Academy 7 (13 page)

“But never in the Alliance?”

Another breath, this one less ragged.

“No. He never traded here. He never even mentioned the Alliance.” Her head came up. “It’s strange.”

“He must have been gone from your home a lot if he flew a ship.”

“I lived with him on that ship,” Aerin replied, releasing the plucked grass. “You asked where I was from.”

“You didn’t have a home planet?” The idea was startling. Dane rolled to his stomach and peered up at her.

“Not that I can remember. We flew around a number of systems, but we never stopped on planet for more than a month.”

“You didn’t have any other family?”

“No.”

And your father is dead now.
The unspoken thought lay between them, the emotion in her voice making it obvious.

It was Aerin who broached the subject. “I . . . I haven’t talked about him with anyone since he died.”

Dane was unsure how to respond to that. He wanted to know about her, but if he listened to her problems, sooner or later she was going to want to know his. And there were things he had no desire to share.

“It isn’t as hard as I thought it would be, talking about him,” she said, belying the statement by plucking another handful of green.

Dane quelled a sudden desire to still her nervous fingers by taking her hand. “What was he like?” he dared instead.

“He could be funny,” she said, “and spontaneous. He would change course when it struck him. His customers didn’t care for that, but he always smoothed things over with them. He could be very persuasive at times.” She smiled, then her face fell. “Other times he would sit silent for long stretches, not responding to anyone.”

“What about school?” Dane asked, hoping to distract her from whatever new sorrow had clouded her thoughts.

“My father taught me: physics, advanced math—he loved to read. He said reading was the soul’s salvation.”

“And how to fight?”

She shrugged.

Dane wondered how a lone trader on the fringe of society had gained enough educational background to prepare her for the A.E.E. “Your father must have gone to school himself then.”

“Maybe.”

Maybe?
For growing up with only one person in her life, she lacked a fairly important piece of information. Why would this man have raised his daughter by himself on a trade ship in what was more often than not dangerous territory? The questions swirled.

Dane did not ask them, though, because Aerin chose that moment to turn the tables. “What about
your
father?”

And that was the end of the conversation.

Chapter Twelve

AERIN WAS REMINDED FREQUENTLY OVER THE NEXT two months that Dane was still exasperating: the way he drilled her on the small points of an argument, then turned and argued the flip side against her in class; the way he refused to use certain openings in combat, claiming that to do so went against his sense of moral conduct; the way he managed to let others’ snide remarks slide past him as if they meant nothing.

If Aerin had been asked at the end of their second term to describe Dane, the first word she would have used would have been
maddening.
She would also have added
stubborn, intelligent,
and, to her surprise,
funny.
His sense of humor, couched in irony, took her a while to appreciate, but it was also bluntly honest; and, by the start of Academia’s damp season, she found herself looking forward to his unvarnished opinions on every topic from flight paths to Ausyan philosophy.

There were no pedestals in Dane’s world. No crystal vases to be treated with supreme care. No heroes. But there was a constant willingness to take out a topic, test it, shake it apart, mix up the pieces, and test them again.

Perhaps that’s why he spends time with me,
Aerin found herself thinking one afternoon as she negotiated the Great Hall’s uneven stairs on her way to report for work.
Because I haven’t made up my mind about this part of the universe.

Dane’s interest in her was baffling. Between work crew and tutoring sessions, he spent four to five hours with her every day after class. And she was not the only one who found his attention toward her unfathomable. More than once she had noticed Yvonne’s black eyes surveying Dane while he was helping Aerin prepare an argument in the library. Or sitting with her during meals. She kept expecting him to lose interest and turn his attention toward the Entera beauty, but—

“Where is he?” Xioxang suddenly swept out of his classroom, cutting off her train of thought. Red robes billowed behind him, and the folds of his hood shadowed his face.

Aerin defended Dane. “He’s helping Miss Maya put away supplies at the south end. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Then you can tell him not to report for work today.” Xioxang lifted his head with a sharp movement.

“Miss Maya asked him for help, and he’s not very late. I don’t see—”

“Dr. Livinski has chosen to end your probation.” The teacher thrust back his hood, gold eyes shining down at her. “Good afternoon, Miss Renning.”

Aerin’s jaw dropped. She tried to stammer out a response, but by the time she had gained control of her tongue, Xioxang had already ducked back in the classroom and closed the door.

Free from work crew!
Aerin whirled and sprinted out of the Great Hall. Her boots pounded down the outer steps and quieted as she took off across the mist-shrouded field. She slipped once on the slick grass, but kept running.

Pow!
The explosion brought her to a halt like a scarf slung around her neck with intent to kill. She looked up.

Into the venomous stare of Yvonne Entera. The older girl, chin lifted in a straight line, stood less than ten feet away, her feet twelve inches apart, shoulders squared, chest erect. In her hand lay the deep golden handle of a laser, the weapon pointed at Aerin.

Aerin’s mind imploded, shattering into fractures of thought and feeling.

“Really,” Yvonne sneered, shifting the laser toward a nearby target partially hidden in the mist. “Running across a firing zone is a rather dramatic means of avoiding work.”
Pow!
The fire drilled its mark. “Don’t you think?”

“I . . . I’m off probation,” Aerin sputtered.

“Then why are you in such a hurry to die?” The barrel of the weapon turned back in her direction.

A lump clogged her throat.
Don’t let her paralyze you,
she warned herself, taking a step forward. Toward the weapon. “I’m meeting someone.”

Yvonne gave a knowing glance at a handful of upperclassmen lurking in the haze. “I don’t suppose any of us can figure out who.”

There was a spattering of laughter.

Limbs tense, Aerin forced herself to take another step.

“Maybe I should write your parents,” the other girl continued. “Warn them about the type of people you spend time with.”

