The Diatous Wars 1: Rebel Wing (27 page)

“It’s so sad for the Ward, don’t you think? That she’s so ugly now? I mean, obviously she can still do her job and everything, but if I were her I’d have to get it fixed or something. I wouldn’t want everyone staring, and you know they’re going to stare. She’s a public figure for Gods’ sake!” Echo tossed her enormous cloud of hair and took a sip of her drink, and Aris was grateful for the moment of silence.

Echo’s newest ring, Bynne, sat next to Aris. He was tall and solid, with thick black hair and terrible hand-eye coordination. Aris had already saved her glass from his wandering elbow twice. She was confident she could take him in hand-to-hand . . . he was big but clumsy, and she’d learned to dodge pretty well.

Aris shifted again on the stool, hoping no one would notice her fidget. She was wearing a dress for the first time since she’d returned home, and she kept forgetting to keep her knees together and ankles crossed.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think there’s a strange kind of symmetry to the scars,” Phae said. Her silver dress and glitter-streaked black hair shimmered in the low light of the bar. “Once they heal completely, the pattern could be quite beautiful.” She leaned closer to Rakk, her eyes soft. He smiled back, his expression more relaxed than Aris had seen since he was sent away.

Echo’s laughter tinkled out over the table. “Scars,
beautiful
? Come on.” And then she gasped, just as Aris felt a sharp movement beside her. Aris glanced at Phae and guessed she’d probably kicked her, because Echo hastened to add, “But not
all
scars are ugly, I mean, there are plenty . . . um . . . tasteful—”

Aris knew Phae hadn’t been objecting on her account. She couldn’t bring herself to look too closely at Rakk; the pattern of his burns reminded her of the last time she’d seen Galec. “Why don’t we just say ‘scars have character’ and move on?” Aris suggested, and Echo nodded eagerly. The table lapsed into awkward silence.

The Toad was relatively quiet. The band hadn’t started yet, and their group was wedged into a corner away from the dance floor.

Rakk leaned across Phae. “So, Aris,” he said, his voice serious. “In your consulting trips, did you find that things were getting worse or better? When I was in Bieza, fighting was almost daily. Was it—”

“She doesn’t want to talk about it, Rakk,” Phae interrupted. “Leave her alone.”

Aris wanted him to finish his question; she
did
want to talk about it. All of it. The truth. Even if it meant getting sent to jail. Because maybe if she told someone what had really happened, how she felt, she wouldn’t be so terrified of falling asleep at night. Maybe she’d be able to put the past to rest.

But she couldn’t.

So she smiled and leaned into Phae’s side. “Thanks,” she said, pretending they were still friends, that there wasn’t an ocean of silence and secrets and disappointment between them. Pretending that she really had worked in Panthea and missed Phae’s wedding for one of her consulting trips. “I don’t know much about the war, anyway. I was far from the front lines.”

“It’s a shame, how the Ward’s wife sold that veiling tech and all, just to try to help Atalanta, and how it all backfired on her.” Bynne stared at his glass. “She thought what she did would make Safara end the war . . . and now she’ll face a tribunal. Poor Ward Nekos.”

“Poor Ward Vadim,” Aris grunted.

Everyone glanced at her, and she realized she’d forgotten herself. She said the words again, louder and higher. As a girl would say them.

But she couldn’t help wondering what joke Otto would make, or what Dysis would say. And Galec . . . She swallowed and kept her eyes down.

“I got a comm from Calix the other day,” Rakk said, clearly trying to jumpstart the conversation again. But at the mention of Calix, Aris’s heart clenched. She didn’t have to look up to know the girls were exchanging looks. They knew she and Calix weren’t speaking anymore, though they didn’t know why. Oblivious, Rakk went on. “He said the fighting’s been a bit quieter where he is. But they’re seeing more refugees.”

“We’ll see an influx soon, I suspect,” Bynne said.

Aris couldn’t help but remember past nights at the Toad, when Calix and Rakk had talked like Bynne and Rakk were doing now. When she’d been content to just lean back and listen, Calix’s arm around her. She didn’t fit anymore. Not with what she’d been through, and not without Calix.

When the band began to play, Echo squealed and scampered to the dance floor, hauling Bynne with her. Rakk and Phae followed, trying to draw Aris with them, but she smiled and shook her head. She didn’t feel like dancing. With a vague, fond smile at her friends, she slipped away.

