Chance of Stardust

Stardust (ch 13)

Hours later, Revelin mounted the stairs to the observation deck, not sure what he might find. Cassie’s anger lingered in his mind. He didn’t like her being upset with him, he’d discovered. It made him want to apologize when he had nothing to apologize for. He’d warned Ari to keep away from her and the youngling hadn’t listened. He didn’t have to explain himself to her yet the nagging sense of dismay wouldn’t go away and sent him searching for her. She wasn’t in her room or in the gym. That left the observation deck or the control room.


Soft laughter drifted down the stairs, tugging him to a halt. Who was she with? His claws sliced out as a surge of raw anger slammed into him.


“I think you’re cheating,” Cassie giggled.


“I wouldn’t do that.”


Llyr’s laughter mingled with hers and Revelin sucked a deep breath, reining in the anger that throbbed through him. The reaction made no sense to him. She wasn’t his as she’d told them all earlier. His claws retracted slowly, instinct fighting logic.


“Why did you kiss me?”


Llyr’s innocent question held him still, waiting for her answer.


“When?”


“You kissed my arm.”


“Oh. That.” Embarrassment colored her voice. “It’s something my mother used to do when I was your age. Kiss my scrapes and bruises to make them feel better.”


She’d offered a mother’s comfort to a motherless boy. Revelin closed his eyes, his anger draining away leaving a dark sense of guilt in its place.


“Did it work?” Llyr asked.


He heard Cassie sigh and a soft rustle of fabric as she shifted.


“It doesn’t really take the pain away. It makes things better because she does it because she loves me. Sometimes that’s the best medicine there is.”


“My mother died when I was born.”


Llyr was matter of fact about it. His change of subject was disturbing, however.


“Do you like Revelin?”


It was time to end this before she embarrassed both of them.


“You shouldn’t ask things like that,” he said, cresting the stairs.


Two pairs of eyes swung to him. The pair sprawled out on the floor beside a set of circular playing cards, the chairs pushed away. Cassie sat up, brushing the loose fall of her hair over her shoulders and crossing her legs. She’d cleaned up and dressed in her soft shirt and blue pants. Bruises mottled her temple and her lip was swollen. She looked down at the floor, avoiding him.


“Why?” Llyr wanted to know.


“You’ll put her in the position of hurting your feelings or lying to you. That’s not a comfortable place to be.”


Llyr frowned, glancing between them. “Lie? Why would she lie?”


He crouched beside the boy, ruffling the pale hair with affection. “I’m your friend, Llyr. If she said she doesn’t like me, you might get offended and so she might lie about it, but lies like that have teeth that gnaw at the teller. Neither is a good choice. You shouldn’t ask her to make it.”


“I like you fine. Sometimes.” Cassie scowled at her feet. “Sometimes I want to hit you over the head with something.”


“Only sometimes?” He kept the question light.


“With Leiv, it’s a daily battle not to do violence.”


That made him smile. “When it comes to Leiv, we all fight that urge.”


Llyr chuckled. “Leiv is snarly, but he’s a good friend to have. He’s not all bad, you know.”


“I know.” She drew her knees to her chest, her hair sliding forward again in a silky mantle that made him want to touch.  “He just doesn’t like me much and it shows.”


“It isn’t you he doesn’t like,” Revelin corrected her. “Wounded pride is sharp toothed monster to have on your back.”


She peeked up at him through her hair, disbelief apparent. “Pinched ego? Why? Because I hit him with a tray? He deserved it.”


“That only makes it more difficult for him.” He tugged Llyr into his lap and hugged him. “You need to get some sleep. It’s almost dawn.”


“I know.” The little prince hugged him back and then yawned. “Cassie needed some company though.”


He glanced down at the cards. “Teaching her beruil?”


“She’s good.”


“You were letting me win,” Cassie argued, tucking her hair back. Her scowl softened into a sad expression that tugged at him.


“No.” Llyr stood reached out and patted her hand. “You didn’t know how to play so I played exactly as the cards fell. No tricks.” He gave Revelin another hug and then pattered away leaving silence in his wake.


