CHAPTER TWO
Punching a hole in the wall was probably the only thing that’d be capable of dispelling the anger riding him, but as usual he kept the emotion bottled up, greeting the people he met in the corridor on the way to his room with a grin and a joke. Once Conor stepped inside the relative security of his suite, he took off his jacket and removed his shoulder holster. Walking to the bureau to set down the concealed blaster, he stood for a long moment, head bowed, breathing deeply, attempting to set aside his emotions. The events of the afternoon didn’t sit well with him.
What the seven hells kind of circus had the Devir 6 branch sent into Opherra’s territory? And how much trouble was the unusual team going to cause? The so-called handler was a loose asteroid if he’d ever seen one—watching the way he’d treated the alien woman who was his prisoner, it had been all Conor could do not to kill him on the spot. Jareck had enjoyed terrorizing her. Well, not around me, he won’t.
He sat on the bed to take off his shoes. Although she acted cowed and compliant, he had a feeling Miriell—was that her name?—was hiding all her personality and a lot of emotion inside. Given the chance, she might take her own revenge on Jareck. Ballsy move, to run when the maid left the door open. He almost regretted the fact he’d seen her and had had no choice but to recapture her. But what a disaster if Miriell had found a police officer to listen to her, either one in Opherra’s pay, or one who was clean. All kinds of complications either way. Rising to shed his pants, he cursed. And what if she’d been grabbed by someone else? Someone who saw opportunity when it ran by, wide-eyed and innocent? Ignorant of so much about the Sectors? Miriell would have been prey in a big, nasty city. No way could he have turned a blind eye. There’d have been hell to pay if Opherra had known about the incident while it was occurring.
Walking naked into the bathroom, he entered the large shower enclosure and activated the pulsing jets. Miriell never left his thoughts as he lathered. She was thinner than she ought to be, judging by her frame. If the ringmaster made her travel by cryo container often, and she reacted badly every time, no wonder she seemed fragile and ill. Her face was sure lovely, though, arresting, with those big green and gold eyes that could change in a moment, like the depths of a beautiful ocean, as her thoughts shifted.
“You’ve got it bad,” he said to himself. “The two of them are here to do a job for the boss, and then they go away again. End of story. Leave it alone.” Protecting someone else’s prisoner wasn’t in his job description, although everything about Miriell and her situation was arousing his instinct to shield and safeguard. Her unusual beauty and spirit were appealing to him on another level.
The barbaric necklace needs to come off.
He flipped the water regulator to ice cold and made himself go over the arrangements for the evening’s events.
Miriell allowed Tamlu to choose a dress and accessories and do whatever she wanted as far as makeup to disguise the bruise Jareck had inflicted. She sank into her self-defensive posture, putting up only passive resistance as far as she dared, not uttering a word. Someday, these people would feel her vengeance, if Thuun gave her a chance and the power to execute his will. Today wasn’t the day. Today, she had to survive, and that was all. Exactly the advice Conor offered. Biting her lip, she yanked her mind away from thoughts of the soldier. As the other woman fussed with her hair and applied cosmetics to her skin, Miriell reflected on her ruined escape attempt. She wasn’t sorry she’d made the try, but clearly, it wasn’t going to be so simple to find the mysterious police and ask for help. Still, this assignment away from her home base was unusual enough in its parameters to generate another opportunity.
“All right, I can’t do any more. Your hair is beautiful, distinctive, but can’t be styled, apparently. Soft and loose tendrils around your face it is.” Tamlu stepped away from the chair, head tilted, assessing the results of her efforts. “I wish I was going to be an insect on the wall at this dinner.” She checked the still closed door to the bedroom. Leaning closer to Miriell, she said, “His type—all street bravado and mouthy—don’t get on too well with the boss. She likes men smooth and smart, like Conor. Adults.”
Miriell was tempted to ask about Conor but stopped herself. He protected Opherra’s interests and his own skin, like all these thugs. To remind herself no one around her could be trusted, she let a flicker of her power touch Tamlu while the woman packed up her cosmetics and hair products and collected the rejected dresses. No gray-green of true evil clung to Tamlu, the beige of the weak and untrustworthy predominating.
