ash - i love to read

He’d just made up his mind to get up and return another day, when he heard the door of the next compartment open. Finally.

He clasped his hands, and waited silently for the ritual to begin.

“This… is a confession box, isn’t it, Father?”

Lucien stilled. That voice…

“A place where I can admit things that I’ve done wrong, and be forgiven for them?”

The sound of it, the tone – it was a fresh breeze that parted the grey clouds of his mind. A voice that he heard so rarely, outside of his dreams.

“Father?” came Elain’s voice again, the tone pleading.

Oh gods, his mate had gone into the wrong side of the confessional. What was he meant to do?

Enormous thanks to @themadmorrigan, @frostystarlight and @chaol-apologist for reading this through for me!

And to @zenkindoflove who inadvertently started this whole thing off with a wheel-picker game back in February!

He had learned it for most of his life, could not remember a time where he had not carried the weight of loss within him as if it walked side by side with him, following him around like one of his brother's smokehounds.

The memory of it potent as if it were a rotten fruit on his tongue. He could not stop thinking of those that he had lost , if he had ever had them at all.

His mother...his brothers of both blood and choice..his lover...

A sharp pang coursed through his chest at the memory, the death of a lover was not something ones mind could forget.

Even now, centuries later, he still saw flashes of that night in the forefront of his memory, could still feel the deep, pulsating bruises forming underneath his flesh as his brothers held him down to bare witness to the slaughtering of the one person, besides his mother, who had loved him without question. who had fought for him, even if it was at her own detriment.

He could still see the malice and resentment in their gazes when they looked upon him, still remembered the wicked gleam in their eyes. as they forced him to watch, still felt the ravaging of his throat as his screams reverberated through that cursed forest house as his father butchered the female he loved, forcing Lucien to watch every depraved, despicable moment of it, making sure that he would never forget such a sight.

He could still hear her terrified screams ringing through his ears, forever etching themselves throughout his memory as the sound of her heartbeat, the one that had once been so joyous and free that Lucien had felt it as fiercely as his own, ceased to exist.

He had wished at that moment that his own would stop ...could still hear the snickers of his brothers as they released him, their duties fulfilled as Lucien ran to her, kneeling in the pool of her blood to get to her as he pumped his hands against her heart as if he could get it to beat again. As if by some miracle his touch would bring her back to life.

He remembered when he had gathered her lifeless body into his arms as he prayed to The Mother to bring her back, to take him instead...for what world could ever exist for him if she were not in it?

But his heart had not stopped beating in time with her own. No, the heart that had once belonged solely to her, still beat, and ever since then he had tried to find the reason why it had done so.

He thought he had found his reason as an invisible string tugged at him, his gaze flickering up to the balcony of The House of Wind as he saw her glance up at the moon.

Her golden brown hair flowing in the wind, still gazing at the beauty that the full moon had to offer as he retracted his own gaze. Perhaps it had been instinctual and she had not noticed that she had tugged on her end of the bond. He never knew when it came to Elain Archeron,

He held no delusion that Elain ever thought about him, had long since shrugged them off since he had felt her during solstice night. She had made her point loud and clear, had it not been for the male beside him, and Feyre's desire to see him, then he would have not come at all.

He averted his eyes, focusing instead on the golden threads of his burgundy jacket as he smoothed the fabric down, a second nature to him, and one lesson that his father had bothered to instill in him. To look the part even when your own life was falling apart.

He clenched his jaw at the thought of it, knowing that the male had not bothered to teach him this lesson because he cared for Lucien, but because of the fear of what Lucien could do to his own reputation.

It had always been that way between them, To Beron Vanserra, Lucien had always been his errant son, the disgrace to his family's name, and the stain in his life that he could never remove. And he had always made sure that Lucien knew that. Had felt every ounce of his hatred from the moment Lucien had first drew breath.

He knew why, knew what the male saw when he gazed upon Lucien. A reminder of the male that he detested above all else. Lucien's face a mirror of his very own, The High Lord of the Day Court.

It did not matter if he had inherited his mother's fire, her gaze, even the redness of her hair, for all Beron saw when he gazed at Lucien was reminders of him, and the shame that it had brought on Beron's line for Lucien to even exist. The scars on his flesh firm reminders of how far Beron had gone to suppress any part of the male that sired Lucien. Lucien's nails imbedded in his skin at the reminder of it as the wind ruffled the tendrils of his wine red hair.

Rhys had given him the heads up that the male who sired him would be here tonight. Had been shocked when Feyre and him had come to him with the information only to find out that Lucien already knew. Had kept this part of himself buried for so long until it boiled to the surface.

Even now he could feel the power that he had inherited from that male licking up his spine, caressing his flames, beckoning them to merge, to dip further into his power reserves as Lucien clenched his teeth at the thought.

He did not hate The High Lord of the Day Court, not truly. Understood his decisions deep down, but it did not mean that his choices had not left their mark. Knew deep down that his father's decisions, both his fathers had been part of the reason why he hadn't minded Elain keeping him, at arms length on top of his own.

"Is everything alright?" Rhys inquired drawling him from his thoughts.

His gaze flickered to Rhysand, still waiting patiently for Lucien to walk through that threshold. To take those first steps into the house, and see what awaited them.

"Why wouldn't it be?" He asked, his gaze flickering back up to the balcony where he had last seen Elain, realizing that she had now vanished. His heart straining at that before he turned his full attention back on Rhys.

"I would understand-we both would if you would rather be somewhere else tonight. I know this isn't the holiday you would typically be celebrating tonight, but-well, we're glad that you came, Lucien."

Lucien averted his gaze again, Tamlin's words still fresh in his mind as he had told Lucien that he did not want to share in this holiday together. It was one thing to let him into his lands-another for them to spend Nynsar together as they once had. The wound those words had made still pressing against his flesh. Lucien didn't know why he had expected anything different. Why he even still bothered at all.

"I had no prior engagements." He answered, a courtier's answer, but he had no doubt Rhys could read the pain in his gaze regardless.

"Shall we then?" Rhys offered, offering an olive branch of the sorts.

Lucien accepted, nodding his answer as he made it through the threshold and into the house beyond.

The party was in full swing, save for a few people, almost everyone was gathered here tonight as his eyes swept across the room, an invisible thread tugging at him, as his gaze firmly snagged on her.

He found it a difficulty to breathe as he beheld her, She was resplendent in her sage green gown, appearing as a goddess forged from the earth itself as he forced himself to look away.

No matter what the universe says, she is not mine. He reminded himself.

Tonight he would not be as starry eyed as a lover...Tonight he would play the role she set for him, and try to do so with ease, no matter how much it hurt his own soul to do so.

"I need a drink." He called to Rhys, not bothering to hear the male's response as he strode for the bar, prepared to eddy the sorrows and tribulations of his mind with the power of drink, grasping one of the many glasses of wine displayed there before familiar fingers brushed against his own. Her touch damn near scolding as if he had been licked by his own flame before he pulled his hand back, the golden thread that bound them both, tugging at his side, yearning for him touch her, to close the distance between them and-

"Apologies, Lady." He told her, swiping the wine glass beside the one that their hands had almost touched and weaving his way through the room before he could hear her response. He couldn't play this game of theirs, at least not tonight.

