“You did very well,” Trystan told her, and she felt him rest his hand on the back of her chair, jostling her slightly.
“Fantastic,” she drawled, her eyes still shut. She wanted one more minute, just one, to pretend like all this was a horrible dream. “I want to see Ruckus.”
When a moment passed without him responding, she sighed and opened her eyes again, angling her head to look at him. Unsurprisingly, he was watching her with a tight expression, his mouth thinned in displeasure.
“Are you going to make that face every time I bring him up?”
“Our day isn’t finished yet.” He unfolded from his chair so that he towered over her.
She had to bend almost completely backward just to be able to keep their gazes locked, the arm of her chair digging painfully against the center of her spine. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“That’s because it is impossible to give an answer when you don’t know it yourself,” he stated tersely. Then, without waiting for her, he headed for the door.
Delaney got up to follow, wondering how she’d managed to say the right things to everyone in this room and yet still somehow screw up when it came to speaking to Trystan.
CHAPTER 13
After another lengthy meeting with the coordinator, Delaney was running on fumes. Trystan had responded to the coordinator’s questions politely but in a clipped tone, making it clear from the start that he didn’t want to be there any more than Delaney did.
Despite the fact that the meeting with Co Gailie had ended at least three hours ago, Delaney still hadn’t seen her friends.
“You’re upset.” He was watching her out of his peripheral, avoiding direct eye contact. There were a decent amount of people roaming the halls, many of them not Tellers but maids and the like, and he scanned their faces as they passed. She wasn’t sure if he was doing a threat assessment or if he was oddly interested in their goings-on.
“You’re a genius,” she retorted, already regretting that that was what she’d gone with.
Sure enough, he chuckled and turned down another hall. “I’m told that a lot.”
“Is that all the coordinator is going to do?” She settled for at least questioning him about something that actually mattered. “Ask us trivial stuff about ourselves? Why?”
“There’s more to it,” he assured her. “Everything Co Gailie does has a purpose, but I’m not aware as to what end. I only know the basics involved. Getting bonded, especially at this point in my life, had never crossed my mind.”
Delaney searched his face, not sure what she was looking for but feeling like she wasn’t finding it. “What about after it was announced you were bonding with Olena? Weren’t you curious about what you’d have to do?”
The corner of his mouth turned up in that wicked half grin, and he set a knowing stare on her.
“Right.” She sighed. “You were too busy trying to find a way out of it.”
“You would have done the same.”
“I wouldn’t have involved an outsider.” She grunted. “Especially not an innocent one.”
Trystan paused, angling his body slightly toward hers. With his hands behind his back and his chin tilted, he looked like the arrogant aristocrat he was.
“Is that how you view yourself?” he asked, and then momentarily slid his attention down the hall where a small group of Tellers passed without so much as glancing their way.
“My choices were taken from me,” she pointed out. “And I made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with any of this. Not to mention, this isn’t even my planet. Of course I’m innocent.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He leaned in a little closer, almost like he wasn’t aware he was doing it. “Do you think of yourself as an outsider? Is that how you feel?”
Delaney waited to see if there was more, wondering how he could ask something like that with such a straight face. Aside from the fact that she didn’t want to be here, there was very little she actually knew about their culture, not nearly enough to ever make her feel like she could legitimately be part of it.
Instead of explaining, she said, “You’ve got the only friends I’ve ever made on this planet currently on lockdown, and I’m unfamiliar with literally everything you’ve shown me since our arrival. Of course I feel out of place, Trystan. I don’t belong here. I don’t even know why this place is called Inkwell,” she added as an afterthought.
“It’s on account of all the black water,” a new voice answered, and she turned to find Dom standing a few feet away from them. “The rivers up in the mountains are filled with sediments that make them charcoal colored.”
“Dominan,” Trystan greeted, ignoring the half dozen guards who stood close behind the boy. “I wasn’t aware you were visiting today.”
“Mother wanted me to ask you to dinner,” Dom explained with a bored shrug. “I told her you’d say no, but she insisted.” He glanced at Delaney. “You’re invited, too, Lissa. If you did come, I could show you my favorite flower. It’s winter now, but Mother always keeps one potted inside. Did you know”—he turned back to Trystan—“that she’s never seen a gorganatias?”
Because it so directly correlated with their conversation about how she didn’t belong here, Delaney sent the Zane a satisfied stare.
“I may have overheard that somewhere,” Trystan said. “Unfortunately, the Lissa and I are very busy. The next few weeks are going to be packed with preparation for our binding.”
Dom’s face scrunched up in distaste, and Delaney couldn’t help but smile. It seemed kids were similar no matter what planet they were from. He probably thought girls had cooties.
“Tell your mother thank you for the invitation, but that you were right. We will, apologetically, have to decline.”
“Can I say it just like that?” Dom asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Do so at your own risk,” Trystan told him with a grin. “If you think rubbing the fact that you were right in her face is worth the indubitable amount of consequences, then do so.”
