Millennial Prince (Jaxon Prayer Trilogy Book 2)

by Rachel West

  “They took him. They took Ki. The Praetors. They took my brother.” She begins shaking, a subtle shuddering most visible in the tremble at the ends of her dark curls.

  There is a startled gasp behind me as someone drops their weapon. I turn at the sudden sound to see my sister staring blankly at her synthblade on the ground. “No,” she mumbles so softly I can barely make it out, “they promised…” The betrayal in her voice begs for comfort and I am torn between Kalia and my sister. Ki may very well be one of Annie’s only friends here and his loss would be another blow against her crumbling psyche.

  Kalia stumbles closer to me. Her arms flail out blindly and I step towards her and pull her into an embrace. “We’ll get him back,” I promise, hoping she doesn’t hear the doubt in my voice. I hardly notice as the training room empties, the men around us either embarrassed or unused to a woman crying. Kalia’s sobs are gut-wrenching cries. I hold her, hating that my embrace is the only comfort I have to offer.

  I press her head into my shoulder, feeling the growing warmth where her tears stain my shirt. Darren watches wide-eyed, his tablet abandoned unremembered by his side. Jaxon, studiously avoiding my gaze, turns a blue chip over and over between his fingers; wondering, perhaps, if Kalia will be the next one receiving a small envelope?

  Footsteps go charging past me; my sister, followed closely by Red. Red pauses by my side, resting his fingertips briefly on my shoulder to draw my attention. I gesture with my head towards the swinging door Annie disappeared behind. Perhaps Red can offer the comfort that I cannot. Red nods to show his understanding then stalks after my sister.

  “Come on,” I urge Kalia, “Let’s get you to your room.”

  “No!” She shouts at me. “We have to go find him. We have to rescue him.”

  “We will, we will,” I promise. “But we need a plan first. And you need to rest.”

  Her eyes are wide with tomorrow’s shadows already bruising the soft skin. Her hair is limp, lifeless, without her ever-ending energy keeping it up. “Promise?” She whispers in a small voice.

  “We’ll do everything we can,” I say. She nods as if the matter is settled and rests her head on my shoulder. I wrap one arm tightly around her and guide her to the room I share with my sister. Standing in the small hallway between the rooms is Red, standing frozen with his head cocked like an animal listening for prey. The sound of our footsteps causes him to whip around but his face falls when he sees Kalia and me.

  “Annie?” I ask. Red shakes his head and an instant of fear flutters my heart. Where did Annie disappear to? I think of the boy I found in our room that day, but I know nothing about him, not his name or where he might live.

  “I’ll keep looking,” Red promises.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, knowing that there’s nothing more I can do. I spare a moment of frustration for my Annie, who somehow always manages to complicate things for me but right now, Kalia, trembling at my side, needs me more than my sister does.

  When we get to my room I lay Kalia out on my bed. I sit by her side, clasping her shaking hands between my own. Crooning nonsense words, I stay with her until she fades into sleep. Hours pass but eventually her breathing becomes steady with only a small hitch from her earlier tears. I slip away quietly, sneaking out of the room and across the hall. I push open the door to Jaxon’s room, words pouring from my mouth before I even greet him, “Jaxon we hav--“

  “Stop.” Jaxon holds up a hand to cut off my words.

  “Do you already have a plan? I was thinking, with the Presidio destroyed they have nowhere in the district to bring prisoners but they may have brought him to the Presidio in the artists district. And we need to consider that it wasn’t the Praetors. That something may have happened here. We should send out searchers --”

  “Evie. Stop. Please,” Jaxon whispers at the ground. It’s not his words, but the ache in his voice that causes me to stop my panicked chattering.

  “What do we do?” I ask, practically begging for something, anything that we can try to make this right.

  Jaxon ignores my question and plays with something small in his hand. I peer closely between his fingers. It’s the jack that Ki gave him. A lifetime passes before he looks up at me, his eyes shadowed with doubt. “We can do nothing.”

  “Nothing?” I ask incredulously. “What do you mean nothing? This is Ki we are talking about.” I’m shouting by then, but I’m so angry I don’t even care. How can we do nothing? We’re going to leave Kalia’s little brother in the hands of the Praetors? Leave him and do nothing?

