Then memories flashed through his mind…memories she foolishly didn’t anticipate.
He stood in the crowd at Ty’s judgment. From the moment he’d woken up that day, he’d felt an overwhelming need to stay close to her. His thoughts were flooded with accusations and suppositions from all of the Mynders in the palace. They were saying that Ty had been caught in the act of raping Ma’jah Kyr.
But he knew it couldn’t be true.
The news had gotten to him too late to try and intervene. He could no longer connect with Ty. His only hope was to step forward during the judgment and share with everyone what he knew to be true: that Ty loved Kyr and would never hurt her.
When Vycor rose, Gren started forward. His intent was to step onto the judgment floor with Vycor before the barrier dropped so that they both stood with Ty. But just as he reached Vycor, he was thrown off balance. He stumbled under Vycor’s weight, wondering why the Advisor had fallen backwards.
His question was answered when he looked at the floor and saw Kyr. He watched her throw herself in front of Ty and shout at the audience. At the same time, Vycor shoved away from Gren and ran along the first row towards the Mynders who were standing guard among the witnesses. Vycor shouted something, but it was lost to Gren in the noise that now flooded the judgment chamber. He assumed the Advisor was yelling at someone to lift the barrier.
He returned his attention to the floor, where Kyr was declaring her love for Ty. Would her admission help Ty?
Please, let it help Ty.
But then Ty walked up to Kyr. He lifted his hands and placed them around her neck. His lips moved, but Gren couldn’t hear what he said. He frowned in confusion. Why was Ty pretending to hurt Kyr?
It wasn’t until Kyr fell to the ground that Gren realized Ty wasn’t pretending. Something was wrong. He saw the tortured expression on Ty’s face…the tears in his eyes. He knew Ty was being influenced.
Vycor.
He turned from the damnable barrier and sprinted in the direction the Advisor had taken. He would kill the son of a bitch if that’s what it took.
But he couldn’t find him. Desperation had him shoving Mynders out of his way. His roar of fury had most of them scrambling away from him before he even reached them.
Vycor was nowhere to be found. When the barrier lifted, Gren stopped his search. He changed directions, running towards the chamber floor while everyone else stared in shock. He ran until he reached Ty’s side, and froze when he saw what Ty had done.
And then he watched his best friend break to pieces.
It was too much. Kyr’s knees failed her. Sobs issued from her that came from her very soul.
Oh, Ty. Ty!
“Kyr,” Gren said, falling to his knees beside her and pulling her against him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have spared you that. I was just so—I didn’t guard my—”
His words cut off. She heard the emotion in his voice. He had revisited the horrific memory just as much as she had. He was suffering as she was.
Her arms went around him. And together, they grieved.
* * *
“What made you come in here?” Kyr asked him later.
They were still sitting beside each other on the ground in the bathing chamber. Each of them had an arm around the other. Neither felt compelled to move.
“I check your chambers every day,” he replied.
She inferred enough from his thoughts to know that it was a way to help him cope. It hadn’t escaped her that he had endured not just the loss of Ty, but her as well. It touched her that he loved her as he might a sister, even as it hurt her heart that he had suffered so much these past few days.
Seeing no need to make him explain any of that, she said, “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”
He gave her shoulder a squeeze. He was having trouble reining in his emotions, which she could well understand. All of this was a lot to take in.
Eventually, he said, “They’re supposed to be laying you to rest tomorrow.”
She knew from his thoughts that he had been dreading it. He hadn’t slept much since the judgment. Hadn’t eaten much, either. He had used strong drink to try and ease his pain, though it hadn’t helped. He kept wondering what he was missing…how he could save Ty and prove his suspicions about Vycor.
“I’m hoping you can help me get to Ty,” she said, wanting to distract him from his deeper thoughts. “How can I get to him in the Dark Lands?”
“It won’t be easy. Once a shuttle releases a convict in the Dark Lands, the pilot and crew have their memories erased by the Inquisitors in order to prevent anyone from doing exactly what you and I want to do.”
Zasha and Leo had expressed the same thing, but she had hoped Gren might have more insight due to his role within the palace. Knowing that he didn’t was a disappointment, but she couldn’t let it deter her.
“Well, maybe if you get me out to the Dark Lands, I can use my abilities to find Ty through thought.”
“I had that idea, too. But Vycor obviously planned this all very carefully. He wanted Ty as far from the palace as possible, and he wanted him to suffer. What if he has Ty held prisoner somewhere? What if he finds out what we’re doing and sends a signal to someone to hurt or kill Ty before we can save him?”
Kyr’s spirits sank with every word. He was right. She should have considered that Vycor would account for someone trying to save Ty. The Advisor probably had contingency plans in place in case he was harmed or killed, too. It made sense that he had done something outside the norm when he banished Ty.
Would she ever find Ty?
“Hey,” Gren said, rubbing her shoulder. “We have two minds thinking this through now. We can come up with something.”
She knew he needed reassuring just as much as she did, so she nodded. “Okay. So maybe I can’t go right out and find Ty. But if we can prove he’s innocent, Vycor would have to bring him back, right? What if I reveal myself to everyone? It would be the quickest way to show them that Ty isn’t guilty.”
