Rhee bowed her head and let the blessing wash over her; she felt the warmth of a thousand perfectly sunny days on her skin. Tai Reyanna pulled away.
“There’s a secret passageway there,” she continued. “Behind the second column. It leads underground and out near the ruins. You’ll be in darkness, but there is only one path. Follow it.”
It had been Tai Reyanna watching over her the whole time she was in Nau Fruma. She’d taken that time for granted. “I’ll come back for you,” Rhee said.
“You can’t. It won’t be safe,” Dahlen interjected from behind her.
Rhee ripped the hem of her tunic, and a long scrap of it came free. “I’ll have to tie your hands. They can’t think you had anything to do with what happened here,” she said. Rhee’s fingers were shaking as she wound the fabric around the Tai’s wrists. Her adviser’s hands were limp. She looked at Rhee as if she’d never seen her before.
Maybe she hadn’t—not the real Rhee.
“Princess,” Dahlen said from behind them. “We’re out of time.” His voice made her insides curdle now. He had robbed her of her one chance to know the truth. He was a murderer. You’ll be changed, he’d said. Dahlen knew this more than anyone, because he was too far gone.
“I’m sorry,” Rhee said. “For everything.”
Tai Reyanna leaned in and put her mouth close to her ear. “I will be loyal to you until the day I die.”
Dahlen grabbed Rhee’s arm and pulled her into the tunnel entrance. Rhee feared it would be the last she ever saw of the Tai: the woman who had been like family to her, crouched at the remains of a dead Regent. What’s worse: She feared her Tai’s words were an omen, a prophecy.
“Ma’tan sarili,” Rhee pledged over her shoulder. Honor, bravery, loyalty.
“I hope you mean it, child,” Tai Reyanna called out as Rhee walked into the darkness.
TWELVE
ALYOSHA
ALY watched through the monitors as Derkatz receded in the distance. They’d easily slid past the first customs checkpoint and would soon be in Portiis, where they would meet Vin’s contact. So close. Alyosha finally felt like he could breathe.
Literally.
“Oxygen levels have already improved by twelve percent,” Pavel announced. “The specimen is a shangdi variety indigenous to the western hemisphere of Fontis. Very unusual, known to bloom during the monsoon season.”
“Oh yeah?” Aly said distractedly. Pavel was particularly chipper; he’d stayed back and updated all his software. But Aly wasn’t in the mood for chipper.
He eyed the hammer on Vin’s hip for a second, then leaned forward in his chair. He watched Vin plot the coordinates—they’d been hopscotching their way toward the outer planet of Portiis. If they flew in a straight line it would take three days, tops—but it was hard to tell which routes were being patrolled at any given time. It was safer to stay in random orbits. Fly around, blend with the intergalactic traffic, get lost in the shuffle, which would add another ten days at least.
The Tin Soldier had been modified from the inside out, practically gutted so that it barely looked like the pod Alyosha knew. That was the point—to be unrecognizable. And Aly had made a few adjustments of his own, in secret. He typed in a ten-digit code on his side of the console. “So you gonna apologize?” Aly asked finally as their pod slowed to a halt.
“For what?” Vin wouldn’t look at him. “What the hell did you just do?” He jabbed the keys of the console. Still, they hung motionless, suspended in space.
“For getting us into that mess back there.” He leaned back again, enjoying himself. For once, he was in the right.
“You got us into this mess,” Vin countered evenly.
“How do you figure? You knocked my mask off.”
Vin still wouldn’t look at him as he tried punching in code after code to unfreeze the console. “Fine, Aly. Everything is my fault. You’re always right.” He slammed the dash with a fist: “Now unlock the nav system!”
“Say it like you mean it.”
Vincent suddenly unclipped and lunged—but Aly blocked him with his free hand and held him at arm’s length. Vin’s legs started to lift up in the air, and he floated nearly upside down. “Unlock it,” he said. “We don’t have time for your bullshit.”
“Look who’s talking.” Aly unstrapped, and they both floated up toward the ceiling—but he levered off the walls, kicking away from Vin. It had started as a joke, kind of, but he could feel his anger bubbling up from all the hidden places. “My face is plastered on every telepod across the entire known universe. I’ve been framed for murder, and all you’ve done is give me taejis.”
“Stop playing the victim.” Vin’s blue eyes were as big and intense as ever. “This is war, Aly. Massive-scale, insane, galactic war. So maybe instead of sucking your thumb and feeling sorry for yourself, you should stop and ask yourself: Why?”