A rushing current of air surrounds me, but my mind is galaxies away.
“Talie?”
I’m pulled back toward my platform, hands still firmly on my fly bar. I missed my cue again.
“Sorry,” I call out.
Renner hangs upside down, but I can tell he’s surprised I’ve blown past yet another release. Then again, it’s his fault I can’t concentrate. After what he told me on the star deck three days ago, I can’t stop trying to picture the person behind—and the reason for—my aunt’s assassination.
It’s a fruitless pastime. No matter how much I pester Renner, he withstands my pleas for the truth. I’ve tried silence, begging, tears, even muffins, but he’s remained infuriatingly mute on the subject. It’s my family, and I have a right to know, but I get the impression he’s already told me too much by admitting what he did.
I catch his upside-down look. There’s something off about him today. He’s made it clear he must reach a port with galaxy-wide access, but until then, he has to keep up the ruse with the crew, so he’s stuck practicing an acrobatic act and pretending to be my intended. Is he frustrated by this?
Or does his mood have something to do with what I admitted? That I was born for revolution and yet have spent the majority of my life in the circus. Does he think I’m hiding from my responsibilities as Gravless?
“Again?” he calls out.
“Yes.” My focus is anywhere but on our rehearsal, but I have to put these thoughts aside. Perhaps I’ll talk with Freyda about all of this later—not Renner’s mission, I’ll respect his trust—but about what my next move must be. Surely, I must take action. Then again, I’ll have to get any ideas past Delmar, and I don’t foresee that being an easy conversation.
“Talie?”
“Sorry. Yes, let’s try again.” I’ve lost too much momentum, so I use my ability to draw me further back, the added distance giving me the extra speed I’ll need. “Be ready.”
While I don’t admit it to him, Renner is doing better. We still practice with a net, but now it’s only for appearances. He questioned it our first practice after we left Web13, but I merely smiled. I could tell it bothered him, not knowing the why of everything, but he’s still keeping more secrets than the Galaxy Credit Commission, so I feel entitled.
He’s moving to me now, hands down and ready. We’ve made several successful catches already without any interference from me. I’m pleased from the perspective of a performer but frustrated on all other accounts.
I yank out of my thoughts just in time to release from the bar. My legs fly over my head, and I’m spinning once, twice—I throw in an extra rotation for fun and then extend to catch his arms. He’s a little farther than we’ve rehearsed, but I still think I can reach him.
My arms extend, but my fingers slip through his, and I’m falling.
I stop myself in midair as he’s pulled away from me.
“Not fair,” he grunts.
I don’t mean to show off, but maybe I do. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to use my ability freely that the act leaves me with a feeling of tingling anticipation. It’s always been easier to control myself, but I’ve been practicing, concentrating on lifting objects and doing multiple things at once. Already I can feel a difference in stamina.
I was shocked by how completely spent I was after the events of the other day. I felt beyond helpless, a prisoner in my own body, and I never want to feel that way again. I won’t be weak.
I’ve only told Freyda about this new commitment. Her I told you so smile made me regret that, but with the reality of who I am—of what I can do—only known to a few in the circus, sworn to protect me and my secret, I still can’t be obvious about any of it.
Renner is on a course back to me while I hover in the air, thirty meters above the ground. It’s already easier than it was. Then a thought strikes me.
I raise my hand just as he reaches the apex of his arc and lift him from the bar. He’s solid and somewhat heavy with all of that muscle, but his mass is familiar to me. It’s likely from all of the practicing we do together, but manipulating him feels similar to using my ability on myself. Easy and natural.
“Wha—?” He shouts as he flips over.
I tilt my head and focus to set him upright. His arms go out as if he can keep himself steady, but it’s all my doing. Then I draw him closer.
“Put me down, Tal.” He looks frantic.
“Don’t I have your trust yet?” I can’t help but goad him.
“Not right now you don’t.” I let him dip down several meters, and he shouts out again, clawing at the air in front of him.
I can’t help the laugh that slips out.
“Relax, Renner.” I draw him closer. “Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?”
“If you’re trying to scare the truth out of me,” he gulps, “it might be working.”
