Relinquish: Book II of the Rising Trilogy (15 page)

His silence worries me. Bastien is nothing if not vocal about his thoughts. The fact that he has lapsed into a complete and utter calm is unsettling. He shouldn’t be calm. He should be angry. Furious at Kyan for keeping this from him. Bastien isn’t stupid. He knows what the ship is ultimately for.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the dark.

I look up to see the rafters of the church building rising at a sharp peak. They are made from a dark wood and at one time were probably glossed and pretty. The wooden boarding between the beams was probably once white but is more of a dingy gray now, much like the walls.

Rolling my head to the side, I realize I can just make out the curve of his chin and the slant of his nose. His eyelashes look long as they rest just above his upper cheek. His eyes are closed and his breathing steady, but I can feel the turmoil brewing within him.

Bastien has always unknowingly given me exactly what I need, even when I don’t know I need it. Even now he is giving me time to think, to ponder exactly what I feel about Kyan’s plans and how they’ll impact me.

It would be far too easy to lean on him now. To need him too much. Already I can feel myself longing for that connection we used to have, but I know I have to fight it or be lost all over again.

He stirs and I watch as his chest rises and falls, expelling a long, slow breath. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I knew this day would come.”

There is profound sadness in his words, just as I had feared there would be, but there is something more, something Eamon could never quite manage—acceptance.

Bastien never tried to change who I was, even when I gave him a reason to fear me. He knows my struggles better than anyone, even Carleon. He also knows how terrified I’m of the thought of taking the next step toward my destiny.

Without saying a word, he holds out his arm and waits. I react before my brain has a chance to shout a warning, pressing into his side. He is warm and solid, safe. His arm closes around me and I lie there with tears brimming in my eyes as I feel the weight of the past year fall down upon me.

He lets me cry. Sometimes my tears are silent; other times they fall in wracking sobs that grip me so hard I struggle to breathe. Still, he holds me, giving me the support Eamon was never able to.

As my tears subside, I realize how dangerous this is, but I can’t bring myself to care. He is here when I need him. For now, that is all that matters.

“Thank you.” I wipe tears from my face, feeling the spreading dampness against his chest. He doesn’t even seem to notice. I can feel his gaze upon me, searching. “What?”

“I want to come with you.”

“You’re my guide. Of course you’re going with me.” I laugh softly. I brush back my hair from my face, suddenly feeling overly warm.

“That’s not what I meant.”

I close my eyes, realizing my mistake. I walked right into that one. Shaking my head, I draw myself up to a sitting position. The covers fall away and the chill instantly returns. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. “It’s not going to happen so please don’t push it.”

Bastien thrusts upward, propping on his elbows. The planes of his face are hard set with fierce determination. Even his eyes look darker than normal against the pale light beginning to seep into the room.
When did the sun begin to rise?

“I won’t agree to take you to Drakon’s base if you don’t accept my terms. I go with you to Calisted, and there is zero wiggle room here.”

I gasp, my hands trembling as I clench the covers. “You’re threatening me?”

“Not because I want to.” I can see the truth of his words in the way he lifts his chin and stares at me with an alert, expectant gaze. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

“Why?” My voice cracks and I’m forced to clear my throat. I feel lightheaded, as if all the air has been sucked from the room through the small cracks in the windows. “You know they will kill you.”

“I don’t care.” He reaches out and places a hand against my cheek, cupping it with such gentleness my tears start anew. Every fiber in my being longs to press into his hand, to encourage him to hold me again, but I know how damaging it would be.

“You can’t come.”

He opens his mouth to protest, to fight for his right to be there to protect me, but then his gaze shifts beyond me. I can almost see the wheels turning over in his mind. I hate it when he does this. “You’re hiding something.”

“I just… I don’t want you there.”

He recoils as if he’d been gunned down with a stun laser from ten paces. His jaw goes slack and color leaches from his face. He swallows roughly and then returns his gaze to me. “I’m not buying it.” He pulls the covers from his lap and shifts so our knees touch. “You’ve always been a terrible liar”

“Only with you,” I mutter, absently curling a lock of hair around my finger, twisting it until individual hairs begin to tear from my scalp. The tip of my finger turns purple and numb, and still I twirl. I blink when Bastien places a hand over mine. “The truth, please.”

Staring into his face, mere inches from mine as he unwinds my hair, I know it is time. “I had a vision about you a year ago,” I whisper. “About your death.”

