Page 111 of Last of Her Name

“My father’s ship,” Natalya breathes. “How did you—”

“Later. Let’s go!” I unceremoniously push her inside, then sprint through the bridge to the upper control deck. There I pause, blinking at the array of controls, unsure where to start. I’ve never flown anything this complicated before. At least I don’t have to worry about power; the Prism is spinning beautifully in its case on the board. I give it an uneasy smile, knowing now that it’s as conscious of me as I am of it.

“Hey, you,” I murmur to the Prism. “Want to give me some pointers on how to fly this thing?”

“We’ve got company!” calls Natalya from below. She’s locked and sealed the door, and is peering through its circular window.

I pull up a rear camera to see vityazes storming the portal. They’ve got some sort of explosive device that they’re attempting to fix onto the door of theValentina.

With a deep breath, I press my hand to the control board and stare at the Prism spinning atop it. I reach the way I did with the drill battery, trying to connect with the crystal.

“Let’s go,” I whisper. “C’mon, Val, old girl. We’re in a bit of a hurry.”

TheValentinaresponds as easily as if I were speaking directly to her. I suppose I am, in a way. The dock clamps release and we sail away from the Rezidencia, leaving the vityazes to scramble to shut the dock door before they tumble out into the palace’s artificial atmo.

“That was close,” says Natalya, climbing the stairs to the bridge.

Then she stops, staring at the hand I have planted on the control board. From my fingertips and up my arm, triangles of light burn beneath my skin, tingling faintly.

“Um.” She points at my hand. “You’re glowing.”

“Yeah, thanks. Got that.” I grit my teeth and concentrate on directing the ship, guiding it through the palace’s framework, narrowly dodging the struts that connect the various buildings. All I do is think of the direction I want to go, and theValentina’s computer adjusts course accordingly. But the effort is making me dizzy, and I lean against the board and struggle to blink away the spots in my eyes.

“Do you mind giving me an explanation now?” asks Natalya, in a barbed tone that implies if Idon’ttalk, she’s going to make me.

“I’m Stacia,” I say. “I mean, Anya. Stars, I don’t even know anymore.”

“The princess,” she murmurs. Then she presses her hands to her head. “Ugh! Why I can’t I remember anything clearly?”

“You were brainjacked, but that’s over now. You can trust me, Natalya. I’m a friend of Riyan’s. He’s been looking for you.”

“Is Riyan all right? Where is he?”

“There.” The prison is directly ahead. I’m angling for it hard, sacrificing finesse for the sake of speed. But controlling the entire ship is pushing me to my limit. Now I know how Riyan felt when he was trying to navigate us through the Diamin Wall. I feel blood starting to run from my nose, but I can’t let up yet.

“Let me fly!” Natalya says. “Whatever you’re doing, it looks like it’s killing you.”

“I’m fine,” I gasp. “I need you to get the prison doors open.”

“The doors?” She shakes her head. “Think bigger, princess.”

I hold on just long enough to see her begin to tessellate, her hands spread before her. Then, with a mangled groan, I release the control board and collapse into my seat, wiping blood from my nose. The glowing lights under my skin fade. Engines whining, theValentinahovers in place as Natalya focuses on the prison.

“Here we go,” she mutters.

I drag myself from my seat to watch, leaning heavily on the board. The entire wall of the prison begins to crumble, not falling away but folding in on itself. Natalya crumples it like a sheet of paper. Plaster and metal crunch into fragmented triangles, collapsing into smaller and smaller bits. The sound must be terrible, but I can’t hear anything inside the ship. In moments, Natalya has peeled away the entire wall and reduced it to a single cube of condensed matter no bigger than my head, exposing the cells behind it like a split honeycomb. Startled prisoners stare at us.

I spot Pol at once.

He can’t possibly see me through the tinted glass of the cockpit, but he has to recognize theValentinaand put two and two together. He vanishes for a moment, then returns with Riyan and Mara. They’re still dressed in red prison jumpsuits. I can only imagine the chaos inside the prison as the inmates take to the halls. No guards appear to stop us from pulling alongside the exposed cells and opening the lower hatch. Cool, breathable air filters in from the outside and rushes through the air lock.

Natalya sits down, looking exhausted from tessellating the wall. Her face is masked in black. When I ask if she’s all right, she only shakes her head and waves me away.

“Go get my brother,” she gasps.

I make my way to the back of the ship, where the hatch has opened and the entry ramp lowered, nearly scraping the edge of the prison. Wiping the blood from my nose onto my shoulder, I hang on to the struts and hold out a hand. Pol jumps aboard, grabbing on to me, and the other two follow.

“Stacia! What in the blazing stars—”