“Really?” I ask, knowing he’s not so easily swayed.
“Okay, maybe not.” As entertaining as his worry is, it’s not right on his handsome features. Renner is a boy who’s always got a plan.
He seems to give in and stops struggling for control he clearly doesn’t have. But, as he floats closer to me, I notice the deep V in his brow. It was there before we began rehearsal, and now it makes a prominent appearance.
“Something’s wrong.”
“Are you going to drop me?” His uncertainty is amusing.
“No, with you. What is it?”
He’s a few feet in front of me now, helpless to move. I feel the pull of weakness, but it’s in the recesses of my mind. I’m already so much better at this than I was.
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t make me drop you.”
He frowns. “You wouldn’t.”
I raise an eyebrow in challenge.
“Okay, so you might, but you won’t?” He flashes a hopeful grin.
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Will you put me down? Either we rehearse, or I have things to do.”
“What things?” He can’t be talking about cleaning stalls, can he?
“Don’t worry about it.”
“If that’s how you’re going to play this.” I move forward, grab his hand, and shoot us up, up, up to the stars.
“Talie.” He speaks through clenched teeth as we reach the pinnacle of the auditorium and an unobtrusive platform. I ease us on to it and release us from my hold. “Okay, so this is quite the view,” he admits, casting a nervous glance below.
“We’re safe.”
“I suppose this is the safest place for you.”
We crane our necks upward, taking in the thousands of pinpricks of light through the open dome.
“When I was younger, I would come to this platform to look at the stars every night after the show.”
He’s silent, letting me relive those past cycles.
“Doyua was with me through my first year in the circus as my teacher. She watched as I repeatedly fell and caught myself with my ability during practice—it was instinctive, you know?” He nods. “But one day she pulled me aside. She told me I had to stop. That I had to let myself fall to the net. I questioned her because my mother always said my ability was a gift, and Doyua was telling me I had to hide it.”
My mind supplies the image of Doyua, her wrinkles and caring gray eyes as familiar as my mother’s—if not more so.
“That was when she told me what my future held. I was twelve, hardly old enough to grasp it all, but that night I understood what my ability meant for my future. I had a duty to the High Court. I would be pledged to a man of the court’s choosing, and my rule would guide the direction of the galaxy. I would have the power to change injustice and stand for what’s right. But that was before I understood politics. Before I understood…” My words die in my throat. Their weight is heavier than anything I can lift.
“What?” He looks over at me now, eyes a blaze of golden brown.
“Before I realized that a system rife with corruption cannot be stopped by a specific bloodline or a girl with the ability to defy gravity.” And that’s the sad truth of it. The reason I’ve remained hidden for as long as I have. I was born for the throne in the absence of my aunt’s biological children, and yet I am no one. I am a circus performer who knows more about how to approach a dreyhass than a diplomat.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Renner finally says. He still looks out the sio-glass viewport above us. “You’re reasonably persuasive.”
“Persuasion and power are two very different things.”
He has no reply, and we contemplate the stars for several minutes, but I’m not letting him ignore my original question.
“Tell me what’s troubling you, Renner.” No demand, just a question.
“There’s a contingent of Elite soldiers on their way to arrest me.”
I gasp. I can’t help it. “What? How do you know?”
He draws in a steadying breath, as if committing to something, and then pulls his gaze away from the black above us. Worry shadows the stars reflected in his eyes.
“I’m in communication with Lè Fayrin—the girl you saw on my datapad,” he reminds me. “She told me they left shortly after my captain did.”
As if I could forget Lè Fayrin. Her long blonde hair and bright smile beaming with Renner’s arm around her. I cut the thoughts off. I am not jealous.
“Your captain was sent to Helera10. There’s no way he was able to communicate with anyone.”
“She told me he was able to share his suspicions about me as well as his location with the crown before we captured him.” Renner scowls, and I don’t like the look. It mars his usually open expression. “They know I’ve stayed with the circus, and they’re coming.”
My body tenses as if ready for a fight.
“The information I told you of is about more than just your aunt’s assassination.” His voice drops, softens. He looks at me like he’s mining for crystals, searching the depths of me to see if he can trust my silence.
