“You weren’t supposed to alert the entire jungle to your presence.” Kiran’s near-onyx eyes follow me as I slink around a tree, finding him and Lyria exactly where I left them.
“Please,” I drawl, brushing raindrops off my face. “We both know that alarm isn’t because I got caught.”
“What did you find out?” Lyria says briskly, but her gaze looks me up and down. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was looking for injuries. I pull the wires out of my pocket and toss them at her. She catches them without a blink, but her brow furrows as she studies them.
“Ship stabilizer wires?”
“Borrowed them from Taggert’s flyer. He’ll be grounded for a while, which is good for us, considering his ship was loaded with cloud seeder missiles.”
Lyria and Kiran exchange a glance that I can read even through the drizzle.
“Are you sure?” she asks me.
I nod once. “I saw the shipping manifest, smelled the proof myself. They’re using a dozen different chems to seed the storms and make more rain. That’s what the towers do, too. The turbines disperse the chems high up past the canopy. Towers and missiles mean they must be constantly putting out seeders, and that’s why the storm cycle has been so erratic. But let me guess, you suspected that already.” I knew as soon as they glanced at each other that my words weren’t a surprise. “It would’ve been nice to know what I was looking for before going down there.”
Kiran opens his mouth, but Lyria speaks first.
“All the evidence we had was flimsy and circumstantial. I needed real proof to be certain.”
“Certain that TerraCo is making the storms worse?” I think about how ridiculous the words sound now that I’ve said them again. “It makes absolutely no sense. Why would they increase the rainfall on a planet already consumed by a giant hellstorm? Shouldn’t they want to stop the storm?”
Kiran glances down the hill. “We should move. They might get antsy and send out a search party.” Without waiting to see if either Lyria or I will follow, he starts walking into the brush. “TerraCo is using the hellstorm to drive people away,” he says. “To weaken their resolve to stay here. To give them little to no chance to recover in between the storm cycles.”
“Yeah, I get that,” I say, slightly annoyed he’s explaining it to me like I’m a child. I fall in step beside him. “It’s the why I don’t understand. Why would TerraCo want an empty planet stuck in a permanent storm?” I gesture to the jungle and rain around us. “It’s hard to lord your power and money over people if there aren’t any around. And how will they make a profit off unending rain? Because whatever this scheme of theirs is, we both know it has to do with chits.”
Lyria’s voice cuts in behind us. “It doesn’t matter why or what their endgame is.” Kiran pauses and the syndicate steps next to us. “At this point, I have to agree with Emeko. We don’t have time to figure out their true goal; the weather is getting worse by the day. It only matters now that we stop them. With the scavvers on board, we can cover more ground and take out the bases all at once and stop Weiland from creating this never-ending storm.”
“What about Taggert’s flyer?” I argue. “It was loaded with missiles. Even if you take out the bases, what about the fleet of ships TerraCo has up on the plateau? I saw at least a dozen when we were taken to the hangar.”
“One thing at a time,” she says, her voice low enough it almost sounds like she’s talking to herself. “We need to deal with what we know first. No point wasting resources. The unknowns can come afterward.” Lyria pauses, her eyes drifting past me as she thinks. After a second, she hands the nest of stabilizer wires to Kiran.
“We need to get back to the base and plan out a coordinated attack. If every single one of those substations is currently spitting out cloud-seeding chems, it’s a wonder the hellstorm hasn’t enveloped the whole planet. We can’t let them operate another day.” She sets off in the direction of the scavver base.
I jog to catch up. “Hey, what about your end of the bargain? Kiran still owes me answers.”
“You can ask him when we get back, after we plan everything,” she says without turning around or stopping. Nerves pool in my stomach at the thought of finally getting answers. What if Kiran tells me something terrible?
But Kiran isn’t following her. He’s studying the nest of wires like they hold the secrets to TerraCo’s nefarious plan. I can practically see the gears turning in his head, and I know what he’s about to ask even before he asks it.
