3013_REVOLUTION Page 2

  Before leaving his home world in search of Tariq, Sion hadn’t encountered many humans. What information he’d known about them had come from brief interactions and the rumors that travelled throughout his tribe. Having spent months in the company of Ivy, Cami, and the crew of the Dreamweaver, he’d been forced to reexamine all he’d been told about the race. Moreover, he’d concluded they had a great deal more in common than some Helios would care to admit, and from what he’d seen, humans were anything but weak.

  As if to lend validity to his assessment, thunderous pounding jerked him out of his musings, the sound deafening within the confines of his stone-enclosed room.

  “Sion, get your ass out here!” Ivy yelled.

  “Go away,” he grumbled from where he lounged in an oversized chair beside the window.

  Outside, silvery clouds churned across the sky, their bellies black and full of coming rain. The wet season in Sommervail was drawing to a close, and there had been more warm, sunny days than not, but the weather for the past week had seemed to echo his melancholy.

  “I heard that.” Ivy beat on the door again, hard enough to make the pane-glass window vibrate from the force. “This would be so much easier if you’d open the damn door.”

  Pushing up from his seat with a low growl, he marched toward the heavy wooden door and jerked it open, wincing when it squeaked on its cast iron hinges.

  “What?”

  Ivy looked him up and down, her green eyes wide and her eyebrows arched toward the fringe of her golden hair. “Is that what you’re planning to wear to the summit?”

  Staring down at his nude body, he lifted one shoulder and grunted. “What do you want, Ivy?”

  He didn’t give a damn about the fucking summit. Since Vasili Kai Blackthorn—the planet’s ruler and Ivy’s mate—had grown a set and taken back some of the control from the elders, dignitaries from all the Isles had since decided they deserved a say in the matter. Sion didn’t care who made the rules or how the Xenon went about enforcing them, but honestly, he couldn’t understand the point of having a king, if that king had no actual power.

  Some days, he truly regretted not leaving on the Contingency with Tariq and Cami.

  Huffing, Ivy shoved past him and stopped in the middle of the room near the foot of his bed, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him. “Get dressed. Now.”

  Like most Helios, nudity didn’t bother him, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with Kai if the Vasili caught him naked with Ivy. Not that he had any interest in the female, or her in him, but he’d already experienced the aggressive nature of mated males on the planet. Needless to say, he had no desire for a repeat performance.

  Grabbing the fluffy blue—and still slightly damp towel—from his recent shower off the footboard of his massive canopy bed, he wrapped it around his waist and secured it in a knot at his left hip. “Better?”

  Ivy continued to glare. “Technically, yes, but that’s not what I meant, and you damn well know it.” Sighing, she dropped her arms to her side and shook her head, causing her ponytail to sway so that the ends brushed across her nape. “Normally, I wouldn’t pry, but—”

  “Yes, you would.”

  “Okay, fine, I would.” She paused. “I am.” Taking a step toward him, she held her hands up, palms toward the ceiling, fingers splayed. “What’s going on, Si?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You barely leave your room except to train. You don’t eat. Judging by the dark circles under your eyes, I’m going to guess you’re not sleeping.” She took another step toward him, her brow creased with worry lines. “When’s the last time you shifted?”

  He had none of the answers she wanted to hear. Only what he could give her.

  “I’m fine.”

  Ivy studied him for a long time, her gaze narrowed, her jaw tense. “Okay,” she finally replied with a terse nod. “If that’s how you want it, but I still need you at the summit this evening.”

  As much as he’d rather pluck the hair from his body a strand at a time than attend the summit, he still blamed himself for what had happened with Wyn. He’d been suspicious of the male, but he hadn’t done anything about it. Despite his mistrust, he’d allowed the sentry to catch him unaware and kidnap Ivy right out of the citadel. Sion should have been there to protect her, not only as her guard, but as her friend.

  Yet, for the second time in his life, someone he cared about had been hurt because of him. Considering Ivy’s condition, that bumped his number up to three.

