“Killed?” She hadn’t realized it was that bad for him. Though a quick perusal showed he looked rather well for someone accused of treason.
He waved off her concern, turning them down yet another dark corridor. “Ruckus was able to convince the Basileus not to go that far. It took a while, from what I understand, but he managed it just the same. I did lose a large amount of my funding and now have to run every idea past the Basileus before I can start working on it, though.”
“He’s a good guy? Ruckus?” She didn’t know why she was asking, and hated the unsure tone her voice took on at doing so. She knew Gibus was staring at her, but she refused to meet his gaze, finding sudden interest in the darkness stretched before them.
“He feels awful for allowing Olena to trick him into taking you. In his defense, Pettus and I bought it, too. I’d still be buying it now if I didn’t know better. Unless…” He squinted his eyes at her jokingly. “How do I know you’re not really Olena pretending to not be Olena?”
“Ha-ha,” she drawled, but the corner of her mouth turned up.
“No, seriously. For all we know, she’s really an evil genius.” He couldn’t hold his expression, and ended up laughing through the last two words of his sentence. Shaking his head, he sent his thick curls flying around his forehead until they settled back, covering his ears.
He came to an abrupt stop before she could ask him anything else. It took her half a second to recognize the large dark wood door as the one she’d been brought to earlier. Great, they were here. Time to pay the Pied Piper—or in her case, pissed-off alien soldier.
If Gibus noticed her bracing herself, he was kind enough not to point it out. Instead he lifted a hand to the door, waited a moment—possibly to give her more time—and then pulled it open. It didn’t make a single sound, but the second it was cracked, the yelling from within hit them.
“You had one job, Pettus.” Ruckus’s voice was deep and threatening. “One!”
Delaney pushed past Gibus, moving into the main room. She spotted Pettus first on the other side of the room, his hand rubbing at his neck, head hung. There was sweat on his brow, and he looked very uncomfortable, maybe even a bit frazzled. She immediately regretted tricking him.
Ruckus caught her eye next, over by the side of the bed. He was seething, pacing back and forth so that the single orange lamp on her nightstand that had been turned on dashed his shadow across the window wall. He swung around and came to a stop when he noticed her, mouth dropping open as if he were about to turn his anger on her.
“I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” she said to Pettus before anyone else could get a word out. She felt bad, but she wouldn’t apologize.
“He’s not in trouble,” Ruckus practically growled. “You are. When I left you—”
“Exactly,” she stopped him. “You left me. In here, alone, moments after telling me that my entire life had been hijacked by aliens I never wanted to know about much less actually know.”
He sucked in a breath, but she wasn’t done. The fear and the frustration she’d been holding in while in the company of Trystan burst out of her now that it had a safer outlet to aim for.
“You can’t just expect me to be okay with this,” she told him, dropping the single book she still carried onto the ground. “Any of this.”
It took him longer to reply than usual, and it seemed like that was because he was trying really hard to choose his words. That guilt was back, swimming behind his eyes, mixed in with residual anger at her for leaving. They stood there glaring for what felt like hours but was really less than a handful of seconds.
“I don’t expect that,” he finally said in a breathy tone, “not at all. You have every right to be upset, to want to go off and do things on your own, but, Delaney”—he pressed his palms against his chest—“I’m trying to help you. I want to help you.”
“And you can’t do that when you don’t know where I am,” she finished for him when it became apparent he wasn’t going to say anything else. Sighing, she rubbed at her face, all the energy she’d had a moment ago draining out of her. Was that going to be her new normal? Her own emotions playing tricks on her, roller-coastering up and down again on a whim?
“Precisely.” Ruckus looked over to Pettus and then motioned absently to the closed door where Gibus still stood. “You can go, Teller. I’ll take it from here.”
“Sir—”
“Just,” he said, appearing every bit as exhausted as she did then, “go. Be back here to relieve me in the morning.”
Pettus hesitated, wringing his hands before giving a curt nod. “Yes, Ander.”
“Wait.” When Pettus went to breeze past, Delaney grabbed his arm. “I didn’t do it because I thought it would be funny.” She’d done it out of a misguided notion of self-preservation, but she kept that part to herself. She figured she’d insulted all of them enough for one night.
Pettus picked up on the reference she was making, and though it seemed like he wanted to stay mad at her, he ended up sighing instead. “How about next time you just tell me you’d like to go somewhere, all right?”
She nodded.
There was a lengthy awkward silence after Pettus and Gibus left, shutting the door behind them with a soft click. Fortunately, this room was warmer than the halls had been, so Delaney didn’t feel the need to dive under the covers on the bed for warmth. That gave her a couple of extra minutes to just stand uncomfortably by the window. That sweet smell of the room was slowly being overpowered by Ruckus’s.
It made her homesick, made her yearn for her parents’ backyard in the fall the few occasions in her childhood when her dad had found the time to play with her. He’d pile leaves five feet high, and they’d spend the day jumping and crawling through them. Those moments, with the chilling breeze stinging her cheeks, the smell of dirt and browning leaves, the off taste of bitter air on her tongue, were some of the best of her entire life.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to apologize to me?” Ruckus asked, yet it was clear from the lightening tone of his voice that he already knew the answer. He’d relaxed some, not much, just enough to be noticeable because she was looking at him so closely.
“No,” she clarified.
“Right.” He hung his head, contemplating. “I was sleeping, you know? Pettus woke me up to tell me that you’d disappeared.”
“I didn’t disappear,” she corrected him. “I walked out. And…” At the reminder of exactly where she’d ended up, she frowned. Two unpleasant encounters with the Zane were enough to last her a lifetime, and she was already dreading the possibility of having to experience another one with him tomorrow.
“What?” He went to move closer then stopped himself. It was clearly a struggle for him to maintain his distance. She was beginning to understand that this was just the type of person he was. He took his responsibilities as seriously as he’d claimed earlier. “Tell me what happened.”
“Gibus found me in time.”
“In time for what?”