“Why are you two not walking?” Lyria stops, staring at us expectantly.
But Kiran looks at me. “Why did you pull this out of Taggert’s flyer?”
“To stop him from firing off more missiles,” I answer without hesitation.
“And?”
I can’t help but smile. This asshole is impossible to keep secrets from sometimes.
“And because he was taking off to some secret coordinates deeper in the mountains where there are no substations, and I figured he probably wasn’t going for any good reason.” I shrug. “So, it seemed useful to keep his ship grounded.”
“Where in the mountains?” His voice is distant despite how close we stand. I know that he’s piecing together a thousand different snippets of information, looking for the ones that make sense. The ones that fit.
I point into the bush. “Probably ten or so miles northwest of here.”
He blinks and I can almost see some spark in his dark eyes, some recognition of that one puzzle piece that just fell into place.
“What else do you suspect that you’re not telling me?” I know that whatever’s in his brain has to do with all the other things he’s been hinting at but won’t explain.
“Can you find your way back on your own?” Kiran looks past me to ask Lyria.
She stares at him, appearing to read him in a way that surprises me. Just how well does she know him?
“No,” she finally says. Her eyes jump to me and then back to Kiran. “I’m not going to plan a huge attack while you gallivant off in the jungle.”
“Lyria,” he starts, a growl growing in his voice. He never did like being told what to do.
“What if you get caught? Then you’re gone, and we’re left planning this rebellion on our own. It’s too risky.”
“I can’t just leave this,” he argues. “Not following up is a different risk in and of itself.”
“A smaller risk.”
I watch them go back and forth, wondering what it is they’re not saying. Though the way Kiran’s jaw is clenched, I can guess that whatever’s at those coordinates is not good. I can think of only one thing that would set him on edge like this.
Nova.
“I’ll go instead,” I say.
“Absolutely not,” Kiran says at the same time that Lyria says, “Not happening.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Last time I checked, you”—I point to Kiran—“have a revolution to plan. And you”—I point at Lyria—“are supposed to be leading said revolution. That leaves me free. And since I’m the one who excels at gathering intel, I’m going to be the one to check out the coordinates.”
There’s a moment of quiet as they stare at each other.
Lyria steps forward. “I’ll go with Remy.”
Kiran opens his mouth to argue, but the syndicate doesn’t give him a chance.
“You have to be the one to plan the attack. There are too many moving parts to leave anything up to chance. And that means we need you on it. I’ll make sure that we get back to the scavver base safely before dark.”
Kiran glares at her with such intensity that I feel it in my own bones. Whatever their relationship is, it’s a mess. I’ve only ever seen him look at our Nova handlers with that calculated malice. And only a handful of times. A memory sparks, momentarily taking me out of the jungle and putting me right back in Nova’s labs.
He had that same look on his face when I got dragged away for reconditioning after our first mission together. I’d never seen him so angry, so full of hatred toward our handlers. I shake the memory loose quickly, focusing on Lyria next to me. Her familiar scent of light sweat and clean soap brings the jungle back as fast as the lab took me.
Kiran’s expression has reverted back to his mask of boredom. “I’m coming. No more arguments. I’ll use the comms to start the planning. Mirko and Emeko can get everything prepared. I’m not letting you two go alone.” Even though his expression has calmed, his words are clearly more like a threat than a compromise. Guess he’s back to his typical controlling self. And I almost wanted to believe he was different like he claimed, that he’d treat me differently.
Before I can argue, Lyria glares at him, steel in her eyes. “Fine. Do what you need to do, Kiran. We both know that you acting on your selfish impulses is what led you here in the first place. I’m fighting for something bigger than my own self-interests, and I’m not going to let your stubbornness screw that up.”
Something in her tone gives me goose bumps despite the jungle heat. I’ve seen a number of Lyria Revas’s faces since getting on that elevator, but this one is new. This side of her has true bite. Enough that I can finally see her as the revolutionary syndicate boss she claims to be. I see it clearly in her posture and the set of her jaw, her fiery hair, and the flash of defiance in her eyes.