Rhys's brow lifted as Lucien rejoined him, taking a generous pull of his wine as the mulberries exploded on his tongue. The taste of the wine a welcome distraction that deterred his mind from its wandering to how sweet she would taste upon his tongue.

Rhys gave him a knowing look, his eyes sparkling in amusement as Lucien fought the growl that formed in his throat. He needed air, and he needed it fast.

"Lucien." Feyre greeted him, sweeping him into a hug before he could protest, as he wrapped his arms around her, careful to assess Rhys's mood as he did so.

He relaxed some as Feyre pulled away, her hand going to the swell of her abdomen as Lucien inquired,

"How is the little one doing?"

Feyre beamed,

"He's running out of room in there." She stated, wincing slightly.

Rhysand stiffened by her side as she gave him a quick glance of assurance, his own hand engulfing hers, still pressed firmly to her abdomen. A thousand words passing between them as Lucien glanced away, his throat bobbing at the sight.

He did not begrudge his friend of her happiness, especially after what had transpired between the two of them, but he couldn't help the hollowness he felt in his chest, the envy that was there when he beheld what she had built for herself here. A life that he had always hoped he would have for himself. A place where he truly belonged. A home built from his own hands, and a family of his own. He wondered if he would ever find that place. If he was still capable of having those dreams.

He stole another glance, searching the room for her, knowing full well that he probably should have stopped himself, should have spared himself from that pain, but as he found her in the room, he couldn't help how his spine stiffened at the sight.

For his ma-Elain was talking to none other than to the male who had sired Lucien himself. Helion, The High Lord of the Day Court, listened to Elain as they exchanged pleasantries, leaning in close to her as an inferno welled up inside of him. Not of jealousy, but of-

Amber eyes flickered to his own, as if they had felt his scrutiny from across the room, could see the flames flickering in Lucien's gaze as Elain turned to see what had caught Helion's attention, her mouth pressing in a tight line as disapproval flickered across her gaze. She didn't understand, no one really could.

He felt Feyre's assessing gaze, her hand squeezing his arm, returning his attention back to her, a sympathetic look in her blue gray eyes that he wanted to shrink away from. He didn't need anyone's pity.

"I need air." He told them, excusing himself.

Feyre did not argue, did not move a muscle to stop him, as he made his way to the balcony above, hoping that no one followed to watch him fall apart.

**************************************************************************

The chill of the cold spring night air battled for dominance against the fire blazing through his very core .

Lucien hoping to assist that chill, adjusted his collar, willing his fire to settle as he shrugged off his burgundy jacket, hoping to smother some of the infallible heat surfacing up inside of him.

Even though he had been born an Autumn Court male, he was still burning hotter these days, as if he had been touched by the sun itself. As if his powers were fighting for dominance against the powers Lucien had been trained to wield ever since childhood.

His jaw clenched at the thought of his sire’s powers being stronger, for most of his life, they hadn’t been, until he had come back from Under the Mountain, until his father became High Lord, Until he had gained the full force of his powers back. his status now cemented, forever tying Lucien’s fate to his. His son by blood and his heir by birthright.

Lucien grasped the wine glass, the cold touch of it helping ground him some as he leaned against the balcony taking another sip of his drink as he glanced at the stars that had thrusted this fate upon him.

His eye clicked, focusing on them as he tracked their movements, as if he could read the decisions within them. As if it were that easy.

Footsteps fell as something tugged at his middle. Not the bond, that one felt different. Was different. Lucien’s mood soured as he fought the clench of his jaw, taking another generous swallow of his wine before stating boldly,

“You shouldn’t be here. Isn’t being near me against your and mother’s-“ He tried to find the words. “Tentative arrangement.” He answered waving a hand between him and The High Lord of the Day Court, who had shut the balcony doors behind him to allow them some privacy. The stars themselves already knew his most dangerous secret. There was nothing to hide from them.

Lucien didn’t turn to face the male, not giving a singular shit if Helion was a High Lord or not. It was in poor taste for a courtier and emissary to do so, but for the heir that Helion had willingly left behind….Lucien saw it as justification enough.

“It is.” Helion answered plainly, no remorse in his voice or any form of apology. He was a High Lord, he did what he wished like all the others had. “But I wanted to check to see if you were okay.”

Lucien scoffed. As if the High Lord who more or less ignored his existence for the past three hundred years could ever care about Lucien’s well being.

“Lucien-“

Lucien’s eyes turned sharply to Helion, cutting him off. He wondered what the High Lord saw in them. If Lucien’s fire still rose to the surface.

“Unfortunately for you, I have little patience for family reunions today. Best to try your luck next year, if you even deem me worthy to do so.”

He expected the High Lord’s wrath. For him to deem Lucien as little more than a petulant child that was acting out due to three hundred years of longstanding resentment. But all he saw when he gazed at Helion’s face was a flicker of remorse, which took even Lucien by surprise.

“Perhaps I deserved that.” Helion admitted, stepping up to Lucien’s side at the balcony, taking a moment to glance up at the stars that surrounded them. Lucien stiffened at the close proximity. The near contact. It was the closest his sire had ever dare go to him. Afraid of who may bear witness, who might uncover that truth.

As if it could sense his presence, that fire….the one Lucien tried so hard to tame, to suppress rose to the surface. He had tried to douse them until they were nothing more than embers, after it had reduced Lucien’s brother to mere ash and Tamlin had found Lucien trembling in the woods next to them, dried blood coating Lucien’s arms and hands as Tamlin took in Lucien’s tears stained cheeks….tasted the tang of his fear, grief, and rage in the air before he took Lucien back to his manor to clean him up.

Those same flames rose to meet Helion’s now. As if they knew his sire stood before them and yearned to break free from their carefully curated cage that Lucien had crafted for them. Lucien’s hands trembling at the thought. Something Helion took note of.

“They’re growing stronger. Aren’t they?”

Lucien’s jaw tensed, trying to wrangle in said powers, the flames welled in his eyes instead. A mix of both his mother’s and his father’s powers as potent as molten metal, forging Lucien into a weapon so dangerous others sought to destroy him. His stomach twisting at the mere thought as the chilled air of the night grew hotter.

He avoided the question, refusing to meet Helion’s gaze. He never wanted this bottomless reserve of power, the weight of it. Resorting to the power of his words and his knowledge instead to keep his dynasty at bay.

Now-Now it seemed as if he could not put it off for much longer. His hands gripped the stone of the banister at the thought.

“I can help you.” Helion offered as Lucien’s gaze snapped to the male’s in surprise. The High Lord of the Day Court drawling a sharp intake of breath as he saw the depths of power that resided in him.

“How can you help with something you can not understand?” Lucien inquired.

It wasn’t a jab, per se. Merely the truth laid out before them. Helion understood the power that Lucien inherited from him. He did not understand wielding powers from two courts and how they merged until it was damn near suffocating.

“We can start off small. If you-“

“If I what?” He asked, holding the male’s stare.

Helion swallowed. Nervous. A High Lord who had met his fair share of opponents on multiple battlefields was nervous. Did Lucien truly unnerve him?

“If you came to the Day Court-“

“Doesn’t that go against what you promised my mother?” Lucien threw back at him. Lips pursed in frustration. An arrangement the two of them made when they found out he had been conceived. An arrangement born out of fear of what others might do if they found out.