Jareck emerged from the bedroom, wearing a gray suit made of a fabric with an iridescent sheen. The shirt was pink, with a loud pattern in green and blue. His hair was slicked back, and he wore two flashy pinkie rings, one on either hand. “Is she ready?” He strutted to the chair, and Miriell rose rather than be manhandled, wobbling a bit on the spiky heels Tamlu had provided.
“I’ve done what I can.” Tamlu blinked as she looked at Jareck’s outfit a second time. “You sure will stand out in a crowd.”
The man preened visibly and gave her a wink.
There was a knock at the door, and Conor entered, wearing a black suit cut so elegantly across his broad shoulders he resembled a trideo star. Surveying Miriell from head to toe, he nodded to Tamlu. “Good job.” Leaning closer to Miriell, he said, “Very pretty.”
She let the compliment pass with no remark or acknowledgment. It mattered not at all to her what she wore or how pleasing or displeasing her appearance might be while she was a prisoner, forced to serve the Amarotu.
“We’re to meet Opherra in the lobby in five minutes,” he said, one eyebrow raised as Miriell remained silent. “Let’s go.”
The trip out of the room and to the lobby via gravlift was made in silence, Jareck apparently wary of Conor. Her controller kept his hand on Miriell’s arm above the elbow, as if he was her solicitous boyfriend or lover. She hated the feel of his skin on hers, but it was a small indignity in the endless series of indignities she was forced to endure. Hardly worth a second thought.
Until the day she could finally take revenge for herself and all her people.
They’d no sooner reached the lobby and taken up a position beside a gold-flecked stone pillar than Opherra swept into the chamber, drawing all eyes as she sauntered across the floor to them. Her dress was scarlet, low-necked to show off both her cleavage and the jewels she wore. A priceless white fur cape trailed carelessly off her shoulder, dragging on the tiled floor. Conor stepped forward to rescue the fur and settle it more securely around her shoulders. She rewarded him with a smile as brilliant and sensual as it was fake, according to Miriell’s highly tuned senses.
The boss came to a halt in front of Jareck and Miriell, giving her a glance before moving on to her controller. Opherra shuddered. “If we weren’t late already, I’d send you back upstairs to change,” she said, as if Jareck was a child. “Where did you get the unspeakable lounge-lizard getup?”
“The manager of the hotel store said it was top-of-the-line.” Face flushed, the thug checked his attire and spread his hands, palms up. “What? I’m a hell of a lot flashier than Mr. Tall, Dark and Dull here.”
Opherra leaned close so no one else could hear her. “You may work for another branch of the family firm, but you’re in my territory and therefore under my command. Don’t go getting an inflated ego. I like to puncture those. And other things.” She pivoted to Conor, her tone sharp. “Take him shopping tomorrow, on their credits, not mine. He’s passable enough for dinner—barely—but he can’t wear that or a similar abomination to the charity event.” Then she raked Miriell up and down with a scathing glance. “Assuming I can be persuaded these two are any use to me at all.”
The drive from the hotel to the restaurant was quiet, Opherra and Conor talking in low tones, their heads together, her hand caressing his thigh again. Miriell could feel Jareck’s anger and embarrassment as he sat beside her, but he gave no outward sign, other than constantly drumming his fingers on the armrest. She had a feeling he blamed Conor somehow for not steering him to clothes Opherra would approve of.
Once the car reached the restaurant, Opherra swept inside as if she were a queen and the entire planet her domain. Miriell and the others trailed behind her as the boss was taken immediately to a highly desirable table with a breathtaking view of the unending cityscape. Twinkling lights of all colors stretched to the horizon in all directions. Opherra declined the menus and ordered for the table without asking anyone’s preferences. The restaurant was crowded with couples and well-dressed family groups. A trio of musicians played softly in the far corner of the room.
It was at the third course when Opherra suddenly leaned over and said to Jareck, “I want a demonstration of what the performer can do. Prove to me you can be of assistance in what I need.”
“Can you give me a few more details on what you want me to make her do?” Jareck asked.
Miriell felt nauseated as her muscles tensed while she waited to learn what atrocious act she’d be required to perform now, what perversion of her Thuun-given gifts would be demanded.
