I stop when I realize spit’s flying from my mouth and my hands are clenched at my sides so hard that they ache. Morgan’s mouth is open slightly, as if in disgust. Ben’s face is expressionless, and I know that I’ve failed him.
I shove my chair under the table and walk out.
* * *
My hands are shaking as I stride down the steps. Shaking with anger, shaking with frustration, shaking with pain at what my father did to Roc’s mom. I can’t wait any longer—I have to talk to Roc. Try to make things right, somehow.
I’m down the stairs in half the time it took to climb them. The glittering diamonds and misty falls are just a blur as I race past them, my legs churning into the water-filled tunnel. Each step is quicker than the one before it, and by the time I reach the dry part of the tunnel I’m sprinting, as if the entire sun dweller army is chasing me. But they’re not chasing me; and if they were, I wouldn’t be running. I would be standing, fighting, killing as many of them as I could before they killed me.
I’m stunned at my thoughts, numb with the pain. Who is this murderous shell of a person I’ve become?
Because I’m running, the Resistance center of operations is far smaller than I initially thought. I reach our sleeping quarters in just a couple of minutes. Sweat is dripping from my nose, my chin. My breaths are heavy and ragged. My fists are still clenched and shaking.
I open the door.
All fight goes out of me when I see Roc. He’s on his bed, just sitting there staring at his hands. His dark hair is like midnight in the gloom. As he looks up at me, his cheeks are tearstained, but not with dried salt rivers like before, but wet with new flows.
I approach him, massaging my sore hands.
He closes his eyes, angles his head down once more. Defeated. He looks defeated.
Sitting next to him, I say, “Roc, please. Talk to me.”
His eyes blaze open and he turns toward me. I was wrong. There’s no defeat in his eyes. I only see…anger. Fierce anger and pride with a hint of sadness borne by his tears. “Your father is sick,” he snarls between clenched teeth.
“I know,” I say.
“No, you don’t know! You pretend to, but you can’t. Can’t actually know how sick he is. You’ve been sheltered your entire life, protected, behind walls of marble and gourmet food and piles of Nailins! Nailins!” he scoffs. “Named after your family. Your sick, sick family.”
“Roc, you don’t mean that,” I say, the sting of his words visible all over my face.
“I do mean it. Your father stole my childhood, stole my happiness, and now he’s stolen my father from me? The man who raised me. And my mother? My poor, sweet mother who I thought I killed when I came into this world. I’ve harbored the guilt of her death my entire life and now I find out that my pain shouldn’t have been directed inward, but at the very man who hates me because I’m the one who serves him. And you tell me I don’t mean it?”
I feel like I’ve been slapped. Not because of what he’s saying about my father, but because he’s lumping me in with him, like I’m guilty by association. “I never had a choice, Roc. I never wanted to be a Nailin, never wanted a life of privilege. I left, remember? I left it all behind, and you helped me to do it. We’re supposed to be friends—no matter what. Isn’t that the way friendship is?”
And then Roc’s breaking down, his angry shoulders slumping, his head dropping into his hands, the jerk of desperate sobs wracking his body. My arm is around him in a second and he lets me pull his head into my chest. We’re two guys, two friends, but it doesn’t feel weird or awkward. I’ve loved him like a brother, and now he really is one—and I’m there for him. Will always be there for him. I can’t change the past, but I can be a part of his present, his future.
“My poor, sweet mother,” Roc sobs.
“I know, Roc. I know,” I say soothingly. I realize the anger is gone from me. I’m just Tristan again. Not the raging shell of a person I’ve been lately. Roc’s sorrow has brought me back, which makes me feel ashamed. “Roc, I hate my father for what he’s done—believe me, I want to kill him—but I can’t hate the fact that you’re my half-brother. You mean too much to me for that. I’m so sorry,” I say.