  “You shouldn’t get so worked up.” Softening his voice, he nodded toward her belly, which had only begun to show the slightest signs of roundness beneath her black and gold tunic. “I’ve heard it’s not good for the baby.”

  Ivy rested a hand on her stomach, her concerned expression melting into a look of happiness and love. “The baby will be fine, though I wish I knew when to expect the little guy. Or girl,” she added, with a girlish sigh.

  According to the medic, standard Xenon pregnancies lasted only four months. Well, four Xenthian months. A Xenthian day lasted approximately forty-two Earth hours, and their months equaled to just over fifty-three Earth days. Since Ivy was human, and her baby would be part human as well, the medical staff couldn’t say what to expect. Some speculated that because of the variances in time between planets, she could expect to deliver within four months. Others thought it closer to six.

  And Sion knew all of this because Kai hadn’t shut up about it since he’d found out his mate was expecting.

  Sion didn’t have much experience with children, other than the fact he had once been one, and he knew even less about pregnant females. One day, he hoped to have a family of his own with a companion he loved more than all the stars in the sky. When that day came, he wouldn’t lose his head and act like an idiot because of something a natural as childbirth. After all, females had been having babies since the dawn of time, and they seemed to be extremely proficient at it.

  “Anyway,” Ivy continued, “are you sure you’re okay? When’s the last time you shifted and went for a run?”

  He’d been spending every available moment in the sparring pit or the training sim, but he hadn’t been for a run in the Valley in weeks. His skin felt too tight, stretched too thin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent night’s sleep, but at the same time, he seemed to have an inexhaustible amount of nervous energy.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m handling it.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Rya Clearwater? You know, she’ll be at the summit.”

  Ivy normally plowed right through any roadblock to the heart of an issue. Her hesitancy surprised him, enough to give him pause before he answered. He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but he also didn’t think she’d understand what he was feeling or why he felt it, especially since he didn’t fully understand it himself.

  He’d asked Rya for time, which she’d graciously granted him. Given what he knew about the Xenon and their near obsessive need to be near their mates, it couldn’t have been easy for her, but unfortunately, he was still no closer to finding the answers he sought.

  “I’m aware that she’ll be arriving later today.” Rya was beautiful, captivating, and while she had him tangled in knots emotionally, none of it was really her fault. “She’s not the problem.”

  “Then why won’t you talk to her? Did something happen between you two? Did she do something?”

  “She didn’t do anything.” Frustration bubbled to the surface, and he spoke more sharply than he’d intended. “Let it go, Ivy.”

  “I’ll let it go when you tell me what the hell is going on with you. I want to know why I’m lying for you.”

  “I never asked you to lie. I told you to tell Rya I was unavailable, which I was. Am. Besides, it was one damn communication. Your reputation is still perfectly intact.”

  “Knock it off, Si. I know you, and I know something happened. I can’t help if you won’t talk to me.”

>   “Ivy, for the last time, just drop it. Whatever you think is going on, I assure you, it’s not.” Taking her shoulders, he turned the female toward the door and gave her a gentle nudge. “Go. I’ll find you before the summit. I assume you have a guard,” he added, his eyes narrowed.

  “Yes,” Ivy sighed. “Tira is waiting in the corridor. She’s not happy about it.”

  Sion imagined not. While Captain Tira Meadowlark excelled at her job, her duties didn’t include babysitting the king’s mate. Since Sion couldn’t be with Ivy every moment of the day, they needed to find her an additional bodyguard, but after what had happened with the previous sentry, everyone had been reluctant to choose a candidate, leaving Tira pulling triple duty as Captain of the Guard, Kai’s personal guard, and now, watching over Ivy.

  It only made Sion feel that much guiltier about the breakdown he’d been having lately. “I’ll dress and meet you in the library in ten minutes,” he promised.

  “I’m not going to the library.”

