Sea of Stars (Kricket, #2)

by Amy A. Bartol

“Do you know what you mean to me, Kricket?” Trey asks in a raspy voice, looking up into my face. “You’re my every thought. If you don’t feel the same, you should stop this now—I won’t touch you again. But if you decide that you want this—us—once I have you, I won’t be able to give you up—you’ll have my soul.”

His words make no sense to me: I could no more stop what’s happening between us than I could stop the wind from blustering in Chicago. You already have my soul, I think. It must be written all over my face as it is written all over my heart. “It scares me, how much I want you, Trey,” I admit against Trey’s lips.

My words soothe him. “No matter what happens, Kricket, I’ll fight for you. Until death do us part . . . and then forever after that. I love you,” he says honestly. “Say you’ll be my consort.” “Yes,” I breathe out the word. “I promise I will. I love you. Now . ...

Stealing oxygen while being tethered to the sky, that’s what it feels like to be loved by Trey. His mouth strokes me while I pull his hair, my lips cooing with bribes not to stop—never to stop. My pale skin turns the pink of a desert flower. I drown in fire. My paper heart is a folded, flaming phoenix. He shifts me against him, claiming my soul in exchange for his own . .

He toys with my hair, smoothing it and wrapping strands of it around his fingers. “Sleepy,” I say as though dead. “Am I keeping you awake? I just wanted to hold you.” “You should sleep,” I murmur. Trey grunts like I said something ludicrous. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this moment, do you? I don’t plan to miss any of it to sleep.” “You’ve been dreaming about this?” My eyebrow arches. “When I said you’re my every thought, I meant it.” “When did you first begin dreaming about it?” I ask, warming to the subject. “After I first saw you. My daydreams of you were nightmares,” he says. “Do tell,” I say, all in for this conversation.

“And then, when you sat up and you called me a chester, I thought for sure that you could read my mind, or that everything I was thinking was written all over my face.” “I had no idea you felt any attraction to me whatsoever,” I retort. “In fact, I thought you thought I was trash.”

“How could you think that? I thought you were the most remarkable person I’d ever met—surviving like you had, all by yourself—and you managed to escape us on the train. That never happens. We don’t lose prisoners.” “Really?” I lift my face to see if he’s being serious. “Yes, really.”

“You mean you couldn’t tell that I was infatuated with you by the fact that I was holding your hand at every opportunity?” “I thought you were making sure that I stayed with you.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing; my hand just kept seeking yours out on its own. Then you took my hand when we saw the Alameeda ships—” He sucks in his breath like his heart is being squeezed. “You were afraid the ships would see us. Do you remember?” “Yes.”

“You were wrapped in a blanket, but you held it to yourself so that your back was almost entirely bare. Your hair fell in waves down to here.”

“You were arguing with me about the direction we should take to avoid the Alameeda.” “I wasn’t arguing. That was me suggesting we go the other way so no one would get caught and tortured.” “You were inserting yourself into my heart was what you were doing. I never had dreams about anyone like the ones I’ve had about you. You are all I ever think about.” “I am?” “You and your stone heart.” “It’s a paper heart now, like I told you before, and your name is written all over it.” “I want it to be burned there permanently.” “You brought me to the end of the Earth—then you made me jump off it with you. I can safely say that you stole me and my heart.” “If it’s any consolation, you own mine,” he admits. “You should hear it beat when you’re near. My heart has a special rhythm for you.”

I cry out his name as my heart beats as one with his.

“Is there a way to unsmoke the window so I can see what’s going on?” “Yes,” Trey says reluctantly, sounding irritated that he isn’t able to lie to me, “but I don’t want you to see what’s out there.” A part of me trusts him to know that I shouldn’t see it, but another part of me, the survivalist—the chameleon—has to know what’s happening—has to take it in—has to learn from it so that I can somehow avoid a similar fate in the future.

“You didn’t ask me your thousand questions—when we were in the lavare. You were different—fragile. Nothing I said then about this would’ve been to your advantage. I didn’t want you to be afraid.” “Fear is a good thing, especially in a situation like this.”

“No. They want to own you. They won’t kill you unless you force them to.” “Maybe I want to decide my own fate should the need arise.”

