Fractured Suns

by Theresa Kay

  “You were supposed to stand up to him!” hisses Emily as she rises to her feet. “You were supposed to do something other than put up with it! He might have listened to you!”

  “Listened to me?” His tone is incredulous. “His disappointment of a son? Hell, if I wasn’t related to him, he would have kicked me out with all the other males when they came of age and didn’t immediately bow down and lick his boots or whatever. I know you approached Jax about your little… rebellion, but never Jace, and certainly never me. Why was that?”

  Emily’s voices falters. “You know about that?”

  “Of course I do! I’m not an idiot. I just didn’t call attention to the fact that I knew, because I didn’t want to spook you. If you hadn’t been so stuck in your ‘blood makes the man’ mindset, I could’ve helped you. But you had to be so stubborn and pigheaded.”

  “Stubborn? Pigheaded?” The volume of her voice edges up again.

  “Yeah. A lot like someone else I know.” His eyes go to me. “This is ridiculous. We’re wasting time. I just…” With an exasperated grunt, he throws his hands up and kicks the wall.

  My lips twitch. Emily’s do too. We share a look and then burst into laughter. Flint looks at us as if we’ve lost our minds.

  “See,” I say. “I told you it does some good.”

  Emily smiles and nods. “I guess you might be right.” Her eyes turn to Flint. “About more than just kicking things,” she adds softly.

  “Great,” he says, drawing the word out into two syllables. “Now that we have that settled, do you think you can come speak to my father without zapping him, Jax?”

  “I’ll try,” I say in a flat voice. At his raised eyebrows, I shrug and add, “I’ll try really hard?”

  “Good enough,” he says. He grips my upper arm and pulls me toward the door. “She’ll be back, Emily. I know your friends are probably on their way to spring you, but try to still be here when we get back. Depending on how this goes, she might need your help.”

  I allow him to lead me out the door, waving to Emily with my free arm as I go.

  THE ATMOSPHERE ON THE streets is thick with tension. There are fewer people out and about and a few send dirty looks at Flint, but most avert their eyes. No one says anything and it’s a bit disconcerting. It feels very similar to when I walked down the street in the E’rikon city trailing behind Lir and his family. Almost as if I’m invisible.

  A squeal. Someone comes up to me and grabs my hands, stopping me in my tracks. “Jasmine! It’s so good to see you. I’d heard you were back but I don’t think I believed it until right now.” The girl in front of me with dirty blond curls squeezes my hands. I have no idea who she is. Still, in my confusion, my body does not shy away from her. Her face is too open, too eager and she looks harmless.

  “Uh… hi?” I say.

  “Oh, goodness. What am I thinking? You probably don’t remember me. I’m Bree. You and I were Promised during the same ceremony.” That night was a blur to me and I still don’t recognize her face. But the name—she’s Emily’s friend. My face must show something to encourage her, because she gives a slow, exaggerated nod and puts more pressure on my fingers.

  “Oh… yes… of course. Uh… How are you?”

  “Great! Did Emily tell you my news? I’m going to have a baby.” Her smile is wide, but her eyes are scared and sad. “Here. Feel.”

  She pulls my hands closer and rests them on her barely rounded belly. What am I supposed to feel exactly? To me, it seems like she could have just eaten a large meal. I raise my eyebrows, but she just does that nodding thing again and twists to the left so my hand brushes against the pocket in her skirt. And the knife-shaped lump inside it.

  Oh.

  I slide my hand into the pocket and wrap my fingers around the knife handle. She’s biting at her lip and sending me a “say something” look. So I open my mouth and stammer, “So, how far along are you?” I slowly pull the sheathed knife out, move it into the waistband of my jeans, and pull my shirt down over it.

  Relief flashes over her face, and though it’s still strained, her smile seems more genuine now. “Almost three months,” she says, absently rubbing one hand over her stomach. “The—”

  “What are you doing out here?” snaps a large man from beside us. He wraps a hand around Bree’s wrist. He’s dressed in the typical uniform of one of Dane’s cronies.

  Bree grits her teeth, but the light leaves her eyes and her shoulders slump. “I was just greeting my friend.”