“This isn’t about your mother, it’s not even about me. This-This is about you. About giving you a chance to acquire what you’ve been denied.”

His gaze turned to Helion sharply, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at him,

“And what is it that you think I’ve been denied?”

“A home.”

Lucien opened his mouth to argue, to say that he had already had a home, but something within Helion’s gaze made him pause.

“I know that I’m probably the farthest thing you think about when you think of a home. I know I can never be the father that I should have been, the one that you deserved. But-I want a chance to get to know you, Lucien. To get to know the male you’ve become.”

He turned his face away, emotions welling up inside of him. He wanted to push him away. Wanted to tell him that he didn’t need him.but-

“Why would you want to? I’m not your burden to bear.”

He swore he felt the world pause at the words, the admission.

“Is that what you think you are? A burden?” Helion rasped, he wondered if the male’s own emotions were getting to him .

Lucien’s gaze flickered forward, his mind churning in contemplation as he gazed at the stars above them.

“It’s what I always have been. What everyone always expects me to be.”

A firm hand landed on his shoulder, forcing Lucien’s gaze back to his.

“Listen to me. Lucien. You are many things, but a burden is not one of them.”

Lucien’s eyes stung his mind wandering in a bunch of different directions. He had spent his life resenting this male, resenting the power that had flowed throughout his veins as a constant reminder of who he truly was. And what it had costs him.

“You don’t even know me.” Lucien reminded him.

“Perhaps not in ways that others should but-I have seen glimpses of what you are like when you care for others. The lengths you are willing to go for them.”

The world paused. He had, Lucien realized. He had been there, perhaps not for everything, but for little moments here and there.

“A lot of good my loyalties did for ones I cared about.” He mused, the weight of his mistakes and miscalculations weighing heavily on his mind.

“We are not perfect beings. And the fact that you are willing to weigh the outcomes of your decisions means that you are better than most. Most fae would not care as deeply as you do. Would not give it a second thought to those they have harmed. In that, you are wise beyond your years.”

As if feeling a shift in his universe, Lucien leaned his back against the bannister. As if that invisible string tying him to her encouraged him to do so.

“You don’t have to make your choice right now. I know things are….complicated.” Helion told him, reaching into the folds of his chifron to pull a delicate gold mark out from under it. Lucien glanced at it in puzzlement. “I just want you to know that this is an option that’s open to you. If you want it.”

“What of mother?” He asked.

“Your mother knew from the moment I became High Lord that this arrangement was on burrowed time. We were young when we made it, we did not know what either of us would become, all we sought was a way to protect you. But even we can not stop what was written in the stars.”

Lucien glanced towards the double doors then as if he could see her through the threshold beyond. His heart straining at the thought.

“Did you love her?” He found himself asking. Feeling a weight between his ribs, a pulsating of the bond. Wondering if Helion’s own felt similar, or if he could still feel it at all.

“More than I thought was capable of loving a person.” He claimed.

“How did you do it? How did you leave?”

How did you leave her? He wondered. How did you leave us?

“I learned in life that you must love a person enough to respect the choices they made for themselves. Perhaps-Perhaps one day they’ll come back to you. Perhaps one day you’ll be reunited again but-“

He glanced at Lucien, making him wonder what he saw underneath.

“If not then you have to accept that too. I have a lot of regrets in my life, Lucien, but you and your mother will never be one of them.”

He wasn’t sure how to answer. What exactly to say? Perhaps the silence between them was answer enough as Helion stepped forward pressing the coin into his open palm.

“The choice is always open to you, Lucien. Your mother and I may have set you on this path. But it is up to you to decide if you want to walk upon it. If you-If you chose it, use this coin and it will guide you to me.”

“And if I chose to reject your offer?” He inquired.

“Then keep the coin anyway.” Helion smiled, making his way back to the balcony doors as the wind ruffled the ends of Lucien’s red hair, the male slipping back inside as Lucien glanced back at the stars, contemplating the path ahead.

****************************************************

Elain kept her gaze trained on the balcony doors beyond, to the males that laid before it. A path playing through her mind as she saw where it would take him, even if that path was away from her.

She clutched her glass, careful as she was in most things. She had saw how deep Lucien’s hurt ran. Had felt the pressing of a wound that he needed more than her to heal.

She felt that wound alleviate some, felt her mate’s mind contemplating the path before him. One she knew he had to walk if he was meant to become who he was destined to be.

The string tied to her ribs, yearned for her to go to him. To beg for him to stay by her side. To not leave her. But she knew-knew that there were some paths that they both had to walk on alone.

He would be gone by morning. She knew. A note to her would be slid through the crack underneath her door, an explanation for his sudden departure and what brought him to this decision, before he would set forth on that path ahead of him, and follow it until he found his purpose again.

She pressed a hand to her chest. A small sad smile playing over her lips as she glanced beyond those doors, swearing she could still feel the warmth of his touch, the smallest brushing of his fingers sending her burning in his wake as Elain set down the wine, the memory of his touch still firmly on her mind as she forged her own path, hoping that one day their paths would cross again, and she would feel the warmth of his smile again, as blistering as the sun upon her skin, as she tucked the thought to the back of her mind, and wove her way through the awaiting crowd, leaving a piece of her soul behind as she went.

Jurian waited until Elain vanished down a rough hewn hall, quickly dug to hide them from the heat seeking drones of the Imperium. This base had lasted them far longer than any others, which was saying something. Lucien doubted his older brother had gotten sloppy. 

If only they could replicate it in other places. 

Lucien followed Jurian down the hall, nodding at those wedging past in the narrow passages. Tiny rooms that held two, sometimes three and at their most desperate, four, were carved out every couple feet. There were other places, too—an armory, a makeshift kitchen, places to gather, a rather pathetic war room for plotting and planning, and anything else they might need. Lucien was rather pressed with their work.

Jurian took him to the war room, yanking a sheet across the opening for as much privacy as they could muster. Doors were simply too complicated to put together in an underground bunker that occasionally collapsed in on itself. 

Besides, when materials were scarce, why waste what little you had on privacy? Of course Lucien wished he could take a shit in total peace, but he believed in a future where that was possible for him again. 

Jurian braced his palms against the oak table in the center of the room.

“From fucking space,” he breathed, hair covering his expression.

Lucien pushed messy wisps off his own sweaty forehead. “She could be lying.”

“Did they look like liars?” Jurian snarled. Lucien held up a hand in warning.  Don’t fucking talk to me like that.

“No,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t mean they’re being honest, either. They could be confused, or…or…”

“Or they fell out of the sky in a tin can and now…fuck!”

Lucien rubbed his eyes. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything. How long have we been living in space? What the fuck are we doing up there? Do they have weapons we don’t know about? Some kind of Death Star—”

“This isn’t Star Wars,” Lucien said, turning toward the off-white sheet as he took a deep breath. “And we can ask her when Vassa brings her back.”

“We need to find her friend,” Jurian said urgently, finally looking up at Lucien. He looked wild, angrier than Lucien had ever seen him, and Lucien had seen him angry before. 

“Eris has her by now,” Lucien breathed. “He’ll know everything we know exactly as we know it.”

Jurian swore under his breath for the hundredth time. “Okay, new plan.”