I might not know how Alora would feel about the state of the Vega, but something tells me she’d probably like Lyria.
After a moment, Kiran tucks the wires into one of his pockets and pulls the long arken blade from his back. “Let’s not waste any more time. And you’d better keep up,” he says flatly to her, then disappears into the bush, cutting a path with his blade in the direction I pointed. I catch a momentary flash in his eyes and I suddenly realize that, just this once, his controlling nature might not be targeted at me.
“So stubborn,” Lyria whispers after he’s a few feet ahead. She lets out a small sigh before turning to me. “You’re sure about the direction of the coordinates, right?”
I blink at her sudden change in tone. All the bite in her words is gone; now her voice sounds slightly worried.
“Obviously,” I say.
“Just checking,” she replies with a smirk, but it doesn’t fully hide the unease. Did she really just tell Kiran off and then panic about whether she’d done the right thing? So much for the regal syndicate leader. I shake my head and point at Kiran’s path leading us toward the mountains to the north. Lyria nods and sets off into the jungle after him. I trail behind the girl, wondering where the other version of her went and what the hell is going on between her and Kiran. Whatever it is, I’m not sure I like it.
For the first hour or so of our hike, the three of us trek in near silence. I’m not sure if there’s still tension between the two of them or if they’re not talking because the terrain gets harder and harder the deeper in we go.
Kiran eventually lets me lead, falling back a ways to talk to the scavvers and syndicates over his comms. The murmur of his voice is the only human sound as the undergrowth around us thickens. Everything else that my senses pick up is wild, from the birds singing to the insects buzzing around my head, nipping at my skin. Not one sign of humanity as we navigate the ever-changing terrain of the jungle.
Creeks and rivers of muddy brown water appear seemingly out of nowhere, the drizzling rain adding to their currents. We have to double back more than once to avoid herds of wild batimalu hanging from tree limbs, the ape-bats thankfully asleep during the heat of the day.
Leaves and spider vines slap against my exposed skin and tangle in my hair as we hack our way through the weeds with the long arken blade. I may be engineered to be faster, stronger, and smarter than most humans, but the Maraas jungle is unforgiving and unending; I’ve long given up on ever being dry or clean again.
After another hour, the rain lessens the slightest bit, morphing into a dreary sort of sprinkle. The terrain has grown hilly around us. At the top of a steep incline, I pause to give Lyria a minute to rest. My thighs are only slightly burning, and I know Kiran and I can keep pushing, but I don’t know what her limits are. Kiran’s a few yards back, still on his comms.
Lyria opens her canteen and takes a swig before passing it to me.
“Late breakfast? Or is it lunch already?” she asks, pulling something out of her pocket. “I’ve got two options. Dried jerky or dried jerky.”
I raise an eyebrow at her outstretched hands, each holding a piece of dried meat from the scavver camp. I really can’t get a beat on this girl. She’s fiercely squaring off with Kiran one minute and making lousy jokes the next. But I take the food from her and quickly munch it down.
“Let’s go,” Kiran practically growls as he catches up. “I told you to keep up.”
“I’m ready,” she says with a smirk. “I may not be a genopath, but I’m good. Don’t feel like you need to slow down on my account.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.” He looks at me expectantly. I know what he wants even without asking. He may be infinitely analytical, but patience was never his thing.
I point down the hill at the mountain rising up beyond it. “About another mile or so that way.”
He nods. “Good. Let’s just get there and get this over with.” I realize he’s on edge, not just because of Lyria, but because of what could be waiting at the coordinates.
Nova.
My annoyance with him slips at the thought. “You lead,” I say. “We’ll follow. I’ll let you know if we veer off course.” His eyes lock on mine and the furrow between his brows lessens the slightest bit. Then he’s back on his comms, moving again down the incline. I wait a few beats before following to allow him some space. Why I’m giving him any measure of control, I’m not sure. He’s been nothing but a huge pain in my ass since I landed on this planet.