  “I know!” Jaxon yells back equally as frustrated. He leaps to his feet and storms across the small room like a caged animal. “Don’t you think I know that? But what am I to do? Rescue him? We do not even know where the prisoners are kept. Storm Crescent City? We aren’t ready for that. It will only result in more deaths.”

  “You have to do something” I yell back, hating how angry I sound. I know that none of this is Jaxon’s fault, I know that he’s got a thousand pieces he is trying to keep in play and adding another might break the board. But it’s Ki, sweet, precocious Ki and now he’s gone and Kalia is heartbroken and my sister is missing and Jaxon is supposed to be able to make things right.

  “There is nothing I can do,” he shouts and his face is white with rage and helplessness. He struggles with himself for a moment, his fists clenching rhythmically at his side like a heartbeat, as he stares at me with wide eyes. “There is nothing,” he repeats again, his words laced with defeat.

  “So what do I tell Kalia?”

  “I don’t know,” he says in a strained voice. Dropping heavily to the bed beside me he scrubs his hands over his face. Mirroring his frustrating I fiddle nervously with the end of my sleeve. With a thump, he rests his head against the wall behind us and stares mournfully at the ceiling. “I don’t know, Evie.”

  “This is so messed up.” I slide further down the bed until I can rest my head against Jaxon’s chest. His heart beats frantically beneath my cheek but slowly begins to level out as we rest against each other. Draping an arm around my shoulders, Jaxon gently curls the strands of my hair between his fingers.

  “We’ll figure it out,” he says. “We have so far.”

  A heavy knock sounds at the door and I jerk upright. Hoping beyond reason that it’s someone coming to tell us Ki has been found.

  “Enter,” Jaxon says and the door is pushed open before he finishes speaking.

  A crowd of people pushes into the small room, bickering and arguing and talking so quickly I can’t follow the conversation. Then I realize it’s not a crowd at all, just Darren and Isabelle, the two Millennials taking up far too much space in our tiny room. Darren, to little effect, tries to pull Isabelle from the room but the girl has her gaze firmly set on Jaxon and refuses to budge.

  Jaxon leans forward on the bed, shoulders stiff. “Is there something I can assist you with,” he asks in an exactingly polite tone.

  “Sorry Jax. Girl can’t be stopped,” Darren says with a shrug.

  “Isabelle?” Jaxon turns his gaze on the redheaded Millennial.

  “Something must be done about the Manor.” Isabelle breezes into the center of the room and stares down her nose at Jaxon, hip cocked and one hand resting on her waist.

  Jaxon raises one eye and gestures magnanimously for her to continue.

  “It is overcrowded. There’s hardly a free bed in the whole place. And your soldiers,” she sneers, “have been stomping through the place at all hours of the night. It won’t do.”

  “Do the others have anything to say about it?”

  “Well your grandfather has decided to play at being twenty again. And Keevis’ boy has locked himself up in one of the guestrooms so she doesn’t have a moment to spare.”

  “I see,” Jaxon leans back, arms crossed over his chest. “What would you have me do?”

  Isabelle’s resolve falters for a second and she shifts nervously, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Move some of them out. Sen
d them here. Or put them on the street for all I care. I agreed to help you with your father in exchange for helping my brother. I did not agree to live like a criminal.”

  “Iz-zy,” Darren sing-songs condescendingly, “you are a criminal now.”

  “Do not call me that,” Isabelle growls.

  “Did you seriously come down here, in the middle of the night, to complain about overcrowding?” I snap, unable to contain myself any longer. Everyone here has given up so much. I’ve lost my home. My family. My relationship with my sister is destroyed. Kalia is crying in the next room over the loss of her brother. We’ve all seen horrors we never could have imagined. The dead and the dying. The suffering and the lost. And she’s complaining about overcrowding?

  I jump to my feet and am annoyed to find that we are of equal height. “Now is not a good time,” I say, each word cut off sharply by barely contained rage. Anger heats my face and I grip my hands tightly into fists as not to betray their trembling.

