Chapter Twenty-Nine
It’s not until the next morning that I realize the mistake I’ve made. I was so caught up in the moment, in my raging emotions, but I could have totally used that invitation to Kalen’s room to my advantage. If he’d have fallen asleep, I would have had access to his office key and gotten information for the Renegade.
Too late. Time to come up with a new plan. A plan to be more…submissive. I cringe at the very word, but it’s the only way I can get home, by making him vulnerable again. I know he wants to sleep with me. I just need to convince him that I changed my mind.
After breakfast, I step out to the courtyard and find Tarik walking out of the hall that leads to the studies. He doesn’t like me to approach him in public like this. He doesn’t want anything to stir up suspicion. But the next meeting is quickly approaching and I still have nothing for them.
“Tarik.”
He doesn’t stop, but keeps walking.
“Tarik.” I step up beside him. “I might have…displeased Master Kalen last night.” Not a complete lie.
“You what?” He glares at me, his dark eyes glinting, and I shrink a little. “We have been waiting on you for weeks, Lark,” he hisses. “You should be sucking up to him. Not infuriating him.”
“I know. I just…” I sigh. “I forgot for a moment the bigger picture. But I can fix it, and I need you to help me.”
“I can’t help you. If I show any sign of favoritism, we can be discovered. The Renegade can be discovered.”
He turns to leave, and my nerves are grating in my bloodstream. “If you don’t help me, Kalen might sell me, and I won’t be able to help the Renegade at all.” I know that’s far from the truth, but it stops him in his tracks.
“We can’t afford to lose you.” He looks past me, his jaw working. “Fine. The master wants tea—right now. He’s in his office. You’re technically not allowed to be in there, but tell him I sent you. I’ll make up a story for him if he brings it up.” He glares down at me. “Don’t make that mistake again, Lark. Go present yourself to our master. Say and do whatever you must in order to get back on his good side. You’re our key.”
“Of course.” I bow and turn to leave.
“And, Lark.”
I stop. “Yes?”
“Be on your best behavior. The master drank a lot last night and has a terrible hangover this morning.”
Wonderful. My hands are trembling as I pour Kalen’s tea. Then I decide I can do something better. Something that might make him a little less angry and a little more forgiving. I cut and butter the spiced bread full of raisins and stick it in the oven. Then I select one of the big Crecian crane eggs and fry it exactly the way he likes. After cutting up some fresh nangoro, I place it all neatly on a tray with the tea and take it to him, hoping he will accept me.
“Master?” I say quietly outside the office door. “May I come in?”
The door slides open and I step in. And it’s just me and Kalen. Alone.
I have to bring him to the same place he was last night. I have to do it for the Renegade. I have to do it to get home and see Mom.
Swallowing my fear, I step forward. Kalen’s desk looks like a natural disaster, files upon files pulled up on the screen in a chaotic manner. His hair is a hot mess, his eyes bloodshot, and the lines in his face deeper than usual. Obviously a hangover. He glances up, and that tormented look I caught a glimpse of last night in the courtyard—when he apologized—flashes through his eyes before he looks away. His hands curl into fists on his desk.
And I wonder how angry, exactly, he is with me for turning him down and trampling on his pride. No woman has ever turned him down, he said. My refusal was like a slap to his face.
“What are you doing here?” His voice is deep, tired. Like he just woke up.
“Um.” I look down at the tray in my hands. “Tarik sent me with your tea.” I speak quietly, trying not to worsen his headache. “I didn’t see you in the dining hall this morning. I thought you might like breakfast.”
“You shouldn’t be in here. Off-limits, remember?” His voice is raw. Afflicted. I miss the amused grin, the casual humor that used to grace our conversations. Maybe this was a mistake.
Keep to the plan. I set the tray on a nearby table, then lower myself to my knees, press my palm flat on the smooth tile floor, taking on the most submissive pose of a slave. I will do anything to help the Renegade get me home.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I whisper. “For—for walking away. I was out of line.”
I’m tempted to stop there, but I keep going before he decides to dismiss me.
“You are a good master, I appreciate your promise to let me go home, and until then it would be an honor to please you in any way possible.” I let out a breath, then force the words out. “I would be happy to do…anything.”
I lift my eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of his strong feet, one ankle crossed over the other. It’s strange seeing him with no shoes or sandals on. I note his muscular calves, his skin caressed by the sun. He makes a deep sound in the back of his throat, and my stomach tightens.
Perhaps I’m doing this all wrong. Briala offers herself up to him. Maybe she doesn’t kneel and offer. Maybe she demands. I’m not brazen at all, like Briala. But if the Renegade depends on me…
I lift my eyes to his, then force a cunning smile. “Surely there’s something I could do for you.” I rise to my knees, place my hands on his thighs, and I inch closer, between his legs. He sucks in a sharp breath. “Some primal need that I could help…release.”
