Under Different Stars (14 page)

Snapping a few photos of me, Trey hands the phone to Jax who takes a couple of pictures of us together. Then I still as something occurs to me. “Wait! Uh…wait a second! Don’t send that! Here…can we erase these?” I ask, panicking and trying to reach for the communicator.

Pulling it back from me, Trey asks, “What’s wrong?” 

“Not such a good idea for you guys,” I reach for the phone again. “You need to erase them.”

“Why?” he asks again.

“Because this will get you in trouble.”

“No, this is insurance,” Trey replies. “We keep it.”

“You shouldn’t be involved,” I say, thinking about what could happen to him if he uses those pictures to help me.

“I’m involved,” he states, like that’s the end of the discussion.

My frown deepens. “Don’t be stupid. This feels like a ‘sacrifice the pawn’ move to me. If that’s the case, then you can be included in that if you have these pictures.”

“Or, it can elevate me to queen,” he replies, unruffled.

My lips twitch at the mental image of him as a “queen.” “This is not queen material…knight maybe, but not queen,” I reply, chewing my bottom lip.

“I’ll take the upgrade.” His eyes soften a little. “Here, memorize this.”

He holds his communicator up to me; there is a serial number on the back with fifteen letters and numbers. “What is this?” I ask, trying to commit the code to memory.

“My number.”

“Oh,” I murmur, feeling myself blush. “Okay.”

Everyone falls silent then. I gaze out the window at the blue sky dotted with ultra-white clouds. Glancing at Trey, his jaw is tense, like he’s on edge. His hand on the armrest next to mine moves so that it’s just touching mine. The knot in my stomach eases a little and is replaced by his presence and the feeling of being protected.

From my seat, I watch the trift make a rapid descent and touch down on a manicured lawn. The lawn is incredible; it’s laid out with intricate cascading water features that make the Buckingham Fountain in Chicago look like a birdbath. In the distance beyond the gardens, I can see structures that look like porticoes leading to beautiful, ornately sculptured buildings—like something you might see in Versailles.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“The palace,” Jax says, looking nervous.

“Oh.” I feel ill. “Okay, I have something for you guys.” Reaching inside my sleeve, I pull out two small packages wrapped in the tissue my new clothes came in. Handing one to Wayra and one to Jax, I smile at their startled expressions.

“What’s this?” Wayra asks. He opens the tissue paper, and grinning, he holds up my pink underwear.

“Pinky promise.”
Debt paid
, I think. 

Jax opens his, seeing my pink bra inside, he laughs like I’ve never heard him laugh before. When Jax looks at me, I say, “I’m denying all knowledge of this transaction.”

Glancing at Trey, his jaw is still tense. Ustus, arriving at our seats again, motions to me to follow him. The other agents have opened the doors to the trift, boarded it, and are waiting by the exit. “And as for you,” I say to Trey in a teasing tone, rising from my seat, I lean down and whisper in his ear, “I want a divorce.”

Trey’s jaw tenses, like he finds no humor in what I just said. I straighten then and move to follow the soldier in front of me. “Kricket,” Trey says my name, grabbing my wrist tightly. Seeing the grim expression on his face, my heart twists in my chest.

“Don’t worry, your job is over now and I’ve been here before—in this situation,” I say softly, but his hand only tightens on my wrist. “I’m stone, remember? Nothing touches me.” My smile is the plastic kind—fake. I say it more for me than for him. For some stupid reason, I let him into my world of one, but I’m better off alone...
I’m always better off alone
.

The pressure on my wrist eases as I pull my hand from his. Turning away and walking to the exit, I try really hard not to cry, taking deep breaths as my hands turn to fists. A dark clad agent approaches me with a metal collar. My heartbeat picks up as he clamps it around my neck, snapping it into place.

“That’s not necessary. She’s not resisting—she’s going with you willingly,” Trey growls from behind me, his voice sounding deadly.

