by Anthea Sharp
Isla’s throat went tight. So much for making assumptions.
“Arrest them,” the old man ordered.
“Just me,” Isla gasped. “My little brother didn’t do anything.”
“His presence here is a crime.”
“It’s not his fault. I put him up to it, and besides, he’s only seven. Please.”
The old man regarded her with a pained expression on his face. Then he looked down, one hand moving over the other, his fingers twisting a gold signet ring bearing an imperial letter D. “Boys. I cannot seem to escape boys and their folly.”
After a moment of silence where Isla felt like her heart might beat its way through her chest wall, the old man said, “Arrest them both.”
He turned back to Isla, dismissing her with a wave. “Put her in lock up. The boy goes with me.”
As the peacekeeper hauled him away, Pug kicked and yelled and beat with his fists.
“There’s my girl.”
While the cell door slid smoothly closed behind her, Isla searched for the source of the voice that sounded suspiciously familiar. She found Mic seated on a bench along the side wall of the huge, square enclosure. Other than the beginnings of a shiner under his left eye and a few new rips in his shabby clothing, he looked no worse than he had earlier. She shouldered her way through a cluster of prisoners to reach him.
“What happened?” she asked, taking her seat next to him.
With nothing else to do and a squad of peacekeepers on the other side of the bars, Mic broke down and told the truth in a hushed voice. Freddie Daire had turned up not long after Isla went in search of Pug. Blue successfully stopped the convoy, and the good news stopped there.
“Thing is,” Mic said, “our boy Freddie didn’t have the tickets on him.”
Had he ever? Isla leaned against the plasteel wall and stretched her legs. How long before they went to court for their arraignment? If she could make bail, she could find out where Pug had been taken. “How much time do you think we’ll get for a first offense?”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Mic asked, frowning. “Don’t you want to hear the rest?”
“Of what?”
“My grand adventure.”
He hadn’t asked about Pug.
“Oh, that. I forgot.” Isla shrugged. “Might as well. Looks like we have the time.”
Mic’s glower deepened. “This was all for you three, you know. The only reason it went sideways—” he glanced about and then slid an inch closer “—was because the old man betrayed me.”
“Which old man would that be?”
“The governor,” Mic hissed.
“Right. Your best mate, the Hand of the Crown, Governor Daire. Did I ever mention my best buddy, the Goddess of the Nebula? Lovely person, if you can get past all that deadly gamma radiation.”
“Now who’s being ridiculous?”
“You honestly expect me to believe you?” Isla asked, her voice soft and deadly.
“Of course. We had a deal. Only the governor backed out. Left us to swing in the breeze.”
“So, I was right.”
“About what?” Mic growled.
“The tickets,” Isla insisted. “Stealing them from Freddie Daire would never work.”
“It would have worked because I had a deal.”
“At this point, I don’t know why I care,” Isla said, “but what was it?”
“The four of us were supposed to travel to Otis with Freddie. We keep his skinny carcass alive. Then, no matter who wins the games, we get a big payout. The governor’s way of saying thanks for keeping his son in one piece.”
“What about Pug?”
“Pug, too. I made sure he could come along even if it was a bad idea. Probably get the little squirt killed.” Mic shifted forward and rested his arms on his thighs and stared at the dark flooring.
“Why the plan to stop his transport then?” Isla asked.
“Give Freddie a chance to look like a hero defending himself. Then the governor gets to play the good guy by giving us a chance to redeem ourselves on Otis. Everybody wins.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s obvious what happened. The governor didn’t back out on you, Mic. He never intended to give you the tickets or let you go with his son in the first place. He used you.”
Before Mic could protest, the sounds of a disturbance echoed from the hall outside. The other prisoners shuffled to the front, pressing against the bars. Isla stood and climbed on top of the bench to see over the throng.
Mic tugged on her pants leg. “Who is it?”
The cell door slid open. Five peacekeepers entered with batons raised and pushed the prisoners away from the opening.
Wide-eyed, Isla’s gaze met Daire’s.
Mic said something, but she wasn’t paying attention.
“You may have heard,” Daire said, turning his head from one side of the cell to the other, addressing the prisoners, “there’s a ball tonight. I wanted to make sure you didn’t miss your invitation, so I decided to deliver it personally.”
Isla jumped down from the bench, narrowly avoiding landing on Mic’s foot. She steadied herself and managed to glide backwards a few steps to put distance between her and the prince.
“Our luck has turned,” Mic murmured, grinning like a fool.
“No!” Isla blurted, too loud.
She watched in horror as heads turned and people moved aside as Daire made his way to her.
“Do you have something against dances or music or parties?” He paused, studying her, then said more softly, “Or maybe I’m the problem?”
“No … I mean …” Isla stammered. She took a breath and then another before shaking her head. “No, Your Grace. I don’t … it’s not …a problem. Attending the ball would be … lovely. You are more than kind.”
“It’s not kindness. I’m looking for Isla Delacren.”
He was tall enough and stood close enough that she was staring at his chest. “I’m … Isla Delacren.”
“You have a brother named Phineas, I believe?”
“No … I mean, yes. That’s his name, but everyone calls him Pug.”
