Chapter 40
WOULDN’T CHANGE ANYTHING
VEXAR
“IS THAT IT?” Amara asks.
“For now,” I say as I start up the autopilot system and release the controls.
On the view-screen, Calidus shrinks behind us, a textured sphere of oranges and browns losing its detail as we head into the darkness of space.
Amara rubs her eyes and leans back in her seat.
“It went faster than I thought it would.” Her face, lit by the cool glow of the view-screen, scrunches.
“Wait, we’re in space, right?” I nod, and she lifts one of her arms into the air before letting it fall to her lap.
“Then why is there still gravity? Shouldn’t we be floating or something? ”
“This ship has a gravity generator.”
“That’s a real thing?”
“Yes. As I understand it, the generator bends space-time by exploiting the thing that gives particles mass.” She raises a single brow, and I shrug. “I do not fully understand it myself. The technology was stolen, so I doubt even our engineers really understand it.”
“Stolen? From who?”
“The Tusku,” I answer. “It is how we obtained most of our technology. They tried to invade our planet a long while ago, but they were overconfident and unaware of our own capabilities. It took less than a year—a Vhorathi year—for my ancestors to take control of multiple Tusku ships and turn their weapons against them.”
“You didn’t have weapons of your own?”
“Nothing like what the Tusku had. They had been engineering stars for longer than our people had language.”
“And you still managed to overpower them?”
I shrug and narrowly avoid wincing as the action makes my shoulder burn with a fresh intensity.
“The Tusku might be technologically advanced, but that has made them overconfident and soft. We allowed our warriors to be captured and imprisoned on their ships, and then we took their ships from the inside.”
“That’s … wow. That’s impressive.” She bites her lip and asks, “What did the Tusku want?”
“I do not know.”
She hums and her eyes flick from the view-screen to my shoulder. “It’s weird that no one’s come after us,” she says as she unclips her harness and pulls the medical bag from beneath her seat.
“It is,” I agree.
After learning that both Gaius and Marius are aware of our bond, my mind has been mulling over the strangeness of our escape. It feels like we are still missing something. My sister. Gaius. Marius? They must all be working together, and that does not bode well for us.
When I told Amara about my sister’s probable involvement, she was concerned, and I cannot blame her.
At this point, it is clear that returning to Vhorath would be unwise.
For all we know, my sister has already claimed my throne.
The thought is disquieting. Aelrith is dangerous, not just to us, but to everyone. I cannot allow her to rule the empire.
Amara hoists the medical bag into her lap and starts digging through it. “I still don’t know how Gaius figured it out. Our bond, I mean.”
“Your eyes,” I muse.
“Eyes?”
“They went black. Like mine.”
She looks up with her hands still in the bag. “Did you see them go black?” I nod, and she tenses. “When?”
“After I got you out of that cage and Gaius ran away. You wanted to chase him, and your eyes went black. Not fully, but I could no longer see the brown.”
She grimaces and scratches her hairline. “Shit, I guess I shouldn’t have tried to stab him…” With a sigh, she adds, “I thought maybe he figured it out because I got murderously protective over you.” I frown, and she holds up a hand, palm out. “In my defense, he was saying some wild shit.”
“Is that why his hand was bandaged and you are covered in his blood?” I ask, glancing at the cuts and scrapes that cover her exposed skin. The sight of her injuries sends a confusing mixture of guilt and rage through me. It is clear what happened, and I do not like it. It makes me feel violent.
She hums and goes back to digging through the medical bag before stopping and growling in frustration. “I was so close!” Her hands cover her face, and she shakes her head. “Inches away from his fucking jugular, and then”—she drops her hands—“I got shocked or something.”
I secure the flight controls and unclip my harness. “Gaius wears an electron shield generator. That is why you could not kill him—not with a solid-state weapon anyway.”
She rubs her nose and looks away. “Do you think that’s how Marius found out? Gaius told him?”
The mention of Marius sends a fresh ache through my heart, but I manage to answer anyway. “Most likely, yes.”
She proceeds to fill me in on the details of her conversation with Marius, including everything she did not tell me earlier. With each new word, a little more of my foundation crumbles away.
“He was really interested in it,” she says before returning her focus to the medical bag.
I wish I knew what all this means, but we do not have enough information to come to any real conclusion.
As much as I want to use the comms to contact home and get answers, we cannot.
Not until we are a safe distance from Calidus.
This ship was built for stealth, not war, so until we are out of range of Calidus’s sensors, we must stay quiet.
With an array of items set in her lap, Amara lowers the medical kit to the ground. “He asked if we’d exchanged blood. Do you know what that means?”
“Maybe.” I scrub a hand over my face and stare at the view-screen where distant stars have begun to appear as faint pinpricks of light. “But I am not sure of much anymore.”
“Tell me what you do know, and we can go from there.” There is no recrimination in her tone, no distrust, only a desire to understand, and I love her for it. She knows I am just as lost as she is, and her acceptance of that gives me hope.
I lean towards her, expecting to take her hands in mine, but she dodges my grip and reaches for my shoulder instead. Her fingers dig under the leather strap, and I do my best to compartmentalize the pain.
“On Vhorath, there is a ritual of sorts,” I explain, hoping “ritual” is the correct term.
“It is done when two people choose to be together—like marriage—and they call it a blood-binding. While it is symbolic now, its origin stems from the Zhyrrak bonds.” I bite back a hiss as she starts removing the packed gauze.
It is hideously painful. “From what I have been told, it was originally used to make a bond permanent. To make it stronger.” Unable to resist, I glance down at her knee where an angry, pink cut stands proudly against her pale skin. A testament to the power of fate.
She follows my gaze, and I feel her burst of surprise as she drops her hands to her lap, fists full of bloody gauze. “Are you saying we already did it? The blood-exchange? By accident?”
I glance away. “Maybe.” Then I sigh. “Yes. I believe we did.”
“But, is it supposed to be literal? Like actually swapping blood?”
“Yes.”
She balls up the soiled gauze and sets it to the side. “Well, that’s a surprising custom.”
“Is that your only concern?” I ask as I stare at her in confusion.
She shrugs and picks up the bottle of liquid wound cleaner. “That, and our blood swap—or whatever it’s called—is incomplete. I got some of yours, but you didn’t get any of mine.”
I hum, surprised by how little concern she has. “Can I ask you something?” She nods. “If you did not think our bond was permanent, would you feel differently about … us?”
Her lips press together before she says, “No. It wouldn’t change anything for me.”