Darken the Stars - Amy A. Bartol Page 0,26

abdomen or something because it’s too perfect. I can feel myself blushing. I look back at the ceiling again.

“I’m going for a swim. Do you need anything before I go?”

I shake my head no.

“You’re sure you’re feeling better?” he asks.

“I’m good.”

“I’ll be back, and then we can dine together.”

“Fine.”

He leaves then, and I crawl up to the pillows on the bed. Resting my head against one, I stretch out beneath the blanket, bringing it up to my neck. While Kyon is distracted, I should probably check out the house for weapons and places to hide, but I’m beat. I feel like I’ve been run over and my head is achy. I reach under my pillow, finding that the knife I’d stashed there this morning is still there. I shove it back under the pillow and close my eyes.

“Kricket.” Kyon’s deep voice penetrates my groggy mind.

“What?” I groan, trying to cling to sleep. I squint at him and see that it’s dark outside.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, stroking my hair.

“You’re waking me up to see if I’m hungry?” I ask soporifically.

“Yes,” Kyon murmurs.

“You’re so mean,” I grumble. “I was sleeping! I never get to sleep on this stupid planet!” I sigh. “Someone is always chasing me, or hitting me, or waking me up. This planet is so rude.”

Kyon laughs. “So you’re not hungry?”

I turn away from him and bury my head beneath another pillow. Kyon stretches out next to me and slides me to his chest. I would pull away, but I don’t have the energy to fight him. I feel like I’ve been awake for days. “Go to sleep then,” he whispers near my ear.

I try to ignore him.

“You’re safe here.”

I sigh heavily and turn over to face him, saying “Shh!” as I cover his mouth with my hand. I can feel him laughing beneath it. He pulls my hand away from his mouth and threads his fingers through mine. He rests his chin against the top of my head and doesn’t say another word.

CHAPTER 5

DAWN GOLDEN

My eyes open to brilliant sunlight streaming into the bedroom. The white curtains beside the archway that leads to the sea billow in the late morning sun.

“Are you awake now?” Kyon asks. He’s lying beside me with his head on a couple of ivory-colored pillows. I panic for a second when I see him, but then I remember where I am.

“Yes,” I say, stretching. I’m still in the same clothes as yesterday, which makes me feel better. He didn’t try anything criminal last night.

“Do you feel well? You slept a long time.” He turns away and sets a tablet on the table beside him, giving me a view of his back. My eyes skim over his bare skin. Do I feel well? No, I don’t. I hate the disturbing feelings he inspires in me: fear¸ hatred, attraction . . .

I rub my eyes. “I usually don’t sleep as long as most Etharians. I’m used to shorter days and nights. I get tired more often.”

“That will change over time. Are you hungry now?” he asks.

“I’m starving,” I reply, sitting up against my pillow.

He frowns, and right away I can tell that he’s taking me way too seriously. “Do you feel faint? I’ve already ordered you some pancakes. You should’ve eaten last night!”

I hold up my hand to stave off a bigger freak-out. “I’m not really starving, Kyon. It’s just an expression. I’m moderately hungry.”

He pauses, considering what I just told him. “Your idioms are confusing,” he replies.

“I know,” I murmur, “but they’re a habit. It’s hard to change them. So when I tell you I’m starving, I just mean I’d like to eat soon.”

“How did you survive on Earth? No one there says what they mean.”

I scoff. “Like it’s any different here.”

“I say what I mean.”

“And you mean what you say.”

“Is that wrong?”

“It is when it’s in direct opposition to me,” I reply.

“You don’t know what you don’t know, Kricket.”

“Does anyone really know what they don’t know, Kyon? And you’d be surprised what I know.”

“Would I?’

“Mmm.”

“What do you know?” he asks.

I lean near him and whisper secretively, “It’s very dark in Pretty Town.” I straighten again. “You can quote me.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means you’re dark,” I reply.

“And you think I’m pretty?” he asks. He doesn’t know if he should be offended or flattered, but I think he’s leaning toward the former.

“Are those the pancakes?” I ask, avoiding the question as a gleaming hovercart glides into our room and comes to rest at

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