  Isabelle looks me over dismissively. “Jaxon, control your pet.”

  I swing back my hand, ready to strike her, when Jaxon steps between us. He grabs my wrist, stopping the momentum of my hand, and tugs me to his side. In a gesture of appeasement, he loosens his grip, sliding his hand down and entangling his fingers with mine.

  I try to pull my hand away but he tightens his hold until our knuckles are white against each other. “I’m not yours to control,” I whisper harshly.

  “I know,” Jaxon says simply. “Maybe I just wanted to hold your hand.” I let out a snort of disbelief but his words have charm enough to deflect my anger. Turning from me, Jaxon addresses Isabelle. “Evie’s right. Now is not a good time.”

  “What else could possibly be so pressing?”

  “Kalia’s brother is missing.” I try to sound cold, detached but my throat tightens around the words, betraying my despair.

  “Kalia? The anorexic one?”

  I grit my teeth, trying not to let her jibe get to me.

  “Well you will need to get together search parties of course. Darren, can you run a simulation of the best search grids? And you,” she turns to me, “What are you doing sitting here when your best friend’s brother is missing?”

  I freeze, looking from Jaxon to Isabelle and back again, shock apparent for anyone to see. “Uhm,” I flounder for words. “Kalia is sleeping. Jaxon and I were--”

  “Were what? Looking for a moment alone while your friend suffered?”

  “It’s not like that,” I snap, defending myself against the sudden turn in the conversation.

  “Good,” Isabelle says. “Now stop wallowing and start searching. Darren, the sim?” Darren snaps a mock salute to her. “Yes boss,” he mutters. Isabelle rolls her eyes at his gesture but makes no comment, apparently satisfied to see him fall into line.

  Jaxon, looking slightly baffled turns to me. “See, I told you we’d figure it out.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Exhausted, I stumble through the paths of the Hollows towards my room. Two days. Two days spent searching the Westwick slums for any sign of Ki. I rub at my aching shoulder, certain that Isabelle has been sending me on the longest search routes out of spite.

  I peek into Annie’s room when I reach our small corner of the Hollows. Empty, of course. She’s disappeared as of late. Grieving for Ki, I think with a sharp burst of sorrow, or perhaps her friends at A239.

  With a sigh I cross the hallway to the room Jaxon and I share. As I open the door, light shines into the darkened room, revealing Jaxon’s sleeping form on the bed. I smile, surprised to see him. Most nights he wakes me up in the early hours of the morning as he stumbles wearily into bed to catch a couple hours of sleep before the sun rises.

  I slip off my boots then slide under the covers. Jaxon shifts behind me, curling around my back with his hand tucked around my hips.

  “Mmmm. You smell nice,” someone who is most definitely not Jaxon mumbles into my hair.

  With a yelp, I throw myself from the bed. I tumble onto the floor in a tangle of limbs, my cheek landing against the hard toe of my discarded boot. Cursing under my breath I sit up then scramble across the floor to the far side of the room. I thump my hand twice against a panel on the wall and the room explodes in light.

  “Darren?”

  “Too bright.” Darren glares darkly at the two lightstrips circling the room as he throws his arm over his eyes to block the intensity.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  “Waiting for Jaxon.”

  “In his bed?” I ask incredulously.

  “Yeah,” Darren shrugs. “Come back. It’s cold.” He pats the sheets beside him encouragingly and lifts the covers to make room for me.

  “No.”

  “Fine,” he pouts. He sits up, revealing a sleep-twisted shirt that bares the delicately muscled curve of his shoulders. I look pointedly away, but not before I see his smirk as he catches the direction of my gaze.

  “What are you doing here?” Darren pulls the blankets around his shoulders with an exaggerated shiver.

  “Well, I was planning on sleeping,” I gesture to the bed.

  “In his bed?” Darren mocks with a leering grin.

  “Shutup,” I mumble, hoping that he can’t see the blush warming my cheeks.

  “It appears we’ve reached an impasse,” Darren says. “I guess you can keep me company. But I’m keeping the bed. Here,” he graciously tosses a pillow to me.