  “I’ll meet you in the library,” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

  “Fine.” Pausing just beyond the threshold, Ivy looked over her shoulder, her eyebrows drawn together, and her face a mask of concern. “You know you can trust me. Right?”

  He did. In fact, he trusted no one more, with the possible exception of Tariq. “I’ll see you in ten.”

  “Si—”

  “I’m fine, Ivy. Go.”

  Maybe if he kept repeating it, he’d eventually start believing it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Vasera, the shuttle has arrived.”

  Vasera Ryalithryl Clearwater stared through the rain-dotted windows that looked out over the Forgotten Wood. Thick fog coiled around the base of the trees and climbed the wide trunks, reaching toward the heart-shaped blue leaves that covered the branches. Firetails hopped along the stone wall that surrounded Clearwater Manor, shaking the rainwater from their purple and orange feathers as they whistled melodically.

  Idly, Rya combed her fingers through her hair while she watched the birds, her mind somewhere far away, absorbed in unhappy thoughts. The firetails didn’t seem to mind the persistent drizzle, but the gloomy cloud cover made Rya feel alone, isolated, as if the entirety of the Eastern Isle had been swallowed by her growing depression. Still lost in her discontent, she sighed wearily when a clump of brittle, black strands came away in her palm.

  “Rya? The shuttle?”

  Clenching the concerning amount of loose locks in her fist to hide them, she took a moment to compose her features into a pleasant smile before turning. “Yes, of course. I suppose we shouldn’t delay any longer.”

  When their eyes met, Vonaligarrik Clearwater, Captain of the Eastern Guard and Rya’s younger brother, crossed the ornately decorated sitting room in three long strides. Gently, he curled his fingers around her forearm, turning her hand so that he could urge her fist open. The chords in Garrik’s neck stiffened, and his lavender-colored eyes sparked with barely contained rage.

  “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

  “I’m okay.” She wasn’t, but since neither of them could do anything about her situation, she saw no reason to dwell on unpleasant matters.

  Gathering the hair from her palm, Garrik held it up to the twinkling light cast by the chandelier above them. Lines creased his brow, and even his dark hair seemed to crackle with energy.

  “I’ll eviscerate him if you wish it. Just speak the word.”

  Rya couldn’t contain the genuine smile that stretched her lips, amusement at her brother lightening her mood considerably. “I appreciate your passion and dedication, Garrik, but I’m afraid damaging him would change nothing.”

  With a grunt, he tossed the dull, broken strands of hair into a nearby waste bin and shrugged. “I see no harm in trying.”

  “Enough talk of maiming my mate. Shall we?” Pushing thoughts of the Sion Jabari from her mind, she placed her hand on the captain’s forearm, intentionally ignoring how frail her fingers appeared and how sickly her skin looked against the dark blue sleeve of Garrik’s tunic. “My things are already aboard?”

  “Yes, sister mine, as you requested.” Garrik led her through the sitting room to the towering front doors of the manor. “However, I do wish you’d reconsider.”

  Rya resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but just barely. “It’s only a couple hours’ journey to Sommervail by shuttle, and I’ll be doing nothing more taxing than sitting on my backside.” Smiling, she patted the top of Garrik’s hand where it covered her own. “I’m sure I can manage.”

  When she’d first returned to the capital city of Cairbora in the heart of the Eastern Isle, she’d been furious at Sion’s denial of the connection between them. He may not have been from Xenthian, but she’d seen his reaction during their first meeting, and she refused to believe he’d felt nothing.

  Soon after her return, the anger had faded, and for a while, she’d felt only a slight pang of longing, as if she’d misplaced something important. In the weeks that followed, however, she found herself too exhausted to retain her previous irritation. Simply walking across her room became a painful chore, and lately, she’d spent more days in bed than not.

  Beyond a brief communication after first arriving back at Clearwater Manor, she hadn’t tried to contact Sion. Naturally, he’d been unavailable to speak to her when she’d called, and though she’d been disappointed, it hadn’t surprised her. He’d asked her for time, and though she struggled to keep her distance, she’d made every effort to afford him that courtesy.

