Darken the Stars - Amy A. Bartol Page 0,43

rises and extends his hand to me. I ignore it and stand on my own. My legs are stiff from riding for so long.

“I need to go over the security sensors. I will be in my office, should you need me. We’ll dine on the beach in two parts.”

“Do you want me to take the hoverbike back to the hangar?” I ask, trying to hide my surprise at the freedom he’s allowing me. I may just have to seize the moment and leave now, even if I don’t know where I am or how to get to where I need to be.

“No. I’ll send it back.” He lifts his wrist, displaying a silver watchlike band. Tapping it with his finger, a lighted grid projects from his wrist. He touches the light on his skin, scrolling through menus before entering a coded sequence of lighted numbers. Next to me, the hood to the hovercycle closes. It lifts from the ground and travels unpiloted in the direction of the hangar.

I must have a look of despair in my eyes, because Kyon says, “If your plan is to use one of my vehicles to escape, you should truly rethink that strategy. I can easily override the manual controls and call any of them back without much effort.”

“It’s kind of you to point that out,” I mutter.

“The shield is up as well. You’d have a problem getting through it.”

“Noted,” I say, nodding.

“And the defensive systems would activate to alert me the moment you’re no longer detected by them.”

My smile is grim. “I’m not leaving, am I?”

“Not without me,” he replies. “I will meet you here in two parts. Don’t make me come look for you.”

CHAPTER 8

FUTURE TRIP AND VIKING SHIP

The fire is hypnotic. I lean back in one of the large chairs Kyon had dragged out here to the beach. The campfire wavers beneath a metal grill placed over it. Smoke curls around the crustaceans Kyon is cooking for our dinner. After Kyon checked on the sensors today, we collected shellfish from traps in the sea. First he showed me how to set the snares, then showed me the best spots to catch the ugly creatures. They look a little bit like lobsters, but their shells are bright pink and they each have three heads and two tails. I, quite frankly, find them disgusting to look at, but my stomach growls every time their aroma floats in my direction.

The seawater is continually exhaled onto the shore nearby. It breathes something into me with every wave that crashes onto shore. I had no idea that water could make me feel this way: small and vast, and ancient and new, all at the same time.

The sun has almost disappeared into the horizon, and the breeze has turned cool. I shiver and rub my hands over my arms. Kyon walks up with an armload of firewood. He stacks the wood in the sand. Straightening, he glances in my direction and frowns. “Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” I admit, “but I don’t feel like moving right now to get a jacket.”

He dusts the stray pieces of bark from his dark, long-sleeved shirt before he pulls it off over his head and hands it to me. “Here, this is warm.” He straightens the short-sleeved shirt he still has on before flopping down in the sand at my feet and using a long stick to stir the fire. He leans back against the leg of my chair.

I hold his shirt in my hands for a moment before I straighten it out and pull it over my head. As it falls over my shoulders, I’m hit again by how much bigger he is than me. He’s a freaking giant. I’m swimming in his shirt. His scent is all over it too. It’s the scent that I’ve associated with fear. It’s at war with the warmth enveloping me.

Kyon cooks our dinner on the grill over the fire. I watch him in fascination, since I never expected any of this from him. From his seat on the ground in front of me, he hands me a plate over his shoulder. He glances back and asks, “Do you need me to taste it for you?”

I hold the plate in my lap and shake my head. “No,” I reply. “I think we’re past that now.”

We eat using our hands. It’s so good I find myself licking my fingertips. “Where did you learn to cook like this?” I ask.

Kyon smiles. “I was a soldier. I

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