Fractured Suns

by Theresa Kay

  He doesn’t want Rym to know about Jastren… and strangely enough, neither do I. Something whispers at the back of my mind telling me it would be a bad idea. It’s the same voice that continues to tell me this whole trip is a bad idea. My grandfather has been at least semi-helpful, and he did save both mine and Jace’s lives back in the city. And as much as I hate to admit it, Jastren is also our only ally from the E’rikon side. If whatever this little trip is goes wrong, he’s probably the only person who could help get us back out.

  I take Flint’s hint, keep my mouth shut, and simply nod.

  Rym looks back and forth between us, a subtle hint of suspicion rolling off of him, before he speaks again. “There are different levels of mental connection. The ones that can be between any E’rikon are the broadcast and the link. Those two are actually very similar and can be turned on and off. However, once a dhama has been established, the connection is almost involuntary and it is very hard to shut someone out. The dhama normally only forms between those with familial or emotional ties, but it can also be brought about by physical proximity, and it can become more established through casual touching—and that can lead to an unwanted emotional link. As you can imagine, we would prefer to keep just anyone out of our heads.”

  The word “unwanted” feels like a punch to the stomach. “So, the only reason anything at all formed between me and Lir is because he didn’t know what I was and he…” My next words are whispered. “It’s all my fault.”

  And then the tide of guilt pulls me under and other horrors start slamming into me. The men at the cabin. Casual touching. The slimy feel of their thoughts crawling through my brain, so much worse than the feel of their hands on my skin. That time it was my fear that broke loose, throwing them back and sending them screaming to the floor, before the molten anger that even now still lingers in the darkness of my mind took over.

  My nails dig into my palms and my lungs scream for air. I’m not breathing. I have to remember to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. It’s not working! My tensed limbs start to shake. Rym backs away until he’s plastered against the rounded wall of the ship. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to lash out when arms wrap around me from behind. I chant in my head to keep myself calm. It’s only Flint. It’s only Flint. My friend. My second brother. Safe.

  He wraps his hands around my wrists and pulls my arms back until they’re crossed in front of my chest. His breath brushes past my ear. “Relax. You’re safe. Just breathe.”

  “That’s not—” Rym begins.

  “Shut up, erk, I’ve got this under control.” Flint rocks gently back and forth, pulling me with him and whispering in my ear. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

  Slowly, gradually, the tremors recede and my limbs relax. Deep breaths fill my lungs and I can open my eyes again. Flint’s back is against the opposite wall of the ship from Rym and I’m pressed against his chest with his arms locked around me. After a few more breaths, his arms loosen. “You good now?”

  I manage a nod and a croak-like, “Yeah.”

  “It’s been a while since you had one of those. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “It was just unexpected. I can handle it… I…” As my voice trails off, the shaking subsides.

  The panic attacks are less frequent nowadays, but they’re almost completely random. It used to be that I knew what things might set me off and I could avoid them. Now… it can be anything. A brief thought. A single word. One time Jastren set me off simply by trying to link with me. I’m assuming this newly unpredictable instability is a consequence of the broken bond… or maybe of burying all my feelings and thoughts of Lir so deeply behind anger and suspicion that it’s things that remind me of him that set me off.

  Flint speaks quietly. “Jax, what else would you have expected when you’ve locked this stuff up inside for so long?” He releases me, and I sit up. “Why didn’t you tell us? I thought you were at least talking to Peter.”

  I had been talking to Peter, but there’s only so many times I could hear the old priest babble on about choices and forgiveness before it stopped helping. And I never went into any detail with him about what I really needed to talk about. Or rather, who I needed to talk about.

  Ever since Lir broke the bond between us, I’ve felt empty and alone. More so than ever before. Probably some weird side effect of the whole thing, but there isn’t any way for me to really confirm that without talking to Jastren, and he’s refused to speak of anything having to do with the Vestras. And who else could I talk to? Not Jace… he never understood my connection with Lir, and I couldn’t risk his disdain.