Lyria’s watching me out of the corner of her eye, a look on her face I can’t read. But this time as we trail a few yards behind him, the silence from her feels heavier. I don’t know if it’s my training, but I feel compelled to fill the empty space, to put Lyria a little more at ease. Not because I’m trying to be friends or anything. The time will pass quicker if we talk.
So, I clear my throat and ask: “What’s the deal with you and Kiran?”
Okay, and maybe I want to pry for information.
Lyria pauses midstep to look at me, uncertainty playing across her features. She checks the distance between us and him before she continues down the steep hill. He’s just far enough away that if we talk low, he probably won’t hear. Especially while he’s busy on the comms. Lyria must realize that because she answers my question.
“Kiran and I met over a year ago,” she says softly over her shoulder. Her pulse beats a little faster. Is she lying or just nervous? “Though maybe it was longer than that; it’s hard to remember exactly. Sometimes I feel like he’s been around forever, annoying me.”
A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. That part isn’t a lie.
“We were on Abydos. I knew what he was.” She looks at me, red hair falling in her face momentarily. “You’re not the only one good at gathering intel. That was my earliest role for the Vega. I was just getting my feet wet with the syndicates, learning the ropes, when we crossed paths.”
I try to imagine what a younger Lyria was like, but I’ve seen too many faces to be sure of anything with this girl. Even now, I’m the genopath, but she’s the one pointing out twisted roots in our way and snaking a path through the jungle like it’s second nature.
“We didn’t exactly hit it off, you might say.” She leaps over a deep puddle, and I follow with ease, landing beside her. The ground has turned into a swamp now that we’ve reached the bottom of the hill.
“The short version of the story is that I caught Kiran doing something that his Nova handlers would not approve of. So, I used it to force him to help me.”
This time I stop midstep, my gaze jumping from her to Kiran up ahead and back again. “You blackmailed Kiran?”
Lyria nods. “I was born here actually.” She sweeps her hand through the air, claiming the jungle marsh, lush and green and humid around us. Then she chuckles.
“Well, not here in this swamp. My father was stationed at the outpost, and I grew up on this world before we moved to Abydos. It was one of the few places we were happy before he died.”
She takes a tentative step into the small river in front of us, water rising up to her knees. I follow, my boots sinking deep into the soft mud under the flowing water. Ahead, Kiran’s already climbing out onto the muddy bank of the other side.
“I was rising in the ranks, and I knew that Dekkard had given up on Maraas,” she continues as we slowly work our way across the river. “I’d been looking for a way to come back here and rebuild our power base. And suddenly, this genopath with extremely useful abilities lands in my lap. So, I made an opportunity for myself.”
“And Kiran went along with this?”
She smirks again. “You think I gave him a choice?”
Now I’m dying to know what she caught him doing.
“That’s why Kiran doesn’t like it when I order him around or remind him about his past. Especially now, when he’s already on edge because he suspects Nova might be at the coordinates,” Lyria finishes.
I’m surprised by how well she knows him, all the way down to his current suspicions. Surprised he let someone see him so clearly. Though, now his anger and hatred earlier make sense. This deal between the two of them probably makes him feel the same way Nova does—like he has no control. I sigh internally as I realize something else. He’s not helping Lyria because of some misguided attempt to fix the mess we made with the Vega. He’s being forced to help.
I should’ve known.
“What is it you have on him that’s more powerful than Nova?” I ask her the new question burning up my brain. Lyria stops walking and studies me. I can see her debating within herself, trying to decide if she should tell me or not. Her pulse skips faster than before. Whatever she knows, it’s big.
Lyria’s eyes suddenly go wide as her gaze drifts past mine.
“Climb!” Kiran shouts, his voice laced with urgent panic. Lyria pushes me toward the nearest tree.
Only then do I see the swirling movement in the water behind us; only then do I feel more heartbeats. And not human ones.
