Page 21 of Cage of Starlight

CHAPTER TEN

T ory holds his breath as Vantaras pulls the door wide.

The boy in Ariana’s arms breathes voiceless sobs against her skin. Eyes steady on the door, she pats his hair and murmurs nonsense.

Vantaras examines the dark interior, face impassive, left hand tracing the shape of the handgun holstered at his side.

The crunch of gravel precedes the reappearance of one of the soldiers from earlier. He salutes. “Sir? We cleared this one. Empty.”

“Did you.”

Tory shivers at Vantaras’ thorough, silent examination, but Ariana stays focused on her task. The dog is gone. It’s fine.

The soldier stands straighter. “It’s awaiting a shipment of Arlunian lacquerware. Sir, your—uh. The Rost and Vantaras families specifically requested material from this shipment, so Mr. Belmin is eager to move on.”

“I see. Any irregularities?”

“None, sir. Except . . . Yaqi.”

“I’m sorry?”

The soldier flushes vibrant red and stands at mortified attention.

“The dog! I named him after my baby sister, sir, ’cause he’s always making trouble and eating things he shouldn’t.

Actually, he, uh. He ate something in the woods a while back and it must’ve hit him wrong. He’s not acting like himself.”

“That’s . . .” Vantaras tilts his head. “Unfortunate. You may return to the vehicle and allow Mr. Belmin to continue preparations for departure. Convey my apologies for the inconvenience. There are a few things I’d like to check before we depart.”

“Yes, sir!”

The boy in Ariana’s arms sniffles and wraps his arms around her neck. The soldier doesn’t respond to the noise or the movement.

Vantaras does.

And shit , Tory’s abilities didn’t work on him back then, either.

His eyes, unerring, find Tory’s. His hand clenches on the door, but he says nothing.

The soldier peers into the darkness to where Vantaras is looking. He squints. “Sir? Is something the matter? I can go in and make sure there are no hidden compartments.”

“You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!” The soldier strides away.

Tory slides to the side. There’s a trapdoor beneath him—he’s assuming for situations like this one, when evacuation is unavoidable—and he slides off it and twists his fingers in the loop of twine. The trapdoor creaks as it lifts.

When they’re alone, Vantaras lets go of the door. “I wouldn’t do that, Arknett. You won’t get far. You can come out, or I can come in and apprehend you.”

“How about neither?”

“Anything you do will end with your capture, but if you don’t exit on your own, you run the risk of drawing attention to Miss Belmin and these other Seeds.

Miss Belmin may be able to put them off for a while, but her power seems to be intrinsic and effective only within the range of her sight.

If they see or hear too many things they can’t reconcile with the illusions she crafted for them once they’re outside that range—for example, a Seed escaping from the direction of this caravan, they’ll be back.

I was sent after you . If you wish to see children in prison, go ahead and make noise, but their arrests will be on your head. ”

“Like you care.” Tory’s stomach twists. Inches from freedom, and Sena Vantaras is here to steal it from him again. But he’s right. Tory couldn’t live with himself if Hasra and everyone else here ended up in the labor camps or the Box.

“Remember that your Core is a tracker,” Vantaras says. He lifts a glowing, compass-like device, the stellite set into its surface shining a steady, blinding white. “We found you with it once, and we can find you again.”

That wouldn’t have mattered if he’d made it across the border. Tory nearly suffocates on a swell of helpless anger. It grows until he’s a bare inch from choking on it then bursts, leaving him empty and cold.

“Fuck you,” he says. “I hate you.”

It’s childish, and the words make him sick even as he speaks them. They’re surrender. They’re an acknowledgment of failure. His fingers unwind from the loop of twine, and blood floods back in.

“Miss Belmin, I’d appreciate if you’d maintain your illusions until Arknett is outside and into the woods.”

Tory stands, his legs barely willing to hold him after his long run, but Hasra seizes his hand and pulls him back. “Tory,” she says. “I’ll—I can . . .”

He forces his lips into a bright, irreverent smile. At the choked noise she makes in response, Tory’s chest pangs like something’s broken. He didn’t sign up to leave her behind again. He aches to hug her or stop up his ears with his fingers or push her away. He does none of those things.

“You know me.” Tory frees his hand from hers. “I can take care of myself. I’m . . . it was good to see you.”

Her warm hands lift his chin, and he doesn’t press into the touch. “Don’t do this again. It’s okay to rely on people, Tory. It’s okay to let them fight for you.”

