She looks as if I punched her in the stomach. “Who’s going to make you?”
“Kyon—your Alameeda friend who traded you for me. He owns me now. They gave me to him.”
Her face loses most of its color. “He’s not my friend.”
“He’s not mine, either,” I reply.
She looks at Raspin, whose face contorts in shame. She points her finger at him. “I’m never speaking to you again!” Her venom turns on Giffen next. “You have to get her out of there!”
Giffen shakes his head. “There’s no way right now, but even if there were, I wouldn’t do it. You think she’d be safe here?” He gestures to me while he snarls at Astrid. “She’s in the only place where she won’t be under the constant threat of death every single rotation. Ruthless or not, Kyon will protect her. He can’t help himself. I saw the look on his face when he saw her—when I ransomed her. It was relief. He’d never have negotiated with us for you if she weren’t the trade. He would’ve brought his army and crushed us instead. He needs her, and we need her there. She’s going back! The Alameeda Strikers are annihilating Rafe. It’s only a matter of time before they turn their attention to us. We have to find a way to take them out now, and your sister is the only one we have on the inside.”
“So I’m expendable,” I say to Giffen. “I think that’s the theme of my life with you guys.”
“You’re an asset! Start acting like one!” Giffen refuses to be cowed. He paces in front of me with a withering look upon his face. “I used to think you were so strong.”
“When did you think that?” I ask.
“Never mind. Where has he taken you?”
“I can’t go back. You don’t know Kyon! He’s all bite. There’s no bark. He just strikes and keeps on striking!”
“You’re smarter than him. Make him yours,” Giffen retorts.
“There’s no making him mine! Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. I told you. I’d rather die than go back.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Giffen replies.
“You have no choice.”
“I haven’t watched you all this time to let you kill yourself now! You’ll return to him and find a way to take down the Alameeda, or so help me I’ll kill you myself!”
“You’ve watched me? When did you watch me?”
Giffen doesn’t answer as he stands in front of me breathing heavily in an attempt to rein in his anger.
Astrid answers instead. “You were given to him to protect. He’s been your keeper.”
“My keeper?”
“He’s a member of the Order of the Tempest—it’s the society of mostly male Alameeda offspring who survived with the EVS819 gene.”
“Is that what you call our freak gene—EVS819?” When she nods, I say, “And your band of lost boys are the Tempest?”
Astrid gestures to Giffen and then to Raspin. “They’re the ones who swore an oath to protect the priestesses of the prophecy—that’s us.” She indicates herself and me with a gesture of her hand.
“I think you mean protect you because, so far, I’ve been on my own.”
Astrid steps toward me. “That’s not true! Giffen has been there for you when—”
“Quiet, Astrid!” Giffen yells as he points at Astrid, who clamps her lips shut, startled by the tone he’s taken with her.
“When what, Astrid?” I demand.
Astrid turns pleading eyes to Giffen. He shakes his head. Turning to me with a determined look, he states, “Where have they taken you?”
“Screw you!” I retort, barely holding on now. I can’t argue further. I want to, but I’m a flickering light—no longer made of star fire but merely gypsy dust in the pale moonlight.
Giffen hovers above me, a new moon whose silhouette is the only thing I can see. “I’ll find you. Watch for me. I’m sending you back before you kill yourself!” He raises his hands to me again, and the force of energy he sends into me knocks me back into the current of time—into a celestial flood. I spin backward, following the path that had led me to Trey.
I land to a cacophony of sounds in my head. I feel an anvil on my chest. Someone is trying to squeeze my heart out and shove it up into my throat by administering chest compressions. I hear myself gasp in soughs that rattle around in agony in my chest. I cough in choking breaths. The anvil ceases to fall. Steady pressure over my heart replaces it. Reaching my hands up, my fingers entangle in Kyon’s hair as he presses his ear to me. He listens to my heart. Waves lap against my toes. The water feels hot—so much warmer than me.
Kyon lifts his head from my chest and gets up on his knees. His strong hand grips my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. I blink a few times, wondering at the shadows of fear that I see in his stare. The panic in his features abates as he takes deep breaths with me. He gathers my limp form to him, nearly crushing me. My wet nightgown sticks to us both. The coldness of my wintry skin against his causes goose bumps to break out on his flesh. “Kricket”—his hushed voice is urgent—“I have to get you warm.”
Kyon stands, bringing me with him. I’m shivering so hard that it vibrates through me in racking quakes. The heat of his skin beneath my cheek almost burns as I lie against his neck. My core temperature is deathly low.
He hurries toward the house. It rises before us, a giant ghost ship. Its pale frame of bone-colored concrete and wood looks like sails of white in the light of the blue and silver moons. Night birds fly overhead, silently stalking prey. Kyon takes me straightaway to the patio and over it. We pass by the gaping maw of the bedroom entryway. Soft, white curtains wave at us in surrender.
Rounding the bend of the wraparound terrace, Kyon takes me to a large outdoor enclosure. Three of the walls are weathered—made of wood with small cracks between the slats. The fourth wall is an enormous fireplace made from the smooth, gray breaker rocks that surround the shoreline. Without a roof, the glow of stars shines on us. I can make out the sea between the gaps in the wide-plank boards.
Kyon walks to a raised black control panel and passes his hand over the surface. It triggers the fireplace—flames leap to life in the hearth. At the same time, small white tapers ignite from low wicks around the enclosure. The soft light doesn’t diminish the shine of the stars and moons above us.
We move near the wooden slats of the wall that faces the sea. He makes a gesture with his arm reminiscent of a conductor signaling to his musicians to prepare to play. Five black orbs uncoil from the floor. Startled, I gasp as they spring up like snakes from a charmer’s basket, hissing and arching above our heads. Water pumps through long tail hoses attached to their diamond-shaped heads as they surround us.
Flinching away from the scalding heat, I wrap my arms around Kyon’s nape and turn my trembling lips against his neck trying to find shelter from the hot water. The inky, round circles that mark his throat stare back at me. Kyon holds me tighter, murmuring unintelligible words to me in a low voice. Steam rises around us, and for several moments, neither of us moves. The only sound from me is the chattering of my teeth.
Slowly, I warm and relax against Kyon. Water slithers over me in a pelting rhythm.