I want to look away, to bury my face in my hands so he can’t see the depth to which this has pained me, but I can’t. He has consumed me. The last bit of color drains from his face, leaving behind a wash of white. “Was it—” He cuts off, shaking his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

There was so much blood…
I think, shivering. I reach out and grasp his arm, startling him. “No matter what happens, please promise me you won’t follow me to Calisted. If you do…” I don’t have to finish that thought. We both know where it leads.

Bastien slowly nods, closing his eyes as he does so. I’m rocked by the raw pain I see when he opens his eyes once more. He claps his hand over mine, squeezing tightly. “If this is what it takes to keep you safe, then so be it.”

“No!” I wrench back from his grasp, horrified at the resignation I see before me. How can he give up so easily? “I’m not worth it.”

I can feel my nails digging into my palms, deep enough to reopen earlier wounds. Before all of this is over, I will most likely end up with permanent scars.

He doesn’t shout or cry or rant as I need him to. Instead, he gently takes my hand in his, uncurling my fingers and pressing his lips to each one. The intimacy of this kiss triples as I hear him whisper my name over and over.

Oh, God! No!

The tears come fast and hard as I feel him drawing me into his arms. I need to resist, but I can’t. I feel broken as I press my cheek against his neck and he envelops me with a love that should not be yet is. It always is.

“You’re worth it to me,” he whispers into my ear.

“Please don’t say that,” I plead breathlessly, feeling my resolve weaken. I know if he were to draw away now, it would shatter my heart. I need him, yet it is forbidden to me.

He left me. Not the other way around. I remember pleading with him to stay, knowing it would crush Eamon, but he was worth it to me. A year ago, I was willing to give everything up for him… and he is still willing to do the same for me.

“I can’t bear to hear you say that, knowing we can’t…” My voice quakes so badly that my words tumble into silence.

Bastien’s arms tighten around me, so much that I fear I will not be able to draw my next breath, and I find I don’t care. Not if it means living without him in my life again, being forced to say good-bye when all I want is to spend an eternity just like this.

“Kiss me,” I whisper before I can stop myself.

He stiffens and his breathing halts. I wait for him to say something, to protest and remind me that this can’t be, but he doesn’t. I draw back to look into his eyes, knowing what I find there just might end me. Within the depths of sapphire, I see fear and longing mingled together, but there is something more… love.

He brushes his thumb across my cheek, slow and deliberate, as if testing the silkiness of my skin. I can smell the slightly minty scent on his breath and memories of a time when nothing stood in our way flood in. I close my eyes, savoring the moment.

And then his lips whisper across mine, so softly I hardly know he has kissed me until he presses harder on the second pass. His hands wind down my neck to clasp my back, drawing me near.

I can feel his restraint and his buried desire. It burns through him like a hot coal, but he holds back. Each of his touches is slow, gentle, and utterly beautiful.

His fingers trail over the curves of my face, as if attempting to memorize each detail. Did he dream of me as I did him? Did he lie awake at night yearning with such intensity that he would break out in a fever?

His touch tells me yes. His lips tell me yes.

Oh, God.
My breath catches as I draw back to look at him.
Nothing has changed between us.

Yet I know everything has. Sariana’s earlier words encase my heart in ice. One of them will die. I can’t let that happen.

I cry out as a vision grips me so suddenly I hardly have time to fling Bastien away. My hands curl inward and my body spasms and I flail onto the floor, lost within my mind.

A burst of color reflects in the mirror as I whip around to see a giant fireball spiraling toward the palace. “Duck!”

Bastien and Aloysius don’t hear me. I throw out my hand and mentally shove them aside as flames erupt against the side of the building, spitting molten rock into the room. I cry out as one of the rock shards lands upon my leg, cauterizing my skin.

“Illyria!” Bastien drives his hand into Aloysius’s side and a terrible snapping sound fills my ears. My husband howls and rolls to his side. Bastien scrambles to his feet and throws himself to my side. “Oh, God, you’re burning.”

The scent of my flesh melting makes my head swim. I can feel his hands upon me as he digs the scalding rock out of my leg. Darkness edges my vision. The pain is localized but excruciating.

“We have to get you out of here!”

Another explosion rocks the palace. Over the cracking of stone and hiss of flames, I can hear shouting from below. “Eamon!”

Bastien rises to look out the window and nods. “They’re coming. We have to—” His eyes widen and his mouth gapes open.

“No!” I shriek as a blood-tipped spike shoves through his stomach from his back. Aloysius’s maniacal grin appears over his shoulder as he shoves Bastien aside. He shudders, blood bubbling from his lips. Pain pinches his features; his hands shake as he touches the spike protruding from his stomach. Gurgling moans rise from his throat as he locks his gaze on me, glazing over. “Illyria…” He stretches out his hand toward me.