•••

Sitting at the mouth of the cave on the beach, Aris watched the endless waves of the ocean sparkle in the moonlight. She could watch the water for hours, the eternal and hypnotic ebb and flow. Her eyes caught on a shadowy fanax floating in the wind, dipping and diving through darkness.

Calix had said she didn’t need to be a fanax, that being small and agile was her greatest strength. And Milek had called her brave.

She dreamed about him sometimes, but he was never in her nightmares. She wished she’d been able to see him, to say goodbye.

She stared at the black line where sky met water. The truth—her truth—was like that horizon; it stretched on forever in her mind, flat and unbroken.

She wasn’t Aristos and never would be again.

But she wasn’t Aris either. Not the Aris who stayed in Lux, who let Calix and everyone else take care of her. She didn’t know where she’d go, what she’d do, but she couldn’t stay here.

She stood, her eyes drinking in the sight of the ocean, the delicate dance of the fanax above the waves. Calix or not, flyer or not . . . Lux was no longer where she belonged.

Pyralis looked up
when Galena entered the room, her blue eyes as bright and wary as ever. She stopped when she reached the wall of glass and kept her face turned toward the forest, away from him.

“Ward Vadim,” he murmured, moving to stand behind her. He could see her reflection, the angry red weals that marred her pale skin. But her eyes were just the same.

“So it was Bett,” she said. She reached up, placed a palm against the glass.

The respectful distance between them was too much. He wanted to be closer, to take her in his arms. He wanted to draw her hand into his, pull her against his chest and kiss her wounded cheeks.

Instead, he sighed. “The operative, Elom, promised her that Safara would withdraw if they received the diatous veil technology. If the sanctions were removed. I believe . . .” He paused. “I believe she thought she was acting in the best interests of Atalanta.”

“How did she procure the technology? How did she even
know
about it?”

“One of her Tech placements, years ago. She went back, ordered a device on my authority.” Anger tightened his words.

Galena was silent for a moment. “Have you questioned Ward Balias?”

“He continues to disavow all knowledge of the plot. I’ve not yet been able to find evidence of his involvement.”

She made a small, skeptical noise in the back of her throat. “And Josef? Bett was aware he would be assassinated?”

“She says Elom promised her no one would get hurt.” Pyralis swallowed, eyes drawn again to Galena’s reflection.

She whirled to face him, her lips twisted into a grimace. “And do you believe her, Pyralis?” she asked, her voice hard even as she so casually spoke his name.

He reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were cool, smooth . . . small in his. Softly, he replied, “It doesn’t matter. Whatever her motives, whatever she was promised . . . she betrayed this dominion. She betrayed me, and she put you willfully in danger. No punishment is great enough for her crimes.”

Bett had begged him, when she confessed. Begged him to have mercy, to believe that she was trying to save Atalanta. She’d screamed at him, told him he didn’t understand how he’d driven her, dogged her with his weariness, his despair. She was watching her dominion burn, and she had to do
something
.

In the end, though, it wasn’t up to him. The tribunal would decide her fate. She would go on trial like any other citizen.

And he would never look at her again without seeing Galena’s burned face. No matter what the tribunal decided, Bett would be the Ward’s wife no longer. Breaking the union would be difficult; it would take years and a lot of money, but there was no other course. Not for him.

“Did you know? Did you guess?” Galena whispered. She hadn’t freed her hand from his, hadn’t pulled away.

Pyralis drew her a step closer. “I wanted to believe it wasn’t you. It didn’t seem possible that you would align yourself with Ward Balias, that you could look at me with such . . . neutral disinterest. And you—she—never mentioned Milek. It all seemed too strange and uncharacteristic.” He released her hand and moved to his chair, bounced a fist on its back. “But I couldn’t be certain. After everything . . . the way I knew you felt about me. I betrayed you. I did wonder if perhaps this wasn’t, well . . .” He turned to glance at her. “Your revenge.”

Galena drew herself to her full height, letting the sunlight shine against her damaged face. “Whatever I felt for you, Pyralis, I would never have put our dominions in danger.”

Pyralis leaned against the chair, remembering how proud and distant she’d been when he’d asked her for help. Even then, she had been willing. And what had he done when she’d fallen ill? When she’d acted strange and gone against their agreement? Nothing. He’d been willing to believe the worst of her.