  But I could have talked to Flint. I should have realized that long before now. Steadier than Jace and a little less quick to judge, Flint could have helped me cope a little better than I have on my own.

  My gaze darts to Rym. His brow is furrowed in concern and my cheeks heat at the thought of what he must think of my little display. I avert my eyes. “Let’s just go and get this over with.”

  Without another word, Rym places his kitu against the metal plate, and the ship or pod or whatever it’s called lifts into the air and heads toward the city.

  THE FLIGHT IS NEAR SILENT. Both because the vehicle itself is quiet and because Rym hasn’t said a single word since we took off. He’s been sending glances my way when he thinks I’m not looking. But I’m always looking. As soon as he catches my eye, he jerks his head back to face forward… and then a few seconds later it starts over again. The furtive glances, the irritating drip of his emotions—concern, guilt, fear, and something else—it’s all feeding into my anger.

  “What?” I finally snap, throwing my hands up. “Are you waiting for me to do tricks or something?”

  At least Rym has the decency to blush. “No… I wanted to apologize for what I said before. Obviously, you have also struggled with what happened and—”

  “Let’s not talk about this.” I cross my arms over my chest and turn away to look out the window over Flint’s shoulder, my mental walls firmly back in place. “I’m here for Lir’s explanation, nothing else. I don’t want your pity.”

  The ship glides over the trees as the city comes into view. Surprisingly it doesn’t look that much different than it did the first time I showed up here. The buildings that were demolished in Vitrad’s manufactured “human” attack have been rebuilt, and everything’s just as shiny and perfect as it used to be.

  The buildings grow in size as we approach, and I can tell there’s no longer an empty spot where Lir’s parents’ residence used to be. They’ve rebuilt the middle tower, and the center of the city looks almost exactly as it did before, three silver spires surrounding a large open area. With all that’s happened, with Vitrad’s warmongering, why would they bother rebuilding that? And how the hell did they do it so quickly?

  I want to ask, the words are itching to climb my throat, but I stay silent. Bringing up that building will bring up other things I’m not ready to talk about—not ready to think about. And it might let the tiny seed of pity for my alien boy take root and grow into something that just might overcome my anger toward him.

  I need that anger. It’s the only thing protecting me right now.

  With one hand I fiddle with my necklace, the familiar slide of the cool metal against the pad of my thumb comforting me. I close my eyes, release a quiet breath to clear my mind, and block out the ship— and the people— around me. I let my mind drift and pick up on the bright red thread of my connection to Jace. Might as well check on him and let him know what’s going on.

  I float easily along the connection and brush against his mind. He sends an answering playful swat, so I know he’s aware of my presence. We haven’t tried any distance tests yet as we’ve hardly been more than fifty feet from one another lately, but it seems to be working just fine. What kind of range do the E’rikon have?

  Range? Why do you care about range? My brother’s semi-confused voice asks in my head.

  Oops. I hadn’t meant for that to sli
p through. No reason. Just checking in. How’s it going?

  Pretty well. I mean, we haven’t gotten there yet. This truck is slow as hell.

  Peter’s truck is a bit of a wreck. It moves, and it gets us from point A to point B if we need it, but Jace hates how it plods along. Plus, he never gets to drive it with his injured leg. He would love this ship though. Maybe… I’m going to try something.

  I concentrate on the connection and pull. I’ve never had a problem getting to Jace, but I’ve never tried to bring him to me before, so it’s a bit of a shock when his consciousness comes barreling into mine. I’ve got some weird sort of double vision thing going on. There are two people in my head.

  “What in the hell is going on?” I slam my hand over my mouth when it’s my brother’s voice instead of mine that exits from it. In my horror, I shove him out of my head and as far away as I can get him.

