She didn’t say anything, allowing him to tip her head up toward him after a moment.
“I have to do this, Delaney,” he reminded her, scanning her face for understanding. “I don’t have a choice.”
She licked her lips, not liking the flash of fear in her chest. “And if you did?”
He let out a stuttering breath and ran the knuckles of his right hand across her cheek. The caress was featherlight and over in a matter of seconds. The sun was coming up now, so the hallway was starting to turn umber and dust motes danced around them like specks of glitter.
“I’d stay with you,” he whispered, almost too low for her to hear. Another boom rent the air, this one closer than the last. The glass in the panes across from them shook from the force. Grabbing her hand, he rushed them on their way. “Come on!”
There wasn’t anything else she could do but try to keep up. It wasn’t right of her to ask him to hang around because she was scared, not when he was supposed to be out there putting a stop to whoever was currently attacking them. Could it be the Tars? What were they trying to do, get their people back? She recalled the Basileus mentioning earlier that he’d caught them.
“Olena!” a sharp voice called out at their backs. Trystan was making his way toward them, not quite running but certainly not taking his sweet time, either. His long legs seemed to eat up the space, so that he’d reached her even without them having slowed.
His large hand wrapped around the wrist of her free arm, holding on when Ruckus would have continued to pull her away.
She froze between them.
“Let go,” Ruckus growled out the warning, lifting his left hand into the air in a whip of motion. There was a thick metal band, like a bracelet, that extended into his palm when he tapped the edge with the tips of his fingers.
Before her eyes, a gun formed, four flashing green lights flickering at the side. He curled his pointer finger, and a loop dropped from the base of the metal, circling, while another curved piece slid down so that he was now holding the trigger. She didn’t know much about weapons, but this didn’t look like any type of gun she’d seen before.
That explained why she’d never seen any of the guards armed. They actually had been.
Ruckus kept the gun aimed at Trystan, his other hand squeezing hers with a mixture of assurance and possessiveness. Another blast went off, and while he didn’t waver, the Zane’s eyes flared.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ander?”
“Let her go,” Ruckus repeated. “Right now.”
He didn’t. Instead he took a threatening step, so that they were all close enough to one another to look like a group having a private conversation. His blond hair was rumpled, long strands in disarray around his stern face. He’d missed the top button on his jeanlike gray pants, and the blue shirt he’d thrown on was wrinkled and torn an inch at the collar.
With a frown, she realized his feet were also bare.
“As the Zane,” he said, his tone barely restraining his fury, “I am ordering you to drop your weapon and back away.” Nothing happened. “Do it now, Ander Ruckus.”
“Ruckus.” Delaney squeezed his hand back, waiting for him to dart his gaze sideways at her. His eyes didn’t linger long before shooting back over to Trystan. They’d literally just had a conversation about things he couldn’t do without getting in trouble, and yet here he was, holding a gun against a regent.
“If you won’t listen to me,” Trystan said, his voice tightening, “then you should at least listen to the Lissa.”
“I’ll lower the fritz the second you let go of her arm.”
It was obvious he did not want to do that, but after a moment, when Ruckus didn’t so much as flinch, Trystan finally released her and took a step back, putting both hands in the air, palms toward them.
“Have you lost your mind?” he growled.
“Until I know exactly what is happening,” Ruckus informed him, “no one touches the Lissa except me. As her head of guard, I’m clear of all political laws in regard to treatment or station. From here, until I know without a shadow of a doubt that she is safe, I am the one who calls the shots. So, when I say get your hands off her, you do it.”
Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Ruckus eased Delaney to the side and waved his gun at the Zane. Being that he was royalty, he’d clearly been going to the same place, and though he didn’t like it, he started walking, leaving the two of them at his back.
“I could have shot him,” Ruckus said directly into her mind. “I get political asylum when it comes to protecting you.”
“Sure,” she drawled, “until the Kints got pissed because of their dead Zane and called the war back on. Just”—she mentally sighed, not sure if he could hear it—“don’t point that thing at him again.”
“It’s a fritz,” he told her, voice finally starting to calm some. “It blasts apart particles. Would have blown a hole straight through his chest so you could have seen to the other side.”
“Lovely.”
With quick steps, he led them down the corridor and around a sharp corner. At the end there was another portrait, this one of an animal she didn’t recognize; it was somewhere between a bear and a rabbit. She wanted to take a better look, but before they’d even made it halfway there, it opened from the inside.
A man poked his head out, checking over their shoulders before waving them frantically toward him. He was dressed like the other Vakar soldiers, and addressed Ruckus by title once they’d reached him. Stepping back, he allowed them to pass, inclining his head toward both her and Trystan.
The entrance didn’t lead to a stairwell like it had with the one Lura had passed through. Instead there was a small square room about ten by ten, with four bulky doors, including the one that doubled as the painting.
Ruckus moved to the one on the left, rapping his knuckles against it in a discernible pattern. Almost before he’d finished, it was thrown open, a gust of stale air spewing toward them, kicking up the dust at their feet. He yanked on it, stepped through, and pressed a hand against her lower back to urge her forward into the darkness.
And it was seriously dark.
Unable to see a thing, she instinctually reached out to feel the sides, slinking to the right and waiting for him to direct. A light snapped to life, spilling a vibrant orange hue throughout to expose a room almost identical to the one they’d just vacated.
Frowning, she glanced over at him.
“This way.” He motioned toward the door across the room this time.
Trystan stepped in after them, suddenly a towering presence at her back. Her spine stiffened, and the words she’d been about to speak aloud died on her tongue. Instead she reached out with her fitting. There was no longer a burning sensation when it activated. It was so easy, much more so than yesterday when they’d implanted it. Almost as simple as breathing. She merely thought about talking to Ruckus, and she did.