  With my knees tucked against my chest I clutch the pillow and rest my chin against its softness. My side aches, just over my hip, which speaks of a bruise yet to form.

  A few moments pass in silence before Darren’s nervous energy forces him to speak. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “Dunno,” I respond sleepily. “Usually late.” I fight to keep my eyes open. The ground feels like it is reaching up and pulling me down, my whole body weighted with exhaustion. I wonder what time Annie will be back, I haven’t slept in her room in weeks and the thought of going in there now feels like an invasion of her space.

  “You’re exhausted. Stop being stubborn and get in bed. I promise your virtue is safe with me.”

  I consider his offer and my sleep-clouded mind can only find pros. Soft bed. Warm blankets. “Fine,” I mutter. “But keep your hands to yourself or I’ll cut them off.”

  “Ooo, feisty,” Darren teases. He lies down on the far side of the bed, back pressed against the wall to leave plenty of space for me. I drop heavily onto the mattress facing away from him. I stiffen as he shifts around, but after two quick thumps against the wall to turn off the lights he settles into stillness. The darkness blossoms around us, the only sound the slowly quickening whoosh of my breath.

  Suddenly far more awake, I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. I wonder what turn of events brought Darren here. What could possibly have caused him to give up everything he knows to fight for a cause against his own people? “Why are you here?” I ask.

  “I told you, waiting for --"

  “No,” I cut him off. “Why are you here?”

  The silence between us lasts so long that I begin to wonder if Darren fell asleep. I turn my head towards him, and by the faint line of light shining under the door, I can see him staring into the darkness overhead.

  “He’s my friend,” Darren replies at last. “My family.”

  “You love him,” I say in sudden realization.

  The pillow depresses as Darren turns his head to face me. Inches apart, I feel his sharp intake of breath. “Yeah,” he answers quietly. “Don’t you?”

  Physically I freeze, but my brain gallops down a thousand different paths. I think of all the moments that Jaxon and I have shared. I remember the touch of his hand against my hip. The slow smile as he wakes up in the morning to see me. The squeeze of his fingers that tells me I’m his. But for all that, we’ve never exchanged declarations of undying love. Desperately fighting a war we can’t win, surrounded by blood and death and pain, the momen
t was never right. I wonder if it’s my own fear holding me back or Jaxon’s.

  “I do,” I answer Darren’s question, surprised at how easy the words are to speak to someone else.

  “Sucks, doesn’t it,” Darren says with a quiet laugh deep in his throat. “His family messed him up good. Fucking automatons, the whole lot of them. They tried to make Jax like ‘em. He’s good enough at the social niceties. At playing pretend. But deep down, I think they broke him.”

  I shiver, thinking of the scars across Jaxon’s back. I remember the dozens of times I’ve seen blankness fall across his face as he shuts his emotions down. Something like that? That kind of control? It can’t have come easy.

  I stiffen as Darren shifts in the bed, throwing his arm out across my waist and tucking his head into the curve of my shoulder. “Hey,” I mutter but I don’t push him away. There’s nothing sexual in his touch, no fire to it. He’s more like a puppy seeking the comfort of closeness. And can I blame him? He gave up everything to follow Jaxon.

  “What are they like?”

  “Who? His family?” Darren asks. I nod, knowing he can’t see it, but he continues on regardless. “Focused. Intense.”

  “Like Jaxon.”

  “Exactly,” Darren says. “His whole family – it’s like walking into a storm.”

  “Like drowning,” I whisper half to myself.

  I feel a thrum of agreement against my shoulder as Darren mumbles low in his throat. “His mother always seemed a bit sad to me. And his older brother is an ass. Gets pissy at the littlest thing and takes it out on everyone around him.”

  The sudden opening of the door shocks Darren into guilty silence. A triangle of light illuminates the bed where Darren and I are tangled together.

  “Jaxon!” I jump from the bed, straightening my clothes in a rush. “We weren’t – we were just--" words tumble from my lips in a senseless flurry.

  Jaxon laughs, the sound echoing through the small room. He drops one arm around my shoulder and offers his other hand to help Darren from the bed. “Trust me,” he says with a smirk, “I know your honor is safe with this one.”