As I scramble up the tree’s giant roots behind Lyria, a breeze changes direction, pushing the unmistakable stench of carrion and death up my nose. Scales slice through the shallow water’s surface.
Anacrocs.
Not just one or two, but a swarm of them.
I was so focused on Lyria, on reading her lies and truths, that I didn’t notice them surrounding us. Kiran scrambles up a nearby tree while Lyria pulls herself onto a branch above us. I quickly jump, catching a low-hanging limb and wrapping my legs around it. I swing myself up and perch precariously on the branch. Back down in the mud, a half dozen anacrocs surround the base of our tree.
Must climb higher.
They may be mostly amphibious creatures, but I’ve heard of them stretching up, leaning on trees as tall as their body length so they can chomp down foxbats or even batimalu on lower branches. I reach for a higher limb to get more distance on the creatures and Lyria follows suit, keeping up with my pace.
“I don’t think we can stay here,” she says, pulling herself on a branch near me.
“Definitely not,” I reply as the wood cracks under my weight. My eyes dart around, looking for some means of escape. Other than our arken blades, Lyria’s handgun, and the flash bombs in my pockets, the three of us are gloriously unarmed to take on a whole pack of fifteen-foot crocs. The small caliber bullets won’t pierce their hides and dropping a flash bomb would certainly give me the satisfaction of wiping out the whole colony, but at this distance, we would be blown up in flames along with everything else.
“This must be a nesting area for them,” I mumble as I balance on the slowly bending branch.
“Any bright ideas?” Lyria calls to Kiran as she tugs on a limb from his tree that’s close enough to touch. It holds even as she pulls it lower.
“Working on it,” he says. Then he yanks at a hanging spider vine, testing its durability. It doesn’t snap.
“That’s probably not going to work,” I say as I realize his plan. Kiran tosses the vine toward Lyria, and she catches it with her other hand.
A stupid smile crosses her face. She’s … enjoying this?
“It’s totally going to work.” She takes a breath, then swings herself across the open space using the vine and lands on the branch just below Kiran’s. I glance down as a few errant leaves and twigs flutter to the ground. The anacrocs are hovering in the puddles near the trees, as if they’re waiting for one of us to fall and become lunch. Lyria swings the vine back to me.
I wrap my fingers around the plant and shake my head. “This is insane.”
“We can’t go down and we’ve got to get across,” Kiran says, scanning the small valley we’ve found ourselves in. “This is the only way.”
Lyria stretches out a hand toward me. “I’ll catch you if it breaks. I promise I won’t let them eat you.”
I stare at her outstretched hand, transfixed for a moment. I barely know this girl. She’s got a dozen different faces hidden up her sleeve, not to mention motivations and ambitions that I have only scratched the surface of. I’m not one of her syndicate lackeys. My eyes jump to Kiran. He’s watching us silently, his face pinched as if he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. And even though I can see the muscles clenching in his jaw, he gives me the slightest nod.
Kiran’s reluctant encouragement aside, somehow, on an instinctual level, I know that Lyria won’t let me fall and get eaten by hungry reptiles in the middle of the jungle.
With another shake of my head, I take a breath and launch myself across the space. Lyria catches my hand in hers and pulls me forward. I land on the tree limb next to her with ease despite the misty rain and slick branches. Nothing like the threat of death to send my instincts and reactions into overdrive.
Lyria looks at me with a grin.
“You’re smiling,” I say. “We’re gonna get eaten by crocs and you’re smiling.”
She shrugs. “You have to admit. This is kind of fun.”
I choke out a laugh. “Fun if you like sharp teeth and the stench of death.”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “Guess I have weird tastes.”
“If you two are done chitchatting, can we get a move on?” Kiran’s voice is an annoyed growl as he moves toward the next tree, testing more spider vines as he goes. Lyria and I exchange a glance, and she rolls her eyes, and I find myself smiling despite the mess we’re in. I reach for another neighboring branch that Kiran points out and give it a tug. Then I’m jumping across to the next tree with Lyria in my wake.
