upstairs, I begin handing Kyra things to place in my travel bag. “I need farming clothes,” I say, skipping over the gowns. I find a few pairs of pants and toss them to her. “Can you grab a pair of sturdy shoes for me.”
She holds the pants out like they’re toxic. “What are you planning on doing? Malin is holding a press conference, not digging in the dirt.”
“It’s the Midlands, Kyra. The largest Ag Center is there.” I throw a shirt at her and she catches it. “I plan on making the most of my time.”
She rolls her eyes. “Only you.”
I take my bag from her and sling it over my arm. “Are Oliver and Dawson back?”
She nods. “They’re waiting downstairs.”
I hustle to the entryway and stop dead in my tracks. Ryker, and I know it’s the real Ryker because my heart doesn’t thrum, stands near my guards with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He’s in full Enforcer gear: skin tight, gray uniform and boots. But that’s not the part that sends a chill up my back. Around his waist, he wears a belt with a gun on each side.
His toothy, white smile lights up his face and he takes my bag. “Shall we Miss Greene?” He holds out his arm and I stare at it.
Kyra nudges me forward until I latch onto Ryker’s arm. “I’ll meet you at the office,” she says. “I still have to pack.”
I bite my lip. I don’t know what Ryker is playing at, but I intend to find out.
#
“We’re transporting onto a moving train, about an hour outside of the Midlands Center.” Annalise stands before our small group, hands on her hips. “Can the three of you manage that or should I assign you someone to piggy back with?”
Kyra gives a little snort of disgust. “Of course I can transport on to a moving train.”
Everyone looks at me. I shrug. “I don’t see why not.”
Annalise studies me closely. For a moment, I think she’s going to tell me I have to double up, but she says, “This is a surprise visit. No one is to know where we are. Not our mates or friends. Is that understood?”
We mumble our agreements and my guards’ wristlets ping in unison. “The itinerary,” Annalise says. “Lark, Malin wants to talk to you privately. Ryker, you will transport with the rest of us into one of these berths.”
Ryker’s wristlet pings and he quickly reads it.
Annalise waits for him to finish. “You’re official role is to be Lark’s consort and provide back-up security as necessary.”
That doesn’t sound good. “Why would we need back-up security?” I ask.
Annalise waves her hand as if I’m a pesky gnat. “Dawson, prep Lark for transport.”
I’m suddenly overcome with nerves. “Is it hard? I’ve only ever transported to stationary places.”
My sister-in-law purses her lips. “We can leave you here if this is too much for you.”
Heat flares across my face. “No. That’s not what I’m saying. I—”
Annalise cuts me off. “Good because we’re ready to go.”
My mouth is dry. To my surprise, Ryker grabs my hand and squeezes it. “It’s going to be okay.”
“On my count,” Dawson says. “Three, two, one.”
I drop Ryker’s hand and spin into the void. My feet strike solid ground, but the train rocks and I slam head first into a wall.
“You need to work on your landings, Love. Graceful, they’re not.” Mother folds herself into one of two chairs crammed into the tiny berth as I rub the spot that will surely swell and turn purple. Thankfully, it’s just the two of us, not our entire entourage or else we’d be standing on top of one another.
“Do you need a healer?” Mother asks.
I wince in pain. “No. I’ll be fine.” I slump into the chair across from hers. “Where’s everyone else?”
“In the neighboring rooms.” Mother touches her wristlet. “Annalise? Is everyone accounted for?”
“Yes, Malin,” Annalise’s voice says from the other end. “Is there anything you need?”
Mother stares out the window. Her eyes have an unusual distant, glassy look to them. “No. That’ll be all.”
For a long moment, neither of us speak. It’s not uncomfortable, but rather different. Usually, when Mother and I are alone, she’s explaining things or drilling me or giving orders. I’m not sure what to make of a quiet Mother.
“What do you know about our food production problems?”
I blink. That’s not what I expected her to say. “Miss Tully,” I say and Mother winces as if hearing the name of a human pains her. “She briefly mentioned