Roc’s head bobs back up, and through blurry eyes he says, “I know, Tristan. And I know you’re not like him, not like them.” I know he means my younger brother, who is becoming a clone of my father. “Your mom was the best mom I could have ever asked for,” he sniffs. “And you were—are—the best friend I could ever want.”
“Thanks, Roc,” I say, and we hug, tenderly and firmly all at the same time, which should be embarrassing, but it’s not and never could be.
When Roc pulls away there’s a question in his eyes. “Do you really want to kill your—our—father?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “Roc, I think I’ve really screwed things up.”
He wipes the tears from his cheeks and waits for me to continue.
I tell him about the meeting with the “supportive” VPs. “I can’t control this anger inside me, man. It’s like the rage takes over my brain and controls what I do, what I say. I feel like if I don’t get control of it soon, it’ll destroy me, and destroy everything the Resistance is planning. It’s just…I have the urge to kill. To kill my father. To kill the sun dweller soldiers. To kill anyone who supports them. I’m afraid I’m becoming my father. Does that make sense?”
“No,” Roc says, shaking his head. “You are nothing like your father. He’s angry, but it’s cold, calculating evil. Your anger is righteous, Tristan.”
I believe him. Because he’s my brother.
Chapter Seventeen
Adele
I whirl around twice, hoping that maybe I’m just not seeing Tawni in the shadows. The lighting’s pretty crappy so it’s possible. But she’s not in the shadows, not in the alley, not anywhere. Would she have left when I told her not to? I took quite a bit longer than the minute I promised her, so she might’ve gone to get help. Or she’s in trouble.
I pause for a second, trying to decide what to do.
The only place she would’ve gone is back to the army offices, so I head in that direction, retracing our turns through the cramped subchapter streets. I’m maybe halfway there when I see a flash of shiny, white hair that is completely out of place in the dismal city. When I see Tawni striding toward me purposefully, her head down, I let out a deep breath. Trevor’s just behind her.
I holler and her head snaps up, her expression changing rapidly from surprise to delight. As she jogs toward me, I hold up the packs like trophies, handing one to her as she nears.
Her smile twists into a frown when she meets me, her eyes darting all over my face. “Oh my gosh, Adele, what happened to you?”
“Those damn kids happened,” I say. “But it’s okay, it’s nothing.” To be honest, I’d forgotten about my minor injuries, but now that Tawni’s reminded me, I feel their sting again like I’m being hit by the rocks (and the foot!) all over again. Trevor approaches, but I ignore him and relay the story to my friend, telling her everything except the part about the supply trucks—I can tell her that later in private.
“I was worried when you didn’t come out, so I went to get help,” Tawni says, continuing to inspect my injuries.
“Tsk, tsk,” Trevor clucks. “I can’t leave you two alone for five minutes without you getting into trouble.”
I glare at him. “It’s none of your business.”
“It is when I’m going to look very bad in front of your mo—I mean, the General, because I’m failing in the one task she assigned to me.”
“Like I said before, I just need to talk to her, and then don’t worry, you’ll be reassigned and we won’t be your problem anymore.”
He shakes his head. “You can be impossible sometimes, you know that?”
“C’mon, Tawni,” I say, pulling her by the elbow the way she normally does to me. I hear Trevor’s footsteps follow behind us, but I don’t look back. Who does he thin
k he is anyway? Yeah, we might’ve gotten into trouble, ended up on a street where we didn’t belong, had our stuff stolen…but I took care of it. My dad sent me down here because he trusted me to take care of things. Not to be watched over by some babysitter who’s “just following orders.”
“Are you really okay?” Tawni whispers to me.
“Yes, now stop worrying. It’s those poor kids we should be worried about. They have nothing, Tawni. They might be little brats, but it’s not like they have any other choice. They’re just trying to survive.” Funny how your perspective can change so quickly. Get a little new information and everything you think can get turned on its head. The brats have become the poor kids.
“What are you going to do?”