Gren looked hesitant. “I don’t think that’s the wisest course. I heard what everyone was thinking before the so-called judgment. They all believed Ty had influenced you. They would think anything you said now was a result of that.”
“But Ty doesn’t have his abilities anymore,” she argued. “He couldn’t possibly be influencing me right now.”
“That’s not what Vycor would say,” he muttered darkly. “Ty was the Dem-Shyr. No one really knows the extent of his abilities. It was left undisclosed to keep anyone from trying to test him and possibly harm you. I can tell you now that Vycor will allege that Ty’s influence was strong enough to affect you forever.”
Anger burned bright within her chest. “I can’t wait to kill him,” she said in a quiet voice.
“You’ll have to stand in line, Ma’jah.”
She tilted her head to meet his gaze. “Gren, after all of this, please just call me Kyr.”
He started to say something, then nodded.
“Thank you.” She settled her head back against his shoulder. “So, I guess they’ll be burying an empty death box tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “What a mess. The Vawn are holding an emergency meeting after the burial to discuss the future rule of Alametria. You’re right that it would be easiest if you could just announce yourself and spare them all the trouble.”
But she agreed with him about that being a bad idea. “Did you think Ty had killed me of his own free will?” she asked.
“Of course not.”
His honesty rang through every word, not that she had doubted it. “I’m sure there are others who feel as you do. People who doubt Vycor.”
Gren nodded. “You have a point. There are some, like me, who suspect that Vycor is behind what happened. But no one is capable of getting into his mind to verify it. He has strong blocks in place, blocks I’ve never encountered before. Unless we can get proof from his own head, it will just be our word against his.”
She in
ferred that he had tried to get past those blocks. Appreciating his efforts, she elbowed him lightly in the side. His face turned a delightful shade of pink.
“Those blocks are keeping you or anyone else from learning Vycor’s plans, aren’t they?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I can get past them.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I can get past them,” she repeated.
“Kyr, I don’t think you grasp the significance of—”
“Oh, I grasp it. Ty mentioned the blocks to me, too, and if they were significant enough to keep Ty out, they’re damn strong. But trust me, Gren. If these blocks in Vycor’s mind are what stand between me and Ty, they don’t stand a chance.”
Chapter 20
An anguished cry sat in the back of Ty’s throat as he jerked awake. His breath left him in ragged draws as his heart slammed against his breastbone. Sweat dripped along his temples, blending with the tears in his eyes and trailing down both sides of his face.
After a moment, he blinked, clearing the moisture. It offered him a glimpse of a wood ceiling supporting a large air vent. The unremarkable sight brought him no recognition.
His recent memories felt clouded. Vague. Like someone else had lived them. As he stared at the ceiling, they started filtering back.
He remembered being roused on the shuttle that deposited him in the Dark Lands. Someone had sedated him in the judgment chamber almost as soon as the barrier lifted. He didn’t remember anything after that until he regained consciousness on the shuttle.
He remembered that, much like it had been for most of his life, his first thought was of Kyr…wondering where she was and if she was safe.
And then remembering the answer.
He remembered a masked Inquisitor standing before him and stating the crimes for which he had been convicted: the rape and murder of Ma’jah KyrVawn, the Ascendant of Alametria.
Then he remembered retching.
He remembered being shoved off of the shuttle once it landed. He had stumbled a few feet and fallen to his knees. He hadn’t bothered to move as the craft reversed, barely feeling the heat and gravel that struck him as it departed. He just lay down right there and waited to die.
Prayed to die.
He remembered time passing…fading in and out of consciousness as his body slowly shut down.
He remembered four faces hovering over him: three male and one female. He remembered lying on his back with the dark pink sky above him, a mask on his face and the surface beneath him moving. Being forced to drink water and some kind of flavored broth. Trying to refuse it.
Begging the strangers to let him die.
“Are ya actually with me this time, handsome?”
Ty tilted his head in the direction of the feminine voice. It was familiar, bearing the accent of someone from—or formerly from—the Herte megai. She must have been one of the group who had prevented his death.
He confirmed it when she stepped into his line of sight. Her curly strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a youthful ponytail, but her indigo eyes held a solemnity he’d only seen in older Alametrians. The rest of her features made it difficult to determine her age. He guessed she was somewhere between his and his mother’s ages.
“Ah,” she said with a nod. “Ya are, and that’s a fact. I’m relieved ta see it. I haven’t seen anyone quite as far gone as ya were. ‘Twas like ya were the dead among the livin’. Seems somethin’ finally brought ya back ta us. I wonder what it was.”
Wretched, miserable fortune, he thought. That was what.
“My name’s Hope,” she said. “I’m one of the Harvesters. Ya probably don’t know much about us yet.”
He didn’t reply.
“Not feelin’ talkative yet, eh? Or maybe ya just don’t want ta tell me yer name.” She pulled a chair over near him and sat down, apparently unconcerned that he didn’t want to chat. “‘Tis all right. If ya want ta know the truth of it, few folks here in the Dark Lands use their birth-given names. ‘Tis a reminder of things they’d rather forget.”
