Page 111 of Exiles on Earth

A promise. A future. I won’t let it slip away—not now, not ever.

A crack slices through the air, and a veralash wraps around my throat. It snaps tight like a fist of fire, choking off all hope.

THIRTY-SEVEN

ELLEN

I don’t knowwhat good driving back and forth between Imaya’s house and the starfield is going to do, but I’m doing it anyway, face pressed to the window as boulevards and buildings pass below. The All-Mother said she’d check the Euthanization Center, which sounds fucking diabolical, but all I can do is scour the streets from above.

Every time I see a flash of blue-purple scales, my heart leaps, but each time it collapses. They aren’t him. They look like him, but they’re not, I’m certain from up here. Just something about the way Ilia moves, with a burgeoning confidence.

Confidence the Prif wants to stamp out.

The light in the ceiling blinks again, and I press it immediately. “Have you found him?”

But the Prif’s golden form shimmers onto the seats. Her lips twist. “Found who?”

“Nothing,” I scramble to say. “What’s up, Samara?”

Her lip curls. “You’re not here within the hour, as you promised. What delays you?”

“I’m doing some sightseeing and lost track of time.” I don’t want to get my driver introuble.

She taps something I can’t see in the air in front of her. “I’ve ordered your Pranastock to take you directly to my launchpad.”

Immediately the car banks, spins around, and zooms toward the big blank expanse of blasted red-orange ground. Ships of all shapes and sizes wait, attended to by tall Pranastocks and teams of Gerverstocks. Any of them could be Ilia, and I scan desperately.

I have to do something!

“Just one more hour, please.” A red light blinks behind her again. Someone else calling me. “Oh, gotta go, sorry!”

“El-len—” she begins, in a dark tone, before I cut her off, her gold instantly replaced with silver.

“Anything?” I beg the All-Mother.

“He’s not there,” she says sadly, head in her hands and a haunted look to her eyes. It’s no great feat to imagine a place called the Euthanization Center isn’t a pleasant picnic in the park for anyone, but we have to focus on Ilia. “I have no idea where he might be.”

I return to scanning the ground desperately as the car speeds over the spaceport. In the distance, a golden oval glints in the setting sun. That has to be the Prif’s ship, because we’re heading straight for it.

But I’m not ready to go.

Underneath, a gang of Gerverstocks look up at me and wave. I glance at Floss, who brings her tongue in and perks her ears into intent triangles.

‘They’re shouting for you.’

Immediately I scream at the driver, “Land!”

He startles at the controls. “Pardon, female?”

“Land! I… I’m going to be carsick, I’ll only be two minutes.”

As the car drops to ground, my gaze fixes the pack of Gerverstocks we just flew over. Could he be in there?

The pilot lands and gets out to open the door for me. “Please be as quick as you can, the Prif’s instructions were?—”

I bolt out, the dogs at my heels, and take off across the baked sand. “Ilia!” I shout.

The gang of Gerverstocks in the distance breaks into a run toward me. A sob catches in my throat as I study them, but I can’t see Ilia.