“There’s nothing we can do. If we stop to try and help every street rat that comes along, we’ll never accomplish anything. The only way to make things better is to fix the bigger problem.”
“The sun dwellers.”
“Yeah.”
I sense that Trevor’s closer behind us. I whirl around. “Do you mind?” He’s practically right on top of us.
“Just trying to join in the conversation.” He looks kind of sheepish, a far cry from his normal arrogance. I’m glad.
“Private conversation,” I say, grabbing Tawni’s arm again and pulling her away from him, walking faster.
We make it back to the army offices without further incident. “The General should be just getting out of a meeting,” Trevor says, as if he’s trying to be helpful. For a second I wonder why he’s telling us that, but then I remember that it’s my mom he’s talking about. The General. It’s going to take me a while to get used to that.
I nod and enter the building, zeroing in on her door, which stands wide open. “We’ll wait in here.”
Tawni follows me into the room, and when Trevor tries to follow, I say, “You’re dismissed.”
He frowns and pauses for a moment, as if considering whether he’d rather deal with my wrath or my mom’s when she finds out we’ve been hanging out in her office unsupervised, and then shrugs and closes the door behind him, leaving us alone.
I flop into a chair, sigh, and close my eyes. Immediately I start thinking about the supply trucks. If I could just get on one of them after they’ve been unloaded, ride it back to its origin…
“Adele,” Tawni says, her voice motherly with concern.
I ignore her, trying to formulate a plan to deal with the supply trucks.
“Adele,” she says again, more insistently this time.
“Tawni, really, I’m fine,” I say, opening my eyes to look at her.
“No, it’s not that,” she says. Her thin, white eyebrows are furrowed, as if she’s trying to solve a complex problem. Something’s happened that I don’t know about.
“What?” I say. She pauses for a moment, as if trying to work out the right words. “Tawni, what is it?”
She looks at me, holds my stare. “When I went back to find someone to help me I overheard something,” she says slowly, looking away at the end. When she pauses, I wait patiently for her to continue. “I went straight to your mom’s office and the door was ajar. I was about to knock—I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping on your mother—but then I heard Trevor’s voice and I perked up. He was telling her about how you were asking him questions about the weapons, how he didn’t know what to tell us.”
What? My mind is racing as I try to fit the pieces together. “What did she say?”
“She said to leave it to her—that she would handle it.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know, but it all sounded a bit…suspicious. That’s why I’m telling you.” If Tawni, one of the least skeptical people I know, thought something sounded off, then it was probably off.
“You think my mom is hiding something?”
“I don’t know, maybe.”
I frown. Perhaps she just hadn’t gotten around to telling us yet. I mean, we’ve only been with her for a short amount of time, have practically just arrived in the Star Realm. Or perhaps there’s something to it. Especially considering I’ve recently learned that my mom has kept secrets from me my entire life.
My thoughts are cut off when the door opens, and the subject of my thoughts walks in. “Adele, Tawni, I heard what happened,” she says, slipping past us and sliding next to me on the padded bench.
“We’re fine,” I say, crushed gravel in my voice.
“It doesn’t sound fine,” she says, reading me like a book as usual. “Plus, your face is a mess,” she says, reaching up to touch one of the welts.
Inadvertently, I shrink away from her touch, like it might burn me. It feels so weird, being scared of my mom for the first time in my life. “Adele,” she says, concern etching her face, “what is it?”
I consider telling her what’s on my mind, even glance at Tawni for support, but then just shrug my shoulders. “It’s nothing,” I lie. And then, “I don’t want Trevor following us around anymore.”
My mom sighs. “He told me you might say that. Adele, I’m not trying to smother you. It’s just, this place isn’t like the Moon Realm. It’s not as safe. You found that out already.”
“They were just kids. And I handled it without Trevor,” I say, spitting his name out like a swear word. “Besides, the last time we were in the Moon Realm it wasn’t exactly a safe zone, what with the bombs destroying every building in sight.”