“You’re looking for an OTBD?” he asks in a very predatory way, watching me as if he can see inside my soul. Maybe he can; we traded souls not too long ago. “Define OTBD.” “Out The Back Door. Death by suicide.” “That’s about right. I’m not looking to get caught again.” “You’re a survivor, that’s what you do.” Trey’s eyes burrow into mine. “I’m counting on you for that,”

“Weapon,” I insist, holding out my hand to him. “No. Not for that. Never for that,” he retorts. “You want to see me with them again?”

“No. I’m not looking to let you go.” “You might not have a choice.” “Why do you say that? Have you seen something I should know about?” he asks, like I’m hiding something from him. I point my thumb over my shoulder to the window at my back. “Yeah,” I scoff, “I just saw two people get killed over me.” “That’s war, Kricket. People die.” “They do,” I agree. “Badly. But some live. Maybe I don’t want to be one of them. Anyway, how am I supposed to defend myself without a weapon?” “You weren’t speaking of defense just now, you were looking for a way out, and I promise you that I’ll never give you one. I gave you the opportunity to leave; you didn’t take it. Now I can’t let you go.” “Why not? You’re okay with them torturing me?” “You made me love you!” he says harshly. “You’re not allowed to give up, do you understand? No surrender to death. Whatever happens, you have to survive it.” “But what if things get really, really bad?” I ask.

“Then you fight, like you always do, and we’ll pick up the pieces of us later.” “We will?” I ask. “Yes,” he says without a hint of doubt. I exhale a deep breath. “Okay.” “If you want to learn to defend yourself, then I’m defini...

“I need an equalizer.” I see the reluctant agreement in Trey’s eyes. “Yes. You do. But it has to be one that your enemy can’t easily take from you and then use against you.”

“How come you can open it?” “I gave this to Charisma,” he says, like it’s no big deal. Instantly, I’m irrationally jealous. “Really,” I respond by snapping the lid closed again. “Maybe I shouldn’t be looking at it then.” Trey frowns. “I think you’re looking at this the wrong way. I gave these to Charisma as from one friend to another. She wouldn’t mind if you use them. She’d want you to be safe.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you know very little about how women think?” I ask him. “I know Charisma very well. You, on the other hand, are often a mystery to me.”

I don’t know whether to be offended, jealous, or flattered by that statement. As it turns out, I’...

“You’re so intelligent. You probably don’t even need this weapon. You just need time to assess a situation to find the best solution.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” “You mean destroying these statuettes?” he asks. “Yes,” I say, nodding. “Yes.” “Why?” “I can’t explain it.” “Try.” “Ever since I was old enough to know who I was, I knew that the future everyone wanted for me wasn’t what I wanted for myself. I wasn’t encouraged to make a career in the Cavars; I was only supposed to serve for a few fleats—do my service, and then leave it behind to go into the family business.”

“My family designs buildings, estates, ecostructures, as well as other things. My father particularly looks to me for security infrastructure. And at every step along the way, Charisma and I have been present for every single milestone in each other’s lives, not by choice, but because it was expected. I would’ve been there for her by choice. She’s my best friend, but there’s no spark there—no worry that if I don’t see her in the next few parts I might lose my mind. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“Relax,” he says near my ear. “You don’t have to be perfect at everything.” “You don’t know me at all, do you?”

“You don’t understand. I really need to destroy the dancing couple.” “Annoying, aren’t they, Kitten?” His rumbling laugh is heaven against my throat. “The worst, honey.”

“We’re not the ones who just agreed to commit to our gennet, so it wouldn’t be proper to give us a gift in return.” Hollis explains, “The treats are to honor your announcement to commit to a lifetime of submitting to his will. We know what that’s like. You have our deepest condolences!” They all roar at that, like it’s the funniest thing imaginable. “The weapons are a tribute because you saved our lives,” Jax explains.

It belonged to my father; he gave it to me when I went to war the last time. Now I give it to you as payment for my life.”

“I can’t take this,” I say, afraid of such a gift as this. It’s a family heirloom and I don’t even know if his family will accept me. “You can’t give me this.” “I already gave it to you. You can’t give it back,”

“But you saved me on the skywalk and at the palace. You’ve saved my life more times than I’ve saved yours.” I try to take the bracelet off so I can hand it back to him.

“It’s my job to protect you—not only as a Cavar, but as your intended consort.” That’s stupid machismo thinking. “And I’m not supposed to protect you in return?” I ask. He blinks. “Well . . . no.” “I’ll never understand you people,” I murmur in frustration. “Yes, you do,” he replies, taking my hand in his. “You live by a code. So do we.” “You know my code?” I ask him. “I’m getting to know it.” “Really?”