The agent ignores him, pulling out a gadget that looks like a garage door opener. Smirking at me with a glint in his violet eyes, he says, “Test in four, three, two, one…” Depressing the button, the collar around my neck tightens instantly, squeezing my throat painfully while cutting off my oxygen. Wide-eyed, my hands fly to the collar, trying to pull it away from me, but it won’t ease. Feeling light-headed and disoriented, black spots form in my vision, right before the collar eases, allowing me to breathe again.

As I take my first gasping breath, Trey’s fist smashes into the face of the Regent agent holding the remote to the collar around my neck. Jax is next to me, demanding the code to release the collar, and Wayra is backing Ustus and his agents up so they can’t get near me.

CHAPTER 12

PROCESSING

Removing the collar from my neck, Jax holds me by my shoulders, looking in my eyes. “You knob knockers!” Jax says harshly toward the Regent agents being held back by Wayra. “She’s smaller than us. She can’t take the kind of pressure that a restraint exerts on a normal adult—is it even calibrated for a female? You need to recalibrate a collar for her if you plan on using it!”

Glancing over at Trey, he’s holding the agent who had put the collar on me by his uniform, looking like he’s ready to hit him again at the slightest provocation.

“You’re violating our orders!” Ustus says from behind Wayra. “This is standard procedure.”

“No, we’re ensuring that our prisoner is protected. We didn’t spend half a floan tracking her to have you kill her during the prisoner exchange,” Trey replies. When he looks back at the agent he’s holding immobile, Trey snatches the metal identification tag from the agent’s belt. He studies the tag and says, “If she has one little scratch on her when you bring her to court, I will find you, Fex Theda, and we’ll discuss it just as we have here.”

“If we agree to take her unrestrained, will you turn over the prisoner now?” Ustus asks Trey.

Easing his grip on Fex, Trey lets go of the agent who immediately backs away from him. “Why are we here?” Trey asks Ustus. “You said that you were taking her to the court for processing.”

“And I will. We’re here because she needs to see a physician before processing. She needs vaccinations before she can join the general population.”

“Why here? Why not at a med station or a military base?” Jax asks. “She’s going to be treated by the Regent’s physicians?”

“Those are my orders.” Jax’s eyes shoot to Trey’s and I read their surprise. “Now, can we remand the prisoner?” Ustus asks, looking huffy.

Trey nods curtly, his jaw tense and his eyes on me. Wayra looks devastated, like he can’t believe that the agents are going to be allowed to take me. Reaching down and picking up the collar, Wayra growls, “I’m keeping this! If you can’t keep track of one little Etharian, then maybe you should find another line of work.” When one of the agents frowns at him, Wayra steps menacingly close to him and asks, “You see something you want?” The agent quickly looks away.

“Fine,” Ustus says, not looking at Wayra.

Straightening my shoulders, I wink at Wayra who’s watching me like his dog just died. I raise my chin a notch and look at each of the Cavars before saying, “Baw-da-baw, boys.” Turning, I follow Ustus out of the aircraft and into the waiting hover vehicle that looks like an elongated Rolls Royce.

In the back of the vehicle, my new bodyguards surround me. I’m being patently ignored by all of them, which is good because my throat feels tight with unshed tears. Passing through guarded gates and along a winding, grassy boulevard with arching trees, we arrive at the cobblestone driveway that leads to the entrance of an elegant baroque palace. I think my mouth might have been hanging open for a moment while looking around in wonder.

Entering the palace, I’m led to a spa-like area with water cascading over a mosaic of blue and green glass tiled walls. A tranquil examination room is set up with a view of the sprawling gardens outside the open French-style doors. Instead of an examination table, a chaise longue and elegant chairs furnish the space.

As beautiful as the place is, the next few hours are grueling. Two very tall, very smiley men conduct the medical examination. The one doing all the work is Tofer. He looks like he’s in his thirties with small, intricate braids in his hair on one side, making him look more like a sexy drummer from a hot band than a physician. I sort of like Tofer because he explains everything he’s doing as he does it. Every vaccination is explained to me detailing its purpose and the symptoms to look for if one was to actually contract the illness. After Tofer finishes, things like “Verdi Freckles” and “Dunder Sorrows” can no longer harm me.

