not, you are going to be the next ruler of Vakar. So much has been asked of you already, but I fear I must insist on asking more.” Tilda shifted again so that their shoulders bumped, the smell of sweet wildflowers drifting off her lithe body. “Take care of my people, Delaney. Please.”

  If it hadn’t been clear before that the Basilissa had completely given up, it was now. Pushing down the twinge of annoyance she felt, Delaney covered Tilda’s clasped hands with one of her own.