“From an early age, you’ve learned never to trust anyone but yourself. You let almost no one help you, but the ones you do allow into your life have special significance to you: you love them, even when sometimes you wish that you didn’t. Because when you love someone, Kricket, it means you’re completely loyal to that person, you’ll sacrifice anything for him—even your life. How am I doing so far?” I shrug, noncommittal. “So you fancy yourself a code hacker?” “On occasion,” he replies. “I used to have a simpler code.” “Let me guess: I’m an island.” “Something like that. It wasn’t working out for me as well as I would’ve liked.” “If it’s any consolation, I’m shipwrecked on your island. To use your words: deal with it.”

“Hi,” I whisper. “I love that word,” he says. “It used to make me look up for something high, did you know that?” I giggle and shake my head. “I didn’t,” I admit. “Now I know that it’s your way of greeting people, but you say it differently to me,” he says, smiling. “I do?” “Yes. You say it breathlessly to me,” he explains. “Well that’s because I haven’t really been saying ‘hi’ to you; I’ve been saying: ‘I love you.’”

“I’m slowly learning all the subtle nuances of you, Kricket. I want to discover your every thought . . .” his kisses travel down me, over my clavicle “. . . your every look . . .” he kisses the pink tip of one breast, and I inhale deeply “. . . every curve . . .” he moves farther to kiss my stomach “. . . and every other freckle.”

“Why every other freckle?” I ask him. “Why not all of them?” “Well, I didn’t want to sound obsessed, and also some freckles aren’t as good-natured as others.”

As I laugh harder, Trey rises on his elbow, smiling down at me. “That’s the sound that I want to live in for the rest of my life.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” I ask. “My name is Nezra and I want you to die,” she answers honestly. “Well, Nezra, I don’t think I’ll accommodate you. I sort of enjoy breathing,” I reply.

“So the big Rafian soldier is your lover. Felicitations, little sister; I didn’t think you’d have it in you to defy the Brotherhood in this way. You surprise me.” “Trey’s my intended consort.” She laughs mockingly. “You’re either really brave or really stupid. Kyon will kill him in front of you when he gets here. You know that, don’t you?” “I’ll kill him if he tries,” I counter savagely.

“Why is he obsessed with you? What have you done to him to make him this way?” I slip on Charisma’s black jacket. “Who? Kyon?” I ask with a raise of my eyebrow. “Well, that’s simple, Nezra. I ran away from him and swore to him that I’d never do anything he says. You should try it sometime. It’s called ‘I hate you, leave me alone.’ It gets all the psychos foaming at the mouth for more. Add a little ‘I’ll never love you,’ and bam! Instant crazy.”

“You belong to him. He can do whatever he wants to you. You’ll find out.” I point my finger at her. “That’s where you’re wrong. He can’t do whatever he wants to me, because I’m not going to let him.”

“She’s the priestess who likes you—although she cannot explain to me why she does with any clarity.”

“I have to go to him.” Trey’s arm squeezes me tighter. “I don’t think so. You’re not going to him, Kricket. Today you’re a magician’s assistant and I’m going to make you disappear.”

I never filed any of the schematics for my tunnels to any of the Isle of Skye zoning authorities. They don’t exist in any databases. They’re sort of illegal.” “Trey, you’re a doomsday planner.” “Guilty,”

“With this flower,” Kyon says, smiling down upon me, “I keep thee to me . . . always. Welcome home, Kricket.”

“Do you think he lived through the explosion back there?” “I know he did.” “How do you know?” Trey asks. “I’d feel it if he died.” “Why do you say that?” he asks. “Because our lives are so tightly wound together that I’d know,”

“It’s a copperclaw,” Trey says in a low tone. “The Brotherhood uses it in their ceremonies when a Brother commits to his priestess. It’s symbolic of the binding.”

I’m having trouble at the moment being inside my skin. I want to escape from it—let my skeleton spill out of me. I need to tell Trey everything. It feels like a confession when I whisper, “Then he said, ‘With this flower, I keep thee to me—’” “‘—always,’” Trey finishes for me. His tone is grim. “Yeah,” I whisper.

“We don’t know if it’ll happen. Like I said, Giffen didn’t slap me when we met. He forced me to meet the future, but he never slapped me to get me to do it.” I sound desperate. When Trey still says nothing, I blurt out, “I’ll change it—I’ve done it before—I can do it again—I can change it.”