Lucien stood there, arms crossed, as he waited for Jurian to elaborate. His friend never did. Jurian merely began to pace, eyes bouncing around the room as he tried to figure out what to do next. Not that Lucien had better ideas. He, too, was reeling from the knowledge that humanity was in space, and Elain’s confusion that anyone might be living on Earth.

He didn’t have to wait long for answers. As he and Jurian murmured different possibilities, none of them realistic given Jurian suggested assembling a nuclear bomb, Vassa pushed open the sheet and gently pushed Elain inside. Her hair was neatly braided down her back, creating a wet spot on her green tunic from the water. Her face was clean and a little bandage had been placed across the bridge of her nose.

She was beautiful. Lucien was immediately ashamed all over again for thinking so—he’d thought the same thing the first time she’d stood before him, facing him fully. Elain was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. It seemed a betrayal of Jesminda, his would-be fiance had she not been killed in a strike by the Imperium. 

Lucien had sworn he was done after that. It had been him who’d dragged Jes into the rebellion, and it had been that decision that killed her. She’d never been much of a fighter, and he’d known it. A better man would have taken himself to a therapist’s office and swallowed his anger, but he’d been young and hot-blooded. 

Elain turned her pair of soft, round, brown eyes on him. “Have you found Arina?”

Jurian looked close to exploding. “Who?”

“Her friend,” Lucien reminded Jurian, walking around the smooth, oblong table to offer Elain a chair. “And no, we haven’t.”

“How long—”

“How long?! Your friend is dead!” Jurian exploded, slamming his fist on the table. Elain, who’d just sat, jumped back. Lucien fisted his hands at his side to keep himself from fighting with Jurian.

“Why don’t you let me handle this?” Lucien suggested, hoping his look was pointed. Jurian was in his blind spot, a blurry explosion of colors that set his teeth on edge. Losing vision in one of his eyes, to his own father, was a sore spot for Lucien. 

Not that Beron had deigned to do it himself—no, he’d sent one of his generals to teach his wayward son a lesson, as if killing Lucien’s soon-to-be-wife hadn’t been punishment enough.

“Fine,” Jurian grumbled, storming out of the room. 

Elain wiped the corner of her eye on her sleeve. “Is she—”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Lucien rushed to assure Elain, though in truth he agreed with Jurian. He believed Eris would report what had happened, and he believed that Eris wouldn’t be the one to kill her…but Lucien also believed someone else would. “But I need you to tell me everything.”

A calculated gleam shone in her gaze. “I have questions of my own.”

Lucien made a show of sitting across from her, resting his elbows on the table. Candles illuminated the space, creating more heat than Lucien preferred. Shadows danced across her expression, half obscuring her. That was for the best—if he had to look fully at her, he thought he might start stuttering from nerves.

“Okay. Let’s hear them.”

“How are you here?”

“Elaborate.”

Her brow wrinkled. “Everyone knows Earth isn’t habitable—it’s classified as a level four planet—”

“A level four planet?” he asked, suddenly concerned. “What does that mean?”

Her fingers drummed against the wood, head cocked as she considered. “Every planet has a designation. Level four planets are unable to support life in any form and are often considered toxic even to mine minerals on.”

A dry, bitter laugh escaped from his throat. “Guess no one bothered to tell us. When did you all leave?”

Elain rattled off a date that made the bile in Lucien’s stomach rise into his throat. “Five hundred years,” he breathed, leaning back in his chair. “Meanwhile, our politicians make a show of cutting our space programs.”

“I don’t understand,” Elain admitted, looking at him as if he could give her an answer that would explain everything.

“Neither do I,” Lucien admitted. To what end did this need to be a secret when they could simply make space travel so wildly unaffordable nothing would change at all. That was what Lucien couldn’t understand—why the lies? Why so much secrecy?

“Are you military?” 

Elain shook her head, a pretty smile ghosting her face. “Horticulturlist.”

He was losing his mind. “What, you grow tomatoes?”

“Bananas,” she admitted, looking down at her hands spread across the table. 

“Banana’s,” he repeated. “You’re growing something that gets shipped to every city in the Imperium, and costs less than a nickel.”

“No one has tasted a banana since we were forced to flee—”

“You weren’t forced to flee,” he spat, his frustration getting the best of him, “your ancestors left us all here and told the rest of you a lie. Why?”

She blinked again, looking close to tears. “I don’t know?”

“Neither do I,” he replied, resting his forehead against the palm of his hand. “We never left. There was no catastrophe, no world war or major virus. Just…another day.”

“Then we have to find out why,” Elain said, taking Lucien by surprise. He’d expected…well, he didn’t expect anything, to be fair. He hadn’t thought of her at all as he’d begun to grapple with this new information. It was a problem for him and Jurian, sure, and eventually the rest of the tangled, occasionally fractured network of rebellion cells. He’d get word through the channels before the night ended, just in case Elain turned out to be unreliable or they were all killed for taking her in. At least, then, someone else could pick up where he left off.

“We?” he asked with some amusement. “You want to stay?”

“Well, my best friend is…somewhere,” she began, her tone entirely reasonable, “and I’m here, too. I want to know why, too.”

“It’ll be dangerous,” he warned, curious to see what she might say. “This isn’t like a space movie—people die.”

She shot him a look that he rather liked. She had spunk, he decided. Despite looking like someone's cherished, spoiled daughter, Elain had a little fire to her. Good. She’d need it. Lucien didn’t think she knew what she was up against. "Good. It would be boring if it wasn't. Besides...I took down a Teryx,” she added, as if he was supposed to know what that was. His expression must have betrayed him.

“They’re…they’re like men, but with huge wings and shadowy magic.”

“Wings…and shadowy magic,” he repeated blankly.

“Or tech.”

“Right, of course. Or tech, because magic…isn’t real…” Lucien said, his whole worldview upended in the span of an hour. “How many different kinds of aliens are there, exactly?”

“More than I know of, for sure. The donjon keeps an official record, but it’s always in dispute because of how they determine if a species is intelligent or not—”

“Are you telling me they have space phrenology? Is no place safe?” he grumbled, annoyed that the glorious future he’d been promised didn’t seem any more enlightened than his current home.

“Well…there is a race called the plejarens. They have really large, pointed ears, and they were censured three years ago, I think, because everyone found out that they measure ears for length and shape, and if someones ear is misshapen, they’re considered stupid and given menial tasks in their society? Like, it’s all based on the way ears look—it was a huge scandal, they lost their membership to the council.”

Lucien understood half the words she was saying, though one stuck. “Council? You have a council?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But membership is mostly highly advanced races, technologically speaking.”

“Does humanity have a seat?”

She nodded, averting her gaze. “We got ours about fifty years ago…it expanded our ability to colonize other planets.”

Lucien wanted to cry. He was so overwhelmed and exhausted that there was no guarantee he wouldn’t. Five hundred years living in space, walking amongst aliens, creating whole political structures…and no one had any idea.

“The colonization is for a home,” Elain told him softly, “but we haven’t found one.”

“Because humanity already has one,” he whispered, feeling more broken than angry. “Why not Earth?”

She only shrugged. 

The pair sat there in silence until one of the candles on the table guttered, a mess of melted wax and string.

“Lucien?” Elain finally asked, sliding her hands into her lap, “am I a prisoner?”

“No—maybe,” he amended. “Not technically, but…”

“But?” she pressed.