Dom thought it over, hard, and then shook his head frantically as if his mom were already there, listening over his shoulder. “You have a point, Uncle Trystan.”
“I often do.” He motioned back down the way Dom and his group of Tellers had come. “Be on your way; you don’t want to keep her.” Before the boy could follow his orders, though, he added, “Stop in the kitchens first. I believe Yalla is making fruy. Maybe you’ll get lucky and some will be finished.”
Whatever fruy was, it excited Dominan, who bounded off with barely a wave over his shoulder. He disappeared around a corner almost as quickly as he’d arrived, leaving the two of them alone in the hall.
“Yalla?” Delaney asked the second Trystan looked at her.
“She’s our cook. She’s lived here since before Kint took over, when it was originally Vakar.”
“You have a Vakar cook?”
“Does that surprise you because I’m Kint, and therefore I must hate all Vakar,” Trystan speculated, “or because allowing someone from a territory that was once a sworn enemy of mine cook my meals seems outlandishly risky?”
Coming from him, the guy who trusted no one, outlandish was an apt word choice. It did seem odd that he’d have a Vakar citizen making food for him. Especially after publicly infiltrating and conquering the Vakar palace. Though there was Sanzie, who’d once been Vakar herself, to consider.
Delaney was sure there was more to that story, but she didn’t feel like getting it from him so instead asked, “Aren’t you worried she’ll try to poison you?”
The crimson ring around his cornflower-blue eyes seemed to thicken as he watched her, and his voice lowered almost huskily. “Are you concerned for me, Delaney?”
She pulled back. “I’m appalled you’d even suggest it.”
He grunted, though the sound was clearly forced to cover up a laugh. “When you say it like that, it doesn’t sound believable at all. So, I’ll settle your fears about my untimely
death by poison now. Yalla has been with my family since before I was born. She kept me fed as a child, and even taught me a thing or two in the kitchens. Honestly, I’m more afraid of being attacked by you than I am of being harmed by her.”
“Smart,” Delaney said, because there was no reason to bother trying to hide that he was right. If it meant getting her and the others out of here? She’d hurt him, for certain. Still, she didn’t want to give him too long to think that over.
“You brought Dom with us.” She would never have guessed. “Was he on the same ship?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, “he was aboard one that left the day before, actually. Inkwell is his home. He grew up here, and his house is just down the street, about half a mile south.”
“So you brought him with you to Vakar.” That was also odd. “Why?”
Trystan sighed and looked away. “His mother insisted. His father was killed during the war, and having her son there to witness the takeover of the Vakar palace was her way of gaining closure. I couldn’t deny her that. Her husband meant a great deal to me.” He hesitated, unsure whether he wanted to continue. “Dominan means a great deal to me.”
She should make fun of him for it, yet she couldn’t get herself to do it.
“He’s a cute kid,” she said, smiling. “Why does he call you Uncle? I thought you didn’t have any siblings.”
“I don’t.” He began walking once more, and they fell into step together. “His father was my best friend. My Sworn before Brightan.” His mouth twisted in displeasure. “What a poor replacement he turned out to be.”
She wanted to ask more, but it was clear from his closed-off expression that he didn’t want to discuss it. Honestly, she must be feeling a bit cowardly, because she wasn’t too upset with having to let it go.
Trystan finally broke the silence. “I’m taking you to the Ander now, by the way.”
The winding stairwell seemed to twist and turn for miles, so that the echo of their boots clacking against the solid steps felt like a never-ending rhythm. The walls were made of rough stone, making her think of dungeons from old movies set in the Dark Ages. Even though she was certain that was done on purpose, she couldn’t help the scowl, or the hint of anger she felt toward Trystan for putting Ruckus and her friends down here.
Delaney clenched her hands into tight fists, allowing her short nails to dig into the tender flesh of her palms. It was a poor attempt at distraction, but it was better than acting on the urge to turn around and shove Trystan down the rest of the way.
Lights flickering at the bottom of another turn finally indicated the end, and she held her breath to prepare herself. This place was already pretty horrible, and they hadn’t even reached the actual cells yet. She didn’t realize she’d slowed until she felt Trystan’s hand gently press against the small of her back, urging her down the last three steps.
Pulling away as quickly she could without tripping, Delaney entered a long hall, assessing the half dozen guards who lined the walls. They paid her no mind, but dropped their chins to their chests when Trystan appeared behind her.
She rolled her eyes and started forward, noting the only doorway was at the very end. A guard opened it when she was close, and she slipped inside when the gap was large enough for her, not bothering to wait for him to open it all the way. Inside was a set of cells nothing like what she’d imagined.
For one, there were no bars; instead prisoners were contained by some kind of electrical force field that glowed with a neon sheen. Her eyes rested on Pettus in the cell to the left, and she shot forward, letting out a sigh of relief. Aside from a few fading bruises on his bare arms, he appeared to be all right.
“Apologies,” Pettus said, the words coming out a bit wheezy.
“We tried,” Gibus added sadly from where he sat in the same cell.