That hungry look appears in his eyes, and he looks suddenly torn, like he can’t decide whether or not to accept my offer. I don’t know what holds him back. Maybe he’s disgusted, completely regretting ever desiring me last night. Oh, gods. No. Did I offer myself up to him only to be told I’m plain and ugly?
“No,” he says huskily.
Humiliation. I’m painted in it.
“Lark.” He releases a shuddering breath, then takes both my hands off his thighs, gripping them in his own hands. “By the gods, stand up.” He helps me to my feet but doesn’t release my hands. “What happened last night…” His voice trails off and he shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I should have respected you and your space the moment you said no.” He searches my eyes, his own filled with regret, and he drops my hands. “I need to keep a careful distance between us. I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you. My company has done enough damage. It’s best you stay away from me until it’s time for you to return to Earth.”
My breath is stolen from my lungs. As much as I appreciate that, I can’t keep my distance from him. In order to get information for the Renegade, I need to hack into his desk. I need the key to the study do that. I need access to his room to get his key, and I need his affection to get into his room. It’s all one long train, one boxcar connected to another. But—he has another desk in his office at the Port. Time for a new approach.
“Maybe—maybe there’s something else I could do to help?” I ask, trying not to sound too desperate and give myself away. “Organize your study, or perhaps assist you at the Port?”
“Tarik is enough help as it is.”
But Tarik can’t read. I look away and bite back a curse. Kalen leans back in his chair and looks at his breakfast. He drags his hand across his jaw, his thoughts are clearly far away from food.
“Why do you suddenly want to work for me?” He lifts his eyes to mine, curious.
“I’m…bored. Adeline is doing so much better today, and she asked that I leave her alone to rest. I need to get out. This estate, it’s like a prison.”
“Prison,” he repeats, then chuckles.
I stifle a smile at the beautiful sound of his laugh. “I need change,” I add.
He nods, seeming to understand. “I guess there’s one thing you could do today.” He straightens, his smile setting me at ease. “I got a new office a few weeks ago, but I haven’t had time to properly move in. I need help moving all my old stuff in, and I don’t want just anyone touching it.”
Croaking crickets! I will have access to his Port office. I want to grin and embrace him and tell him thank you, a million times thank you because this will make it so much easier to get his information for the Renegade.
“I will be happy to help you,” is what I say instead.
“Good. You’ll ride with Tarik.”
I bow and turn to leave.
“And, Lark?”
I pause. His smile is gone now, replaced with that haunted expression. His brows pinch together and he says, “I’m so sorry…about last night. I shouldn’t have pressured you.” The way he’s looking at me, I know he’s completely honest.
“You stopped,” I say. He stopped. He could have kept going. As a master, he had every right to. But he stopped.
Confusion at my words clouds his eyes, but before he can respond, I step out of the room.
…
When noon rolls around, Kalen takes his hovercycle to the Port, but I go with Tarik in a normal hoverpod. It takes a while to get there through all the traffic. When I see the tall blue glass, icicle-like building looming ahead with the bold letters Rydell Trading Port glaring back at me, I’m struck with awe at its glory. The largest off-world trading business in the empire. This is Kalen’s building. This is his father’s company that he might inherit one day. It’s so big and beautiful and glorious…and massively intimidating.
But when we enter the gates into the lot, the awe is replaced with regret. I catch a glimpse of the slave domes, and all the horrible memories come tumbling back. I’m reliving my arrival; I’m trying to run away again; I’m drowning by Zimri’s hands again; I’m freezing in the dark cold dome again, and I suddenly want to leave.
“Come on,” Tarik says after we get out of the hoverpod. His voice, usually irritated, sounds sad. He glances at the domes, then turns and leads me into the building.
Cool air hits me when I step through the doors. Sunlight pours into the foyer through the skylight dome in the ceiling. Tarik leads me to Kalen’s old office, where a pile of crates sits in the center of the room. “You are to transfer these to his new office.” He hands me a crate, and grabs another, then leads me back out to the foyer, up the winding stairs to Kalen’s new office.
The floor of the office is made of black tile. The tan walls are bare, save for the empty black bookshelves lining them. One wall is a giant tank, holding exotic green and blue fish about the size of catfish, their glowing fins floating in the water like silk gowns. A window runs the length of the opposite wall, and I walk over, take in the sight. The rising sun makes Neket glow turquoise. The city looks different from this angle. Bigger. Sharper. At the edge of the city, just below the window, is the Devittrinean Sea where violet water goes on forever, the sunlight making the waves glow lavender.
