“You know you have.” The backs of my heels cross the edge of the skywalk. Kyon stops abruptly once more, my threat implicit.
“I’ve never been in a position to betray your trust, or your love, like he has.”
“I don’t want you to hurt him,” I state forcefully, so that he gets the point. “I mean it. I don’t want anything other than to never see either one of you again.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.”
“Don’t think of the consequences; there are none for us. He brought this upon himself, whatever I choose to do to him. He brought you up in the dark. I thought you couldn’t feel pain, but you do . . . you just hide it well. You need strength, someone you cannot manipulate with your intelligence, someone who gives you boundaries. It’s the only way you’ll ever feel safe.”
“What?” I pale.
“I want you . . . your beautiful face, your taste, your mouth full of lies, your sad, violet eyes—I hate them, but I want them.”
“Kricket,” Trey’s voice says from behind me.
I whip around, seeing Trey coming toward me on the other side of the skywalk. He’s not alone: Jax, Wayra, and several other Cavars who were incarcerated are with him. Immediately, the Strikers behind Kyon open fire on the Cavars. The Cavars drop to the glass floor of the tunnel. I step between them to the middle of the skywalk, blocking a clear shot to Trey.
With a wolfish scowl, Kyon barks an order to his men. “Cease fire!” When his eyes return to me, he has a concerned expression on his face. He extends his hand to me. “Kricket,” he says gently, “come here.”
I glance over my shoulder at Trey again. He must have come from his apartment—he has on one of his black combat shirts, it molds to his muscles like a second skin. Gone is the jet pack that he clung to the last time I saw him. He’s on foot now and has his weapon drawn up to his shoulder, but he hasn’t fired any shots. He’s assessing our situation. He holds his hand up to the Cavars behind him, silently ordering them not to fire.
“How’d you find me?” I ask Trey, raising my voice to be heard over the chaos swirling around us. Aircraft blast through the air overhead; dogfights between Rafe and Alameeda pilots tear up the sky. Ammunition fire rains showers of orange and red, turning the twilight to day for brilliant moments. Our skywalk trembles as bombs hit the deck of the ship.
Trey holds up his watch on his wrist; it blinks with a blue light. “We’re tracking the slipshield on your wrist.”
I lift my wrist, studying the clear sticker that resembles the symbol on a USB port that I’d used to open Trey’s cell door. The small patch is blinking with a blue light. I look back at him and see anguish in his eyes. He doesn’t have a jet pack to reach me. I’m stuck on my side, a world away from him.
Kyon calls to Trey, “Tell her to come away from the edge. She’s too close—she’s going to fall.” Kyon is no longer wearing his jet pack either; none of the Strikers with him are. It’s a fact that makes Kyon’s jaw clench tighter the farther I lean over the gap.
Trey’s jaw tenses too, as he steps to his edge of the skywalk. He judges the distance between us. Lowering his gun, Trey touches his wristband again; the flashing blue light stops throwing its pale light on his face. When his eyes meet mine, I see fear in them. “Do you trust me?” he asks.
I nod my head, whispering, “Yes.”
“Then jump!” he says. I flinch, my heart pounding in my chest like he struck me. “Do it!” Trey implores.
Kyon moves behind me; he lunges in my direction, making a grab for my arm. I twist back around to face Trey; he’s watching me, his every muscle tensing, his eyes begging me to move. I take a deep breath before jumping from the edge of the skywalk and lurching into the air toward him. To my surprise, Trey jumps from his side at the same time, meeting me in the air between the broken pieces of skywalk. His arms go around me, hugging me to him while we fall toward the reservoir of crystal-blue water far below.
CHAPTER 9
SKYE BELLS RINGING
As Trey and I plummet away from the skywalk, my hair streams back from my face. Panicking, I’m unable to breathe in more than shallow breaths. The wind is so loud and it tears at our clothes as they ripple in the descent. Trey lets go of my waist, moving away from me so that we’re no longer clutching each other, but only clasped together by his hand in mine. I’m facedown, spread out like a starfish, watching the water growing larger by the second.
My view is obscured for a moment as an unmanned hovercycle careens beneath us. Recognition dawns on me; it’s Trey’s hoverbike—the same one that brought us here from the palace a few nights ago. Was it only a few nights ago? I think in confusion. The hovercycle positions itself directly under Trey as the hatch opens, allowing him to fall into its open cabin. His legs straddle the seat while he pulls me by my hand so that I fall onto the vehicle behind him. He brings my hand to his waist; I seize it and wrap my other arm around him, gripping him tightly. My cheek presses against his back as I hug him with what strength I have left.
The hatch closes around us; the sound of the wind is immediately cut off. It’s very quiet, with only the hum of the hovercycle. Trey takes control of the bike; it veers to the right, banking and coming around the other way. Through the sound system of the vehicle, Wayra’s voice echoes as he emits a loud whoop. “Baw-da-baw! I want to do that again!”
His elation is matched by that of Jax’s voice, as he asks, “Did you see the look on those knob knockers’ faces when we all jumped from the skywalk?” Jax’s hovercycle comes abreast of ours, hugging our side in a defensive position. I shift my face to look in the other direction and see Wayra’s hovercycle as well. A small group of hoverbikes joins us, weaving around buildings. The darkening denim-blue sky is unzipped by choking columns of black smoke. I recognize Hollis. Drex has Fenton on his hovercycle with him. Seeing the destruction of the ship, however, causes their laughter to die down quickly. “We have to evacuate,” Trey’s voice rumbles through his back, tickling my cheek.
“Do we follow protocol seven one nine—evacuate to ground—regroup—hook up with a ground base?” Wayra asks.
Trey’s voice rumbles again, “We’re hunted—by both sides. We act like civvies for now until we can make our case with whoever is left to take command. For now, our mission is to protect the priestess against all enemies. Anyone who can’t do that needs to tell me now.”
They have to pretend to be civilians—lose their identities as Cavars?
The com is silent; no one speaks up. “Right,” Trey says. “Diamond formation. Make ready. They won’t let us leave without a fight. Kyon has probably diverted every available ship to search for us.”