Ty returned his gaze to the ceiling. He didn’t care about any of this. He wished he had at least some of his mental abilities so that he could use them to help him get away from this woman.
“I’ve a feelin’ I know who ya are just the same,” Hope said in a softer voice. “Those silver eyes, they’re not like anythin’ ya’d see ‘round these parts. Hell, ‘round all of Alametria.”
He briefly closed his eyes and willed her to leave him be. She didn’t.
Since it seemed there was no way that unconsciousness would grace him again, he shoved himself up into a sitting position and turned to face her. She brightened, apparently thinking that he was going to engage her in conversation.
He was checking to make sure she was alone so he could leave.
“Word reached us while ya were unconscious ‘bout what happened at the Vawn palace,” she said. “The timin’ of yer arrival here confirmed what I already thought as far as yer identity.”
His gaze moved back to hers. How in the hell had the people in the Dark Lands learned anything about what had happened across the planet? This was supposed to be a remote, desolate area without any contact with other Alametrians. An Outcast’s abilities were repressed after their sentencing, too, so it wasn’t as though they could establish a mental connection with someone on the other side of the protections.
“Caught yer attention with that, did I?” she said with another nod. “Ya probably didn’t think we had any idea what happened in the other megais. Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure how the information gets ta us. Word filters among the other groups and makes its way along. All I do know is that there’re more connections ‘tween the palace and us Outcasts than I ever knew about before I ended up out here. In fact, there’re rumors that there’s a direct connection ‘tween some of the Outcasts and the highest levels of authority in the Vawn palace, though no one has proved it yet.”
Ty studied her in silence. Once again, he longed for his Mynder abilities, but this time it was to determine her motives and sincerity.
Unable to glean anything from her expression, he glanced around, assessing the environment. So far, he hadn’t seen or heard any living beings other than Hope. They were in some kind of dwelling made out of wood and metal. There were no windows and only one door. Light glowed from a multitude of candles. He counted two different hallways, but he couldn’t see where they led.
To Hope’s right was a small area that appeared to be for food preparation and storage. A wooden table and three chairs stood nearby. Hope sat in the fourth. He was sitting on a padded bench that seemed to be the only item of furniture in what constituted the living space. The entire dwelling was probably only as big as Kyr’s receiving cham—
He cut the thought off, but not before it speared him in the heart.
He got to his feet. There was no use pretending that he would ever communicate with Hope or anyone else. He just wanted to walk out the door and die.
Hope jumped to her feet and grabbed his hand. “Please don’t go.”
Something in her tone had him looking at her. There were tears in her eyes. She clenched his hand so hard it was painful.
“Ya say her name,” she whispered. “It’s all I’ve heard ya say.”
His breathing grew shallower. He tried to pull his hand from hers, but she had an astonishing grip.
“I know where ya are right now, believe me,” she said. “We’ve all been there. Ya don’t think ya’ll ever recover. Ya want ta die.”
Again, he tried to retrieve his hand. She just held on tighter.
“But if ya die, ya won’t ever avenge her.”
He hesitated. He considered what she had said about contact between the Outcasts and the palace. Even if she was exaggerating or misinformed, what if there was some truth to what she said? What if he could somehow gain access to the palace?
What if he could kill Vycor?
“Out here in the Dark Lands,?
?? she said, “there are those who die, and those who live on with the flame of vengeance in their hearts. That savage focus is the same across most groups out here. It sorta bonds us, ya could say.”
“Groups?”
Her eyes widened after he spoke the single word. “Yeah…groups. Out here, folks who survive their early days join with those of a similar persuasion, ya could say. They form groups. Most of us work well enough together. As I started ta tell ya before, me, Barto, Orran, and Reider are all Harvesters. We go out inta the Dark Lands and scavenge items that’ll fetch a price. ‘Tis hard, unpopular work, as it puts us out there in the harsh elements. Ya know what I mean, as they almost—”
She stopped abruptly and swallowed. He knew she had been about to say that the elements had almost killed him.
“Apologies,” she said, finally releasing his hand. “Truly, that was wayward of me. Anyhow, we do the collectin’, ya could say. We do most of our business with the Tinkers, who turn what we find inta useable, tradeable goods. We trade with the Growers, too, of course, ta get our nutritional items. And some of our haul goes ta payin’ off the Peace Keepers. They keep the Marauders off everyone’s backs.”
His attention began to wane. Suddenly, the idea of getting involved with these people seemed like far too much effort. He turned towards the door.
“I suspect ‘tis the Marauders who have the connection with the palace,” Hope said.
He looked back at her. Was she just feeding him whatever she thought he wanted to hear? She seemed pretty desperate to keep him there. If she wanted to hold his attention, she needed to get to the point.
“The Marauders are the most self-servin’ group, ya see,” she explained. “Everyone else has more of a sense of community. Marauders are inherently different than the rest of us.”
He debated whether it was worth pursuing the answer to the question she had just left begging to be asked. Then he thought of what she had said about avenging K—