“Well, then you must have misunderstood what I was saying last night. I was just trying to say that I don’t understand you human females, that’s all. I wasn’t saying I was… attracted… to Angie,” he spluttered, fumbling with his words.
“What about the kiss at Brisha’s garden party? You didn’t need to kiss her. You could have kissed Lauren, or anyone else, but you kissed Angie,” I reasoned. “You kissed her because you like her.”
“That was a one-time thing, Riley,” he insisted tersely. “Now, will you please drop it? I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m too tired.” He seemed despondent as he spoke, and I knew him well enough to do as he asked. I didn’t want to push him.
“You truly can make our ships faster?” I overheard Ginji asking excitedly as he paused on the lip of the valley. He seemed to have begrudgingly warmed up to the idea of talking directly to the coldbloods in our party, now that it seemed he couldn’t avoid it.
“Yeah, we’ll see what we can do,” Navan promised. “We just have a detour to make first.”
The five of us headed toward the entrance to the temple, with Ginji staying behind at the lip of the valley, evidently uncertain whether to follow or not.
“I suppose we should check in face-to-face with Pandora while we’re there, make sure she’s actually on-board with what we’re offering. I don’t want her blowing up the Draconian ships while we’re trying to fix things the peaceful way,” I said as we walked. The others nodded.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Navan agreed, though he seemed distracted. I knew he was hungry, and Bashrik really looked like he could do with something to eat. I hoped it might perk him up, given the exhausted, sickly state of him.
Following the trail through the temple, passing the solemn worshippers, we headed for the main entrance—the one we had first come through. The journey seemed to take longer, with us taking a few false steps. Eventually, however, we found our way, pushing hard on one side of the gargantuan door to get it to open. It gave with surprising ease, revealing the familiar clearing beyond, the Vanquish still parked in the near distance. I shielded my eyes as we stepped out into the sunlight. It seemed fiercely bright after spending so long in the temple’s dim glow.
We walked toward the ship, my eyes gazing up at the windows, in case Pandora was peering out at us. I doubted she’d risk coming so close to the edge of the ship, even with a wall of solid metal and glass between her and any potential plague. As we neared, I noticed a wooden crate on the ground, just in front of the ship’s bay door. Inside, there were five brand new earpieces and two metal boxes filled with vials of blood. The bottles rattled together as Navan and Bashrik picked them up and slipped them into their pockets, but not before they’d removed one apiece and downed the contents. The pallor of Navan’s skin instantly brightened. I noticed it still didn’t bring much color back to Bashrik’s cheeks, though it had seemed to refresh Navan almost immediately.
“I suppose we better put these in our ears.” Angie sighed, taking one of the earpieces and fitting it inside her ear canal, grimacing as the barbs clung on.
Bashrik and I removed the old ones and replaced them with the new. Navan and Lauren picked up the last two. Once they were securely fitted, we turned our attention toward the ship.
“Pandora, do you read me?” I asked, looking back up at the Vanquish.
Silence.
“Pandora, are you there?” I tried again. A beep shrieked in my ear. “What does that mean?” I wondered, glancing at Navan.
He shrugged. “A beep usually means you need to leave a message. Maybe she’s busy. I’m sure she’ll contact us when she wants to speak to us.”
“Pandora, I don’t know if you can hear this. I just wanted to say we’ve retrieved the new earpieces and the vials that you left for us. Thanks for that. We’re headed to the shipyard to look over their ships in return for the Draconian blood, as agreed—please don’t blow anything up in the meantime,” I said as quickly as possible, eager to get back out on the road.
“We’ll check in again. Over and out,” Angie said curtly. Her eyes were fixed on Bashrik, her brow furrowed with the same concern mirrored on my face. We were wasting time standing around here trying to get the attention of someone who clearly didn’t want to speak to us.
“Is she not there?” Lauren asked anxiously.
I shook my head. “Guess not.”
