Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,133

only because she was injured. And freezing. And would probably get lost on her way back to the treatment center on her own. She told herself it meant nothing. And it certainly changed nothing. She swore to herself that it was a unique, one-time thing, as she handed Etienne her crutches and climbed onto his back.

- CHAPTER 39 - MARCELLUS

ALBION EMERGED LIKE A BLUE-AND-GREEN jewel in the vast, dark blanket of space.

“There it is,” Cerise said in a hushed and reverent voice. Reverent because of everything they’d gone through to get here. Hushed because of the Albion guard who had overridden the ship’s autopilote and now sat at the flight console, forcing Marcellus, Gabriel, Alouette, and Cerise to communicate in furtive whispers and pointed gestures.

The guard’s hands flew steadily and confidently across the controls, guiding the ship toward its final destination like a bird coasting on a stiff breeze.

Marcellus stared in awe through the window as the twinkling planet grew larger. Throughout his life, his grandfather had taken him on diplomatic missions to almost every planet in the System Divine. To the Matrone’s home of Reichenstat. The System Alliance headquarters on Kaishi. The tropical beaches of Samsara. The newly liberated planet of Usonia. But never here. Albion had been the enemy of Laterre since the very beginning. Since the Human Conservation Commission first discovered the System Divine, and the wealthy families of the First World began to divvy up its planets. The only Laterrian he’d known to step foot on the planet was Commandeur Vernay, right before she was captured by the Mad Queen and executed.

“It’s beautiful.” Alouette’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Beautiful?” Marcellus repeated, turning his gaze back to the planet. No longer a small jewel in the sky, Albion now loomed large in the window of the voyageur. Its deep blue oceans, swirling clouds, and patchwork of emerald green continents—so strikingly different from Laterre’s single landmass—were becoming clearer and more defined with each passing second.

But as hard as he tried, Marcellus could not see what Alouette saw. He could not see beauty. He could only see danger. Threat. And possible catastrophe. They were landing in the capital of an enemy planet, shielded only by a thinly veiled lie.

“What are we going to do about the source?” Cerise whispered, leaning in close to Marcellus. “We’re supposed to meet them today at the coordinates they sent.”

But Marcellus just shook his head. He didn’t know what they were going to do about any of this.

“Arrival in Queenstead in three minutes,” the guard announced from the console. “Please fasten your restraints.”

“This better work,” Gabriel muttered under his breath as he strapped himself into one of the flight seats.

The voyageur swooped down effortlessly through Albion’s atmosphere and plummeted in a great descending arc until it was skimming like a bird just above the ocean’s surface. Amid the choppy waves and eddying currents, islands began to appear, popping up like foreign ships on a detection scanner. Then, on the horizon, a much bigger land mass emerged. A craggy and high-cliffed coastline soon gave way to undulating hills and lush meadows, and finally, a huge city arose amid the greenery.

A grand wall snaked around Albion’s capital, and as the voyageur cruised closer, Marcellus spied the four giant spires of the Queen’s palace at the center of the city.

Gabriel is right. This better work. Or we’re all dead.

The skies near the Queenstead spaceport were filled with aerocabs, Albion’s version of cruiseurs, shuttling people back and forth across the land. The Albion guard expertly maneuvered the voyageur down, across the enormous spaceport complex, and into the gaping entrance of the terminal building.

Outside the window, Marcellus could see the terminal’s vast curved roof above them, and all around was a myriad of idling ships. The voyageur came to a final halt at one of the gates, and the engines began to power down.

Marcellus tried to keep his hands from shaking as he unlatched his harness and adjusted the lapels on his jacket. He had changed back into his blinding-white officer’s uniform, hoping to make the illusion more complete.

Together with Cerise, Gabriel, and Alouette, Marcellus descended the staircase to the primary hatch, where the loading ramp was already extended. As the four of them disembarked, they were immediately encircled by Albion guards, who wordlessly patted them down and searched their pockets for weapons.

“Well, this is certainly a warm welcome,” Gabriel whispered, and Marcellus shot him a warning look.

When the security check was complete, one of the guards led them