“The end game is to help me attract a particular influential gentleman who’s been curiously resistant to my charms,” Opherra said, her lips twisted in annoyance. “I need him in thrall to me for our plans here to move forward. In too deep to back out when I reveal my true agenda. No names, but he’s key. My boss is tired of waiting for the standard ploys to yield results.”
“Is he here?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. I need to see these abilities in action before I risk my entire operation on an unknown.” Glancing around the restaurant, she laughed. “Oh yes, an excellent target for the demonstration I want. You see that blonde woman, the one with her husband, the older couple and three children? I’ve never seen anyone less likely to commit suicide. Make her throw herself off the balcony, and I’ll be a believer.” She drummed her talonlike red fingernails on the tablecloth. “Now.”
Miriell’s heart sank. The target was clearly happy, surrounded by her family, and had been casually targeted by Opherra to die just to prove a point. She gathered her power, which was curiously difficult to do, perhaps because she was so repelled by the task, and hummed the death song under her breath. Reaching out with her senses, she found the tiniest gray in the unfortunate woman’s vivid colors. Each sentient had their private sorrows and constant worries. Miriell worked to expand the gray, suppress the other colors. The woman’s companions were oblivious to her sudden silence, because the lively children were laughing and talking so happily. Suddenly, there were gasps as the target of Miriell’s attack rose abruptly from the table, knocking her chair into the person next to her. Face blank, the woman strode toward the edge of the dining area and the observation platform that built over thin air. It had safety rails, but nothing robust enough to stop a determined adult from pitching headfirst to the ground hundreds of feet below. Her husband raced after her, but she had a head start and was increasing her speed as she went.
Hoping no one would notice what she was doing, Miriell continued her pressure on the woman but began to subtly affect one of the waiters carrying a huge load of dishes until, at literally the last second, he backed away from a table and collided with the suicidal woman, sending them both reeling and collapsing to the floor, tangled together, covered in food and broken crockery. Miriell released her hold on both sentients and fell back in her chair. Hand shaking, she reached for her glass of water and sipped, although her throat was nearly closed from stress. Please let that be enough of a demonstration for Opherra.
As she set the glass down, she realized Conor was watching her, silver-gray eyes narrowed.
In the next moment, he turned his attention to Opherra, who was patting her ruby lips with a napkin and laughing. “Not the outcome I requested, but I’m impressed. We’ll have to make sure there are no clumsy waiters in the vicinity tomorrow night.” The crime boss stared at Miriell, studying her. “Fascinating. You’re sure she’s under adequate control?”
Jareck waved the black AI. “She knows what’ll happen to her if she disobeys or fails. Two more of her people will be erased as well, later at our home base. Not all of them come equipped with the abilities Miriell here has, but the ordinary people work nicely as hostages for her good behavior. Don’t worry, we have these aliens well trained.”
She didn’t care what he boasted about—she’d heard all the threats before. Miriell fought for breath as her field of vision narrowed and her head swam. Clenching her fists to her chest, she leaned over, wheezing. Never had she had so much reaction to the use of her power. Maybe Thuun was growing tired of her compliance with these evil ones.
“I think your girl is in trouble,” Conor said, rising to come around the table to her side.
“She’s never reacted like this before.” Jareck stared at Miriell. He shook her. “Hey, stop faking.”
“We’re attracting too much attention now, even with the cozy family scene going on by the railing.” Opherra threw her napkin on the table as the maître d’ bustled over. “We’re fine,” she said to the concerned man. “My companion gets these asthma attacks fairly often, a medical condition with no explanation. Not your fault at all. Dinner was excellent by the way, my compliments to the chef.” She swept away from the table as Conor and Jareck raised Miriell to her feet.
She wanted to lean into Conor’s strength, enemy though he was, but Jareck took a proprietary stance, holding her close. “Come on, sweetie,” he said for the hovering manager’s benefit. Casting Conor a glance as if he were the underling, he kept talking, his tone officious. “Pay the man, would you?”
“We have an account here.” Conor trailed them through the restaurant. “Monthly billings.”