  “I told you to stay put while I was getting settled back in.”

  So, this must be Bree’s husband.

  The man’s knuckles turn white as he grips her wrist tighter. When Bree gasps in pain, a self-satisfied smirk crawls onto his face. “Get back to the house.”

  Bree hurries off without another word, and the man sneers at me. “Don’t you—”

  “Leave her be, Jenkins,” says Flint, stepping up beside me. “We’re going to a meeting with my father. You wouldn’t want us to be late now, would you?”

  The look the man gives Flint isn’t much better than the one he gave me, but at least he holds his tongue and gestures for us to walk by.

  Once we’re out of earshot, Flint leans toward me and speaks into my ear. “What the hell was all that?”

  “That was Bree,” I say. “She was Promised the same night we were. Apparently to that asshole we just met. She wanted to tell me she was pregnant.” Flint’s brow furrows and he gives me a funny look. Should I tell him? I pull my lower lip into my mouth and nudge him with my shoulder. Then I lift the edge of my shirt to show him the knife. “And she had some information for me.”

  Flint clears his throat as I settle my shirt back into place over the top of the knife. “Interesting. I take it she’s one of Emily’s friends?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Figured.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “You trust me, right? You know I’m going to do whatever I can to fix this, to get Jace back.”

  I glance up at him, studying the stress in his jawline and the worry painted across his features. I haven’t always agreed with his plans, and he hasn’t always had the best ones, but… in answer to his question? “Of course I trust you. You’re like a brother to me.”

  A soft smile rests upon his lips and some of the tension leaks out of him. “Thanks,” he says.

  We walk in silence the rest of the way to the now familiar building that houses Gavin’s office. Well, I guess now it’s Dane’s office again. It’s more of a camaraderie-type quiet than an uncomfortable one, but the closer I get to the coming confrontation, the more anxiety begins to zip along my nerves and permeate my thoughts.

  Flint takes the lead when we get to the entrance. I follow him, almost meekly, through the entryway, up the stairs, and down the hall. The rap of his knuckles on the door brings Dane’s voice from inside telling us to enter.

  This situation is strangely similar to the last time I faced down this man in his office—me begging for permission to rescue my brother. But I refuse to accept the same result. I stalk across the room to Dane’s desk, letting my anxiety move into my fingertips and dance there. Please let this work. Please let this work.

  I place my hands on his desk and release the tingle in my hands. The heavy, solid wood desk moves. Only slightly, but I’ve got his attention.

  “Very interesting parlor trick, Jasmine.” Dane’s eyebrows rise in interest and he cocks his head to the side. “But that doesn’t change what’s going to happen here.”

  “What about my brother? He can’t stay where he is.” How much should I tell him? “He’s in danger, and he’s your little gofer or whatever, so I assume you want him back. You need to send someone after him. It doesn’t have to be me. In fact, I’ll be a model prisoner as long as you send someone after him. Like Flint. Please?”

  “Well, well, well. It seems you’ve found your voice somewhere along the way, and maybe some diplomacy as well. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure your brother’s situatio
n is taken care of.”

  Could it really be that easy? My hope falters in the face of my uncertainty. And then dies completely when Dane chuckles.

  It’s a dark sound, harsh and all too clearly meant to mock any optimism I may still possess. His lips twist up into a slimy grin. “Is there anything else you’d like to request? Maybe mercy for your soldier buddies? Or that brown-haired twit you call friend?”

  Alarm rushes through me in a frigid wave. Those weren’t offers. They were threats. And I’ve already played the only card I dare, while he still has so much that I value in his clutches. My stomach drops and I curl my fingernails into my palms, drawing on the pain for control. “What are you going to do with them?”

  Dane leans back in his chair with his hands intertwined behind his head, a picture of nonchalance. “Your soldier friends will be executed. As for that brown-haired twit… Well, I still might be able to find some use for her.”

  “I’ll take her,” Flint says in a burst of words. He steps forward to stand beside me. He grabs one of my hands below the level of the desk and squeezes. “Emily. I’ll take her.”

