Chapter 43
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
My bones ached.
The stone was the only thing keeping me going now, I was sure of it.
I managed to slip the fighter through the atmosphere of the small desert planet I’d found.
Every now and then I would blink only to startle awake, suddenly closer to the surface than before.
Yet my hands continued to move on their own, guiding me to a large metal hangar at the end of what might have been a bustling town.
I had no credits and nothing to offer but the stone against my chest hummed, energy threading through me as if I could take on the entire goddamn universe.
While I’d been flying, I’d tried to understand what was guiding me—whether it was fate or universe-blessed power or even someone else.
But I struggled to focus on anything other than finding somewhere safe to decide my next move.
Charlis’ crew would be close behind. I probably only had minutes before they caught up.
So I rocketed out of the ship and down the opening ramp.
Tugging my cowl over my face to block out the swirling dust, I shielded my eyes as a figure limped toward me from the shelter of the hangar.
A sleek black fighter loomed beside my jumper, a slightly weathered freighter on the other, their stays groaning in the dust storm.
“Quite a ship you got there,” a male called with a heavy rasp in his tone.
His face was covered by a light gray cowl, just the bright blue of his eyes visible, contrasting the deep black of his skin. I raised my voice over the howling wind. “Are you able to locate tracking devices on it?”
The male glanced over my shoulder, eyes narrowing. “That’s not your ship, is it?” I froze, fingers sliding toward my blade, but he tracked the movement. “I’m not going to report you, girl, but I need to know. The Federation has no friends here.”
Against my chest, the stone hummed, the song around me brightening, threading through my aching bones. “No, it’s not.”
He waved one hand behind him and a few other figures ran from the dark smudge of what I thought might have been a warehouse, carrying satchels of tools over their shoulders. They shouted to each other in a stilted language I didn’t recognize, a few sliding beneath the hull.
“I expect we’ll be having visitors soon then,” the first male murmured, shielding his eyes as he looked toward the sky, thick with sand and dust.
“Don’t you want payment?”
The whirl of a drill cut through the air, followed by a crash as parts were thrown onto the sand.
His crew was already taking the front nose apart, while others slipped aboard.
I had to step closer to the male to hear his answer.
“It’s been handled.” He stared at me with those bright blue eyes, assessing, and the stone vibrated, the melody swirling into a fever pitch.
“I don’t understand. What do you mean it’s been handled?”
The male moved closer. We were almost the same height, but there was a grace about him I didn’t see often in others, even with the limp.
He held himself with the air of an ancient king or a conqueror, but there was pity in his gaze.
I knew it even as I knew his next words, as if I could read them from his heart. “I mean it’s been paid for.”
My head jerked back. “By who?”
“By me, sweetheart.”
I didn’t need to see him to know Asher stood behind the male, only his respirator in place.
His hood swirled in the storm, locks of hair whipping around his face.
My chest burned at the sight of him and the burn radiated out, slipping down into my belly until I pitched inward on myself, a grunt slipping through my lips.
Asher surged forward, but I wrenched myself upright. “Don’t touch me.”
Energy rippled down my arm and, though the male in front of him stumbled back, Asher stayed firmly rooted in place, one hand outstretched.
“You need to let the stone go.” I shook my head even as he took a step closer. “It’s going to burn you up from the inside out.”
Dust battered against the dome of pure energy arcing around me, the world going quiet behind it, only the universe in my ears.
But the song was too loud. It wasn’t the gentle melody I’d heard, it was a wailing scream.
It beat against my brain until my ears rang and something warm dripped from my nose.
Asher broke through the forcefield as if it were merely smoke. I swung, catching him in the face before he could grab me. He reeled while I turned, but a hand closed around my arm, wrenching me back.
I kicked out, heel planting on his thigh. He grunted and my arm slipped through his grasp. Again, I bolted, only for my ankle to catch against his and send me careening to the ground. I shook my head, dragging myself away and toward my now dismantled ship.
Two hands wrapped around my waist, hauling me to my feet. My scream ripped at my throat and I clawed against his gloved hands. And the worst part was how he shushed me, tugging me tight against his chest, cheek pressed to my hood.
“You need to listen. You’ve got minutes left until that thing in your breastband renders you into something unrecognizable.
” I shook my head, twisting my shoulders to try to wrench myself free, but he only tightened his arms around my chest. “I’ve seen it, June—what that kind of power can to do someone who isn’t ready for it. ”
Another cry, but this time of agony as my body curled in on itself, a twisting pain writhing beneath my skin like a creature trying to crawl its way out.
But I couldn’t let it go, not when he would take it and sell it to the highest bidder.
Not when giving up the stone meant I would have to face what I’d done, to come back into this body and never hear the song of the universe again.
“I’m not going to sell it.”
Even through the pain I barked a laugh, wondering how he could think me so stupid.
But one of his arms released me, hand moving to his face to tug off his glove with his teeth.
Asher spun me until I could look into his eyes, swarming with emotion I couldn’t understand or put a name to.
But it almost looked like heartbreak as he pulled off his other glove and threw them to the ground. “You have to trust me.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t trust him, couldn’t trust anyone.
This life had taught me that. I was nothing, barely even a number on a list in the registry of Ebyd III.
Just another faceless prisoner whose body they could dispose of while the Federation boasted of its healthy long-lived workforce.
Asher was the last person I could trust after what I’d seen these last few weeks.
He was smooth-talking Captain Ruciyah, he was brooding Asher of the Kuxatana, he was—
Bare hands cupped my face and my eyes widened.
A torrent of emotions and images cascaded into me.
There was relief, like a weight lifted off my chest. Heartache.
Bitterness. Grief. But more than anything there was a soul-deep longing—for me.
And I couldn’t have said how I knew, only that I did.
All this time I’d thought of him as a Quinzyr mercenary desperate to complete his job for a faceless master.
But nothing could be further from the truth.
Asher was…
Warmth slipped from my nose and I vomited blood at his feet.