“Look, Elain, you’ve told me more than I’ve ever imagined, and I have no way of proving it. For all I know, you’re a really convincing actress and tomorrow, the Imperium will have us all lined up for execution.”

To her credit, Elain seemed horrified at the notion. “I wouldn’t.” The conviction in those words nearly convinced him. 

“There are good people here, Elain,” he said softly, “and I hope you can understand that my duty is to all of them. Not you.”

She nodded. “Do what you need to do, and find me when you’re ready to begin,” she replied, rising from her chair. “I think I’m done, though.”

He was, too—at least for the moment. Lucien called for Vassa, asking if she’d set Elain up in a bunk somewhere and get her a few things to help keep her comfortable. They didn’t have much, and luckily Elain’s shoes seemed to be in good shape. Some clothes, a few hair ties, and toiletries were about all they could spare.

Lucien made his way to his own room—one of the lucky few that didn’t have to share—and began writing missives of what he’d learned, to be sent out across the North and South American continent—all under the Imperiums control.

It would take all of them united if they stood even a chance against the machine that was the Imperial States of the Americas.

But Lucien was strangely convinced Elain was an omen of fortune, assuming she was being honest. Hadn’t he wished for help? 

Well, here she was. 

Eris 

“Now,” Eris ground out, immensely frustrated with the woman seated across from him, “tell me about your friend.”

She blinked dark lashes at him, her vivid green eyes disconcerting. “What friend?”

He was going to strangle her.

“Arina,” he tried again, trading his scowl for a smile that didn’t meet his eyes, “I’ve answered every question you had, even when it turned into an interrogation. Surely you can answer one question for me?”

“I came here alone,” she replied, drumming long, slender fingers along the metal table. “Did you hit your head?”

Eris had to bite back the urge to throw himself across the table and throttle her. 

“All I want is to send you back,” Eris reminded her truthfully. He wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the woman named Arina Novak—he had a whole dossier on her sitting at his home that he hadn’t had a chance to look through because she was currently holding him hostage in a windowless interrogation room. “I can’t do that if you won’t tell me where your friend is.”

“I don’t have a friend,” she replied. “I came alone.”

Eris rose from his seat. “I need a drink,” he said, turning for the door.

“Get me water!” she yelled at his retreating back. Eris let the heavy door swing shut behind him. Looking upward at the fluorescent lights, he recalled what Beron had said to him over the phone.

Don’t let her out of your sight, and find the woman she came with. Keep them somewhere until I can make contact and determine what they want us to do.

Eris suspected his father would do what he always did when a problem arose—kill it. He wanted both women in the same place so it was easier to execute them both at the same time, tie up all the loose ends, and bury them in a ditch. Ordinarily, that wasn’t Eris’ problem, but it didn’t sit right with him.

Arina was…irritating. Easily the most difficult woman he’d ever met in his entire life, and probably the first one who didn’t seem impressed by him. That was how Eris knew she wasn’t lying about where she’d come from or what she believed—if she was from here, she’d be looking for any way out of her miserable, bleak existence.

And he was one of the few ways out. 

His original plan was to leave her in a cell—that was why he’d brought her to Cook County’s Jail to begin with. Eris genuinely believed if he’d flashed her a few smiles, let her see how handsome and charming he could be, and answered all her questions, she’d be melted butter in his palm.

He hadn’t expected her to see right through him. 

She wasn’t hiding her contempt of him, either—it was written all over her face. Well, she could get in line with everyone else who wanted to see his head on a pike, he supposed. Eris looked through the two way mirror to find her looking right back.

“She can’t see you,” he whispered, but even he didn’t believe it. 

Don’t be a coward.

He had one card left to play, and decided he might as well play it. Turning back for the door, Eris stepped back inside. She was handcuffed to the table, at least, which meant she couldn’t hit him. His cock still ached from her knee—he’d tried to take a piss earlier and nearly wept like a baby from the pain.

“Arina,” he began after exhaling a short breath, “let me explain how this is going to go—”

“No need,” she interrupted. “This is the part where you start threatening me, right?”

Eris said nothing, folding his arms behind his back while staring at her unblinkingly. 

She leaned forward, handcuffs rattling on the desk. He hadn’t allowed her a chance to change, and she didn’t seem to care that he could see nearly all of her tits. 

“A day ago, a creature twice as tall as you and with wings the size of both your arms stretched one after another held me down by my throat,” she began, her gaze pinning him in place. “He’s dead.”

Heat slithered up his spine as he imagined how she must have gotten the upper hand. What she’d done to get away. There was no blood smeared over her, so whatever it had been had been relatively quick, which impressed him even more. Though, perhaps the alien creature she spoke of didn’t have blood—Eris knew very little about what went on outside of his small domain in the Upper Plains of the Imperium. 

Undaunted, she continued, “So you can make any threats you like, but in the end, you’ll be sprawled on the floor dead, just like he was, and I’ll be walking away without thinking about you ever again.” Eris raised his brows. “You don’t even know where you are.”

“Some kind of jail.”

“Some kind of jail,” he repeated slowly. “Handcuffed to the tay…ble…”

She raised both wrists, revealing she’d somehow escaped them. Arina cocked her head to the side, blonde hair spilling over slim, bare shoulders. Eris wanted to punish her, wanted to throw her in the general population and see how cocky she was then.

“I’m not going anywhere unless it’s on a ship off this shithole planet,” she hissed, nose wrinkled with hatred. 

“Shithole planet?” he scoffed. “You’ve barely seen any of it.”

“I saw how many people were sleeping in that park,” she replied with open disgust. 

“You don’t have poverty in space?” 

“Why do you have poverty here?” she shot back. “You seem to have enough money.”

“I earned it,” he retorted.

“Oh yeah? Doing what? Tell me all about the hard work you’ve done to keep yourself off the streets.”

Eris should have known she’d call his bluff, just like he knew he couldn’t answer her honestly. Everything he had, he’d inherited from his father, who’d inherited from his, and from his, and on and on all the way back to the gilded age when his family had the sense to invest in steel and rail. But she hadn’t been able to say space had eradicated the ills of humanity, either. Eris was willing to bet that it was worse. 

“You first, princess,” he snarled, done with the back and forth. “Let me tell you, now, how this is going to go. Since you won’t tell me the things I need to know so I can get you home, you’ll be living with me, in my home, until someone from your station can vouch for you.”

That seemed to alarm her. “And if they can’t?”

He almost asked why she thought they wouldn’t, but bit his tongue. He had her on the ropes, and that was all that mattered. 

“Then you’ll be having a very different conversation with someone far less charming and handsome than I am.”

“That could be anyone,” she grumbled. “Put me in a jail cell.

“Well, now that I know you want it…no, I don’t think I will. Get up,” he added, having had enough of being trapped in that tiny room with her, breathing the exact same air. At least at home there were doors with locks he could hide behind. Hell, he could lock her in the basement and still keep his promise to his father. 

She hesitated before standing, following him out the door quickly. Eris didn’t think she wanted to be in a cell at all—he was starting to suspect she merely just said so because so few people ever dared to call her on her bluff. Him, included. 

Beron would have been furious if he’d left her there, especially knowing she was adept at getting herself out of handcuffs. God help him, she’d escape from there, too, and he’d have an international incident on his hands.