It was weird for Pandora not to reply, but I didn’t get the sense that something was up. She likely had bigger and better things to do, like flirting over the radio with her rebel boyfriend, gloating over their mutual control of us.
“Do you think she’s in trouble?” Lauren ventured, though she didn’t sound overly concerned.
I shrugged. “I doubt it. She probably just doesn’t want to speak to us right now. All she cares about is the blood. I’m betting she’ll get back in touch when we have news about the sample,” I reassured her, knowing that was Pandora’s style. She would get in touch when she wanted to, not when we felt like it. I just hoped she didn’t change her mind about destroying the Draconians in the meantime.
With vials to feed the hungry coldbloods and the new earpieces fitted in our ear canals, we set off for the shipyard, following the same route back through the temple. As we stepped out into the balmy air, I paused. It didn’t make sense for all of us to go down to the shipyard, not when we had another mission to complete, alongside the trade. My gaze turned back toward the temple. There was something I had to do, instead.
“Hold up a second,” I said, removing my earpiece and handing it to Lauren, before taking out the pen and paper. Hopefully, Pandora wouldn’t notice my absence if I was gone for a short while. Quickly, I moved away from the group, beckoning for Navan to come up to me, though he was wearing a deep frown of confusion. As fast as I could, with the pen burning my fingers, I wrote: You guys go on ahead. I want to speak to Freya one-on-one. Hopefully, she’ll open up a bit more if it’s just me, without any coldbloods around. Plus, it’ll be nice to speak more freely, with nobody listening in.
“Is that a good idea?” he replied, speaking softly.
We have two missions to complete in five days. If we want to leave here without Pandora blowing up an entire race, we’re going to need to multitask, I explained, on paper. If I can get something out of Freya now, that could be useful to us later. Just run and get me if Pandora asks where I went, though she hopefully won’t notice for a while.
He sighed, mouthing his reply. “Just… be safe, okay?”
“I always am,” I whispered, planting a kiss on his cheek before taking off toward the temple, leaving the others to the ships in the valley.
As I entered the temple again, a sad song drifted through the cavernous halls toward me. Even this early in the morning, the Lunists were at prayer, their faces solemn, their sorrow palpable. Now, I just had to find my way to the Celestial Room, where I hoped I’d find the high priestess.
Following the path that led through the worshippers, I soon came across the unique, circular door with the crescent-shaped handles. Taking a deep breath, I knocked lightly, waiting for an answer. A few moments later, Freya came to the door, her face showing no sign of surprise or curiosity.
“Riley,” she said simply, though I couldn’t tell whether it was a question or a statement.
“Good morning, High Priestess. I hope you don’t mind me calling on you, but I was wondering if we could discuss a few things, in private?” I asked hopefully.
“Come in,” she replied with a slight nod.
The Celestial Room looked just as beautiful as it had the last time, like being inside a crystal ball filled with starlight. A tea set had been laid out on a low table, with a cup half-full and steaming. I had clearly interrupted Freya’s morning ritual, but this couldn’t wait.
“Tea?” she asked, sitting down on a cushion in front of the low table. I did the same, sitting opposite.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, as she daintily poured another cup. Lift
ing it to my lips, I instantly regretted agreeing to a cupful. The brew had a sour, pond-like smell, with curious bits floating in the greenish water. Still, I took a sip, knowing it would be rude not to. It tasted even worse than it looked, though I had a feeling it was probably good for me.
Freya smiled. “Shall we converse?”
I nodded eagerly, putting the cup down. “I came to tell you that we—my friends and I—would like to try and reverse the effects of the corrupted opaleine. To do that, I need to know as much as possible about the coldblood plague, and how, exactly, that led to the opaleine’s corruption,” I rambled.
“Altruism is a rarity,” Freya replied, taking a sip from her own cup of tea. I was starting to get better at reading the meaning in Freya’s words, and I could sense she doubted the honesty in my intentions. She was scrutinizing me for an ulterior motive. I couldn’t blame her, given their past relationship with the Vysantheans. With that kind of history, it was a miracle she was listening to anything I had to say.
