At first, I think he’s wrong; none of the big ships pay attention to us as we slink away, heading to the edge of the Ship of Skye. The shields are down, so there’s nothing barring our way from leaving. Darkness is falling fast as we emerge over the lip of the main deck. My heart nearly stops at the fleet of warships beneath us. Trey hugs the contour of the ship, blending in with the dark, hieroglyphic-shaped metal.
In the next few moments, everything gets turned up way too loud outside. I can’t slow anything down. We’re weaving through the crowd of ships that converges on our small group, firing unbelievably scary weapons upon us. Explosions on the lower deck of the Ship of Skye force Trey to make sharp turns to avoid falling metal and debris.
We dive into a cloud; I can’t see anything but white, and then dark sky as we emerge. I’m in a bird machine and the only objective is to get low. I clutch Trey’s back; his muscles bunch beneath my cheek. The side of his face lights up in orange and red when a ship near us explodes. He swerves to avoid the explosion. Something hits and then bounces off the lid of our hovercycle. It takes me a moment to realize it was a person. I cringe, tasting fear. Trey’s neck stretches as he tries to keep an enemy ship in his sights so they don’t outmaneuver us. My mind keeps up a steady mantra of go, go, go, go, go . . .
A gleaming silver ship near us fires off a round of shots that light up the sky with blue fire as it passes right in front of us. I don’t think the shots were intended to hit us; they were a warning to surrender. Trey’s back becomes damp with sweat, and he growls when we avoid colliding with another ship as it tries to absorb us into its tractor beam.
Boom, boom, boom, boom, in rapid-fire succession. The vibrations tear into my chest, and my already fluttering heart beats twice as hard from the shock waves. The sky lights up as lightning strikes turn it to the color and texture of marmalade. A loud groan of metal shifting whines above us.
Above us, a dark shadow looms. The entire Ship of Skye leans over us, careening sideways. As I look up, it topples over, changing direction as it charges toward the ground and into our path just beneath it. Trey stands the hoverbike on its head. We point straight down to avoid being crushed by the tons of ship hurtling toward us. As we bank, g-forces exert too much pressure upon my body. I can’t breathe or think as my world turns to black. The only thing I hear is the sound of ringing in my ears—a bell clanging—a Skye-blue bell.
My head aches. Night sky greets me as I open my eyes; two moons preside king and queen over the stars. I hear the beautiful, rasping whisper of Trey’s voice, the rumble of it in his chest trembles my cheek. He strides with me in his arms. “Almost there, Kricket,” he says.
I get a lump in my throat. I ache; it’s a broken paradise to be in pain, but still to be in Trey’s arms. He’s running through the dark to keep me from the cage of Alameeda control. He moves us between concrete buildings that creep into the sky—majestic stems whose flowers are too tall to see. We enter a building into a dim corridor where the elegant sconce lights make rainbow halos until my eyes adjust to them.
From behind us, other booted feet click in the corridor. It must be the other Cavars. My eyes focus on Trey’s chin, which has a determined set to it. I know I should try to walk, to say something to lighten the moment for him, but nothing about me seems to be working like it should. I’m so tired.
We emerge into a grand lobby, security at which should be tight, judging by its opulence, but we walk through all the checkpoints unchallenged.
“You own this building or something?” Gibon asks, as Trey’s face is scanned at an unmanned checkpoint and cleared immediately.
“No. I designed its security system. I own the ones on the other side of the park. We can’t go there; they may check them. This one is owned by a family friend.”
“Is he here?” Wayra asks, his voice echoing off the ceilings. No one is about.
“Not if she can follow directions—everyone here and in my buildings were advised to evacuate to estates outside the city after the palace was attacked,” he responds.
He continues to the back of the skyscraper, to rooms on the ground floor.
“She must be cut from amethyst to be able to afford ground-floor suites,” Fenton says in awe; his eyes are wide as he assesses the posh, modern style surrounding us. It’s clear he’s not being sarcastic; all of them but Trey seem to be impressed that we’re bypassing the bank of elevators to remain on the main floor.
He leads the way to a suite of rooms that encompasses almost the entire side of the building. Once at the grand doors, Trey pauses for a moment for a facial scan to pass over him. It catches my face as well. A loud warning alarm echoes, scaring me half to death.
Trey’s brows pull together before he growls, “Cease warning. Access code: tonic triad.”
The tall doors sweep upward, recessing so that we can enter. He knows the floor plan, crossing through the immaculate foyer. Illumination switches on; we enter a formal entertaining area. Three enormous chandeliers fall out of the ceiling to settle above us as they glow with shimmering golden light that makes everything look that much more elegant. In the center of one wall, there’s a cascading water feature; liquid flows over beautiful tiles with a tranquil, satisfying sound. On either side of it are full glass walls that show a large expanse of formal gardens. Low topiaries define beautiful pathways that light up with well-placed ground sconces.
Trey growls again. “Light protocol for occupy only. Dim to half measure. Set privacy at five. All security up—alert status five—silent alarms active.”
Immediately, the garden lighting outside dies, so too does most of the lighting in the dwelling. The room we’re in remains lit, but dims to a much lower setting than before. With the lights off outside, the horizon glows red in the distance. Ripples and shocks tremble the ground, just as it had when the bombs where hitting the ship. But now, it’s not bombs but pieces of the Ship of Skye pelting the ground.
The walls of glass fill with a thickening fog between the panes, darkening them quickly to become opaque. I’m hypnotized by the smoky swirls that make them look as if they’re breathing. It’s somehow better and worse that I can’t see the destruction going on outside. A part of me wants to deny it, while another part of me wants to watch it so that I’ll know the exact moment I need to move.
Trey turns and I catch a glimpse of Wayra, Jax, Drex, Hollis, and Gibon. Where are Dylan and Fenton? I wonder as I take roll call in my mind, assessing my Cavars. I feel my heart flutter, like I’m missing vital pieces of me. They’re all looking at me with worried expressions.
“Wayra and Drex, mine the place—find whatever provisions we need,” Trey orders them. “Hollis, you head back toward the lobby—wait for Fenton. It shouldn’t take him long to destroy the beacons on the hovercycles.”
“Is Dylan with Fenton?” I ask. My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s tight, a couple of octaves higher than normal.