She said nothing until they were back out in the muggy evening air. His car hadn’t pulled up quite yet, so the two waited on the platform, watching vehicles zip past in the sky lanes. Far, far below, cars with wheels still ran on gasoline, though how anyone could afford to pay a hundred and twelve dollars for a gallon of gas was beyond him. Wages were capped at twelve dollars an hour by the federal government, and still people somehow managed it.

There was no underground public transportation system anymore. Only the sky rail, which required a biometric scan of a person's face along with a scan of their phone, which tracked them from location to location.

As Eris mused on the poor, Arina had spotted The Church of Chicago illuminated in the distance. It was their largest building after all—no wonder she’d seen it. “What is that monstrosity?” she asked.

Eris panicked, catching her by the arm and spinning her away from a nearby watching camera. “Watch your mouth,” he whispered, making it obvious what he was looking at. “That is our Church.”

She seemed bewildered. Did they not have religion in space? Or was space less controlled than their lives here on the surface? Eris had assumed her life was an extension of his—tightly controlled and surveilled. Speaking against the state religion? Well, that was enough to get someone disappeared at best. 

Arina’s eyes had found the camera, darting from one to the other. Was she realizing how many there were, pointed in every direction. She didn’t know that those cameras could see into a person's vehicle, documenting their face, speed, location, and a million other things. Eris knew that those cameras were used to track the whereabouts of everyone, while capturing every conversation in between.

The Imperium was forever worried about dissenters and traitors. Eris supposed they had good reason for it, given his own brother was leading the Upper Plains chapter of the Rebellion like it was some kind of fraternity. At the rate he was going, he’d be dead before he turned fifty.

His car arrived just in time to spare him from another miserable conversation.

“Just…try to keep your mouth closed in the car,” he hissed, dragging her into the sleek vehicle without any further prompting. To her credit, Arina plopped down in the seat beside him, leaving space between them. She was squished against the door, nose practically pressed to the glass. 

“Home,” he murmured to the driver, turning to look out his own window.

Was it wrong that he wanted to leave? 

Eris hadn’t known there were people living in space—he’d gotten a crash course in the last five centuries of space exploration and conquest over the phone from his father. It changed everything. Now, in between his frustrations with Arina, all he could do was imagine what lay beyond the stars. 

What was it like? How did they travel from planet to planet? He wanted to see all of it. Some part of him felt like an eight year old little boy again, squished on a couch with the rest of his brothers as his mother turned on A New Hope for the first time. Wasn’t that every little kids dream? To wield a lightsaber or fly a Tie Fighter?

“Do you have lightsabers?” he asked, needing to know. If she said yes, Eris thought he might die from the unfairness of it all.

“How old are you, twelve?” she replied, not looking away from the window. Bright lights from billboards advertising products and services, buildings, and passing cars blurred past them as they too zipped through the lanes. Was she comparing it to all the places she’d seen? Did she find it wanting?

It was impossible to tell. 

The car pulled up outside his home. The top three floors belonged to him, complete with a parking spot for his car, not that he ever did. It obscured his view of the skyline. Besides, that was why he paid all that money for a parking spot, right?

“Welcome home,” he told her. “The entire first floor is yours.”

Arina walked toward the railing on the roof, ignoring the pool and the bar, both empty of people, to look out at the city, too. 

“I didn’t know any of this existed,” she told him.

“What do you think about it?” he asked, curious if she might decide she wanted to stay on Earth. Eris couldn’t imagine anyone making that choice when they could leave for space. He’d leave it all behind, except, perhaps, his money. He’d buy a ship, ditch the expensive clothes for a slouchy belt at his hip, and vanish entirely. Start over where no one had ever heard of the Vanserra’s. Be his own man, for once. 

Make his own decisions.

She turned to look at him, face half illuminated by the warm glow of artificial lights from the city and oh. He hadn’t noticed before right then because she’d been pissing him off, but she was beautiful. 

“There is a planet off the Obsidian Rift—Ash Meridian—that has buildings like this. I thought it was the best place I’d ever seen…and I was right.”

He should have known.

“You don’t like Earth?”

“I don’t like this,” she disagreed, gesturing around him. “Why are you being watched?”

“Everyone is being watched,” he replied without passion, “for the safety of all citizens.”

“How does that keep you safe?”

“Dissidents vanish, and the state perseveres," he let himself say, knowing that should she be asked, she’d likely tell everything to punish him. 

“That sounds like tyranny,” she said.

Reality came rushing back in as quick as anything else. The Station, the invasion, the pod— Elain gasped, sitting up quickly. Elains senses were quickly overwhelmed by the scent of loamy earth, the sound of wildlife, of insects, of a world she’d only ever read about in books and seen in videos. 

“Are we…?”

A smear of blood stained the bridge of Arina’s nose, making her look far fiercer than Elain was certain her friend felt in the moment. 

“Yeah,” Arina said, sitting fully down in the grass. “We’re on Earth.”

For a moment, the pair stared upward at the sky in wonder. They were beneath a canopy of swaying trees, taller than anything Elain could have ever imagined. Scooting ever so slightly, she ran her injured palms against the rough bark.

“Is that how it feels in the lab?” Arina asked with an awed reverence.

“No,” Elain replied, though truthfully she wasn’t sure. It must, though, because nothing like the wide tree before her could have ever grown in space. She saw, then, how woeful her attempts at growing bananas had been.

Of course they’d grow here. There was nothing but an endless expanse of blue sky to reach for. What was there in space? Artificial lights that hummed all the time? Recycled air pumped in and scrubbed on an endless cycle? Carefully measured nutrients and water that wasn’t even real—

“I can’t believe we’re here,” Elain said, rising to her feet. She winced, pushing aside the fabric of her jumpsuit to reveal a nasty gash cut deep into her thigh. In her excitement, she hadn’t noticed but now as she stood, the wound began to burn angrily with pain. 

“No one knows,” Arina reminded Elain, bending before her friend to tie a strip of cloth over the oozing wound. It would do a passable job of keeping out infection…until the virus took hold of them, anyway. Elain had forgotten why humanity had abandoned Earth in the first place. In textbooks, it was said the virus killed ninety nine percent of people and began killing after forty eight hours. It was airborne, which meant they could have begun inhaling it the moment they crash landed.

That thought didn’t provide Elain with any comfort. It was too late to go back, too late to undo it. Elain glanced upward at a clear, blue sky devoid of even clouds. The moon was visible faintly, an anchor of the home in the sky she’d left.

“Someone might come looking for us,” Arina began, eyeing the wreckage of their pod. Her suit had been sliced along her abdomen before she’d carefully ripped it away, revealing her toned abs smeared in more blood and bruises. 

“They won’t,” Elain replied, not willing to pretend anyone would risk a virus they still knew so little about to rescue the pair of them. Maybe if Elain had been Nesta, or Graysen, but… “I want to see what we can before…”

“Can you walk?” Arina asked. Elain braced her weight against the tree for a moment before staggering forward. She could, though she was slow. Arina scrounged around a bit until she found a sturdy branch that could double as a walking stick for Elain. It was large enough that Elain could press her entire bodyweight into it if she needed to without risking it snapping. 

They were surrounded by dense, oak forests. Elain could catch the scent of something in the distance—something strangely foul, like an onion gone bad…or a skunk, which she’d only ever read about, but never seen. Anyone with sense would have turned the opposite direction, but Elain wanted to see what, exactly, was waiting on the opposite end of the forest. 