  While she waited for him to sort out his feelings, she’d attempted to place herself in his position, to look at the situation through his eyes. The idea that other races didn’t believe in fate or destined love was so foreign, so inconceivable, she’d eventually stopped trying to understand, instead, finding comfort in the fact that Sion likely felt the same confusion and frustration.

  But as the hours turned to days, and days into weeks, her patience waned while her depression deepened. No longer did she find joy in things that had once brought her happiness. She had no appetite to speak of, and only ate small amounts to appease her brother’s worry. Sleep had abandoned her, and worse, when she did doze, she found her slumber haunted by nightmares.

  As she crossed the courtyard to the main gates, her legs felt heavy, yet brittle at the same time. Clutching to Garrik’s arm, she took slow, measured steps, careful to keep her stride even. If she’d chosen the sparkling pink dress that matched her eyes, she did so because it was comfortable, and it made her look less frail with its long sleeves and flowing skirt. If she’d worn the barest amount of makeup, mostly around her eyes, it was because she wanted to appear healthier than she felt when she met with the delegates at the summit.

  Or so she told herself.

  “Vasera, you look lovely today.” Rya’s attendant, Fawkessian Hollywell, stood beside the four-seat shuttle, his hand outstretched. “Are you feeling well, my lady?”

  Streaks of gold swept through Fawkes’ bronze hair, the blond strands appearing lighter in the thin rays of silvery sunlight that managed to break through the clouds. He’d tied his long mane back for their journey, securing it at his nape with a leather band, and the ends fell over his shoulder, reaching almost to his waist as he bowed.

  “Today is a good day,” Rya answered, taking his hand and allowing him to assist her into the shuttle.

  She didn’t miss the anxious looks Fawkes and Garrik exchanged before they joined her, but she chose not to comment. Both males loved her, and as her family—Garrik since his birth, and Fawkes since hers—they worried about her. She could have offered them reassurances and platitudes, but both would be empty. They all knew what was happening to her, just as they knew the only cure was hundreds of miles away in Sommervail.

  Thankfully, the short trip to the citadel passed in relative quiet. Garrik and Fawkes discussed the coming summit in low voices, but after trying several times to engage her, they finally left Rya
to her thoughts. Midway into the journey, she dozed, hovering somewhere in that place between sleep and waking.

  She could hear Garrik, but his voice sounded muted, far away. In her mind, she stood in the middle of a shadowy maze, frantic and afraid, unable to escape the monsters that hunted her. Over and over, she called out for someone to help her—called for Sion to save her.

  The dream didn’t wake her, they never did. Instead, the gentle rocking of the shuttle as it landed outside the citadel in Sommervail roused her. Blinking open her eyes, Rya sat up a little straighter and pushed her hair back from her face. Her heart still beat too fast, and she clenched her hands in her lap to hide their shaking.

  “Have we arrived?” she asked, pleased when her voice didn’t tremble.

  Garrik stood over her, bent at the waist to accommodate the low ceiling of the shuttle. “Yes, the citadel attendants are waiting to escort you to your room. The summit will begin soon.”

  It took much of her strength to rise and exit the shuttle, and she leaned heavily on Garrik to ensure she didn’t stumble or fall. Once outside of the aircraft, she paused, a genuine smile curving her lips as she breathed in the fragrant scents of hollygrass and brine. She always loved visiting the center island, and it surprised her to find that hadn’t changed, especially when so much else had.

  “My lady.” Fawkes appeared at her side, his handsome face taut with concern. “Would you like to rest before the summit begins?”

  “Please have my things sent to my room,” she answered. Touching Fawkes forearm, mostly for support, she rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Do try to relax. You worry too much, my friend.” Fawkes was more than just a friend. He was family, and since her parents’ death many centuries ago, he had been like a father to her and Garrik—though he worried like a mother. “Now, I’d like to speak to Vasili Blackthorn and his lovely mate before the start of the summit.”