If she’d felt better, Miriell would have laughed at Jareck’s embarrassment. He’s totally out of his league here. These people are so far above the ones who own me.
Her memories of leaving the building and the car ride to the hotel were hazy, bits and pieces. She remembered hearing an argument between Conor and Jareck about trying to find a doctor who could be trusted and knew anything about the medical problems nonhuman sentients like herself might encounter.
Opherra shut the discussion down, interrupting Conor as he suggested a name. “No doctor. She gets well on her own, or we dispose of the body. She’s not my asset. Maybe she’ll be helpful, and maybe she won’t. Her demonstration was good, as far as it went.” A shrug sent the white fur slipping off her shoulders again.
At the hotel, Conor handed the crime boss out of the groundcar and said over his shoulder, “I’ll come check on you two in a bit, see how she’s doing.”
Jareck hauled Miriell from the car so roughly she tripped. He adjusted his demeanor when the valet and the doormen gaped at him. Holding her close, he whispered fiercely in her ear, “You’d better get over this…this…whatever it is. You’d better not ruin my chances for a bonus.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong.” She kept her feet with an effort as he hurried her to the gravlift.
Miriell lay on the couch, fully dressed, working as hard as she could to stay calm, to slow her racing heart and to breathe. The room was dark, Jareck having headed out to the hotel’s elegant casino hours ago. She wondered if his bosses had any idea how deep his gambling obsession ran, or about his other addictions. Maybe they didn’t care. Maybe that was part of how the Combine kept him securely in their thrall. He’d take one risk too many on some trip of theirs, or so she hoped. Opherra certainly didn’t seem like the type to overlook his habits, and she had a demonstrably short temper. Jareck could be flirting with his own execution. But then, what would a heartless crime boss like Opherra do with Miriell?
There was a click as the door opened, and she sat up as far as she could, surprised Jareck would leave the pleasures he loved this early in the evening.
As the light flashed on, she realized with relief that the newcomer was Conor. He paused on the threshold, eyes narrowed, assessing the room. “I said I’d come to check on you. Where’s Jareck?”
“He went out.” Tempted to betray the controller’s vices, she held her tongue. She had no allies, no reason to trust anyone, but she knew Jareck’s temper. There was no guarantee she’d help herself by making trouble for him and all too much risk he’d make her pay dearly for the breach. There was nothing but rivalry between him and Conor.
The Amarotu soldier walked to the couch and stared at her. “How’s your breathing? Will you be able to do what Opherra needs tomorrow night?”
“I think so, “she lied, before giving him a truth as well. “I’ve never had this problem before. Thank you for trying to talk them into finding a doctor for me earlier in the car.”
“He shouldn’t have left you alone.”
For a second, Miriell felt warmed by the concern, but then she realized he was probably referring to her earlier escape attempt and fears she might make another. Irritated, she flipped the blanket aside, revealing the shackles anchoring her to the elaborate carved arms of the heavy couch. “This room is bigger and much more luxurious than my cell at the home base, but a prison still. Rest assured, I won’t be running again.”
His lips tightened, and an expression of distaste flickered across his face, gone so fast she thought she might have been mistaken.
Miriell pulled the cover over herself again, embarrassed to have revealed her bonds and, even worse, shown a tiny of piece of her genuine emotions. It’s not my fault I’m a prisoner. There’s no shame attached to me here. But the feeling lingered. She hated being lesser in this man’s eyes.
“I’ll turn the lights out so you can rest,” he said, striding toward the door.
“Please, can you do one thing for me?” She hated to ask for anything from these people, but her breathing wasn’t improving, and she was frightened. Jareck wouldn’t show up for hours, if at all, and when he did, his mood might be volcanic if he’d lost, or he might be too drunk to pay any attention to her. At least Conor had tried to get a doctor for her.
Hand already on the door, he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “What do you need? Water?”
She gestured at a huge bouquet the hotel had placed on the table at the other end of the capacious sitting room. “Could you bring those closer to me? Maybe on the floor next to the couch?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Lady, that’s the strangest request I’ve ever heard. You like the smell? Do you eat them? What?”