  This time it’s an actual snort of derision that escapes from Dane’s mouth. “Getting rather greedy with the women now, aren’t you? I already gave you the one with the highest pedigree and you couldn’t be bothered to keep her under control.” He rises to his feet and leans across the wood toward his son. “But of course, now I know that was a waste of effort on my part—as your interests lay… elsewhere.”

  From the corner of my eye, I see the color drain from Flint’s face. His grip on my hand grows tighter as a subtle tremor works its way down his arm.

  Dane slams his hands down on the desk and I jerk back at the noise. Flint… deflates, curling in on himself and dropping his chin. It’s my turn to give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “I didn’t raise you to be an abomination,” Dane hisses. His mouth twists with disgust and he collapses back into his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m assuming the equipment is still in working order, so I’ll forgive you your little… indiscretion—once you get this one pregnant.” An arm flies out to gesture at… me.

  “Why me? Why her? What’s the point of all this?” Flint’s voice teeters on the edge of frantic, but it’s not fear in his words. It’s rage.

  Dane laughs, his disbelief clear in the sound. “Jesus, boy. Don’t you get it? This isn’t just about you. I’m creating a new civilization. I’ve offered you a chance to get in on the ground floor, but you’re insisting on being left behind. The human race is failing—I’m sure you’ve seen it. I spent years trying to create a half-breed only to find there’d been two of them right under my nose all along.” He presses his lips together and shakes his head, then speaks softly, almost to himself. “He didn’t warn me about the instability problem. I would have done things differently.”

  What? Who didn’t warn him?

  Flint’s face comes up, his eyes wide with horror. “What did you do?”

  “What I had to,” snaps Dane. His eyes slide to me, taking in my proximity to his son, my narrowed eyes, and the confident tilt to my chin. “The boy had to be convinced to bring her here; she was never going to do it voluntarily. I’ll admit the method was a little harsh, but it’s water under the bridge at this point. She seems to have ended up all right. Still a little strong-willed for my tastes, but at least she doesn’t turn into a shaking, sniveling mess whenever you touch her anymore. Eh, chop her hair off, flip her over, pretend she’s her brother—whatever you need to do to get the job done.”

  What Dane said doesn’t immediately make sense to me. The words are there, but it takes me much too long to process their meaning, to understand just exactly what he did. But when the realization hits—it hits hard. And fast. It’s that last comment about my hair that finally brings everything clicking into place. The men at the cabin… The ones who… the ones I killed. They were his doing.

  Maybe if I were prepared, maybe if I were sitting, maybe if I were… I don’t know, better, stronger, angrier… then I wouldn’t freeze in place. But I’m none of those things. I’m standing, and I’m suddenly so, so, so very weak and scared. How had I ever thought myself strong enough, smart enough—or in any way enough to stand up against evil like this?

  Flint’s hand is too hot, his body too close. But I’m still here enough to know who he is and to know that he won’t hurt me. It isn’t anything Flint does that pushes me over the ledge to plunge into the frigid deep of abject terror—all it takes is Dane’s slimy, leering eyes crawling over my skin until the only thing I can think of is them, all I can picture is them. Twisting my wrist. Stroking my cheek in a mockery of affection. And later… pulling a lock of my hair taut, sliding a knife through the strands and letting them rain down on my face as they laughed and then did it again and again until my face was buried in the discarded red plumage I’d once thought so pretty. And through it all their voices in my head, the images of desires not my own, twisted, dark, and painful, worming into my brain. All this before the real pain, before the blood and pleas, before I slid that same knife across both their throats and watched them bleed out onto the floor.

  My hands fly to my temples as the icy spikes of fear stab into my mind. My eyes slam shut and I’m alone in the dark. Alone and oh so cold. Shivers wrack my limbs and my knees give way. My teeth clack together when my butt hits the floor, and my breath is frozen in my chest. Even the heated rage hiding in the darkness would be welcome now, but I’m too busy shaking to find it.

  There’s no air. No light. No reprieve from the memories I’ve shoved aside and ignored for too long. That cocky rage is nowhere to be found, and I’m slowly suffocating in my head.