I can hear the wet wheezing in his chest and feel numbness wash over me. Blood pools beneath him, thick
and bright. I watch as it begins to seep toward me. When I look back at him, his eyes are unfocused and his chest is still.

“Bastien!” I shriek, reaching for him even as the vision fades. I fight against my husband’s hold, clawing to be free.

“Illyria, stop! It’s just me.”

I fall still, in utter disbelief. “You’re… you’re here? But you…” I close my eyes as the room begins to spin. His arms tighten around me, drawing me into his lap. I let him cradle me, needing to be held.

“What did you see?” he asks softly.

My eyes widen as the fear returns with such swiftness it startles me. My first vision of Bastien’s death was over a year ago. The sharp reality of it had faded over time, but this vision was longer, more detailed, yet utterly the same. “You can’t go to Calisted. Please… promise me you won’t go.”

Bastien looks sick. His ashen face dulls the color of his eyes as he looks down at me with regret. “I can’t.”

I sob, nestling against his chest. “I can’t lose you… not like that.”

I tug at his cloak, hating the feel of it under my fingertips. It is rough and the fibers matted.

“What did you see?” He repeats his earlier question. This time his voice tenses with unspoken fear.

I shake my head. “Please don’t make me tell.”

My lower lip begins to quiver and I can feel hysteria simmering deep within my chest, taking root. “Shh.” He soothes, running his hands across my back. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” I pull away from him, pleading with him to understand. “What do I have to say to get you to believe me? I’ve seen your death. It’s horrible and it’s…” I hang my head. “It’s my fault. Everything is my fault.”

Bastien draws up my chin so he meets my gaze. “I won’t go, okay? I’ll stay behind if it really means that much to you.”

I sniffle and dry my eyes. I can see how much this statement costs him and I love him all the more for it. “Really?”

He uses the hem of his cloak to dry the tears from
my cheeks and smiles ruefully. “Don’t I always give you what you want?”

His words have a sobering effect on me. “No.” I shake my head. “Not always.”

Thirteen

I didn’t expect him to want to speak to me as we emerge from the church and catch our first real glimpse of the town in the rising dawn. A brilliant sheen glistens over the iced ground as we descend the church steps.

Up close, I can see this place took a bad beating, although it’s hard to see if it was from the initial invasion or scavengers traipsing through since then. There is extensive damage to nearly every building within sight. Brick homes laid waste, nothing more than crumbled heaps. Wooden clapboard-sided buildings show extensive scorch marks. Roofs torn off or collapsed in. Mailboxes melted and disfigured. Play sets torn apart and rusted, rising from lawns filled with waist-high wild grasses.

There are signs still hanging over some of the buildings on what I would guess used to be the main street. The lettering is almost completely rubbed out. Everything is faded and broken, left to rot in the elements.

The sidewalks are cracked and pockmarked. Remnants of cars, smashed nearly flat, line the streets. “What could have done that?” I ask, staring in dismay as we pass.

“Tanks.”

I turn to look at him. “Human weapons?”

He nods. “They rolled over this town and kept right on going by the looks of it. We aren’t too far from an old military base. My guess would be that this place was evacuated before they bulldozed it to the ground.”

A shudder worms its way through me as I spy a small foot sticking out from the tall grasses. Too small to be human. I wrap my arms about my waist, realizing some little girl left behind her toy.

“Illyria.”

I turn at the sharp edge to his tone. When I do, I come face to face with a woman and a charged laser gun. Bastien calls out a warning, but it’s too late. I instantly drop to a crouch and knock her feet out from under her.

I’m rewarded with a cry of pain as she lands on her tailbone, her gun clattering away. My knife is in my hand and I’m dipped low by the time she leaps back to her feet. She is tall, shapely, and quick on her feet.

She moves with the grace and ease of a panther as she matches me step for step. I would think her olive skin and silky chestnut hair to be stunning if she weren’t trying to take my head off.

The instant she glances toward her gun, I lunge and slam my shoulder into her torso. We sprawl to the ground and her legs wrap around me, tightening against my knife arm. I buck and land punches into her side, but she doesn’t relent. The muscles along her neck cord as she fights to loosen my grip on my weapon.

“Enough.”

Bastien’s command startles me enough that I actually do let go of my knife. It clatters to the ground and I realize I’m free of her hold.