The three of us work our way around the anacroc nest, climbing up branches and jumping across trees, using the spider vines to help. I test each vine carefully to make sure it’s firmly attached to something and that my grip won’t slip. The last thing I need is one of these to snap and send us careening to the mud and teeth below. I’m shifting onto a fourth tree when a truly awful stench stabs up my nose. I gag at the sour, putrid smell. Not even the sweet scent of the closed tahuayo buds on the spider vines helps mask the awful odor.
Kiran extends a hand while balancing on a branch next to me, his face wrinkled with distaste. “Guess we found where they mark their territory.”
“I didn’t know shit could smell this bad. It’s like something crawled into my nose and died horribly.” I let him pull me closer, covering my mouth with my other hand as more of the stink slips in on my tongue. Kiran’s mouth is pressed into a hard line, his own effort to keep the stench out. He jerks his head to the next tree, letting me take the lead.
“Got to love our enhanced senses,” I say, then push off the branch hard and leap down to a lower one on the next tree, where the smell is worse. I promptly scramble higher.
Kiran follows me without missing a beat. “Next time I see anyone from Nova, I’m going to thank them personally for our heightened sense of smell.”
“I’ll give you a flash bomb to toss at them for it,” I mutter, trying to climb and cover my nose at the same time.
Farther down on the branches, Lyria points to the mountain rising in front of us.
“We’re almost out of the valley.”
There’s a rocky outcrop at the base of the mountain. The boulders are too high and too smooth for the crocs to climb up, especially with the falling rain, so it’s as good a place as any for us to aim for. I grab another vine and swing myself closer to the rock; Lyria follows while Kiran’s just ahead of me. Two more trees and then we’re nearly close enough to jump to the outcrop. But there’s a gap between us and the rocks, and I’m not sure the vines will make it all the way. Kiran holds up a hand for us to wait as he judges the distance.
“I’ll go first,” I say to Kiran while Lyria struggles to balance on the branch next to me. “I’m the lightest and I can jump farther than Lyria. Once I land, I can make sure whoever’s next gets safely on the rock.”
Kiran nods. “I’ll go last.”
But Lyria grabs my arm, glancing between the ground and our tree.
“You sure? We can both swing—”
“No,” I interrupt. “The spider vines won’t reach all the way. One of us has to jump first and that’s me. Don’t worry, it’s an easy jump.”
Without waiting for an argument, I head higher up the tree. Up and up I climb, then I scoot out on a far limb to assess the distance, to find the optimum angle for jumping. The ground stretches far below me.
Almost there. Just a bit higher and I’ll easily make the jump to the rock. Above me, one branch juts out a little farther than the rest. The perfect angle. I can swing from it right to the center of the rock. I reach for the limb, nearly at the tip of the treetop, stretching onto my tiptoes to grasp it.
Just as my hand wraps around the wood, the branch under my foot snaps.
My balance teeters. Fingers lose purchase. And I slip toward the jungle floor.
For a second, it’s free fall as gravity pulls me toward the swamp below.
Then a body crashes into mine, a steel-like arm wrapping around my torso.
Kiran has swung off the tree and caught me in midair. As our momentum drives us forward toward the rock, his grip on the vine slips a fraction. Using my legs, I kick our weight farther. As we reach the pinnacle of the swing, I strain toward the rock, willing us closer to the outcrop.
I feel the moment his grip loosens entirely, the moment gravity grabs us again. But this time, I’m the one who catches us from falling.
I slam into the side of the outcrop, my ribs cracking in more than one place. The breath rushes out of me as pain explodes up my side. No time to deal with it, though—we’re already sliding down the wet stone. But my fingers dig into the rock, looking for purchase even as my nails crack and rip. At the last second, I find a handhold and clutch at it with all the force in my muscles. I dump adrenaline into my system, increasing the strength in my grip.