Yazer, Tofer’s peer, is a bit harder to find likable because he asks me leading questions throughout my examination. Pacing the room with his arms crossed, Yazer asks me things like: “Did you know that you’d be meeting me today?” and “Did you ever see me prior to today, in a dream, perhaps?” and “Can you tell me what I did yesterday?” and “Can you tell me what I’ll be doing tomorrow?” I would have thought Yazer a complete lunatic if Trey hadn’t told me about some of the precognitive gifts that Alameeda priestesses possess. Pretending like I have no idea what he’s talking about, I simply shake my head to his questions, frowning at him like I think he’s mental.

When Tofer is finished with the vaccinations, he picks up a visor and brings it to me. “Now, Kricket,” he says, his violet eyes smiling at me, “I’m just going to check your vital signs and get a general picture of your health.”

“Is that necessary?” I ask him, feeling nervous. “They already scanned me with those.”

“Who did?” his eyebrows pull together.

“Never mind,” I drop it because I’m not sure if I should tell him. I don’t know who I can trust. Allowing Tofer to put the “grandma goggles” on my eyes, I bite my lip as he makes a noise that sounds like he’s choking.

“What is it?” Yazer asks, leaning nearer to see the readout. Then, Yazer makes a similar noise to the one Tofer had made.

“She’s really—” Tofer begins.

“Yes, she is,” Yazer agrees with satisfaction in his tone. “She can be taken for processing now. I’ll advise the Regent.” Yazer smiles at me again, looking thrilled while walking to the door. Opening it, he speaks to Ustus as he’s invited into the room. “You can remand her to the corrective court now and then…” he trails off, giving me the sense that there is a plan in play where I’m concerned. “You must stay with her—make sure she’s protected.”

“Those are my orders,” Ustus replies. He gestures for me to follow him as he ushers me out of the palace and into the Rolls Royce hover vehicle with the other agents. Passing through guarded archways that have wrought-iron gates with blue beams of light coursing between them, I absorb as much of the outside world as I can. We’re moving near the ground level and there are several other levels of traffic over our heads that I see through a sunroof. But the speed at which we’re traveling is fierce, making it almost impossible to see details as buildings blur past.

“Can we slow down?” I ask them, trying to look out the back window at the scenery because the side windows are too hard to see anything.

“This isn’t a tour trolley,” Ustus replies, typing something on his communicator as he smiles at his own joke. He’s smaller than the other agents, but his features are more refined.

“No, just a ship of fools,” I reply blandly, getting a smile from a couple of the agents while others frown at me.

“This does feel like a fools errand,” Ustus agrees.

“Why’s that?” I quirk my eyebrow.

“You won’t be staying there.”

“I won’t?” I wonder how much he knows about what’s going to happen to me.

“Everything regarding your case has already been decided,” he replies. “This is just a formality.”

“What do you mean?
I wanted to retain a wigg,” I say, feeling my heartbeat pick up.

“Why? One will be appointed for you. You’re a minor,” he looks at me and frowns, like he’s reevaluating the word he just used to describe me. His eyes linger on my breasts a little too long.

“Court appointed attorneys usually turn out to be…how can I put this delicately...oh, I know,
total knob knockers
,” I reply with sarcasm, causing laughter to erupt from several of the agents.

“Please refrain from using that language. It makes you sound common,” he sniffs prudishly. “What is an ‘attorney?’” Ustus looks grudgingly amused now.

“It’s a wigg and stop pretending that you don’t know what I’m saying.”

“I doubt it will matter much, Fay Kricket,” Ustus says, using my name for the first time. “I’m to stay with you while you’re there. That means you’ll be returning with me.”

“But, that’s insane! I haven’t had time to prepare a case! I don’t even know what laws I’m being charged with breaking. I haven’t been able to research a defense!” I panic.

“You’re going to be taken care of—” he starts to assure me, but I cut him off.

“I don’t want anyone taking care of me,” I retort, frowning at him. “I want to make my own choices about what I do with my life!”

“Good for you,” he smiles. “You’ll just have to wait until you’re twenty floans for that day to come. Until then, I’m in charge of your case.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, get used to seeing my face because I’m in charge,” he says, just like a parent.