Pressing against the ground, I leap to my feet, cautious and confused. The girl shakes out her hair, adjusting the collar of her uniform. It is so tight that I’m convinced someone had to pour her into it. I can see a red line beginning to appear along her neck.

“I told you she’s not so tough.” The woman snorts, casting a withering glance in my direction.

My grin widens as I toss out my hand and snatch a board. Before she has a chance to duck, I whack her upside the back of her head. She cries out and falters forward, but Bastien is there to steady her.

He offers me a warning glare as he helps the girl stand. I frown, crossing my hands over my chest. “Want to tell me what this is all about, Bastien?”

I can almost feel the woman’s anger rolling over her as she widens her stance and faces off with me. Her vivid green eyes flash with barely controlled anger at what she obviously considers a cheap shot. Bastien sighs and releases her arm.

The instant he does, the woman pounces. She leaps into his arms, crushing her lips against his with such fierce passion that I’m astounded. Bastien seems stunned at first but finally manages to untangle himself from her grip.

He steps back, placing physical space between him and the girl. His chest rises and falls as heat stains his neck. He clears his throat and refuses to make eye contact with
me. “Illyria, this is Niyah… my girlfriend.”

I don’t remember too much of the remainder of my trip. The steady pounding of my heart matches evenly with the stomping of my feet as I walk up the dirt road that leads toward Bastien’s base.

I know I’m going in the right direction because of how worn down the path looks. On the edges, I can see deep signs of tire tracks still left over from the ice storm that passed during the night. It looks like this area got a lighter version of our blizzard. I can tell a truck passed by here not too long ago.

Did it drop Niyah off earlier this morning for a secret rendezvous with Bastien? Was he supposed to sneak out and meet up with her? Was she the one he was whistling to yesterday?

Bastien’s sidelong glances throughout the morning are enough to drive me mad.
Why didn't he tell me about her?
seems to be set on repeat in my mind.

I spend lunch by myself, adamantly trying to ignore Bastien’s whispered conversation with Niyah. Although they speak in low tones, there is tension between them, and I can’t help but feel happy about that. I don’t really remember eating. Only that I did and it tasted like mud in my mouth.

Now I walk beneath a speckled pattern of sunlight that sneaks through the clouds above, unblinking and unwavering in my need to show him how much I don’t care… but I do.

With each stomp, I can feel my anger mounting, wishing it was Niyah’s head underfoot instead of muddy slush. I notice absently that my pants are splattered up to my knees, but I don’t care.

Another voice needles its way through my anger.
Is this really so different than what I have done with Eamon?
I grit my teeth and send a spray of brown snow into the air with a stomp.
Shouldn’t I be happy he has moved on?

“You’re acting childish.” A voice calls from just over my shoulder.

I shoot a defiant glare at Bastien and continue walking. He easily keeps pace with me despite the extra weight of my pack on his back. I can hear Niyah walking behind us, feel her haughty gaze upon me. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“At least let me explain.”

I stop so suddenly he gets four paces ahead of me before he turns and comes back. I ignore Niyah as I get up into his face. “I’m here for one thing and one thing only. The mission. If you think any of this”—I stab a finger between him and Niyah—“matters, then you are wrong.”

“Illyria—”

“No.” I shake my head, feeling a spark of electricity skip down my arms. I’m starting to lose control. I need to get away. “Just back off, Bastien.”

“I can’t.”

When I lift my gaze to meet his, he takes a step back. I watch as he pales and finally nods, raising his hands in surrender.

I turn and stomp on, knowing what he saw. I could feel the color of my eyes fading to black as easily as I felt the electricity on my arms. If there is one thing I’ve learned over the past year, it’s knowing when I’m at my breaking point.

Bastien taught me that the day Drakon tried to kill him. I nearly tore down the entire city on top of my friends for him. I vowed after that I would learn control, or at least learn my trigger.

He has always been that for me, whether I like it or not.

I’m volatile when he is around. My emotions weigh heavily on my powers, but I’m most lethal when I’m hurt. Bastien knows this better than anyone.

“What’s with her?” I hear Niyah ask, and I speed up. I don’t want to hear Bastien try to make some pathetic excuse for my temper. He could try to tell Niyah what I’m like when I lose control, but no one really knows until they see it firsthand.

I put a fair amount of distance between us as we round a large bend, lined with spruce trees and dotted with small knee-high bushes with bright-red berries. The clouds shift overhead, casting me in shadow.