  Rym jerks and glances at me, merely looking confused, but Flint whirls around, his knees slamming into mine and his eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

  At a brisk head shake from me, Flint’s eyebrows lower. I give an exaggerated cough and clear my throat a few extra times before attempting to speak. “Sorry.” It’s my own voice again, thank goodness. “I just… never mind?”

  Flint points at my chest and then his own while moving his eyebrows up and down. I guess we’ll be having a chat about this later. I nod my acknowledgment.

  I don’t have much time to dwell on any of it. A jolt travels through the ship as we pass through the barrier surrounding the city, and a white hot pain stabs into my forehead. My hands fly to my temples, pressing down to hold back the ache. It lessens the farther we go from the barrier.

  That’s definitely new. And even stranger, neither Flint nor Rym appear to have been affected by it.

  As the feeling fades, a new one replaces it: that same gentle tug I felt when Flint carried me out of the city the first time. Lir. I shut it down and cross my arms over my chest. He’ll just have to wait and make his explanations in person. Jastren said he couldn’t influence my emotions, but giving in to the gentle calmness he could bring me would definitely break my fragile resolve, especially after my mini freak-out a few minutes ago.

  The pod passes over the trio of buildings and into an area of the city I’ve never seen before. Behind the arch of the main buildings, much smaller ones stretch out. Obviously a mixture of residences and industrial warehouses of some sort. My last trip here was such a whirlwind, and I spent most of my time in the main part of the city, so this new section is a bit of a surprise to me. I hadn’t realized the city was this big.

  “How many of you are there?” I mutter. It’s more of a rhetorical question, said under my breath, but Rym answers anyway.

  “About two hundred thousand here. There’s another city of about this size in what used to be London.”

  I feel Flint tense up beside me. I’m not exactly relaxed myself. Four hundred thousand E’rikon? At least. Compared to… How many humans are left? Easily less than a quarter of that number.

  “So you guys have always had the numbers and the weapons to take us out. Why now? What’s changed?” Flint’s questions are quiet, but tinged with a hint of anger.

  Rym sighs. “It is complicated. My father has always been… ambitious. When we first arrived, he was content to lead our military and maintain status quo. At Chancellor Vestra’s command, we ignored the humans for years. But as time went on, my father became restless. He wanted more space. He wanted us to live freely without fear of attacks by the humans. Or perhaps he was simply looking for a fight.” He shakes his head. “The Chancellor decided some of what my father sought could be achieved peacefully. He sent out a group of emissaries to open a line of communication with the humans, to see if we could coexist peacefully. And as a show of faith in my father's methods, Stellan chose to send his ward out with that group. The boy he had raised like a second son.” Rym’s eyes shoot to me. “Teskov.”

  My words barely make it past the lump in my throat. “The ship… the one that Jace… It was a diplomatic mission?” Kov was not only Lir’s friend, but practically his brother too. And Jace killed him. How did I not already know this? How much of his pain had Lir hid from me? How much would be different right now if Dane had never sent my brother after that ship?

  “Yes,” Rym says simply.

  It’s the answer I was expecting, but still my breath leaves in a whoosh and my shoulders slump. I lean back into the seat and tilt my head up to face the ceiling. I study the shine and curvature of the metal above me until a gentle bump lets me know the ship has landed.

  Getting out is nearly as awkward as getting in. Rym hops down easily, but my legs are suddenly shaky and Flint has to assist me. The revelation that my brother was pretty much the spark that ignited the coming war has sent my mind reeling, and I was already on edge from knowing I’m about to see Lir—to confront him for the first time since he coldly ripped the bond away from me for reasons I still don’t understand. But what’s really bringing the buzz of anxiety into my limbs is the idea that maybe there’s more to this story than I bothered to consider. Much more.

  I’ve used my anger as a shield, pushing away any thoughts of him, any pity for him, anything that could have possibly broken down my defenses and hurt me. I never bothered to consider the hurt to anyone but myself. And the realization that I could be coming here to face his anger… it makes me want to climb back into the ship and ask Rym to take me home.