Elain found yarrow dotting the forest floor and spent a good deal of time plucking them from the root so she might make a poultice for her wound later on, but otherwise nothing that stood out as particularly helpful or edible. 

Earth was diverse, and depending on where they’d landed would depend on what was available to them. Elain was hardly an expert on the biomes of her home planet, which meant finding yarrow didn’t help her much—yarrow was native to north america, europe, and asia. 

They broke through the tree line when the sun was high in the sky beating down on them. Elain finally understood what humidity was meant to feel like and it was brutal. Sweat pooled beneath Elain’s heavy suit, designed to keep humans warm in the cold vacuum of space. Here, however, it was too hot. Arina had unbuttoned hers, tying the arms around her waist while using her undergarments as a make-shift shirt.

Even knowing they were alone, Elain wasn’t brave enough to do the same. What if they came upon someone? A new version of humanity evolving slowly over the years? It was something she spent a lot of time thinking about. Surely the whole planet couldn’t be uninhabitable? And looking around her, Elain saw scurrying creatures on the forest floor, birds overhead, and bugs everywhere. 

She’d always wondered what a mosquito bite might feel like. Now Elain was aggressively smacking them between her palms anytime one got close. When she died, she was certain it would be the mosquito that devoured her corpse. 

“Elain, are you—” Arina stopped speaking, head whipping to the side. Elain had heard it too—a branch snapping so loudly it sounded like a gunshot. Up until that moment, Elain assumed they were the largest things moving through the forest. If humans had all been killed, surely the large land predators had, too? Neither of them moved from fear, waiting to see if anything would happen. Was it Elain’s imagination, or had everything gone still? Quiet?

“Arina,” Elain whispered, “should we run.”

Arina held out her hand, gleaming gold in the sun. “Don’t let go.”

The pair took off just as something—Elain was too scared to turn behind her and look—came rushing through the foliage. 

“Wait!” 

A man's voice called for them, but that was wrong, too. Everyone was dead. Maybe a predator had learned to mimic the sounds of human speech? Elain gripped Arina’s hand, running as fast as they could. All she could hear was her pounding ears and her heavy panting. The thick, warm air wasn’t making things easier, either. 

A moment later, something solid and hard slammed into her, knocking her to the forest floor with such force, Elain couldn’t breathe. Her mouth opened instinctively for air, but all she managed was a few mud coated twigs and grass. 

Arina turned, slowly raising her hands in the air, eyes pinned on Elain. “Get off her,” she whispered.

A man—a fully formed, human man, rolled off her body, his gun discarded a few feet away. Another man stood a few feet off, his own weapon loose at his side though Elain noted his finger was still on the trigger. They’d kill her if they felt threatened. 

Elain looked at the man with the mop of brown curls dusting the mud from his knees. Quickly, Elain scrambled to her feet, wishing she had her own weapon. Even a piece of shrapnel from the ship would have been better than nothing at all.

“Who are you?” Arina demanded, hands on her hips. “Where did you come from?”

The brunette spluttered, turning toward his friend with braided, auburn hair as if to say, who does she think she is?

But he answered. “Earth. Where did you come from?”

“Space,” Elain whispered, squinting upward. “Our space station was attacked.”

Both men turned to look at one another again. “Excuse me?”

Elain took a step back, suddenly unsure.

“What do you mean, you can from space?” the red haired one asked. He stepped into a patch of sunlight, revealing four horrific gashes that sliced from forehead to jaw, right through his left eye. Both of them were a warm, russet colored brown, and Elain was willing to bet he was blind in at least one of them. 

Elain didn’t know how to answer that, so she asked a question of her own, “You’re from Earth?”

Arina reached for Elain’s wrist and pulled her back, creating a sizable distance between the two groups.

“Tell me everything,” the first man demanded. Arina took a step backward.

“I’m not telling you shit,” she swore, holding his gaze. “You tell us how you two managed to survive.”

The first man’s jaw fell open. “Survive what?”

“Earth isn’t habitable,” Arina told them, as if they ought to know it. “Disease, war, famine…”

“Sounds like another Tuesday to me,” the dark haired man quipped. “But we’re still here. We never left.”

“How many?” Elain asked. Had Nesta known the whole time? Had Graysen? How many people had known and simply concealed it from her, from everyone? “How many people are still here?”

“Billions,” the second man said, head slightly cocked to the side. Tendrils of thick hair floated around an admittedly handsome face, brushed away by impatient fingers only to cling to his sweaty skin. 

“Billions,” Elain repeated, turning to look at Arina. “Billions, and I’m trying to grow a banana!”

“You’re doing what?” the second man interrupted, as if she’d been talking to him.

“We don’t know if they’re telling us the truth,” Arina reminded Elain, looking over her head at the two men. “They could be—”

“Get down!”

Overhead, a loud woosh of something flew over them. Elain flattened herself to the ground, throwing her arms over her head. The sound was deafening, like standing in front of the fuel propulsion in the dead of night. Her ears rung from the violence off it even with her fingers stuffed inside.

“We need to go,” the first man yelled over the noise. “If Vanserra finds them—”

“Go? No, we need a way home,” Arina yelled in response. The chaos was overwhelming to Elain. 

“You are home,” the second man said just as something shook the ground beneath their feet. Elain fell backward into the red heads arms. 

“What is that?”

“Your worst nightmare,” he told her seriously. “You have a choice to make. You can stay or you can run.”

He held her gaze, his expression foregoing the earlier curiosity for urgency. Decide now. Elain didn’t want to go back—she knew it the moment she’d woken on the planet she’d long dreamed of, and she knew it now. Jerking her wrist from the man's grip, she took off running beside him. His legs were much longer and more attuned to the exertion. Elain could not keep their breakneck pace indefinitely—she had another thirty seconds in her before she was winded.

The other man flanked the other side of her, pushing into her to turn the three of them in a specific direction.

“Wait! Where is Arina?” Elain yelled, but it was too late. Elain had decided, and so, too, had her friend. Stars. Being separated was a mistake more than staying—what if they hurt her? Killed her? “I have to go back—”

“Nope,” said the first man. “Lucien!”

Lucien’s arm swung out faster than Elain could react, swinging her upward and over his shoulder. He grunted beneath the deadweight but his pace didn’t slow for a second. 

“Where are you taking me?!” she demanded, her panic rising in her throat. They were strange men who was now captive of strange humans on a strange planet. 

Lucien’s pace slowed until he loosened his hold on her, dropping her back to her feet. “We’re not going to hurt you,” he said.

“What’s your name?” the second one added.

“You first,” she replied, wishing she sounded half as confident as Arina had. All alone, now Elain’s voice had an unmistakable quaver to it. 

“Jurian. And this is Lucien,” he replied, hesitating for a moment before holding out his hand. Elain had no intention of shaking it—she didn’t believe they didn’t have some horrible infection that they’d already given her, ing her as liberally as they had. His hand hung there for a moment before he pulled it back looking a little sheepish. 

“My name is Elain,” she told them, choosing not to share her last name just in case they were lying to her. The last thing she needed was hostage negotiations when Nesta was…where was Nesta? Elain was ashamed to realize she hadn’t thought of her sister once that day. Either of them, actually.