“I won’t speak a word of this, Renner.”
“I know.” He clears his throat and turns away as if reciting something for a superior officer. “You know I work for Lè Fayrin, but what you don’t know is that she’s trying to connect with the Rising.”
My blood goes cold in my veins. The Rising is on the lips of anyone who stands against the High King and Queen and the High Council. They are a vocal rebellion emerging from the shadows of the galaxy, intent on overthrowing the monarchy. But they are linked to vicious acts of violence and guerrilla warfare, attacking Council ships and spreading malicious rumors throughout Xerus. Or so the chatter goes.
But if Lè Fayrin is seeking them out, are the stories false? Or have I completely misjudged Renner?
He senses my shift. “No matter what you’ve heard about the Rising, know this—they seek transparency in leadership and a united galaxy for the good of all. Unfortunately, there are factions among them who use…unorthodox methods.”
“Like killing innocent people?” My words ring in the empty auditorium.
“It’s not… There’s more to it.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know much, but Lè Fayrin is convinced their movement is the answer to the problems in our galaxy. She didn’t entrust me with the details, but she did say the High Queen was being controlled before her death.”
Controlled? What does he mean?
“There’s evidence she was under the influence of kelori.”
The small purple flower is native to my home planet Cerlia and is known for its toxic, influencing effects. It’s rumored to be used in skin trading, creating a compliant attitude in those under its influence, but to be used on the queen? It would mean she could be easily convinced to do whatever anyone wanted.
“That isn’t possible.” Even as I speak the words, I think of the questionable things I’ve heard about the High House in the last cycles. The unequal planetary trade laws passed within the Xerus Galaxy and the seemingly discriminatory action Cerlia has taken against planets they deem to be of a lower status.
“Talie,” his voice drops even lower. “Lè Fayrin believes Queen Laerkin was poisoned by the High King.”
I feel dizzy and clutch the platform, my knuckles going white. While the current High King is not the man my aunt was married to when I left court, he is reported to be a kind and good man. He was widowed with a son and met the queen a year after her first husband died.
“But how?” My mind is a swirl of defenses for my family, but I haven’t been back to Cerlia since I was a child.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.”
“Why did you?” I look at him.
“Because you deserve the truth.”
I fall headfirst into the warmth of his trust.
The golden light that glows through the brown of his eyes mesmerizes me. We share this space under a canopy of stars, and I forget everything. The lies he’s told me. My place in this torrid mess of political ambitions. The reality that my future is promised to another.
All I feel is the heat from his arm where it presses mine. All I smell is his minty scent. His features are serious for once, but something in the way his gaze flickers to my mouth and back turns my need to hunger.
My hand moves to rest against his neck, feeling his pulse pounding there. Then my fingers slip into the shaggy hair at the nape of his neck, and he inclines his head. We’re a breath apart. Weightless with only an audience of stars to see the intimacy. He is fire and pulsing blood beneath my touch and, while I know I can’t fall in love with him, I long to. To choose my own fate rather than be told what to do.
“I—we can’t.” He shoves to the farthest part of the platform which only separates us by mere centimeters.
I know he’s right, but my desire betrays my will, and I ache for another taste of his lips.
“Besides,” he clears gruffness from his voice, “I may not be alive long enough to share what I know, so I feel it’s only right that someone hears it.”
“You’re not going to die, Renner.”
He barks a mirthless laugh. “I’ve been a soldier for six cycles. You live, you die. It’s what happens.”
“I won’t let it.”
“Talie? Renner?”
“Del?” I call out. He stands on the second tier of seats, still small beneath us, but I can tell something is wrong.
“Renner, you need to come to the bridge.” Delmar’s tone is laser sharp.
I bring us down next to him, hoping the heat in my cheeks isn’t visible in the dim light.
“What is it?” A look at Renner, and all I see is military-sharp focus. I wonder if he felt anything, or if he can so easily push off everything but the mission.
“They’ve picked up a ship communication. It’s for you.”
He nods and turns to the door. Disappointment surrounds me. He can so easily walk away from me, and I’m only now beginning to realize I don’t know that I can do the same.
Even if it’s what’s expected of me.