Page 5 of Last of Her Name

Relenting, I throw Pol a suspicious look. He must have ratted us out.

“What about Clio?”

“Clio too. Hurry!”

I slip off Elki, Clio jumping down beside me, and then I pat the mantibu’s flank.

“Home, boy,” I murmur. He turns and ambles back up the road, his cloven hooves kicking up dust. Behind me, Clio ascends into the dory. I bound up the steps behind her and hurry to my father’s side. “Dad, what’s wrong? What does that ship mean?”

“It means the Committee is taking interest in Afka, and we don’t want to be anywhere near there until the astronika is gone.” His lips pinch together. “I know you love your ships, Stacia, but this time, it’s better to walk away.”

Seeing the look in his eyes, I feel my lungs squeeze with apprehension. Dad is one of the most laid-back people I know. Even the year we lost an entire season of grapes to beetles, he only shrugged and began planning the next year’s crop. But now he seems almost … frightened. His frame is tense, poised for trouble. He keeps rubbing the stubble on his cheeks, which I know is a sign that his thoughts are racing.

We’ve barely settled on the bench behind him before he guns the engine. The pads angle, turning us back toward the vineyard. At the controls, Dad, Pol, and Spiros bend their heads together, whispering.

I frown. What can Dad tell Pol that he can’t tell me?

Before I can find out, a blast of air hits us from above, seemingly from nowhere. We all cry out, ducking low as another dory descends from the sky. Twice the size of our craft, it’s much faster and louder. As it sinks to a stop, blocking our way, its pads send up a cloud of dust. My father curses.

“Pol, with me,” snaps Spiros. They both move to stand in front of me and Clio, as if to shield us. I peer around Spiros’s bulky frame, eyes wide.

The dory is marked with green shields, the symbol of the local Green Knight peacekeepers. There’s one at the controls—Viktor, a townie who trained with me at the little flight school outside Afka—but the rest of the men on board aren’t familiar.

They must have come in the astronika. I know everyone in Afka and none of them dress like that, in red armor stamped with the Union seal on the chest …

Then it hits me.

These strangers are vityazes, the Red Knights. They’re elite military who answer directly to the Grand Committee on Alexandrine. I’ve never evenseena Red Knight before, except on the news—usually conducting mass arrests or gunning down protestors in the central systems. Now there are three of them in front of me, and one is jumping aboard our dory.

“By order of the Grand Committee!” the man shouts. “You are to turn this craft around at once!”

I spy Dad’s hand reaching under the control panel, where he keeps his gun. Sucking in a breath, I grab his arm. I don’t know what this is about, but I know if Dad shoots a vityaze, not one of us will leave this dory alive.

For a moment, he seems like he’s going to grab it anyway. But then he relaxes, putting his arm around me instead. He holds me so tight I can barely breathe.

“What’s this about?” Dad says, putting on a confused smile, like he’s just some fringe system bumpkin. “Gentlemen, I’m a simple vintner on his way home to his wife. You how the ladies get when you’re late coming home.”

The vityazes don’t smile.

“Viktor?” I breathe. “What’s going on?”

Aboard the dory, Viktor looks pale beneath his green helmet. Instead of answering, he glances away, as if ashamed.

My pulse quickens.

Something is wrong.

The vityaze, ignoring Dad, regards me instead, staring so hard it’s like he’s trying to read my thoughts. I glare back.

“All citizens must report to the town hall,” the vityaze says at last. “Immediately.”

Dad puts on his most ingratiating smile, the one he usually only pulls out when important buyers come to sample his wine. “Sir, if you could just tell us—”

With a swift motion, the vityaze pulls his own gun and places it against Dad’s forehead.

I stare at the weapon, unable to breathe, as Clio gasps behind me. It isn’t like Dad’s, which is only capable of stunning a target. The vityaze’s gun is bigger. Uglier.

Deadlier.