I mean, she was right to doubt me. I did have an ulterior motive. I wanted to divert the Draconians’ attention from Earth, but she didn’t need to know that.
“My desire to help reverse the corruption is an honest one,” I explained, telling a half-truth instead. “The thing is, I know what it feels like to be an oppressed species at the mercy of a stronger one. You’re powerful beings, but your beliefs make you vulnerable, and I don’t want your race to suffer for the crimes of others.”
“Not a coldblood sentiment,” she remarked.
I smiled. “No, it’s not. But then, I’m not a coldblood. And my coldblood friends weren’t lying when they said they were different. They hate the Vysanthean ways more than you do, but they’re stuck in a cycle. If they try to break away, their families will face the consequences. They think like I do—they don’t want to see your people suffer because of something other coldbloods did,” I insisted. “They don’t take any pride in what their planet has done, but they want to make amends for it where they can.”
This seemed to surprise Freya, though the surprise manifested itself in just the tiniest twitch of an eyebrow. “Forgiveness purifies the soul,” she said softly. I couldn’t imagine it was easy to forgive the Vysantheans for any of what they had done.
“I heard somewhere that the Pyros were responsible for the plague,” I pressed on, knowing I had her attention. “Could you tell me what the difference is between the Pyros and the Lunists? I didn’t know there was more than one Draconian sect. Why did you split into two sects in the first place?”
She sighed. “We value peace over power.”
“And they value power over peace?”
“Indeed so,” she replied.
“So did they cause the plague that infected the coldblood mining missions?”
Her amber eyes stared intently at me. “It was not our way.”
“No, but did the Pyros cause the plague? Did they create it, somehow, like some sort of biological warfare?” I prompted.
“It was wrong,” she said. It was like Ginji had said: they weren’t keen on telling outsiders anything about it.
“Fine, let’s ignore the cause for a second. How might we go about reversing the effects of the corruption?” I asked.
“Redemption walks a single path,” she said cryptically, leaving me to figure out what she meant. It was like having a meeting with a sphinx, Freya forever talking in riddles.
“There’s only one way to gain forgiveness—is that what you’re saying?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“And what way is that?” I urged, trying not to lose my patience.
“To free the enemy,” she replied solemnly.
I frowned. “Free the enemy? What does that mean?”
“The Pyros will not.”
“The Pyros won’t… What do you mean? What won’t they do? Who needs to be freed?” I encouraged, trying to rein in my exasperation. I wanted a full answer, not tiny bits of a whole piece.
Before she could elaborate, the door to the Celestial Room burst open. Freya’s amber eyes shot up in alarm as Navan barged into the room, holding a limp Bashrik in his arms. Angie and Lauren rushed in after, Angie looking particularly distressed.
“What happened?” I asked, jumping to my feet.
“He just passed out!” Angie explained frantically, touching Bashrik’s shoulder.
Navan’s eyes narrowed as they sought out Freya. “Did you do this?” he demanded, his voice tight with emotion. “Did you set the plague on us after you told us to trust you?”
Freya’s face remained a mask of infuriating calm. “It is unknown.”
“Did you tell us to take off our suits and then unleash a virus on us?” Navan repeated. I could see he was losing his already-frayed temper.
“Trust must be honored,” she said, offering no kind of satisfactory reply.
“DID YOU DO THIS?” Navan roared, laying Bashrik on the ground, then standing to his full height.
“Revenge is impure,” she murmured. Desperately, I tried to figure out the meaning in what she was saying. There had to be some explanation in her words, but I was running out of time.
Before I could stop him, Navan lunged forward. I tried to pull him back, but he knocked me aside. Nothing could get between him and the high priestess. With a look of pure rage rippling across his face, his hand shot out, his fingers tightening around Freya’s throat.