At first I think it is this movement that catches the
corner of my eye, but the hairs rising on the back of my neck say otherwise. I drop into a crouch, searching the woods. Someone is out there. I can feel it.

I hear Bastien approaching at a run and turn to warn him but see him waving his hands over his head. “He’s one of mine!” I hear him shout.

Rising from a crouch, my grip loosens on my knife. I tap it against my leg, waiting for Bastien to arrive with Niyah right behind him, looking less than thrilled to have been forced to jog for my benefit. “He’s one of mine,” he says, sliding to a halt beside me.

“I heard you the first time.” I glance at the man concealed in the woods. He is good. If it hadn’t been for Bastien’s warning, though, he would be a dead man.

He isn’t alone. There are four more scouts up ahead. Two on the right, crouched within a tangle of thorns that mask their camouflaged uniforms. Two others are perched from above in perfect sniper position.

Niyah crosses her arms over her chest, looking perfectly comfortable with the scowl pinching her beautiful features. “So she saw one of them. Big deal. She didn’t see the others.”

“Yes,” Bastien says without any hesitation. “She did.”

His confidence in my abilities would’ve made me tingle with pride if I weren’t so angry with him. Instead, I ignore him completely and look to Niyah instead. “I assume this was your idea.”

Her eyes narrow into slits. Her fingers dig into her arm as she nods. “What of it?”

I toss my hair back over my shoulder and tuck my knife back into the sheath at my hip. “Bastien would never have made that mistake.”

Without waiting to see the heat rise in her face, I walk on. Bastien sends out a long whistle followed by three short ones. His soldiers melt out of the woods, standing at attention on either side of me as I pass. I don’t turn to look at them. Instead, I keep my gaze focused on the structure looming before me in the tangle of green.

Vines grow up a towering wall in a latticework pattern. The wood is dark, damp from the snow. The gates
stand nearly ten feet overhead, crisscrossed with supporting beams on either side. I can’t see the hinges at the rim of the doors as they begin to swing open. They disappear into the thick overgrowth, hiding the true length of the walls that spread out on either side of me.

This place speaks of age. It was not constructed a year ago, but was erected long before. Was this some sort of an outpost used by survivors?

We managed to endure the Caldonian regime by hiding out in caves. Was it possible that someone actually managed to live above ground and survive?

I crane my neck back to look at the towering doors as I pass through, marveling at the rope and pulley system that controls them. A wheel-like structure with eight wooden pegs thrust out in a circle is being manned by four men. I can hear the cranking sound of gears hidden within the walls as the doors begin to close behind us.

A guard tower is perched every hundred feet along the wall, the space wide enough for men to walk side by side along the top. Thick, pointed tree trunks line the front wall. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I realize there are large bowl-like structures set evenly between each guard house.

“What are those for?” My curiosity gets the better of me.

“They hold oil,” a man beside me answers. “Just in case the Caldonians decide to scale our walls.”

“Wouldn’t the Sky Ships just blast through?”

He grins and I realize he is missing several teeth. “Perhaps, but I like to be prepared, just in case. Call me old-fashioned.”

I take a closer look at him, surprised to see wrinkles etched deeply into his weathered face. It is unusual to see an older man among the Caldonians. Time moves differently on their home world. This man must be several hundred years old.

There are patches of age spots on his face and a definite sag to his cheeks. His eyes are a dull yellow, reminding me more of a finch than of the sun. His hands are leathered, with veins winding just beneath a thin layer of nearly translucent skin. His shoulders are hunched slightly, his back curved.

When he steps forward to offer me his hand, I accept it immediately. “I’ve heard much about you, young lady.”

He winks at me and then casts an amused glance back at Bastien. From the corner of my eye, I can see the tension along Bastien’s shoulders. “Illyria, I would like you to meet Otto. He is the keeper of the wall.”

“A job to be proud of, I’m sure.” I dip my head in greeting and offer him a smile. I like him and the crinkles of years of laughter that gather at the corners of his eyes.

“The pleasure is mine. I would be happy to give you a tour, if you like.”

Bastien steps between us and claps the man on the arm. “Another time perhaps, Otto. We are tired from our journey.”

“Of course.” He leans around Bastien and gives me a wink. “I’m sure you’ll drop by sometime.”

There is a distinct skip in his step as he turns and walks back toward the wall as the doors shut with a resounding boom that echoes through my chest. When Bastien turns to look at me, I simply glare back. “He wasn’t causing any harm.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” he mutters and moves past me. I can see the sag of his shoulders and realize it wasn’t my weariness he spoke of, but his own.