She bit her lip. Giving the people who held her prisoner any information was a bad idea and a possible betrayal of the other captives from her world, but her chest ached from the effort to draw breath, and she felt dangerously weak.
Conor strolled closer. “No answer? I’m not touching the flowers till you explain.”
“I draw my power from the plants, the living essences of a planet,” she said reluctantly as he waited. “Since coming to this world, I’ve become increasingly debilitated. I thought it was the aftereffects of the cryo sleep, but the condition is clearly getting worse.”
“This planet is entirely covered by the city,” he said. “No forests, no fields, damn few parks, one shallow ocean covered with floating cities and no known sea life remaining. The residents import all their foodstuffs.” As he spoke, he walked to the table and lifted the vase containing the bouquet, bringing it to her. He set the towering arrangement on the carpet and stepped back. “Now what?”
She leaned over awkwardly, as the shackles kept her lower body in place, and cupped the flowers with her hands, closing her eyes and humming as she attempted to pull strength from the arrangement. She felt flickers of warmth and energy, but they were pitifully faint. “Thank you,” she said.
“You don’t look much better, and I still hear the rattle in your chest.”
“These plants are cut, already dying. I can’t draw much from them, but anything helps.”
“I see the blooms wilting in front of my eyes, but I don’t see you improving.” Hands on his hips, he studied her. “Would it help to be in a garden?”
She nodded. “To be outdoors, in the midst of growing things, would be such a relief. But Jareck is unlikely to be willing to seek out such for me. He…he doesn’t know the source of our power. I shouldn’t have told you, but I’m so scared. It’s hard not to have adequate breath in my lungs.” She made herself shut up. Why was she babbling to this Amarotu thug? Because he seemed less cruel than some? Because I thought I saw the flicker of blue flame in him, but I can’t trust the omen. Thuun has no warriors here.
He crouched beside the couch so he could stare into her eyes. “The hotel has a small garden, used for daytime ceremonies, weddings and the like. I could escort you there for an hour or two. Opherra doesn’t need me right now.”
She closed her eyes against a sudden flood of tears. The longing to be surrounded by growing things was overwhelming, a hunger gnawing at her. But his suggestion was impossible. She gestured at her shackled ankles. “Jareck took the key.”
Conor touched her shoulder so she’d look at him. He smoothed one green curl away from her face. “Hey, I know a trick or two for opening restraints. No problem. But there is one condition—give me your word you won’t use your power on me or try to run again while we’re in the garden.”
She laughed, having to bite her lip to keep from descending into hysteria. “My word? My honor is long gone, shredded and destroyed by the things I’ve been forced to do.” She shook her head. “I’m a disgraced priestess indeed, and you shouldn’t trust any oath I swear. Thuun has turned his face from me for all the black deeds I’ve committed to stay alive and to keep my people alive.”
Conor studied her face, his silver-gray eyes intent. “I think there’s honor there still, Priestess, buried deep. But let’s declare a truce between the two of us instead, one good only for the time it takes to visit the garden, rejuvenate however you accomplish the task and circle back here. Can you agree?”
“Why do you want to help me?”
“Opherra needs you to achieve her objective.”
Voice flat, eyes averted, he gave her the answer she’d expected. But as he spoke, she sent a tendril of her waning power to allow her to see to the inner core of the man. The obsidian black walls were still there. He was no different than many Amarotu soldiers she’d encountered—not intrinsically evil but loyal to their paymasters, too deeply invested in the criminal enterprise and its rewards to ever try to leave the system, much less to help one such as her. There was no profit in assisting her. Yet, tiny threads of the pure blue showed themselves, as if nearly crushed by the black. This Conor was intriguing.
She licked her lips. “And for your side of the bargain, will you swear not to reveal what I’ve explained about my power?”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “Lady, if you think I have any honor, you’re sadly mistaken. I won’t spill the beans unless Opherra needs to know. She doesn’t care about the hows and the whys, unless they affect the swift accomplishment of her objective.”
Miriell nodded. “Truce, then.”