“What did he mean, no tricks?” Cassie asked, reaching for the tumble of round cards.


“Llyr sees flashes of the future. Apparently, he’s been using that trick to hold his own when we play beruil with him.” Little scamp. Revelin shook his head, amused. “He likes you so he played an honest game.”


“Sees the future?” He had her attention now. “As in really sees it or is that just a hocus thing?”


Her choice of words had him shaking his head. “It’s not magic or any kind of mental trick. He sees things before they happen. His mother had the gift of sight as well. He can’t control what he sees or when, but no one knows if that is because of his mixed blood or if he is still too young for that kind of control.”


She sat up straighter. The gentle scent of her filled his head, filtering through his body in a wave that left him wishing for things best left undreamed of. Revelin plucked the cards from her and began to sort through them to give his hands something to do.


“He said that the hatch was going to jam,” she said slowly, a frown creasing her face. “He must have seen it and that’s why he took off like he did.”


It wasn’t a question and required no answer. He let silence settle over them, still unsure why he was there. She was his responsibility, that much was true, but he never lied, especially not to himself. She drew him as no other female ever had and that was what had him sitting here, searching for words.


With a sigh, she rose, plucking the cards from his hands and setting them on a chair as she went to the controls and triggered the observation settings, turning the walls clear. Against the backdrop of predawn sky, she looked fragile and lost. He joined her, gazing out at the night dark grass of the meadow and distant thrust of black mountains. The dense perimeter of trees brought back memories of a kinder time, when he’d been a child with no responsibilities and no worries.


“Where are we?” she asked suddenly.


“North.”


“Quite a ways north, I’d say.” She sighed, her breath fogging the view. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that the museum would gut the planes before displaying them. It makes sense, I suppose, but it never occurred to me.”


He dismissed that with a shake of his head. “It’s done. We need to find another way is all. Any ideas?”


“No.” She bumped her head against the view and then shrugged. “The boneyard Kyall pointed out is a military facility. The chances of someone getting hurt or killed goes way up if we try there. I just don’t think a regular airport or air field will have what you need.”


“This boneyard. Are the machines there intact?”


“Yes. It’s mainly storage for military equipment that’s no longer in service. They’ll have sensors on the fence line as well live patrols and surveillance cameras, possibly satellite imaging as well. Not to mention, they’ll shoot to kill and ask questions later.”


He shot her a look. “Your military can speak to the dead?”


“No, they care that much about your reasons.”


A smile quirked her lips, drawing his gaze. The brief taste of her haunted him, waking and sleeping. His eyes lingered on the small cut on her lip. His curiosity had been appeased but the small taste of her had awakened a new hunger in him. He wanted another taste of her. He wanted, he amended silently.  A taste would never be enough.


Shades of pink and green rippled across the sky, pulling his attention away from her mouth.


“What is that?”


“The Aurora Borealis.” She straightened, gazing up at the phenomenon with wonder. “I’ve never seen it before. We must be really far north for it to be so clear.”


“What is it?” he asked again. The sight was mesmerizing as the color rippled and flowed.


“I’m not sure of the exact scientific explanation. It’s got to do with solar winds and ionized particles hitting the atmosphere. You can only see it in the far north or far southern regions.”


Not a threat then. He watched the colors play for a long moment.


“What were you thinking?”


“When?” She crossed her arms, still staring up at the ripples of color that chased across the sky.


“When you were watching Llyr and I. You looked sad.”


She said nothing for a long moment and then sighed, turning to lean her hips against the wall.


“I was thinking you’d make a great father.”


The soft, diffident admission froze him in place. She shrugged, unaware of the blow she’d landed.


“You’re so good with him. You don’t cut him any slack, but you aren’t rigid either. You make him think and learn and make his own decisions, but you hold him responsible for them, too. You remind me a bit of my own father that way.”


Her mother who healed with loving kisses. Her father who guided her with a firm but loving hand. He’d stolen that from her and perhaps their future as well. Guilt choked him.


“There are no more female hirrient,” he managed finally.


“Oh.” Her eyes flashed to his and then dropped. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”


“Don’t be sorry. It’s a truth I live with.” He reached out to touch the bruising on her temple and she winced. “Ari was right. You should have gotten healed. The tube will do you no more harm.”


