Under Different Stars (20 page)

“Hiding could be a plan…or heading back to the Forest of O could be an option…” I trail off when he frowns at me.

“Why would you need to hide when you have friends who’ll help you?” Trey asks.

“How long will I get to keep you?” I counter, wanting to bite my lip as soon as the words are out.

“What do you mean?” He’s clearly avoiding my question.

“How long?” I repeat, looking at my hands.

“I don’t know. No formal plans have been made,” he replies in a gruff tone. “I’ll help to secure things for you. Once I know you’re stable here, then…” he shrugs.

“Then it’s on to the next mission,” I finish for him, feeling very stupid. A familiar pain squeezes my heart. I know better than to let myself become attached to anyone, like I’ve allowed myself to become to Trey, but it happened too fast to avoid it.

“I’ll always be your friend, Kricket, that won’t change,” he says in a strained voice, seeing my emotions.

“Yeah, no, of course…friends,” I nod with a contrived smile. My face flushes with heat and tears prickle my eyes. “Because I always kiss my friends like you kissed me tonight in the fountain. In fact, I should go and kiss Wayra and Jax goodnight before I turn in.”

Trey frowns. “I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he admits. “We shouldn’t have escaped tonight—squelch trackers don’t miss, so it was like a rush when we survived.” He looks into my eyes, trying to see if I understand what he’s saying.

“Heat of the moment?” I ask, feeling my heart sink further.              

“It’s like you’re some kind of charm against danger. Like you repel it. Saers don’t ignore prey…squelch trackers don’t lose targets,” he says, watching my reaction to what he’s saying.

“And that’s the only reason you kissed me?” I ask and see him look away from me.

“I have…obligations that I…Friendship is what I’m offering you, Kricket. Don’t look for more from me,” he says softly, heading toward the door. I move so he can get by me. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be grueling.”

“Okay,” I murmur, feeling embarrassed and awkward. I close the door behind him and walk to the bed. Lying against its silky pillows, I allow tears to slide silently down my cheeks, feeling like I just lost something precious.

**

I awake to a blazing sun coming through my window. My arm comes up to shield my eyes. When my eyes adjust to the brightness, I pull my arm back and see food on a serving tray on the bedside table. I sit up against the pillows, rubbing my eyes. “Good, you’re up!” Aella says, bouncing from the chair across from my bed. “I was told not to wake you. You sleep a lot!” she smiles, coming to my side.

“Aella…uhh, hi. How long have I been sleeping?” I ask, feeling groggy.

She shrugs. “I don’t know, awhile, I guess. It’s sixteen parts and the sun is in its zenith. I need to get you dressed. You’re to accompany the Regent on a ride with some members of the House of Lords.” She pushes a piece of round toast into my hand while making me get out of bed. “You need to wash and dress…hurry,” she urges.

“Why didn’t you just wake me up sooner?” I grumble, feeling annoyed as she ushers me to the lavare to shower.

“Because
he
said I couldn’t,” she states, nudging the toast nearer to my mouth.

“Who is
he
,” I ask before stuffing the bread in my mouth.

“The really beautiful Cavar…uhh…Trey?”

“Oh,” I frown, feeling a stab of jealousy that she thinks he’s attractive, too. “Yeah,
him.
”

Showering quickly, I walk out of the lavare wrapped in a towel to find clothing lying on the bed. I pull on the stone-colored pants that cling to my every curve and tuck a beautiful white blouse into them. Aella hands me an exquisitely tailored black jacket. Gazing at myself in the mirror, she loosely braids my hair. “Here, put these on and let’s go,” Aella says, handing me long, black boots.

“What am I doing again?” I ask suspiciously, while tugging on the boots.

“You’re meeting with the Regent, Ateur Victus, Ateur Braedan, Ateur Gustoff, Haut Kyon—”

I frown as I interrupt, “Kyon is going to be there?” 

“Yes,” she wrinkles her nose like she smells something gross. “I don’t know why they’re letting him stay here. He’s a scary nim.”

“He wants to make me his consort.”

Aella drops her brush as her mouth falls open. “But, that’s ridiculous. You’re a Rafe citizen,” she says defensively.