Chapter Twelve
Navan!” I shouted, recovering my balance. He had morphed into the almost-demonic state I’d only witnessed once before in its full force. Black wings shot out from behind his shoulders, casting a shadow on the room, as his gray skin darkened. His eyes narrowed, glinting almost black, and the fingers clasped around Freya’s throat grew sharp claws which dug deep into Freya’s flesh.
Frantically, I pulled on his arm, trying to make him let go of Freya, but he wouldn’t loosen his grip. “Navan, stop! Violence won’t solve anything!” I was starting to sound like a Draconian, but I had to get him to release her. Her green skin was fading to a troubling off-white shade, her eyes shot through with thready veins.
Angie sank to the ground, lifting Bashrik’s head onto her lap. Lauren’s gaze flitted between Freya and Navan, her body tensed.
“You gave Bashrik the plague!” Navan yelled at Freya, baring his fanged teeth at her. “You’re trying to kill us all!”
“Not Lunists,” Freya croaked, struggling to speak with Navan’s fingers crushing her throat.
My heart pounded wildly, before realization dawned. Learning how to decipher Freya’s words had paid off. “The Lunists aren’t responsible for this!” I said, covering Navan’s hand with mine, trying to physically pry his fingers away.
He glanced at me as if seeing me for the first time. I knew that could happen when his temper took over, his logical mind giving way to something more primordial. In his beast mode, it was almost as though the Navan I knew didn’t exist. I only had to remember the incident in the cave, while we were retrieving the poroporo fruit, to know how bad his temper could get.
“The Lunists didn’t do this, Navan! Let go of her!” I urged. His fingers slackened beneath mine.
“What do you mean?” he growled.
“The Pyros were responsible for the plague. The Lunists have never had anything to do with it, and I doubt they’ve suddenly changed their minds!” I explained sternly, taking his hand in mine and pulling it away from Freya. The high priestess sank to the floor, gasping in a great lungful of breath, her hands clamping over her throat. She looked up at me with grateful eyes, though I could see a flicker of something close to anger lurking beneath the surface. Cautiously, Lauren skirted past Navan and rested her hand on Freya’s shoulder, kneeling to her level.
Navan glowered at the Draconian on the floor, his shoulders heaving in unspent rage. “How do you know that? How can you believe a word they say?”
I sighed, knowing how hard it was to get him to absorb information when he was in a st
ate. “I believe them because I trust them,” I began tentatively.
He snorted. “You can’t trust them! Look what they did! This was their plan all along, to get revenge for all the terrible things my species did to them,” he insisted, his eyes narrowing. My hand on his arm was the only thing keeping him from lunging forward again.
“No, it wasn’t,” I replied calmly, stepping between him and Freya. I could tell he wasn’t thinking clearly. “The Draconians are separated into two different sects, remember? The Lunists and the Pyros. The Lunists had nothing to do with the plague’s creation; it’s why they’re so upset they have to leave their planet. They didn’t cause the corruption. They didn’t involve themselves in the plague’s creation—the very thing that made all of this happen,” I went on, sensing I had all of his attention.
“Lunists, Pyros, they’re all Draconian,” he muttered.
“What, just like you coldbloods are all the same?” I said pointedly. That made him pause for a moment, his expression shifting. “The Lunists are devout pacifists, with few exceptions. To the bitter end, they would never have lifted a finger against your people. You can hear it in Ginji’s voice when he talks about it. It’s frustrating to him because they’re so committed to their pacifism,” I continued, keeping my hand on his arm.
Lauren nodded up at us. “They wouldn’t have used a potential loophole, even if one had presented itself,” she said firmly.
“What, and these Pyros would?” Navan asked coldly.
I shrugged, piecing everything together as quickly as I could. “I have to assume that’s the case. Perhaps they got sick of doing nothing and started their own sect, a faction that didn’t abide by the same strict moral code,” I replied, glancing down at Freya.
She nodded. “You see clearly,” she croaked.
“I’m starting to wonder if the Lunists even knew about the plague. If these Pyros created it and unleashed it, chances are they did it in secret,” I suggested.
Again, Freya nodded. “The wheels were in motion,” she said.