“I know.” She scowled at him. “I was just too mad at you to listen.”


He touched a finger to her lips, silencing her.


“You said I had no right to command Ari as I did. You were wrong. He’d been warned you are my responsibility.” Her eyes flashed at him, but he didn’t give her a chance to start. “As such, I should have been the one assisting you. That was my mistake and one that will not be repeated.”


She pulled away, still glaring. “Your first responsibility has always been and always will be to Llyr. You were helping him. Not to mention he was hurt worse than I was. Ari was just being a friend.”


“Llyr’s safety belongs to all of us,” he corrected her gently. “Yours belongs solely to me.”


She wanted to argue. He could see the need in her eyes. With gentle hands, he nudged her around to face the view where the light still played but stars now pricked through the fading colors and light rimmed the horizon. Under his hands, her body was tight. Not just tension but aching muscles the cleanser cycle wouldn’t have helped. She’d been banged around during the altercation at the museum. Her hair, still faintly damp, draped over his wrists as he moved his thumbs to a particularly knotted muscle and began a circular massage.


A soft moan slid from her and she arched into his touch. A smile rose from somewhere inside him. No matter how much she argued, she trusted herself in his hands. He wouldn’t betray that, he promised silently. No matter how much he wanted to wrap himself around her and indulge in the softness of her, he would honor her trust. He would keep her safe, even from himself.


Clearing his throat, he grasped at the thread of conversation.


“I have been a sort of surrogate father, I suppose. That’s far closer than many men get.”


“Llyr?”


“No.” He worked his thumbs higher, feeling her body unwinding under his touch. Her ribcage felt so fragile, so delicate beneath his palms, her body a sleek work of art he wanted to stroke. He fought to keep his mind on the words. “Arno has always been a father to his son. I and the others are friends and protectors. Nothing more.”


She shifted as if she might turn but he kept her facing the view as dawn slowly broke over the sky, chasing away the stars. If she turned, he would kiss her. Honor be damned.


“Who?”


“Ari.” He shook his head, his palms finding another tight group of muscles between her slender shoulders. She pushed back into his touch, telling him without words she was listening. “When we were first taken, Ari was barely weaned from mother’s milk. He and I were placed with the same scientist. He nearly starved before they finally brought him to my cage and placed him with me.”


He could still remember the tiny boy child, so wary and in pain, so thin and weak. He had known then the scientist didn’t expect the child to survive. It was nothing more than a chance to watch him interact with another hirrient.


“What happened?”


“I fed him, took care of him. When he was strong enough to move on his own, they came to take him away again.” A grim smile curved his mouth at the memory. “I shredded them bloody for trying. They shocked me unconscious and took him anyway but four days later they brought him back. He refused to eat for anyone but me.”


“They left him with you?”


“No. It took five such incidences for them to decide to leave him. They were wary of me by then. They would knock me out before taking him but I would still attack them when they attempted to enter for any reason until they brought him back. They got tired of being clawed and bitten.”


“How old were you?”


“Llyr’s age.”


“You were both so young,” she murmured. “I’m surprised you survived at all.”


“We weren’t meant to.” He knew it now as he had known it then. They had been mere curiosities to the Gurot scientists, lab creatures. Expendable. “The Gurot have a thriving economic enterprise in pit fighting. Handlers in the business contacted the scientists who held us when I was reaching adolescence. How they found out about us, I don’t know, but they bought all the hirrient they could locate and threw us together to start training for the fights.”


He tugged her back until she was flush with his chest, his hands curled over her shoulders. The memories flooded him, of Ari, so much smaller than the others but just as determined to survive. He’d learn to move, to use his agility to make up for what he lacked in physical strength.  He’d charmed his handlers into special favors he then shared with the others. They’d bonded into a tight knit unit the Gurot hadn’t been able to break.


“Tell me about Ari,” she whispered. “Please, Revelin?”


Her soft weight leaning so trusting against his chest insulated him from the pain of those memories. He stared out into the burgeoning dawn, lost in the past.