He tilted his head, forcing her to meet his gaze and flashed a smile at her. She wanted to flinch and move away from that warmth. Only the solid presence of Mic stopped her.
“Parents like to curse their offspring with unfortunate names. Do you know why?”
“I’m afraid I do not.” Mustering bravery she didn’t feel, she asked, “Whatever they have charged my brother with … it’s a mistake.”
“He hasn’t been charged. Not yet, anyway. Given time, I’m sure the crown will come up with something, but for now, he is safe.” He watched her closely. “He had a very interesting story to tell, though. If it got out, this story, the governor would not be pleased.”
“And will the story … get out?” Isla asked.
“Only to me,” Daire said, lifting his gaze to Mic. “The governor doesn’t appreciate his friends, it would seem.”
“Your Grace, I can explain—” Mic began.
“No need.” Daire raised his right hand and held it parallel to the floor and tapped on the shiny surface of the chip embedded in his skin. A light shot up from the chip. Inside the beam floated four tickets. “It’s still a good plan, although it’s a bit too late to make a big show of kidnapping my brother.”
A strangled sound was all that emerged from Mic.
“There’ve been a few changes. I’m going to Otis for the New Frontier games instead of my brother. I need to assemble a team before my father discovers what I’m up to, and I’m running out of time. It’s also my understanding that my father made an agreement with the four of you. I can’t allow the Hand of the Crown on Heritage One to go back on his word.” Daire tapped the chip again. The tickets shimmered as four names appeared on them in gold script. “Would you like to go with me?”
“But Pug is too young,” Isla blurted.
“True. I said as much myself,” Daire admitte
d. “Phineas—I mean, Pug—had other ideas. He was very insistent.”
“I’ll bet he was.”
“Unless, of course,” Daire added, “you’d prefer to remain here.”
Isla stared. Mic, for once, remained silent.
Daire held her gaze for what felt like an eternity. Finally, one corner of his mouth quirked up. “Your crew might not have been arrested in the past. That doesn’t mean your, um … exploits … have gone unnoticed. The theft from the vaults at the Galleria comes to mind.”
Beside her, Mic startled.
Daire said dryly, “We knew. Rather, Quimby was advised. Station security sometimes takes a longer view of some matters than simple profit and loss.”
Footsteps and the rumble of low voices came from the hallway. An older man with a shock of silvery hair entered holding Pug’s hand. Blue paced behind him, her dark eyes wary until she found Isla.
“This is Quimby,” Daire said. “There isn’t much that happens on the station he doesn’t know about.”
Mic and the older man exchanged a look Isla couldn’t read. The only thing she knew for sure was that they weren’t strangers. Curious.
Quimby nodded to Daire. “This is indeed the crew I was telling you about, Your … um, sir. Certainly not the most skilled or impressive team for an assault on the games, but one that will be sure to appeal. Everyone loves an underdog.”
“Except we can’t take dogs,” Pug said in a serious tone. His hand remained entwined with Quimby’s. He seemed perfectly happy to leave it there.
Daire extended his hand. The golden tickets hovered in the air. “Are you with me?”
A tingle passed down Isla’s spine. He wasn’t kidding, and this wasn’t one of Mic’s schemes. She could leave the station, make good on her father’s dream. Do something.
Become more than a thief.
The thought terrified her as did the prospect of what they might face in the games on Otis. Could it be worse than spending the rest of her days buried inside a rattletrap space station?
Soon, they would be the face of Heritage One’s team in the New Frontier games.
A prince with something to prove.
An orphan who cared for code better than she did most people.
A con man who loved nothing he hadn’t stolen.
A little boy with big dreams and the sister with nowhere to go.
But they would fight for a new world.
Isla put her hand in Daire’s.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
* * *
What’s better than sitting on the back steps with your best friend and staring up at a million, million stars? If your answer is not much, you’ve found the inspiration for this story because it’s all about hopes and dreams and wishes. Those things also make up the core of every Cinderella who sits in the dark and dreams, even while she’s almost certain her wishes are pointless. It’s that odd space between a wish and utter lack of faith that fascinates me.
What the future has in store for these characters remains in the air, but I had a ton of fun writing their story and hope to revisit this world soon.
* * *
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Evelyn Snow is the author of Witch on a Roll, Book 1 in the Evangeline Jinx Paranormal Mystery series. Writing about all things magical and mysterious comes naturally to her since she is descended from a family of witches who paid the ultimate price. Happily, there are no nooses or deadly bonfires in her more recent history. She lives with her family in the Pacific Northwest.
If you enjoyed this story, you can sign up for her newsletter to learn about new releases. Thanks for reading!
By the Light of a Distant Star - Jenna Elizabeth Johnson
Estrelle swiped her fingers across the screen of her Glasslight, then tapped the symbol for her inbox. A list of messages scrolled by, her eyes flicking through them as she hunted for one in particular. When the familiar subject header caught her eye, she stopped it with a finger, the letter unfurling to fill the screen. Estrelle grinned and rose from the couch in her private quarters. With digital tablet in hand, she stepped through the gauzy curtains onto the shaded terrace just outside her room. The stones beneath her bare feet were rough and warm, their rusty color matching the barren landscape surrounding her family’s estate. Above, the broad leaves of the rossu vines climbing the wall and spreading across the pergola provided ample shade beneath Staerra, Parsa’s unforgiving sun.