He made quick work of the restraints on her ankles, his face set in a frown as he gauged how tight the metal circles had been, leaving harsh red marks on her skin, but he made no comment. He helped her sit up and then stand as she rocked slightly against the couch, light-headed, feet tingling as circulation increased. Jareck had been extremely angry when he’d put on the restraints. Putting one arm around her waist, Conor drew her toward the door. They emerged into the now deserted corridor, and he took her in the opposite direction from the gravlift.
“We can use the servants’ lift. Probably no traffic at all at this time of the night.”
Walking was difficult with the way her legs trembled and her head swam, but she feared he might refuse to continue the excursion if she couldn’t move on her own power. Thugs tended to be short on patience. It was already amazing he was willing to help her at all. She hoped he had no other agenda, but the need to connect with the energy of growing things outweighed the risks of an attack. Besides, he carries those few threads of blue deep within, no matter what he says. Surely he wouldn’t seek to prey on me.
He paused in an alcove and did something she couldn’t see that resulted in a portal sliding open to reveal a gravlift tube. Entering the antigrav stream was a relief, as she could float for a few moments, descending at his side. Reaching a level below the lobby, they walked quickly through a long, featureless corridor, emerging to climb a short flight of stairs at the rear of the hotel. Conor guided her to the left. “It’s not much farther. Doing okay?”
“I’d crawl to reach an oasis of growing things.”
“Well, that won’t be necessary.” His chuckle was deep. “If the readout on this situation and your condition hits red alert, I’ll carry you.”
The hike ended at a closed gate. She could smell the perfume of flowers and the fresh scent of greenery on the other side of the high wall and moaned, pressing her hand to her mouth to stop the sound.
“Gate’s locked,” he said.
“Let me guess—you’re as good at unlocking gates as you were with the shackles.” She leaned against the coolness of the stone wall, resting her cheek on a smooth panel between two ornate carvings. “At least, I hope so.”
He laughed, and a moment later, the gate slid open on silent tracks. Taking her by the elbow, he escorted her into the garden, closing the barricade behind them by hand. “Just in case, because we don’t need company.”
Miriell shed her shoes and walked across the lush surface she knew was some kind of grass, kept ruthlessly trimmed to form a carpet. She stood in the center of the expanse, wriggling her toes, pulling strength from the planet in this small space of growing things. Nothing but a shadow in the moonlight, Conor stayed on the path, watching her.
“There are trees and flowering bushes in this direction,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“It’s my business to know all the details of any location my boss frequents.”
The reminder of the realities, delivered in his deep voice without inflection, cast a damper on her joy. He held out his hand, and she walked to join him. Leaving her shoes behind, he drew her deeper into the pocket garden until she stood under the canopy of three ancient trees, beds of flowers all around. Humming, Miriell knelt first by the flowers, absorbing their life-giving essence without doing harm, for here the plants were only conduits for her to tap into the planet slumbering below the harsh city blotting out the surface.
He went to lean against the nearest tree, showing a decided preference for remaining in the shadows. “You’re practically glowing. This must be helping, then?”
Her breathing was easier, and the muscles of her chest unclenched. The rattle and wheeze disappeared. “I would bless you for this gift had I the right to call upon Thuun for such things any longer.” Rising, she moved to the tree opposite the one he’d chosen and placed her hands on the gnarled trunk, palms down. Touching her forehead to the rough bark, she closed her eyes and hummed one of the simpler hymns. It wouldn’t do to take too much from this place, to siphon so much energy that the living things who also needed lifeforce perished. The planet’s bounty felt so smooth and strong, flowing into her from the depths via through the tree’s extensive root system.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Conor said, “We probably can’t do this field trip twice, so you’d better take what you need, however you’re doing it.”
Her protest was instantaneous, instinctive. “I can’t overtax the garden. It’s well tended but fragile, in the middle of the cold city of stone and metal.”
“Even if it’s the difference between your own life or death?”
Deciding not to answer him, she changed to a different song and added words, keeping her voice soft.
When she finished, he said, “I have no idea what the lyrics meant, but the song was beautiful. I’ll take the private concert as fair trade for bringing you here.”
“A Combine lackey who appreciates alien music?” She made her voice scornful. Sinking to the grass, she leaned her back against the tree and stared through the canopy of rustling leaves at the starry sky. None of the constellations were familiar, of course. Her world lay in some faraway portion of the galaxy.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, voice quiet in the still night air.