  Breathe! It’s a flashing, frantic light buzzing around my consciousness. Faint and blue, it pulses again. Jax!

  And then green-gold dawn lightens and calms. A soft wash of warmth, a caress of worry, and a softly whispered, Breathe…

  Oxygen trickles into my lungs and my chest expands. In. A slow release. Out. Two more. And then I can open my eyes again.

  Flint’s face hovers over me, concern creasing his brow, and Dane has stood up and is leaning against the desk looking somewhat… interested? Probably not too happy that his plan was a little too effective. He meant to break me, and he did, just quite a bit more than he expected.

  High-strung livestock don’t breed well.

  At that, I laugh. So hard I soon have tears running down my face. But I’m not having a panic attack. I’m holding myself together with hysteria. That’s a new one.

  Behind me, the door opens. Oh well, I guess it’s time to drag me off again. Or not.

  “What the hell is going on? What did you do to her?” a familiar voice growls.

  I stumble to my feet and rush at him. I don’t know how or why, but he’s here. And right now, my brother is exactly who I need.

  HEAD DOWN, I FOLLOW mutely behind Adam and the others, with Rym beside me. They will not be leaving this city with my sister unless I go as well. It did not take much to get that point across. Physical violence is not something I typically resort to, and my knuckles are still stinging from the impact with Adam’s cheekbone when what I can only call a distress signal from Jax filters through the bond. The sudden onslaught of fear and pain into my mind makes my steps falter. It is only a brief hesitation, and I press one hand against a wall for a moment of stability. Had I been in other company, it might have gone unnoticed.

  Rym shoots me a quizzical look. Subtlety is not one of my cousin’s virtues. I fight the urge to close my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. It would only pull more of their attention to me, and the two E’rikon have already paused and turned around. I settle for a slight shake of the head to my cousin and then I continue walking.

  No matter what this group represents—or who they may be to Jax—I am not entirely certain I trust them. Until I know more, the less I give away, the better. Navigating the tangled mess of the bond while maintaining a neutral
expression and keeping up with the others is a struggle. But I manage. I am not able to be of much assistance as she still has me partially blocked out, but she calms and takes a breath, so I relax a bit.

  I am aware that the bond between Jax and me is not typical—and not only because of her heritage. Her volatility and strength make it hard to limit what is sent and received, so the jumbled mass of images and emotions from her now provides very little clarity for me. I also know that when she pulls herself back under control, she will shut me out, something that should be impossible—but it is an advantage for her, and one that I am thankful for. Breaking the bond before was not my best idea, and what makes it all the more tragic is that it may not have been necessary. She had already managed to shut me out. I should have trusted her.

  A tiny, bitter thought worms into my head: she should have trusted me too. Then and now, when I cut her off from Jace. She has no idea what she is up against. She has no idea what Jastren’s influence could do to him. She has no idea…

  My hands curl into fists, and I push back the lingering effects of her frantic terror. I cannot let her emotions affect mine. She is not doing it intentionally, but in this, I need to be the strong one. For both of us. Right now, I need to concentrate on getting Stella, getting out of here, and getting to Jax before anything worse can happen to her. And the best way to do that is to seize this opportunity to get myself and my sister out of the city. Then I can worry about how to reunite with Jax. If Adam truly has her best interests at heart, I am positive he can be convinced to help.

  The streets are strangely empty, or at least they are along the route we take. Where is everyone? Do these men have enough power to cause this kind of… distraction? No matter. I do not have time to dwell on all this now. I increase my speed until I have caught up with the rest of the group.

  A part of me worries for Stella’s safety, but the rest of me is tied up in anticipation of seeing her again. I only know what little information Vitrad has been willing to pass along about how she is, and that has included nothing about how she is dealing with the death of our parents… and the seeming betrayal of her brother. Does she, like Trel, think me a traitor? Perhaps even blame me for our parents’ deaths? So young, so sheltered, and her world was ripped out from underneath her. And now I am condoning what amounts to her being kidnapped for experimentation? Guilt gets added to the mix. But what other choice do I have?