A wall fountain tucked away in the shadiest corner of her personal oasis offered some comfort, and once Estrelle was seated upon the edge of the shallow pool, she read her message for what must have been the hundredth time.
Dearest Estrelle,
In your last correspondence, you inquired after my favorite color. A simple question, but one I delight in answering. Blue, white, gray, and black dominate the planet of Kaul, and only in the spring and summer months, a mere third of the year, are we given the chance to admire a more varied color scheme in the birds and blossoms that burst forth with life then. Beauty abounds during that time, and all the people of the capital city pour onto the shores of the lake as it begins to thaw. I cannot describe how much I enjoy seeing the variety of hues during the warming season, but you were curious about a single color: My favorite. Despite all the lovely ones I have to choose from, I must admit red is my preferred pigment, only because it happens to be the color of the brightest star in our night sky. Not the brilliant red of furzel bird feathers, or the deep scarlet of the wild poppies in bloom during the mild season, but the warm crimson tone shining from a certain star that keeps me company during my evening walks. We call the star Hettar, the harbinger of summer, since it hovers on the horizon for most of the year only to climb higher when the thaw begins. It also happens to be the star your home planet orbits. I smile as I write this, wondering if the cosmic fates had some part in our arrangement. For who else would know to bring me a companion from the source of my hope and inspiration?
Yours affectionately,
– Damryn
Estrelle smiled and hugged the thin plane of glass to her chest. She couldn’t say why she kept coming back to this particular correspondence, but it always made her heart light when she read it. Received only a few weeks ago, it had been the first time the prince of Kaul had used a more intimate term of endearment to close his letter. And the first time he had signed off with only his name, no titles attached. Estrelle initially had no interest in courting Prince Damryn, but as the days wore on, he proved to be everything she could have hoped for in a mate: Charming, kind, and possessing a warm sense of humor that shone light into her soul.
Through their correspondence, Estrelle learned they had much in common, despite being from two different worlds. Damryn had described the natural wonder of his planet, Kaul, the largest body circling his star, and one that spent the majority of its year wrapped in crystalline ice and snow. She, in turn, had described Parsa to him, in all its arid, crimson glory. They had bonded over their love of the natural worlds around them, seasoned with honesty and encouraged by the easy, patient nature they both possessed. Who would have ever guessed something which had begun with resistance and trepidation would blossom into eagerness and joy?
Estrelle now reflected on that fact, smirking at the memory of the hour she’d learned her destiny would be so depressingly typical of a woman of her status. A little over a year ago, her great uncle and her mother had come to her with a proposal: Their solar system and the one on the other side of the recently discovered wormhole cluster wished to make a treaty. Both planets sat on the edges of their perspective galaxies, and both their rulers were interested in opening a trade agreement between their solar systems – an opportunity for both planets to act as the crossroads of an intergalactic port of commerce. The discovery of the wormhole cluster a decade before had made travel between the two edges of the galaxies much swifter than the usual mode of transportation. Instead of spending a month cramped on a cargo ship with advanced hyper speed capabilities, the wormholes allowe
d even the most basic starship to leap from the edge of Parsa’s solar system to Kaul’s in less than a week.
Estrelle’s great uncle and Prince Damryn’s father, both emperors in their own right, jumped at the opportunity to strike a treaty between their two kingdoms. And an arranged marriage was the easiest, and most secure way, to ensure a successful contract. Since the Kaulian race produced multiple offspring at one time, the current emperor had plenty of sons and daughters to choose from, and Damryn was his youngest. Estrelle was the fourth daughter of the Parsan emperor’s sixth sister, also the youngest. Technically a princess, Estrelle was so far from the throne, she might as well have been a commoner. And since she had three older sisters who outranked her, she was chosen for the role of bride.
Estrelle rejected the idea at first. Arranged marriage was something her distant ancestors, human beings, had practiced on the now dead planet Earth. Eventually, her mother and great uncle persuaded her to start a long-range correspondence with the prince, though she hadn’t placed much faith in the success of that venture.
Oh, how wrong she’d been. With a wistful sigh, Estrelle closed the message she had practically memorized and leaned against the cool wall of her patio garden. She gazed out over the edge of the veranda and off into the far eastern hills. Staerra had slipped below the horizon, leaving the world hanging in a crimson twilight. Estrelle tilted her head back even farther, seeking out Yssa, the star that lit Damryn’s planet and the one closest to her own. There, in a gap between the rossu leaves, a window of darkening sky framed a burst of brilliant, pale blue fire. It would shine brightly over her world tonight, casting its cool light across the desert. And beneath its unyielding watch, she would dream of her new life and a future full of hope and opportunity. And gods willing, love.
The next morning, Estrelle hugged her mother and sisters goodbye. She had donned her fine traveling tunic and leggings, a loose, colorful gossamer robe – its hood pulled over her head to protect her from Staerra’s blistering heat – and a sturdy pair of walking boots.