“Nothing happy.” She gave voice to her memories. “As Jareck said so dismissively at the spaceport earlier today, we didn’t even know we lived on what you call a planet until the evil ones swooped down from the cold stars, killing and capturing.” She ran her hand across the grass, tiny green sparks flying as her energy renewed. “No prophecy ever uttered in the temples foresaw this fate for me, or those taken with me.”
“Who attacked you?”
“Does it matter?” Her answer was bitter, but then she thought about his kindness in bringing her here and found no reason to withhold what little she knew. “I’ve been told they’re called the Shemdylann.”
“Heard of them. Fierce enemies. Why didn’t you use your powers on them? Fight back?”
She made a sound of disgust. “Our powers are ineffective against the creatures. No effect at all. And the invaders had weapons such as we’d never imagined. Blasters against crossbows and swords.” She choked back a sob. She never spoke of these things or allowed herself to remember—why was she answering his questions? Because he was kind to me, because the sound of his voice is so calming, because his touch—
Angry at herself, she abandoned the thought. “How did you come to be Amarotu?”
There was silence, broken only by the whisper of a slight breeze through the foliage.
“I used to be an elite soldier,” he said, voice tight. “Things happened. I was dishonorably discharged after spending time in the brig. The only place I could find work after Command threw me out of the service was as a Combine enforcer. I have the right…skill set, shall we say? Then I climbed the ranks beside Opherra and became her second-in-command when she took over the operations in this area.”
Her attention was caught. Something in his words didn’t ring true to her. With her refreshed and enhanced power, she probed deep into his aura and detected the dull rusty red of a lie. The tiny blue flames flickered. What is he lying about, and why would he bother lying to me?
“Miriell, we had a truce.”
Startled at his perception, she shut her search off. “I apologize. It’s instinctive to me, a survival skill in my current life, but I meant no harm.” Curious, she asked, “How did you know I was using my power?”
“We’d better be getting back. I don’t want to have to answer any awkward questions from my boss. Your questions I can ignore.” Thus pushing aside her inquiry, he shoved away from the tree. “I hope you’ve gotten enough of whatever it is you need.”
Getting to her feet, she brushed off her skirt and nodded. “Thank you. I feel much better.”
“If Jareck and his bosses don’t know your secret, how do you and the others manage to stay alive? Is your base on a planet with a lot of greenery?”
“Devir 6 is a desert, but still there are growing things, energy we can pull from. I hate the cryo sleep, but it’s probably a good thing the Combine forces me to travel hidden in those containers since I’m undocumented. I’m not sure I’d survive on a long space journey otherwise.”
“If the ship is big enough, it has a hydroponics area, sort of a water garden,” he said.
Side by side, not touching, they strolled to where she’d kicked off her shoes. He waited while she slid the heeled sandals onto her feet, leaning against him, fingertips resting lightly on his rock-hard arm for balance. There was silence between them as they made their way from the garden after Conor locked the gate and re-entered the hotel, taking the employee gravlift, much to the puzzlement of two maids.
Conor winked at them. “Snuck out with my girl,” he said. “Don’t tell on me.” The maids giggled and got off at the next floor.
He let Miriell into the suite she shared with Jareck, who luckily was still absent.
Sad at the end of the respite from her depressing reality, she went to recline on the couch. “It was a lovely change in my routine as a prisoner. Thank you.”
“Nothing’s changed.” His voice was harsh as he picked up the shackles to lock them around her ankles. His touch, however, was gentle, and he didn’t make them nearly as constricting as Jareck had. “Bastard will be too drunk to remember how much he tightened them, I’m sure.”
He took the now wilted and blackening bouquet back to the side table.
“You’re probably right.” She fumbled with the blanket.
He came over and took the fabric from her, laying it over her carefully. “Will you be warm enough?”
“I have to be. This is all Jareck gave me.” She shrugged. “He’ll remember that detail.”
Conor looked as if he was going to say more, but then walked away. Miriell forced herself not to watch him as he flicked the lights off and left the room, closing the door behind him.