“I should have known. I should have done more to discover the truth, to find you.” When he continued, his voice was bitter. “Josef would have done more.”

Galena sighed and inclined her head to stare at her clasped hands. “Perhaps. He was a good man. He deserved more in this life.”

“Galena—”

She put a hand up. “Don’t. I have no wish to trade regrets. There is something else we need to discuss.”

He raised a brow. “And that is?”

“There are rumors spreading that a female soldier was instrumental in my rescue.”

“We can easily remedy that. We’ll release a statement that a civilian girl was extracted at the same—”

“No.” Galena cut him off. “That is
not
how we fix this.”

When Aris got
back from her morning run, Krissa was standing in the kitchen, staring blankly at the floor.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Aris asked.

Krissa looked up and heaved a great sigh. Her smooth skin was red from crying. “You’re going to
leave
us again, aren’t you? And
just
when we got you back.”

“What are you talking about?” Aris had only just decided she couldn’t stay; how did her mother know?

“I heard it on the news, about them repealing the ban. They’re going to allow
women
in Military—”

“
What
?” Aris leaned against the wall, knees suddenly weak. “What did you say?” She must have been mistaken. There was no way—

Krissa sniffed. “Surely you heard? Ward Nekos announced it this morning.”

“I—I don’t understand.” Aris swallowed, her mind blank. Women in Military . . . but . . .

“Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that, of course. He said women won’t be
selected
for Military, but he explained about the dominion’s secret experiment. What
you
were a part of, I’m assuming.” Krissa wiped under her eyes and pinched her cheeks, pulling herself together as she continued. “He said that any women currently serving will be allowed to do so without disguising themselves as men. And
next
year they’ll allow female volunteers.”

Aris slumped against the wall. This couldn’t be happening. The Commander said women would never be a real part of Military.

Krissa noticed Aris’s reaction and put an arm across her shoulders. “My
doll
, you really didn’t know?”

Aris shook her head and stared up at the ceiling. She didn’t want to start crying. “No, I didn’t know.”

“Ward Nekos said that a female operative was instrumental in saving the Ward of Ruslana, and
that’s
why ‘the brave women currently serving Atalanta should be recognized and allowed to serve as themselves.’ He was talking about you, wasn’t he?”

Aris shrugged and stepped away from her mother’s arm. “They made me leave. I don’t think they’ll let me go back.”

Krissa sighed. “You’re not happy here. I can see it. Even your father can see it. You miss it.”

Aris clenched her fists and fought the tears back with an effort. “I do, sometimes. But—”

“You should try.
Make
them take you back.” Krissa raised her chin. “You’re a hero.”

The tears spilled. A hero? That’s how her mother saw her?

“Flying is who you
are
, Aris. I didn’t—I didn’t see it until you stopped.” Krissa started crying again, noisy sobs into her hands.

Aris kissed her mother’s soft, damp cheek. “Don’t cry. It’ll all be okay.
I’ll
be okay.” She prayed the words weren’t just another lie.

•••

“5 Cleo, the River,” the driver said.

Aris paid him and slipped from the terran. She stared at the great chrome door, let her eyes follow the building’s façade upward until it disappeared into the darkness. She took a deep breath and rubbed her arms briskly, even though she wasn’t cold.

The same old man stood in the lobby; he showed no spark of recognition when she whispered her name. As he put through the call, she was struck with sudden doubt. What if Dianthe refused to see her? But in a few moments, the man nodded and pointed to the lift.

When the lift finally stopped and Aris stepped into the corridor, Dianthe was waiting.

Aris walked stiffly forward, clenching her fists and raising her chin, because what she really wanted to do was run down the hall and throw herself into the woman’s arms.

“So. You’ve come back,” Dianthe said when Aris reached her.

Aris stared at the blood-red snake and forced back the tears. “I came to apologize.”

Dianthe pointed through the door and waited for Aris to walk before her into the apartment. It hadn’t changed; the great purple chair still squatted in the center of the room, and the lights of the city still glittered cold and remote through the window.

Dianthe poured two glasses of amber liquid. Leaning against the table, she held one out. “Now what is it you want to apologize for?”

Aris reached for the glass and took a small sip. The drink burned down her throat like Elom’s fire. She coughed. Finally, when she could breathe again, she rasped, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. I let you down.”