Another step.

Yvonne blinked her thick eyelashes. “But then, your parents must have been too busy teaching you combat to stress a little thing like discretion.”

Black eyes narrowed. “He’s just using you, you know. Don’t think he’s actually your
friend.
”

The term stopped Aerin cold. Friend? She was not even sure she knew what that meant. Was it possible that Dane was one? He was not like Yvonne’s friends, always hanging around, begging for attention. But she did enjoy his company. She could ask him questions and expect an honest opinion. Was that friendship?

How strange. Hadn’t she envied others their friendships, their comfort and confidence in one another? And now?

Now Yvonne Entera envies mine.
The thought brought a smile to Aerin’s lips and propelled her once again in forward motion. Taking one last step, Aerin closed her hand around the laser in Yvonne’s grip, gave it a sharp twist . . .

And wrenched the weapon away.

 

The episode came back to haunt her the next morning in the cafeteria.

“Did Yvonne Entera threaten you?” Dane’s words came from behind Aerin.

She whipped her head around to see him looming over her, his full tray balanced precariously in one hand. There was something in his face, almost—

“Answer me.” He took two steps around the edge of the table, and the tray came down with a thud.

“Yes.” Of course Yvonne had threatened her. The real question was what had brought this startling reaction out on his face. The Dane she knew did not get upset. He was always controlled.

“Did you turn her in?” he demanded, still standing.

Aerin stirred her food around, then lifted a golden pear off her plate. “You don’t honestly expect me to answer that with you glaring at me, do you?” The power of those brown eyes was oddly disturbing.

The pear disappeared. How in the space-time continuum had he managed that? Her reflexes were going rusty.

“Damn it, Aerin, answer me.”

Her back straightened. “If you think swearing is going to help, you might as well park that tray somewhere else.”

Color flashed through his face: purple.

She was remembering now, what he had said when she asked him why he had broken into the tech lab, something about making bad choices when he was angry. That answer did not seem as evasive as it had before. His thumb was digging a hole in the side of her pear.

“Dane, if you really want to talk about this, let’s talk, but stop glaring. You’re worse than Xioxang.”

The purple faded slightly. “Rumor has it Yvonne aimed a laser at you yesterday.”

“Hmm.” Aerin held out her palm, waiting for the stolen pear. It returned to her possession.

He sat down slowly. “What was she doing pointing a weapon at you?”

“Threatening me.”

“She can be expelled for that.”

Aerin frowned. “Don’t you dare mention—”

“First-years aren’t even allowed near lasers. She should never have had—”

“Dane!” Aerin hissed under her breath. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly following the rules myself.”

“You can’t keep secrets like this.”

“Why not?” What she said next, she should never have said. She knew better. Their relationship had a wall. She respected it. They both did. But he was chipping away. “It’s not like
you
ever share anything you don’t want to!”

The purple on his face flared. And she did not dare wait for the explosion. Her body moved—up, around the table, and across the floor. She left the tray with its remnants behind. Her hands hit the exit doors, and her feet pounded down the path.

Halfway to the garden, the déjà vu hit her.
No. Absolutely not. I’m not running.

The sight of those protective trees reminded her she had been fleeing ever since she left Vizhan. It had to stop. Dane was not the enemy. She had spent enough time with him to know that much. It was time she learned the significance of friendship.

 

He knew she must have slowed down, or he would have had a far more difficult time catching up with her on the garden path.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” Dane said, then cursed himself, remembering how poorly those words had worked in the past. “I don’t like seeing my friends in danger.” It was an understatement. When he had heard about the threat toward her, only minutes ago and hours after the fact, his blood had flooded his veins, and he had been unable to do anything except explode at the one person who least deserved it.

But she had not told him about the danger. It was frightening how much that scared him.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she whispered, hugging herself and cracking a faint smile. “I . . . I guess I’m not very good at this yet.” She rubbed her arms, then turned and started walking through the garden.

He fell into step beside her. “At what?”

“Friendship.” She blushed.

It occurred to him now that his failure to find out from her about the threat might be his fault. He’d been too careful not to ask if she had any problems. Was he so tightly wrapped in his defensive shield, he couldn’t see what she was up against?

They walked in silence for several minutes. Then Aerin ducked under a huge cedar branch and stepped off the path. She picked her way through the gnarled trees and overgrown bushes with purpose. Dane followed.

Where was she going? His eyes skipped from the back of her wrinkled collar to the placement of her feet. Maybe she wasn’t a classic beauty, but there was something about the way she moved. As if she were one with her surroundings. She crouched and twined her body through the trees without touching them, her hands and wrists curving as though in a dance. How could he have ever thought her plain?

By the time he spotted the pattern of red stones amid the mossy earth, he had lost track of where he was. Sometime, maybe fifty years ago, this had been a real trail.

A light shimmered through the oak and cedar, catching his attention. As he moved closer, the light expanded, then shifted, and he saw that it was not a light at all, but an absence of color. A huge white circle surrounding a stone fountain. She had come here before, he thought, and for some reason, she had chosen to share it with him.

Aerin stepped into the ring. Almost immediately her shoulders dropped, tension sheeting off her face. “The threat from Yvonne,” she exhaled, “I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I just . . . I dealt with it.” She rubbed her fingers.

Belatedly, he realized she had left her coat behind. Though the mist had thinned, there was still a bite to the air, especially with the spray from the fountain drifting toward them. He shrugged out of his jacket, the soft lining sliding easily despite the leather exterior. “What does that mean?”

“I took the laser from her and placed it back on the rack.”

She cocked her head at him, and he had the eerie sensation that she could scan his inner thoughts, witnessing the terror that gripped his throat when he thought of her in danger. “I promise to tell you,” she said, “if Yvonne points another weapon at me.”