Page 14

Zandrel

Roslyn stops fighting me as soon as we’re back inside the fence.

Her body goes limp on my shoulder, her fists and legs cease their pounding and kicking, and I’d almost be grateful for it if I were capable of such an emotion right now.

The storm unleashing its fury above is the very last of my worries as I give the comms band on my wrist another quick swipe, ensuring we’re unobserved as I lock the hidden perimeter entrance behind us and start the long trudge back to the bungalow.

We go the entire way without exchanging a word.

Oh, she certainly threw a few choice curses and insults my way when I caught her stealing one of production’s vehicles to do fates know what in the middle of the Eritin wilderness. But whether she tired of the sound of her own voice, or realized I wasn’t going to say a damn word to her until we made it somewhere private, she quieted down pretty quickly.

Rain still falls in heavy, pelting sheets as we reach the bungalow, and we’re both soaked through as I step us inside, set Roslyn down, and quickly re-arm the security system and the programming I’ve set that’s kept our movements undetected.

Then I turn to face her.

She didn’t retreat immediately into her room like I might have expected, and we both drip puddles onto the floor as we stand in silence that stretches for five seconds, ten, longer.

If her glare had the power to injure, I’d certainly be lying dead in that puddle. As it stands, all I can do is accept her ire and try to quell my racing thoughts, try to swallow back my anger over what her reckless stunt could have cost us both.

I need to keep a handle on myself, need to rein in that anger, need to stay focused on all the reasons it’s better to play this calm, collected. I need to make Roslyn see reason rather than fly off the handle and force her to retreat even further behind those walls of hers.

But it’s a losing battle.

Thank fates Brivik’s little errand was more an annoyance than anything, quickly dealt with and forgotten. Another minute, and I might have missed her. I would have been forced to steal my own hover and hunt her down in the Eritin wilderness.

I shudder to think of it.

It’s not a particularly dangerous planet, but there would have been no explaining away a mad dash into restricted territory without adequate time to prepare and cover our tracks. Our ruse would have certainly been blown, the game would have been up, with both of us worse off and further from our goals.

“Enough of this,” I say through my teeth, right at the edge of my patience. “This is the last time you try to run.”

Roslyn seethes. It’s a wonder the rainwater covering her skin and clothing doesn’t steam with the white-hot force of her anger.

“You could have stayed out of it. You could have just let me go.”

I scoff. “And what? Face the consequences here all by myself? Give up on getting my life back because you refuse to see the opportunity you have here?”

It’s her turn to scoff—a rough, inelegant sound that conveys the depth of her disgust, her frustration, her hatred of me.

“Opportunity? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Measured. Calm. Collected.

It’ll only hurt the situation more if I can’t make this insufferable, unreasonable human understand.

“Yes, opportunity. Just because you’re incapable of seeing it that way doesn’t make it any less of one.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Just because you’re incapable of seeing what an ass you’re being doesn’t make you any less of one.”

Another notch, slipped. Another bright flare of the temper I’ve tried to keep buried.

“ I’m an ass?” The expression of comparing someone to hindquarters isn’t one that exists in the Revexoran language, but her meaning is more than clear. “I was only doing my job, making sure contestants like you follow the show’s rules and—”

“Oh, sure. And just because you’re following the rules automatically makes what you’re doing moral? Makes it right?”

A growl lodges in my throat. She’s not wrong, but…

“Of course it’s not that simple. And I’m not. You know I’m not. As soon as I decided to help you, I put everything I’m doing here at risk.”

“Help me? You think you’re helping me?”

Obstinate, frustrating human. Why can’t she see?

“Yes. I’m helping you. Would you rather I have turned you in that night and let you face the consequences? Would you rather I have let you go traipsing off into the Eritin wilderness and earn yourself charges from the Seventh Sector Council for unauthorized—”

“I would have rather you left me the fuck alone! From the beginning. From whenever you decided to be such a bastard and start following me, making me some kind of deranged little pet project like—”

“Roslyn.” I can’t keep the desperation from my voice. “Please.”

Whether it’s the word or the tone, something about the plea seems to resonate with her. At least enough for her to fall silent and meet my gaze, waiting for me to continue.

“Whatever it is you’re after,” I say, fighting to regain my composure, “let me help. I know you don’t want to trust me. I know you think you have no reason to trust me, and I don’t blame you. But hear me when I say there is nothing in this universe I want more than to regain my position with the Aux. Whatever it takes.”

Her silence continues, stretching out between us like a terrible, palpable thing.

With each passing second of it, I can feel the impasse looming.

Whatever she says next will determine where we go from here.

I don’t want to turn her in, don’t want to report what I’ve seen and done to the Mate Match security team, but nor can I let this continue. Not when it means jeopardizing the scant progress I’ve made in clawing my way back up the ranks. Not when it means risking the life I’ve worked decades for and my plans to dismantle the Aux’s abhorrent recruiting practices.

As much as I want to shield Roslyn, to be her partner here, I won’t abandon my plans for her sake.

I can’t.

But she still hasn’t said anything.

The silence between us grows heavier, more absolute, and in it, her answer becomes clear.

She’s not going to trust me.

And fine. That’s her prerogative.

If she ignores all that I’ve risked to show her it’s in her best interest—in both our best interests—to work together in this, that’s up to her.

But curse my own foolish, obstinate heart, because I can’t help but give it one last try.

“What more can I do to prove it to you? I’ve kept your behavior a secret. I’ve kept the cameras off you, protected you, put my own aims here at risk.”

Something flashes in Roslyn’s eyes, a crease appears between her brows, but I can’t read her. I can’t tell if that expression contains doubt or hesitation or just more of her unshakable resolve that I’m nothing but a danger to her, nothing but a hindrance.

Perhaps I’ve earned it.

Perhaps my behavior has been bad enough to have put her trust completely out of my grasp. Perhaps there’s nothing I can do but accept it.

“We’ll both be better off for it,” I say, my last attempt. “I know the fire burning in you. I see it pushing you toward whatever end you’re after. I see it and I know it because I feel it, too. There is nothing, nothing in this entire universe that matters more to me than regaining the life I lost, and I know you feel the same about whatever it is you seek here. Let me help you, Roslyn.”

More silence, more inscrutable hesitation

Roslyn turns away from me, shoulders heaving in a deep breath as she runs a hand through her hair, mussing the damp strands, and the last of my hope dies a swift death.

My heart falls, disappointment presses bitter and defeated on my shoulders, and I shake my head in resignation.

“I suppose we’re done here, then. I’ll tell the producers we’ve ended our relationship, and we can both—”

“Fine!” she snaps, rounding on me. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

Devastation, in those beautiful green eyes of hers. Devastation and defeat, a brokenness that fills me with shame knowing I’m the one who put it there.

It shouldn’t matter to me at all.

This is what I wanted.

Her surrender.

Her honesty.

To finally know the secret she’s been keeping, to know what exactly it is in the Eritin wilderness that’s calling to her.

Only now that I’m about to get it, I’m filled with soul-deep revulsion.

Not at her. At myself.

Thick and oily, that revulsion settles itself into the bottom of my stomach, creeps up the back of my throat until I want to retch around it.

But before I can take it back, tell her to keep whatever it is she’s about to say inside, Roslyn draws herself to her full height. Her chest heaves once, twice, and her voice is tight and hoarse when she works up her courage enough to speak.

“I’m here to find my sister.”