“I’m not thrilled about it.” Seeing her confusion I add, “I think he’s a chester.”

She gives a girly gasp. “Me, too!” she squeaks. “Stay away from him if you can. He’s dangerous.”

“That’s the plan,” I admit, smiling at her advice.

Following her downstairs, Wayra and Jax are milling around with big, brawny Rafes that have to be Cavars, judging by their size.

“Kricket,” Wayra says. “This is Gibon, Dylan, Fenton, Hollis and Drex. They’re part of our team.”

“Hey, sup?” I say, lifting my chin in greeting. Immediately, I see them trying not to laugh. “I mean…greetings, Etharians,” I amend, blushing and giving them a formal nod of my head.

Each one sinks to his knee in front of me saying, “Greetings, Fay Kricket.”

“Yeah…you don’t have to do that with me…we’re good,” I say, embarrassed.

Trey contradicts me. “Yes, they do,” he says. Seeing him now after what he said to me last night is making my blush deepen. He’s dressed like me and so is Wayra, but everyone else has on very chic, urban clothing that makes me want to change.

Straightening my shoulders, I ask, “Can’t we all just be normal—on the same tier or whatever you want to call it without all this nonsense?” I feel prickly as they rise in front of me.

“No,” Trey replies. “They’re your guards. Not your friends.”

“Where I come from, anyone who has my back is my friend. If they have my back, then I’ll have theirs, too, and I don’t need anyone to bow to me.”

Trey’s voice is calm, but he’s stern as he says, “We’re not on Earth anymore and you will learn to adhere to the customs of the culture you’re in now.”

Trying not to roll my eyes at Trey, I murmur, “Fine. Aella, where am I supposed to go?”

“The stables.” She hands me a riding helmet and a crop.

Looking at the crop and blushing, I say, “I’d hoped you were speaking metaphorically…like riding high or riding the wave of admiration.”

“No, no, you’re riding spixes.”

“Nooo,” I whine, panicking. “Can’t we just go—I don’t know—golfing?”

“What’s golfing?” Aella asks me.

“Never mind,” I reply under my breath, following Trey to the door. Wayra drives us in a skiff over to the stables, while I gaze out the window and try to ignore the fact that Trey is ignoring me, too.

“Fay Kricket,” Manus says as I approach the stables. He’s already mounted on a very large spix. It has horns that rise several feet from its head and are as sharp as daggers. “I’m very gratified that you made it after what occurred last evening.”

“Oh,” I give a casual shrug. “You’re referring to the dip I took in your fountain? It was…refreshing,” I add, watching his face for any sign of malice.

Manus’s look of concern remains. “That you can see humor in what occurred last night says much about your character, Kricket, not to mention your upbringing. I apologize for our lack of security.”

“I had security. I had Trey,” I reply softly, not looking at Trey.

“Yes, excellent work, Kesek,” he says to Trey with admiration in his tone. “You both know Haut Kyon and Ateur Victus.” Manus gestures with a smile as we greet them, inclining our heads. “This is Ateur Braedan and Ateur Gustoff.”

Ateur Braedan is startling in that he doesn’t have Rafeish violet eyes, but green ones like a Comantre. His dark hair is a little wavy, too. Ateur Gustoff is even more startling because he is the oldest looking Rafe I’ve seen so far. He looks like he could be in his fifties, which probably means he’s freakishly old. His hair is short, too, only just covering his neck, but still dark without a hint of grey in it. 

“Greetings Ateur Braedan, Ateur Gustoff,” I say while inclining my head. Then my eyes fall again on Kyon sitting upon his spix, watching me.

“Have you ridden before, Kricket?” Kyon asks, looking me over.

“No,” I reply with a grimace. “Where were you when I was ten, Manus, and I wanted a pony?” I ask, hearing them all laugh. But, then a spix the size of a Clydesdale is led in front of me and my heart starts pounding against my ribs.

Manus grins indulgently. “A pony…that is a type of equine, is it not?”