“NO!”

“Yes,” he dismisses my objection in a calm tone, while typing away on his phone again.

“I was hoping my father had some family here. Someone who might help me get on my feet.”

“I would not count on that,” Ustus sighs quietly. “I read some of the Hollowell files. Your father’s family has taken steps to disinherit any offspring resulting from the match of Pan Hollowell to Arissa Valke.”

“Why?” I ask, not able to stop myself.

“I don’t know their reasons, but the court documents shifted all assets to an uncle…” he taps his communicator, scanning it, “Ah, Farren Hollowell, Pan’s brother. They couldn’t take away the title though. That’s still yours.”

“The title?”

“Your father was Corinet, so the title falls to you. You’re a Coriness—making you ‘Fay Kricket.’”

“What does ‘Fay’ mean?” I feel a stab of pain while realizing that I have family, but they think I’m trash.

“It’s a title,” he looks confused by my question.

“Like Miss?”

“No, like… Dame…Lady?” he asks, trying to relate it to something human.

“Will you notify the Hollowell family that I exist?”

“Yes,” he replies honestly. I nod, dropping the subject as I kick around in my head what I was just told. I can only think of a couple of reasons why someone would go to those lengths to redirect assets: greed and shame. Neither reason is making me feel hopeful of meeting my long lost family.

The car slows then, pulling into a drive and parking where the sign posted clearly says, “restricted.” Opening my door, Ustus and the other agents lead me to the brilliant glass building ahead of us. This place is so different from the palace that the only similarity is that they’re both excessively clean and elegant. This building, however, is modern in a way that I’ve never seen before. It’s all glass in the lobby and the tiers of floors above our heads go on for at least a mile up. Glass walkways that are completely transparent rise above our heads, taking my breath away.

“Oh, I get it,” I say, looking at Ustus’s face. He raises his eyebrow and I say, “It’s a metaphor—a transparent system of justice.” Ustus looks around then, as if seeing the building for the first time. “I prefer my justice to be blind,” I say dryly.

“I never made the connection,” Ustus murmurs, gesturing me toward a glass elevator.

“No, you just like it because you can see up all the girlie’s skirts,” I smirk.

“Does everything that you think come out of your mouth?” Ustus frowns. “If you will notice, the glass darkens to opaque when it is stepped upon.”

“Oh,” I say. “I’m usually a lot more cautious about what I say. I just feel like maybe there’s not a lot left for me to lose.” Tears sting my eyes. I take a breath, choking them back down.

“You should really rethink that opinion, Fay Kricket. It will get you into trouble.”

Getting off the elevator at the hundred and fourth floor, we walk across a glass causeway that gives me vertigo because we’re so high up. When we pass through the threshold into a room, I realize that the outside is only an illusion of transparency, because inside the room is completely different then the façade has led me to believe.

“It
is
a metaphor,” I murmur, because it’s different than what it seems. Noticing the room has two walls that are pure glass, I walk toward them. As I get nearer to the window, I take in the panorama of Rafe. Several higher skyscrapers have glass enclosed skywalks that link buildings together. In the distance, there are more streams of traffic and in the sky above, there’s a dome over the city, like a shield.

I move around the long, glass conference table to get closer to the window. “Fay Kricket, you’ll remain here while I speak to the wigg and the mediator assigned to your case.”

“Where are we—what city is this?” I ask absently.

“This is the Isle of Skye; it’s the capitol,” Ustus answers.

“What’s that?” I point to the sky before crossing my arms over my chest.

Coming closer to me, Ustus grunts, “It’s a screen.”

“What does it do?”

“It blocks some UV rays, it filters pollution before it can contaminate the environment and it’s a defensive shield,” he smiles reluctantly.

“How does it work?” I watch the arch over the city glow like an iridescent bubble.

“Do I look like an engineer?”

“Why can’t I be in the room while you discuss my future?”

“Because it’s already decided.”

“What’s going to happen to me?”

“You’ll live at the palace here in the Isle of Skye for now.”