His coloring was off, his skin more sallow than the golden hue she was used to seeing on him. Part of his Vakar uniform was torn at the collar, and now that she was closer, she could make out a couple scratches on the side of his neck.
“This damsel can take care of herself,” she assured him. “You just focus on feeling better. You don’t sound so good.”
“Delaney.” Ruckus spoke from behind her, and she twisted around so quickly, it took a moment for her vision to focus in on him.
He was standing as close to the electrical barrier as he could, so that the tip of his nose came dangerously close to touching it. There were dirt stains on his knees, and a smear of what looked like blood down his right arm; it was impossible to tell if it was his or someone else’s. His right eye was swollen so that only a thin slit was open. She doubted he could see through it at all.
His other eye was wide and searching her from top to bottom, running the same medical assessment she was. The familiar yellow of his iris surrounded by a ring of deep green completed its search and finally rested on her. When it did and he was staring back, she felt her chest tighten.
“Bastard.” She glared at Trystan, who’d settled against one of the empty cells.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said. “That’s all collateral from when they fought their way to you back at the palace.”
He’d slipped his hands into his pockets and crossed his ankles, propping himself against the wall with his left shoulder. Way too casual. Too calm. Like the fact that her friends were bruised and clearly damaged didn’t matter at all.
To him it didn’t, and the reminder made her sick. She’d been so focused on playing her part, she’d lost sight of what he truly was. A monster. He’d sucked her in with his daddy issues, and like an idiot, she’d allowed herself to buy into them. As if that made the things he’d done acceptable.
“The clock is ticking,” Trystan told her in a silky smooth voice. “Do you want to spend your time hissing at me or making sentiments toward your boyfriend?”
Ruckus let out a growl, drawing the Zane’s attention.
“I’m not leaving, Ander,” he said, even though no one had even bothered suggesting it. “Anything you have to say to my betrothed can be said in front of me. If that makes you uncomfortable, either of you, feel free not to speak at all. Actually, that is my preferred outcome.”
Delaney stepped closer to the barrier, wishing there was a way to make it disappear, just for a second. Now that they were together, she needed to touch him, needed physical contact to assure herself that he was really okay.
“Don’t talk to me telepathically,” she warned, trying to keep her voice down without making it obvious she was doing so. She didn’t want to risk drawing Trystan closer to them; knowing him, he’d invade her personal space in order to eavesdrop. “He hacked my fitting.”
“I figured as much,” Ruckus said breathlessly. “How are you? Has he hurt you?”
“Only where you can’t see,” she said, before realizing it was a mistake.
His expression darkened, and she lifted a hand to keep his attention before he could say something to Trystan and bring the Zane back into their conversation.
“I’m fine,” she said, correcting herself. “Honestly. He hasn’t done anything to me except the obvious.” She forced the corner of her mouth up. “I was really looking forward to seeing what you made for dinner.”
Before she’d been knocked out and woken up on Trystan’s spaceship, she and Mariana had been heading home to have dinner with Ruckus. He’d decided to try his hand at cooking again, a skill he unfortunately didn’t have.
“Spaghetti,” he said, mirroring her teasing half smile. “And you aren’t fooling anyone, Delaney. I know you hate my cooking. I can’t blame you. Before I got the call from Pettus, I’d already burned the sauce.”
“Please tell me you at least used the canned stuff?”
“I attempted homemade,” he admitted, sounding embarrassed despite the fact that the results were long gone by now. “I wasted all the groceries Mariana had just bought.”
“Such a disappointment.” She clucked her tongue.
He grimaced. “Delaney—”
“No.” She shook her head before he could continue. “The fact that you’ll never become an Iron Chef aside, you have never disappointed me. This isn’t your fault.”
“Isn’t it?” His mouth thinned, and there was a flash of anger visible in his good eye.
“No,” she insisted, “it isn’t. Enough with the pity party. We won’t be here forever.”
He looked at her, clearly wanting to say something about that, but Trystan’s presence forced him to rethink it. An air of defeat surrounded him, and she hated that the Zane could do that, make Ruckus feel that way without saying anything at all.
“Ruckus,” she said, firming her tone, “I’m serious. We’re going to be okay.”
“I should be the one comforting you,” he said.
“I’m not the one in the cell.”
“Aren’t you?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and gave another shaky smile. “Well, my cell’s bigger, anyway. You want to comfort me? Tell me something.”
“What?”
“Something good.”
“I bought you something.” He shifted on his feet, readjusting his position, trying to be careful with his right ankle.
She wanted to ask him how badly he was hurt, who had done it and how. Instead she asked, “Oh, what is it? Is it shiny?”
“The shiniest,” he agreed, then chuckled. “I’m kidding. I know you better than that. The thing is, you’re going to have to wait until our vacation is over. I accidentally left it at home.”
Usually she was the joker between the two of them, and this sudden role reversal had her letting out a real laugh. “I bet you left the bedroom window open, too, huh.”
“I’m pretty sure the oven is still on as well,” he added, grinning. The two halves of his split lip pulled apart. He didn’t react, though it had to be painful.
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