I know he’s right. It wasn’t the Brotherhood; it was Pan and the members of the Tempest—and Trey—his stolen drones. This is war. Alameeda and Wurthem are the monsters that declared it. Rafe has been devastated by it. Now Wurthem is suffering its first casualties. From what I saw, they’ll be shocked by it. I think they were under the impression that they’d all get through this unscathed. This adds a new layer of chaos to the conflict. Wurthem won’t know from where this attack originated. They may suspect their allies, Alameeda. It’s a really smart strategic move by the rebels in Amster, pitting the two forces against each other.
It’s clear to me that Trey has joined Amster and the resistance they’re mounting there. It makes sense. He’s an outlaw to Rafe—they think he’s a traitor because of me. The rebels in Amster know differently. But deep down I know that Trey did this for me. Pan told him it might help me survive the Brotherhood, so he didn’t hesitate to hack into the Wurthem drones and use its own weapons against it. I don’t know why something like this would make the Brotherhood need me. And in truth, I don’t want them to need me; I want them to leave me alone.
“Tell me everything that happened in your foray into the future,” Kyon orders.
I know I can’t mention the drones. Anything that connects Trey to this would be reason for Kyon to suspect that he may still be alive. I can’t have that. As I tell Kyon the story, I omit how the bombs were delivered in Kalafin, which doesn’t leave me much to tell, other than what it looked like when the explosions occurred.
Kyon’s military acumen surprises me as he murmurs, “It was more than likely a drone strike. They’re the only devices that would deliver that kind of weaponry undetected by Kalafin’s security matrix. We had something similar occur in the Isle of Skye while I was searching for you—not of this magnitude, but our drones were infiltrated.”
I pretend not to know what he’s talking about and simply remain silent, but I can name the programs that commandeered their drones and made them assets to Rafe. I attempt to change the subject. “Where are we sleeping tonight?” I ask.
“Your choice,” Kyon says.
“Okay. You sleep in the teak hut and I’ll sleep in this one,” I point to the main house behind us.
Kyon ignores my suggestion. “You don’t really want me to leave you alone. You’d be afraid. I’d find you sleeping in a closet. We can both sleep in the main house if it’s more to your liking. Is it?”
I shrug. I hate that he’s right. I hate that I need him, at least for now until I can either escape or the Brotherhood becomes less of a threat. Since I don’t think either of those things will be easily accomplished, I have to accept him remaining close. I don’t, however, have to like it.
CHAPTER 9
LIFT THE VEIL
Kyon is a presence in my life that I can’t compartmentalize. My skin is slowly growing accustomed to his skin. Lying beside him at night, he’s the well-worn mitt that fits without effort. His hand when it rests on my hip, or his cheek when it brushes my neck, is seduction itself. It’s my darkly held secret that’s sharply felt. I’m not in love with him. I would never call it that. It’s more of a growing fascination with him. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known, but he’s maladjusted and broken—unpredictable and frightening.
In a way, I’m almost an apprentice to him. Everything he does, he brings me along and shows me how to do it. It doesn’t matter what it is. It could be setting traps to catch sea creatures, or dismantling and cleaning weapons, or programing garden-bots. He teaches me what he knows. I feel less of a stranger in this world for it. It only takes him a few rotations to teach me to swim. Something that has plagued me since I’ve been here is now a skill . . . because of him.
I realize what he’s doing, though. He’s occupying and monopolizing my time. I have little of it to myself, so I cannot secretly project into the future and explore ways in which I can outmaneuver him. He is nothing if not a keen strategist. I may have met my match with him in that regard.
So I’m surprised one afternoon, when I’m strolling along the beach, to hear the hum of an engine overhead. I shield my eyes from the glare of the sun to locate the aircraft in the sky. Wisps of my blond hair dance in the ocean breeze. Gazing in the direction of the main house, a small, silver, hawk-shaped airship flies over it, idling for a moment above the hoverpad on the rooftop. It floats down in a spiral, like a lost feather, to rest on the two talonlike claws that piston down from its belly. The airship powers down while the side of the craft melts to form a doorway with levitating steps. A tall, brawny blond man appears in the doorway of the craft, descending the stairs. He’s not dressed for the beach. He’s attired from head to toe in a military uniform. Squaring his broad shoulders, he walks purposefully into the spire that resembles a crow’s nest at the top of the house.
I stuff the shells I have in my hand into the burlap satchel that rests on my hip. My eyes stray to Kyon, who has also seen him. He emerges from the surf at an unhurried pace and moves toward the house. I know him well enough now to understand that he has been expecting this visitor, or the aircraft wouldn’t be here.
I feign disinterest in our visitor, continuing to collect shells while Kyon rinses off in the outdoor shower. He wraps a towel around his hips and enters the house through our bedroom. I cautiously make my way there too. I press against the adjacent wall before I peek around the corner. The room is empty. I wait. I pull back from the opening and press flat against the wall when Kyon emerges from his dressing room attired in a black Striker uniform.
He moves through the bedroom. I follow him at a slower pace, making sure he doesn’t see me trailing him. He takes the stairs at the end of the gallery. I follow him up to the top of the house in the direction of his office. My feet make no noise but I leave a sandy trail on the floorboards that I have no hope of hiding. Clutching the burlap satchel on my hip so the shells don’t clink together, I reach in and grasp the knife that Kyon gave me. When I come to the top of the stairs I pause. Looking down the short hallway that leads to his office, I don’t have to strain my ears to hear the raised voice coming from it.
“You’re being summoned! This isn’t a request!” the angry voice of our visitor states. I watch as Kyon leans against the front of his wooden desk. His arms cross over his broad chest.
Goose bumps break out on my arms. I know our visitor—at least, I’ve seen him before. He’s my half sister Nezra’s consort—or whatever they are to each other. When I spoke to her, she claimed that he owns her. She was given to him by the Brotherhood, a fact that she despises. She wanted to be claimed by Kyon. For a moment, I wonder if I should pity our visitor.
Nezra’s consort continues to pace, saying, “You cannot ignore a summons from the Brothers. They want to compromise. They see they were wrong in seeking extermination.”
“What has happened to bring about their change in attitude?” Kyon asks.
“We need her. The war is not over as everyone would like to claim. There’s a rebellion being mounted against us as we speak. A counterattack was implemented on a scale that we didn’t anticipate.”
“What do you mean?” Kyon feigns surprise.