“Mmm,” I nod, trying to hide my fear, but I jump when Trey touches my arm. Leaning near my ear, his silky voice fills me with desire as he says, “I’ll lift you into the saddle. Put your foot in my hands.” I try to ignore the thrilling ache his nearness elicits. Resting my hand on his shoulder and lifting my foot to his hands, I resist the urge to let my fingertips linger on him as he lifts me into the saddle that has no pommel on it.

“Here are your reigns, Kricket,” Trey says, and I try not to focus on his perfect mouth. “Hold them in one hand, like this.” He positions my hand on the reigns.

“Okay,” I murmur, not looking at him, but feeling myself blush stupidly from his touch. I wait as he adjusts the stirrups on the saddle to accommodate my shorter legs. Then, Trey mounts the spix next to mine.

“Are you ready, Kricket?” Manus asks, smiling.

“Yes,” I reply, feeling sweaty.

“Just use your legs to apply pressure to its flanks,” Trey instructs. Watching Trey, his legs squeeze the sides of his spix gently and the animal moves forward easily.

“You mean I can’t just put a token in it?” I ask quietly, seeing his lips twitch in a grudging smile as he pulls his spix to a halt, waiting for me to try it. “Okay,” I breathe, squeezing the spix’s sides gently with my legs and immediately feeling the animal walk forward.

Smiling broadly at Trey, I ask, “What’s this one’s name?”

“What?” he asks with a crooked smile.

“Does it have a name?”

“A name?” Victus asks, grinning like I’ve asked a novel question.

“You know…like Sugar or Daisy—Killer…Mister…Ed?” I trail off, looking around as they all begin to laugh again.

“It’s a spix,” Ateur Braedan says, like I’m an adorable idiot.

“How do you know which one is which then?” I ask curiously, not offended.

“They’re numbered. That’s twenty-two,” Trey explains, pointing to the brand on the back of my spix.

I wrinkle my nose when I see the brand. “Number twenty-two, huh. That’s lame.”

“What would you name it, Kricket?” Trey asks me, trying to hide his smile.

“Urr, I don’t know,” I say, patting the spixes neck softly. “She’s very beautiful…maybe Andromeda.”

That gets more laughter before Trey can say, “She’s a he.”

“Oh,” I smile at my faux pas, “then definitely Adonis.” Walking my spix beside Trey’s, the conversation gradually turns to other topics. I listen while they discuss growth rates of pixelaries in the class five district.

“What’s a pixelary?” I whisper to Trey.

Pulling his spix nearer to mine, Kyon answers me, “It’s a plant that produces fiber to create material.”

“Like cotton?” I ask, trying to show him that I’m not afraid of him.

“Yes,” he smiles at me, “but it is more versatile than cotton. It does not leach the soil like a cotton plant does.”

“Are you a farmer?” I ask Kyon, wondering just what he does in Alameeda.

“Not in the traditional sense. I own an interest in several agricultural ventures,” he says, his blue eyes gazing ahead of us as we approach a wooded area. The path through the trees only allows for two spixes to walk side by side. Kyon maneuvers his spix to squeeze out Trey’s, forcing Trey to fall back behind us with Victus.

“I’m sure the Brotherhood keeps you very busy,” I say, not knowing anything about what I just said and realizing I’m his prisoner until the path widens again.

“It does,” he agrees. “But, I do spend most of my time on my estate near the Loch of Cerulean.”

“What do you do there?”

“It’s on the sea, so I sail…fish, walk on the shore…it’s peaceful,” he says, and I can’t keep from giggling. “Why are you laughing?”

“Sorry,” I reply, lifting my hand to cover my mouth. “I was just trying to imagine you walking on the beach, collecting seashells and the visual was…out of character.”

“I underestimated you, Kricket,” Kyon says softly. “You’re so much more than I could have imagined.”

“What?” I ask, startled by his compliment.

“Having to fight all your life for survival hasn’t made you less…it has made you more.” His blue eyes meet mine. “But, wouldn’t it be nice to no longer have to struggle for survival?” he asks, and my heart twists because he does see me.

“It would, Kyon,” I agree softly, lifting an eyebrow. “But, that’s not going to happen any time soon.”

“Not here. In Alameeda, things could be different,” he replies, allowing his spix to come closer to mine. I glance behind me to see Trey frowning, but I doubt he can hear what Kyon is saying.