“Good point,” she says, nodding her head. “But I’d still feel more comfortable if you keep Trevor close.”
“Okay, we’ll use an escort. But not Trevor.” Anyone but Trevor. “I don’t trust him.”
“Well, I do. And trust me, he’s the best person for the job.” If only I could trust you right now, Mom. “I know this is all a lot to take in,” she says. “Why don’t you just relax for the rest of the day, and we can talk tomorrow if you’re up for it.”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. I’ve crossed hundreds of miles of danger-filled caves and tunnels, only to find that my mom doesn’t need rescuing and doesn’t listen to me anymore. “Fine,” I say evenly, standing up and walking to the door. Out of the corner of my eye I see Tawni shrug at my mom, as if to say sorry. Tawni, always the peacemaker.
To my annoyance, Trevor is waiting for us outside. My fury’s not going to go away anytime soon.
“Have I been replaced?” he says snidely, which makes me even more annoyed.
“C’mon,” I say, slinging a pack over my shoulder, “where are our bunks?”
He laughs, but I ignore it and let him lead us down a corridor, up a spiraling stone staircase, and into a large room that’s buzzing with activity.
“They’re done for the day,” Trevor explains, motioning to the dozens of soldiers milling about the bunkroom, changing out of their training tunics, whipping each other with towels, and generally carrying on like members of a traveling circus. They’re all guys, some young, some old.
“Umm…” I say, “…I call bull crap.”
Trevor smirks. “Oh, I must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere, these are the guys’ bunks. Right this way.”
It would have been a reasonably funny joke if it wasn’t Trevor. We exit the room and make our way down a long hall that runs along the wall of the male bunks. At the very end is a door on the opposite side. “The women will get you all set up and get you to dinner. I’ll see you there.”
I ignore him and push into the room, hearing Tawni say, “See you later,” behind us. Stopping, I take in the room. It’s maybe half the size of the guys’ room, but still contains at least fifty bunks, each about three feet apart, built from gray stone, with thin pads and pillows atop them. Fifty or sixty women are milling about in a much more civilized manner than the men, changing their tunics, chatting away. It reminds me of the Pen. Home sweet home.
One of the younger-looking girls notices us and approaches. I remember seeing her at morning training. A decent shooter but not so good at the clo
se combat. Blond hair tied in a ponytail. Close-set, bright blue eyes. A small nose with lips for which smiling was a struggle. She’s attempting to smile now. “Welcome, Rose,” she says, addressing me by my last name. “I’m Lieutenant Marshall, and I’m in charge of the twenty-third barrack, which is this one. I don’t think I’ve caught your friend’s name yet.”
“I’m Tawni,” Tawni says enthusiastically, pushing her hand out so Marshall can shake it.
“This’ll be your bunk,” she says, leading us to an empty set of stacked beds with fresh towels and clothes folded neatly at the foot. Fourth one on the right side, I memorize. “Showers are through there,” she says, pointing to an opening at the other side of the room, where women are passing through with towels wrapped around their bodies. “Dinner’s in an hour,” she finishes. “Don’t be late or the food’ll be gone.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, sitting on the unforgiving bed. Tawni plops down next to me.
“Maybe it’s not what we think?” Tawni says, picking up our conversation from before my mom interrupted us.
“What do we think exactly?” I say.
“That your mom is up to something bad with Trevor.”
I smirk. “So you’re not so pro-Trevor anymore?”
Tawni laughs and it reaches her eyes. “I guess not. I mean, he’s not so bad. But you’re right, something seems off about him.”
“Like something seems off about my mom?”
“I don’t know.” She’s been saying that a lot lately. But it’s what I’ve been thinking, too.
I reach behind me and remove the gun. Tawni’s eyes are like saucers as I turn it over in my hands. I doubt if she’s ever held one in her life. Not that I’m much better, having just held one for the first time today. I shove it underneath my pillow and out of sight.