“The master is in a meeting now,” Tarik says, bringing me back to the room. “Orders are to transfer the boxes from his old office and bring them here. Perhaps you could find some useful information on his desk, as well. This entire building is full of the material we need.” His lips curve into a grin. This might be the second time I’ve ever seen Tarik smile. “I don’t know what you did—what you sacrificed to make Kalen agree to bring you into this gold mine of information. But keep it up. It’s only for a short while longer before we can leave this all behind.”
I work all morning, and finally haul the last crate up the flight of stairs and begin unloading the boxes. I unpack the books first, sorting them by color, creating a rainbow bookshelf. When the books are finished, I start hanging the paintings. They’re simple finger paintings, but the way the colors merge together, creating a beautiful masterpiece, is breathtaking. The color tones match: sunset orange, blood red, midnight blue. Selecting the largest one, which depicts the black sea with a coral sunset and silhouetted seaboarders, I hang it in the center of the wall, then hang the others around it with perfect precision. Soon, the entire wall comes alive with the paintings.
Three hours fly by, and no one has checked on me. I have no idea when Kalen will return, or if he’ll even come here before he leaves for home, but it’s time to do what I came here to do.
I walk around to Kalen’s desk. With trembling fingers, I touch the smooth glass. A soft, ethereal music sounds as the surface illuminates with bright blue letters and symbols. I click through the tabs until I find the one labeled Interplanetary Shipping Schedules.
Each ship has a schedule. This information would be useful if I was planning on being a stowaway, but I’m not. I have a team that counts on me. Runaways looking to me for hope. Which calls for a more challenging plan.
I find the Starfinder and open the tab. The entire screen changes as a list of new tabs appear on the right side. I begin scrolling through the tabs, swiping through until I find the codes for the Starfinder. Perfect. I find a slip of paper and jot down the series of symbols. Since the ship is run by a key and a computer system, the code is what will help get the ship off the ground. What else do they need to know? The date it’ll be ready to fly. I click back and begin exploring the other tabs, looking for the shipping schedule. But there’s no firm date, just like Kalen said. Pursing my lips in defeat, I click back out of the screen.
One last time, I swipe through, until I find the ship’s manual—necessary for the pilots and engineers to understand how she works. I find it—just as I realize Tythoe didn’t tell me where to send it. In the excitement of planning, it completely slipped both our minds. At least I know how to get there. I click out of the screens, keeping a mental checklist of how to get back when I have an address to send it to.
But I have the codes. I slip the piece of paper into my pocket. Now, for the key… I have no idea where Kalen would keep it, or if he would even be the one to have it, since he’s not the pilot, but I begin rummaging through the drawers, just in case. Sure enough, the top drawer has three keys, one like a marble, the other two the size of beads. I begin reading the tiny inscription on the smaller keys, and my heart gives a leap when I spot the inscription Starfinder on the second bead. So small, but Kalen would notice if it goes missing. New mission: find a way to get into this office either the day before or the day of the escape and snatch it.
I close the drawer and back away from the desk. That was thrilling. Utterly terrifying. I step against the wall, try to steady my heartbeat while my eyes automatically scan the books on the bookshelf. No. I can’t take the risk of reading the same day I broke into his desk. I turn and study the fish, try to keep my mind busy with their fluid movements. I stare at the lot below, watching the workers labor beneath the hot Tavdorian sun. Another hour crawls by with no sign of Kalen. I glance at the bookshelf again. Oh, hell. If I stay close to the shelf, I could easily slip the book back into place before he walks through that door. I walk straight for the bookshelf and begin reading the titles.
My reading material on Earth was limited. Even the books at the old library were mostly disintegrated. The few books that were still intact, I’d read through and through.
All she does is hole herself in her room and read.
Shaking Ariana’s words from my head, I pull out a thin charcoal book no larger than my hand and begin reading. I wasn’t sure what to expect. A handbook on spaceships, perhaps? Maybe something on how to start your own business? But not this. Not a set of poems written in an ancient style. Not a cluster of words matched together so precisely, having the ability to stir my spirit and resonate with my soul. It’s been too long since I lost myself in story, and I devour the words.
I sail across the sky, I fly, I soar,
To escape the sailors who hunt me down.
My beak was sold to the highest bidder
My feathers were plucked, My wings shorn.
And they kept pick-pick-picking at me
Every part a pec to help attain the richest goal
And when they were done ripping my body apart
They began shredding into my soul.
But my talons are daggers. My eyes are keen.
My wings are sails. My beak is a spear.
And like a warship weary from battle
I sail across the sea, And fly away from here.
This poem tugs at something buried inside. My own spirit aches to fly away home, to fly away from the people who hold me captive.
“Lark.”
My name is a barked whisper, and the office door slides shut, making me jump. I look up and—pissing stars. Kalen is standing at the door.