Page 40 of The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire #1)

Zane pulled back, surprising himself with a smile. “Thank you.”

She stayed silent as he cleaned her back. He tried to count how many minutes had passed, how much time until the timer on the dash trilled and reminded him to make the drop from the route. Autopilot still hadn’t demanded his attention, even after he finished with her back.

He hesitated, twisting a piece of gauze between his fingers.

“I have to bandage that burn. The corset’s in the way.”

She nodded.

Her fire, her smart retorts, her stubborn insistence that there was no way she was undressing for him… he’d expected all of it. That she could only nod was the worst part of all.

Her fire was what had made him feel so alive, and they’d extinguished it.

His fists clenched. Just for that, he wanted to see the traitors suffer.

But she sounded exactly like that exasperating woman he’d met on the Chimaera when she said, “You’d better have a change of clothes for me.”

“So demanding. Next time I stage a rescue, I’ll be sure to pack your wardrobe first.”

He could’ve sworn she chuckled.

Zane yanked his duffel towards him, tugging out a sweatshirt and sweats. He tossed them at her, but as she stood and trudged towards the bathroom, he frowned.

“Wait. You have a…” Nicking a piece of gauze, he stood and closed the distance between them. A line of blood dribbled from a cut on her temple, half-hidden by her hair. Zane’s rapid breaths mingled with hers as he leaned closer, dabbing at the gash.

She went still. A blush crept to her cheeks.

“There’s a cut,” he whispered, wiping the blood away. “Here.”

Her shining, pale-blue eyes flitted across his face. She blinked her tears away, and her long lashes fluttered.

Heat rushed to Zane’s face, and he inhaled deeply, trying to stop it—but the faint scent of cherry perfume wafted up his nostrils, and the battle was lost.

Clinical, detached ?—

His pulse hammered as he took a step closer.

She did too, and her warm breaths ghosted against his skin.

With all the blood, she looked terrible.

They both did. But standing this close made him feel alive.

He could feel every beat of his heart, every hitching breath, every jolt of heat shooting to his face.

But mascara tracks shone on her cheeks. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy.

As the timer rang in the cockpit, he’d already stepped back.

Her brows pinched together.

“I’ll drop us from the route.” Zane motioned to the bed. “We’ll have to keep an eye on autopilot, but we can take it in shifts. You should get some rest.”

Before she could protest, he ducked into the cockpit. With trembling hands, he shut the door behind him.

Kalie flopped onto her stomach, punching the balled-up jacket under her head.

Huffing, she buried her face in the unwelcoming fabric and tried to make her mind blank.

Gods above, she craved sleep. Her mind whirred relentlessly, and a band of pressure tightened around her lungs with each panic-inducing thought.

Was Uncle Jerran dead and would she ever see Dali again and what if her parents turned her away from Etov and?—

Kalie groaned, kicked the blankets away, and rolled off the bunk.

In the cockpit, Zane hunched over the dashboard, resting his head on his folded arms as if he was sleeping. She lingered there for a moment, studying the way the emergency lights fell across his powerful arms, the arc of light cresting the shadows of his well-muscled back.

Then he shifted in his seat, and as he muttered a sharp curse, Kalie jolted.

Definitely awake.

As he pressed his hand to his ribs, Kalie bit her lip. He’d bandaged the burn on her side, but they hadn’t talked about that moment, and she wondered if he’d felt it too—the way the air had become charged between them, the rise in temperature, the rush of her pulse.

But they had more important things to worry about.

She shuffled into the frigid cockpit and dropped into the co-pilot’s seat, burying her hands in the sleeves of her borrowed sweatshirt.

The scent of it calmed her. It smelled like ocean spray, like Dali.

Like him. Arrogant and irritating as Zane was, he’d come back for her.

Unlike Mylis, who’d seemed so gentle and understanding—only to prove his kindness was an act.

Traitor.

Zane cracked an eye open, grunted, and stiffly eased himself up. She could feel the ache in his bones; it was the same ache pulsing through her wounds.

“What’re you doing up?” he mumbled .

“I couldn’t sleep. Go ahead, I’ll take over.”

He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “You know, I’ve been thinking about this. Your guards. It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”

“See what?”

“Captain Vale,” Zane spat, wringing his hands. “He’s served your aunt since the war. None of you had any reason to be suspicious of him, but he’s held a grudge against your father?—”

“Since he killed Vale’s wife and daughter.”

“Exactly. And he picked guards who held grudges. Like Wright, for instance. Your father’s men tortured his dad.

And…” Zane’s eyes shifted to her, and he cleared his throat.

“And Mylis. Your uncle might’ve recommended him, but Vale had to confirm his appointment.

Vale’s been planning this from the start. ”

“With Carik’s help.”

His brows knitted together.

“This was his work. I know it.” Kalie dug her nails into her palms. “He didn’t come to that meeting to discuss my terms, he came there to assess my court. It’s easy to read people, he probably took one look and knew which ones he could turn.”

Zane stifled a yawn. “To turn your whole guard… This has been planned for weeks. I’m sure of it. Are you sure the mastermind isn’t one of your nobles?”

“Perhaps.” Judging by Hewlett’s smile, he’d been involved, and his lousy family too. “But none of them have the resources to break into Titan. This has to be Carik’s work.”

“Did Lexington say anything about him?”

“No, but… she said I lost a part of me. Something she could return.”

“She’s a raving lunatic. Don’t believe a word she says.”

“Raving, maybe. Lunatic, no.” Kalie ran a hand over her face, shivering at the icy touch. “I thought she meant freedom from the court, but she said something about a name…”

Zane yawned loudly, and the light from the dashboard caught the dark circles ringing his eyes. She tossed her head towards the cargo bay .

“We can talk about it later. You should get some sleep.”