  But I close my eyes and take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders and push down the fear threatening to freeze me in place. My anger has gotten me this far; it will simply have to get me a little farther.

  I slink down the street, head down, eyes averted. My red hair, worn in a single braid down my back, is bright enough to pass for E’rikon, but not my eyes. They’re hazel, too normal, too human. The uniform Rym rustled up from somewhere doesn’t really fit, either—the shoulders are a little too broad and the bottoms of the pants brush the ground with my steps. Act like you belong and they won’t notice. I pull back my shoulders and struggle to keep my breaths even. The last thing I need is to be noticed.

  This section of the city is more industrial than residential. Warehouses line the streets, and I see only a single E’rikon out walking. I keep my eyes down and ignore him as the instructions Rym gave me replay in my head: Right turn at the end of the street, two blocks and take a left, then third door on the right, the blue one.

  Thankfully, it’s not long before I find the blue door. I face it and glance up and down the street before pulling the access card Rym gave me from my pocket and waving it in front of the scanner. He assured me it would work in place of a kitu, but… Please flash green. Please please please. My breath leaves my mouth in a huff when the green light comes on and a click signals the lock release.

  I push the door open and slide through. The door closes behind me, leaving me in the dark, and my hand instinctively searches the wall for a light switch.

  A familiar voice in the darkness. “Jax?”

  I inhale sharply at the naked hope in that sound and the flare of elation that crashes into me from somewhere across the room. Squinting my eyes, I try to make him out. “Can I get some light here?” I say. “Not all of us can see in the dark.”

  There’s movement to my left, and then a soft blue light fills the room. Not much, but enough for my eyes to finally find his.

  “Hello.” Lir’s eyes travel over my face with a longing look. He steps forward until he’s within two feet of me, the closest we’ve been to each other in weeks.

  If Rym looked tired, Lir looks exhausted. The charcoal-colored uniform he wears highlights the dark bags under his eyes and contrasts deeply with the paleness of his skin. The gold in his hair and eyes looks tarnished and dull. He’s lost weight, too—his features are more gaunt than angular.

  “How have you been?” he says.

  His almost nonchalant greeting is making it easy for me to hold on to the fire of m
y anger, and I inject my words with heat. “How have I been?” My voice creeps up with each word. “What the hell? You asked me to come here, to risk not only my life but everyone else’s, to ask me how I’ve been? I’ve been just peachy. How about you?” I close my eyes and take a deep breath, swallowing back the other words that are fighting to pass my lips: Why did you leave me? I’ve missed you. I’m sorry.

  When I open my eyes again, he’s moved closer. I’m frozen in his gaze, a burn forming behind my eyes from the tears I refuse to let him see.

  He lifts one eyebrow in a graceful arch. “Based on the context in which I have heard you use that word… I believe I’ve been peachy too.”

  A sound that’s half laugh, half sob explodes from my mouth, and I throw myself into his arms. It’s the only thing I’ve really wanted to do since the moment I saw him, and though I know it’s stupid and impulsive, I can’t hold myself back anymore. There’s still a whisper of suspicion in the back of my mind, but I ignore it.

  Lir jolts, a splash of cautious elation flowing from him, before wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close to his chest. One of his hands presses into the small of my back, a slight tremble in his fingers. He relaxes into the hug. His arms and shoulders loosen and his breathing steadies.

  The dhama comes alive even while the bond between us remains frayed, and his emotions rush into me in a steady stream of relief, happiness, contentment and that simple calm that I only get from him. Jace might be able to soothe me and Flint can talk me down, but it’s nothing like the steady peaceful warmth my alien boy provides. I’ve spent the last few weeks constantly on edge and not really knowing why. Or maybe I just haven’t been willing to admit I needed him.

  A throat clears from behind me and we spring apart. Once we see who it is, Lir reaches over and grabs my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  “I apologize for interrupting, but there is not much time,” Rym says, stepping farther into the dim room with Flint close behind.