We stop sliding.
Kiran’s still got an arm tight around my waist.
“Don’t let go!” Lyria shouts from somewhere behind us. I can smell decaying meat and animal feces. The anacrocs must be below us.
“Not planning to,” I answer, readying myself for the pull that comes next. “Why do you have to be so damn tall?” I grumble at Kiran.
Before he can answer, I flex with everything I’ve got, straining my muscles to pull us up. But then the weight lessens. I steal a glance and see Kiran using his free arm to help me as I climb the rock.
Together, we inch up and up. Then my torso is over the ledge and Kiran is scrambling past me. My boots find the side of the rock just as his hands wrap around my arms. I push at the same time he pulls, and with a final lunge, we both collapse onto the solid surface.
I lie there, my body facing the clouds. Small drops of water dance across my skin. As my lungs remember how to work, a sharp pain cuts into every breath. My ribs might not be fully fractured, but they’re most definitely cracked. At least I’m not croc meat.
Kiran peers down over me, loose strands of his dark hair tickling my cheeks.
“Are you all right?” His voice is barely a whisper.
“Everything hurts, but I’m alive,” I droll.
He lets out a breath and sits on the rock beside me.
“Thank you for catching me,” I mumble, now taking slower breaths to counter the pain. The sweet smell of rain and rock fills my nose, blessedly washing away the putrid scent of the anacroc nest below.
“Thanks for pulling us up and not dropping me,” Kiran says softly. “The anacrocs are disappointed, but I’m sure not.”
“And why didn’t you notice them sooner?”
“I was talking over tonight’s plan with Mirko on the comms.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And?”
He blinks at me and then smirks. “And trying to eavesdrop on you and Lyria at the same time.”
“There it is.” I laugh and pain smarts up my ribs again. “Predictable to the end.”
“But you knew I wasn’t going to let you fall, right?” He stands next to me, offering a hand to help me up.
I eye his outstretched fingers.
“Hello!” Lyria’s voice cuts into my focus. “A little help here?”
Kiran’s fingers fold inward and then he’s moving away from me, toward the edge of the rock, ready to help Lyria, who’s found a spider vine to carry her some of the way over.
She points at Kiran menacingly. “Don’t drop me.”
He wiggles his fingers at her impatiently. “Don’t worry your little syndicate head.”
I smile softly to myself because I know he won’t. He may be a traitor and a liar. He may be keeping secrets and pissing me off every other minute. But he won’t let us fall prey to the anacrocs. I think back to our missions together; he never did let me get hurt if he could stop it.
Slowly sitting up, I watch as Lyria swings herself into the air and lets go of the vine at the last possible second. Her momentum carries her up, and for a moment, it looks like she’s going to fly right into the pit below. But then Kiran dives down and catches her outstretched arms. She collides with the rock, but neither of them loses their grip, and seconds later, she’s clambering up on the ledge.
She rushes over and crouches next to me.
“Are you okay?” She’s looking at me like I’m something fragile, like I might break. Her worry is unwarranted. I won’t.
I shrug and give her a half smile. “Never better. Who needs ribs anyway? You were right, this was fun.” It will take a lot more than some anacrocs and injured ribs to break me.
Her eyes find mine and she grins.
As I push myself to my feet, Lyria starts to protest.
“You should rest for a minute at least. We need to figure out where we are anyway.”
I wave her off. “I’ll be fine. We don’t have a ton of time out here, remember? We’ve got a revolution to plan.”
“And questions to answer,” Kiran adds. I catch his gaze, noting how it’s shifted since Lyria grinned at me. Is he finally going to give me answers, after all this? I don’t know what’s made him decide to change his tune, but before I can ask him, something else catches my attention.
“I really think you should take a minute to recover,” Lyria continues. “We still have to find the exact coordinates—”
I point behind her. Her gaze follows my finger. There, tucked into the side of the mountain, half hidden under vines and mud, is a heavy metal door.
“Found them.”