“Is that what you think you did?”

Aris shrugged and looked down at herself, at her pale pink dress and delicate leather sandals. “I broke your only rule. I exposed the truth about Aristos. I failed.”

Dianthe moved, cat-like, and suddenly her long fingers were wrapped around Aris’s bare arm. She led her to the bench by the window and drew her down so they were sitting next to each other, their backs to the view. For the first time Aris could remember, Dianthe’s touch was gentle. “Aris, how can you think you failed? You’re the
reason
the ban on women in Military was repealed. You saved the Ward of Ruslana.”

Aris’s eyes flew to Dianthe’s face. “How do you know that?”

Her lip quirked. “I know a lot of things. Don’t you remember?”

“They told me I could be ‘detained’ if I say anything about what I did. Who I really was.” The words tasted bitter as they left her mouth. Aris’s eyes fell to her lap. “Nothing seems to fit anymore. I can’t be Aristos, but I don’t think I’m Aris either. I don’t know
who
I am.” She was lost.

Dianthe grabbed her knee. “You are a woman who gave up everything to defend her dominion. You are a flyer.”

Aris shook her head, the faces of her nightmares flickering behind her eyes. “Not anymore.”

“Do not
ever
undervalue your gift for donkey-headed persistence, my girl,” Dianthe said gruffly. “You were your own person before you became Aristos, and whoever you become now,” she let go of Aris’s knee, “you’re strong enough to be her too.”

•••

The next morning, Aris forced herself onto her family’s landing pad. Her legs shook so badly she could hardly move, but Dianthe’s words, her faith, pushed Aris forward.

By the time she’d clambered into the wingjet and settled her hands on the controls, black spots were dancing before her eyes and a cold sweat chilled the back of her neck.

You are strong enough. You can do this.

She reached out to tap the nav panel and tried to ignore the churning and cramping in her stomach. This was where she
belonged
, blight it. A few nightmares and a rocky landing or two weren’t enough to keep her from the freedom of open sky. Hadn’t she flown through violent storms? Enemy fire? And she’d survived it all.

Today was a beautiful day, with no Safaran soldiers trying to kill her. No dangerous missions. It was just a little dance.

This should be easy.

She took a deep breath and tried to get her shaking hands under control.

But it was no use.

What is wrong with me?

The hum of the wingjet shivered under her skin with the heat of Elom’s flame, and the three soldiers she’d killed stared at her from every shadow. Her body began shuddering so violently she had to close her eyes and hold her breath, afraid she was about to break apart.

Shaking, pale, exhausted from the effort, she slipped down the side of the jet and fell against the white-hot landing pad.

She let herself lie there for a moment, knowing if she stood she’d be sick.

Eventually Aris hauled herself up and stumbled to her room. When her hands and legs stopped trembling, she grabbed a bag from her trunk and threw it on the bed. Slowly, she drew clothes from her delicate white dresser and stuffed them into the bag, pausing only to breathe through a series of stomach cramps that nearly bent her double. She didn’t stop until the bag was packed and waiting by the door.

She stood in the doorway, staring down at it.

Everything she’d ever wanted had been hard. Learning to walk again after the fever, becoming a soldier to find Calix. Helping to save the Ward. But she’d never given up, never backed away from a challenge.

Aris straightened her shoulders.

And I won’t this time either.

Every day she would try. No matter how bad the nightmares got. No matter how sick she felt. Every day she would climb into her wingjet and try to fly.

And when she could, when the dead soldiers slept and Elom’s hands held no power over her, then she would take this bag and fly away.

She would volunteer. As herself this time.

Calix, It’s true, what you said. I am not the Aris you knew, not the girl you left on the beach so long ago. Back then, I flew to please only myself. I didn’t know what I was capable of. I thought I was content to stay in Lux, to be your girl and forget the rest of the world.

But I was wrong. I can’t be content with that and neither can you. There’s a war raging, and we both have the skills to help. It’s my duty just as much as it is yours. I am sorry I lied to you. But I’m not sorry I did what I did. I know you value the rules, but sometimes . . . sometimes breaking them is the right thing to do.

I hope we’ll see each other again someday. That maybe someday you’ll want to find out who I am now, who this Aris is. I think, Calix, if you let yourself, you might like her. I do. ~Mosquito