“Elain,” Lucien replied, far more charming than Jurian. “It’s a tall ask, but I need you to trust me just a little bit.”

“I don’t,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around her body. “Why should I?”

“You’re not dead, are you?” Jurian snapped, his patience at an end.

“Is Arina—”

“No,” Lucien interrupted smoothly just as Jurian said, “Probably.”

“She’s not. She’s not, she’s fine,” Lucien told Elain, but she didn’t believe him now. “You can’t go back.”

“Who are you?”

Lucien knocked on a large tree trunk. A moment later, a door pushed open, revealing nothing but more darkness. 

“I’ll go first,” Jurian grumbled. “Follow behind her.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Elain asked him. 

Lucien only sighed. “No, Elain, we’re not going to kill you. We’re bringing you to the resistance.”

—

In retrospect, Arina should have run when Elain did. How far had she gotten before she realized Arina wasn’t behind her. Arina didn’t want to stay on a polluted, filthy planet that was likely so toxic it was slowly killing her. When the two strange men took off, Arina was convinced staying and waiting out whatever was coming was the only correct choice.

She hadn’t expected Elain to take off with them. That was a mistake, in retrospect, to assume Elain wouldn’t want to know more about Earth. She’d been obsessed with it for as long as Arina could remember. If there was a possibility that Elain could remain, Arina knew she would.

She’d expected more rough looking men. Not…men in sleek black uniforms, visors obscuring their eyes, and chrome weapons all pointed directly at her.

Six on two sides, slowly moving around her to encircle her. Trap her. Another man, dressed in all white with a draping red cape, stepped into view. He looked evil, she decided. His hair was pushed off his face, cut neatly into a clean taper at the nape of his neck. His collar was starched, his military adornments neatly pinned to his jacket. He tugged on one of his leather gloves before looking up at her.

Arina recognized that face. Paler, and more freckled, but otherwise a near match for the long haired man that had just absconded with her friend. Brothers? Cousins? Incredibly inbred? There was no way to know for sure.

“You’re getting sloppy,” he drawled, his voice deeper than she’d expected. Arina imagined some nasally, reedy voice erupting from his throat–it seemed only fair given his face seemed to have been sculpted by a loving god. 

“What?” she heard herself ask. Get yourself together before he kills you. “You don’t know me?”

“Oh, but don’t I?” he questioned, eyes sliding up and down her body. A crease formed between his brows when he realized she’d undone her top and tied it around her waist to try and keep herself from baking in the heat. Even then, Arina would have killed everyone in that forest for a shower and some H2More. “You’re all the same. Unwashed, illiterate, and brimming with hope that you can take down the Imperium.”

“The what?” she breathed before her anger caught up with her. “Illiterate?” 

His eyes focused on her face before he raised his gun, letting it rest a whisper's breath from her forehead. “I’ll make you a deal. You tell me where Lucien and Jurian are hiding, and I’ll give you a quick, clean—”

Arina surged forward, moving her head so the barrel of his weapon was resting in the tangled mess that was her hair, and in one fluid motion put her hands on his shoulders despite the height distance between them, and kneed him brutally hard between his legs.

Twelve identical whines lit up the air around her. At her feet, the man groaned, doubled over, palms flat on the ground as he desperately tried to catch his breath. Arina didn’t care if they killed her, she decided. It was worth it to see that smug expression slide off his face, replaced by furious agony.

She crouched beside him, ignoring all the lasers illuminating her skin. “I’ll tell you one thing right now,” she murmured before gripping his chin roughly, “I don’t let men talk to me however they like, gun or not.”

“Is that so?” he choked out. “You’re going to die here, you know.”

She pushed his face away from hers, well aware she was still bulletless. “I need to go home.”

He stood, taking a shaky breath. His cheeks were ruddy with unmistakable hatred. He strode forward, fisting her hair until her neck was bent at an unnatural angle. With his free hand, he pressed his gun to her temple.

“Tell me where they are.”

She wasn’t going to tell him shit if Elain was with them. “I’ve come from The Tuscon,” she said instead, praying Lucien and Jurian had been lying about humans in space, just like they’d lied about humans on Earth. “We were attacked, and my pod crashed here. You have to send us back.”

“Us?”

Lie, she decided, catching the fury in his amber eyes. “She’s been…taken. By forest men?” Arina didn’t know who they’d been. “We need to go back, her sister is military—she’ll be looking for her.”

He understood enough judging by the way his grip slackened in her hair. He craned his neck upward for a moment, as if he could see the wreckage through the clouds and atmosphere. Raising his hand, he motioned for his soldiers to lower their weapons.

“It’s your lucky day,” he told her, his expression telling her she’d run out of luck long before he’d shown up. She should have ran with Elain. It was too late for regrets when his gloved fingers wrapped tightly around her upper arm.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You want to leave the planet? You’ll have to ask the Governor," he told her. 

“Governor?” she asked dumbly. They had a society here. Something elegant and well-oiled, and large enough that twelve soldiers and…whoever this man was…could just come and scoop her up.

“Whats your name?”

“Eris Vanserra,” he replied in clipped tones. He didn’t ask her name.

She decided to tell him anyway. “My name is Arina.”

He glanced over his shoulder, gaze holding hers for just a moment. He looked like it interested him, if only a little bit. He walked her toward a sleek ship with three pointed sides, similar to large, misshapen triangle. His soldiers did not get in with them.

“Sit,” he demanded, all but shoving her into the co-pilots chair. “If you  anything I’ll cuff you to the toilet.”

“Are all Earth men this charming, or just you?” she grumbled, yanking her arm so roughly from his grasp she knew it would leave a mark. 

“Your friend…” he began, flipping switches with barely a thought. She wondered if he was any good, or if he was just used to it all. 

“What about her?”

“She’ll need to return with you.”

“Well, I don’t know where they took her.”

“Why didn’t they take you, too?” he asked, eyes narrowed again.

“I’m hard to move against my will,” she replied. He shifted in his seat as though trying to soothe his aching balls. Good. Next time he’d think twice before getting so close to her or speaking to her so roughly. She’d survived her father, and she wasn’t about to let some stranger revive his methods. 

The ship began hovering, engines whirring softly beneath them. Eris looked over at her again, appraisingly this time. “You need to clean up before you meet with Beron.”

“What does that mean?”

He gestured toward her, reminding her she was technically wearing pants and a bra. “You need a shower.”

She wouldn’t argue with that. “Alright. A shower, and then I’ll talk with Beron.”

He looked out the large view port, and if that was because it needed his attention or he didn’t want to admit that talking with Beron was not going to go as smoothly as she was hoping, he didn’t say. Cool air brushed against her face, cooling her flushed skin for the first time since the Teryx attack. 

Arina rubbed her eyes, more exhausted than she’d been in months. Reclining in the leather chair, she tried not to let her anxiety get the better of her. She wasn’t dead, was she? It seemed like that was the most she should hope for, given the circumstances.

He rose high above the trees and Arina gasped. Buildings, taller than anything she’d ever seen, stretched like long limbs toward the sky. It was as if they too were trying to return to the stars. Sleek and modern, reflective of the sunlight, Arina understood that Earth wasn’t abandoned. It never had been—it had simply continued on, the same as everyone else.

So why did the galaxy think it had been abandoned.