It isn’t, though. His mom fought for him, and it got her killed. Tying himself to anyone only leads to hurt, in the end. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Then stop giving me reason to worry! I’m not a patient person. Take too long coming back and I swear to you, I will break down those damn walls and drag you out myself. I swear it by the earth under my feet.”

Vantaras shifts his attention to her at last. “You’d be safer if you didn’t.”

She laughs, raw and angry, then stomps forward to spit in Vantaras’ direction. It lands on the floor a few inches away from where he stands, but he doesn’t step back or touch his weapon.

“Colonel’s orders,” he murmurs.

“You and your orders can rot.”

Tory walks ahead of her, gait wooden. “I’ll be okay,” he lies again. He smiles at her nose. He won’t be able to leave if he sees how she’s looking at him. “I’ll find you when I’m out.”

“Kid.” Riese’s voice stops Tory before he steps out. “We’ll meet again, I’m sure of it.” Tory glances over his shoulder, swallowing hard, to find Riese wearing a sharp, sorrowful smile. “Think of us when you’re free.”

Tory steps out of the car without answering and bends his knees to absorb the shock of impact. He tosses a lazy mock-salute at the folks inside. “Have fun.”

He should say more, but his throat hurts like he gargled rocks.

“Where do you want me, Vantaras?”

Vantaras tips his chin toward the interior of the car as he closes and latches the door. “It’s better to forget about family. It would be safer for them and kinder to them if you never crossed paths again.”

“ Where do you want me ?”

Vantaras points into the woods, and Tory follows his finger behind a tree, far enough that he could probably make a run for it.

Your Core is a tracker.

He wouldn’t get far.

He forgot how much his legs hurt from running, but they barely move to get him into the woods. When he gets deep enough, knees shaking and skin greasy with cold sweat, he leans his head against a tree’s solid trunk and tastes bile.

Everything happens quickly after that. Vantaras yells something and darts toward Tory.

No syringe this time—though it would be more merciful if there were.

Vantaras twists his hands behind his back, locks a pair of cuffs over his wrists, and directs him to a covered truck that sputters and rattles and belches fuel fog like the machinery in Hulven. He points to the back. Tory goes.

Vantaras climbs in behind him after conferring with the two soldiers. He settles on the opposite side, as far from Tory as he can get, and doesn’t speak a word as they drive away.

The dog lies on his side between them, breathing like he’s broken.

*

When Tory’s led back inside, everyone is busy at maneuvers. It’s like he never left.

For a sick moment, motion on the field suspends itself, and Tory is the unfortunate recipient of a hundred angry stares.

As the razor-toothed front gate slams closed behind him, he’s led up the hill, shrouded by uniformed guards, with Vantaras at the helm. The guards are overkill. Tory’s legs will barely support him. His head throbs, lips parched.

“Ah, there you are!” Helner skips from the facility’s front door in a haze of red hair, messy bun pinned today by a sharpened pencil and what might be an icepick.

She snags the sleeve of Vantaras’ uniform.

“What a good little hunting dog you are, Vantaras,” she sneers, and lets him go to grab Tory by the chin.

“I hate to say it, but I am glad he caught you. My plans for the week would’ve been ruined, otherwise. ”

Vantaras gestures to a guard, who peels Helner’s hands off Tory’s chin and pushes her away. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Don’t we all.” She paces around the group to throw an arm out in front of Vantaras.

He skids to a stop before reaching it. Any other time, Tory might take pleasure in seeing Vantaras off balance, but today the frigid wind dries his sweat to him and tugs shivers from his core, his muscles so utterly dead it’s all he can do to keep on his feet.

He hates them both right now.

Helner, after all, is the one who installed his Core. It’s not only Vantaras’ fault that he’s in this mess.

“ Leave , Dr. Helner. The colonel is waiting for my report.”

“Lovely!” She claps her hands. “I’ll tag along! Tory, don’t you think it would be nice if I tagged along?”

“How can you stomach it?” Tory manages, tongue thick. “Betraying every Seed here, making them serve the Grand General? You’re a Seed, too.”

She flinches. “We all have to survive.”

“Maybe not all of us.”

She chokes on a startled laugh. “Get some sleep, asshole. I may be the Grand General’s puppet, but at least I’m not a coward .

” She pokes Vantaras’ chest, and he shoves her away.

“The fact that I’m not the lowest worm writhing around in this place does help me sleep a little better at night.

I’d have no one to trap if this one didn’t bring them to me, now, would I? ”

“I asked you to leave us , Dr. Helner,” Vantaras says, voice low and dangerous.

“And I think I’ll have to decline.”