“Yeah. Guess I should.” Stifling another yawn, Zane pushed himself to his feet. “Wake me when you want to switch.”

“Sweet dreams.”

Kalie slumped against the backrest. Pain lanced through her ribs, spiraling down to the aching burn on her side. Damn Iliana. Damn Carik.

She wanted to kill him. Slowly. Painfully. She wanted him to watch as everything he’d built crumbled before him.

But what Zane had said earlier was right.

She’d demanded support and berated her nobles.

Despite their protests, she’d forced them into a corner.

Her desperation to avenge her own family had made her forget they had families to protect, too.

She’d ignored their wishes, the wounds festering from the last war, and their fears that their surviving loved ones would be slaughtered.

Her own willful ignorance had cost her the throne.

Mother had been right, too. A title didn’t earn her respect. And as Mother had warned her, she’d learned that lesson the hard way.

Kalie straightened up, flinching as pain lanced through her ribs. Moving forward, she would do better. Be better.

And then there was Iliana’s ultimatum.

“Something I have the power to return… does the name…”

What had she been talking about? Maybe Zane was right and she was a raving madwoman, but Iliana didn’t seem like a fool. Her lips had been moving when the blast went off. If only Zane would’ve come a second later…

A shriek pierced through the ship.

Kalie leapt to her feet. Her heart thundered as she slid the door open and charged into the cargo bay.

She stopped short.

Zane thrashed against the blanket. “No!” he cried, thumping his fist against the mattress. “No, no, please ?—”

Kalie’s mouth hung open.

“Lys!” he roared, and the blanket went flying. He kept fighting, as if his life depended on it—or someone else’s. “Lys!”

His voice broke, and Kalie snapped out of her daze. Ducking under a flying fist, she sat on the edge of the bunk and touched his arm. “Hey, wake up?—”

Zane’s leg slammed into the metal wall. Roaring, he flung his arm at her. The blow would’ve knocked Kalie flat on her back if she hadn’t leapt away. Gasping, she retreated to the far wall. Her pulse thudded in her ears. His eyes were closed, but the rage on his face… the rage and loss …

This wasn’t a normal nightmare.

“Wake up.” Kalie’s voice shook. She didn’t dare approach him again. “It’s just a dream.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. “No… Lys, no …” Zane was crying now. “Love you…”

Kalie went still. Her heart twisted, as if someone had closed a fist around it and squeezed.

He started moaning. Pleading.

An ache burned in her throat. She tried to go to him, but her heart pummeled her ribs, and her feet stuck to the floor.

This was Zane, who’d helped her at her lowest. She owed him.

But he looked feral, still kicking and thrashing, still swinging his arm.

One blow could knock her out cold. In the state he was in, he might actually kill her.

There was a piece of metal flinging around on his bare chest, strung around his neck with a chain of silver beads.

A military tag.

Her eyes lingered on his sculpted chest, his abs and corded muscles, but she swallowed and wrenched her gaze away. Light seeped in from the screens in the cockpit. If she squinted, the figures etched into the metal tag stopped swimming long enough for her to read:

Hale

Lysa M.

Kalie’s mouth fell open. Oh, holy gods. The tag flipped over as he writhed against the sheets, but she’d seen enough. If he wore her military tag and he’d left Oppalli without her…

“Coward,” she’d spat. “Greedy, self-absorbed coward. ”

Their voices echoed in her head, spinning like a cyclone as the pieces fell into place. Kalie sagged against the wall. Her wide eyes were frozen on that piece of gleaming metal.

“Something happened to make you this way. Someone happened.”

“Not Mira.”

“Because they’re all dead, and I was sick of fighting a losing battle.”

“No… Love you…”

A choked sob rumbled in her throat, and she clapped a hand to her mouth.

It’d be like losing Julian. Like losing Ariah.

The other half of herself, the second piece of her soul.

Zane knew that pain, he’d felt it, and she’d taunted him about it.

She’d ripped open his wounds in the cruelest way possible.

Swallowing the knot in her throat, Kalie crossed the room, brushed his sweaty hair away from his forehead, and pressed her lips to his temple.

“I’m here. I promise, I won’t leave.”

Zane stopped kicking at the blankets and relaxed into the mattress.

He was still twitchy, so she whispered to him, soothing nothings and sweet promises—that she was here, they were safe, it was all just a bad dream.

Her other hand curled around his, as if holding him tighter would prevent him from slipping away.

Slowly, he calmed. In sleep, without his near-permanent scowl or vexing smirk, he seemed gentle. The tears shining on his cheeks made him look sad and lonely.

Still clutching his hand, Kalie slid down to the side of the makeshift cot, resting her head against the edge.

She didn’t let go.

Rustling blankets roused her from her dreams.

“Kalie.” Zane sounded annoyed. “Why are you holding my hand?”

Groaning, Kalie rubbed her sleep-crusted eyelids and twisted to face him. His lips curved down. It was as if her mind was clouded with fog. Where was she? And why was she here?

Her gaze shot to her hand. Their hands.

Kalie’s cheeks warmed, and she glanced at the cockpit. As Zane marked the motion, a smirk curved at his lips.

It would be so easy to take that humorous glint out of his red-rimmed eyes, to stop him from laughing at her. The truth was on the tip of her tongue.

But she faltered. Dried tear tracks shone on his cheeks.

“I got scared.”

Zane huffed, pulled his hand away, and shuffled towards the bathroom. “So much for shifts. We’re lucky autopilot didn’t kill us. Next time, if you want to nod off, wake me first.”

She hummed in agreement.

When he opened the door a few minutes later, his face was shiny from the water he must’ve splashed on it. The engine’s steady hum filled the air. As he stared at the floor, his lips moved, a barely perceptible thank you . Then he hid in the cockpit.

They didn’t speak of it again.