Torn Sky (Rebel Wing Trilogy, Book 3) (Rebel Wing Series) (9 page)

By the time Aris and Milek returned from Feln and the post-mission briefings concluded, it was nearly midnight. Aris crept into her bedroom as quietly as she could. Dysis and Pallas were already asleep, buried under blankets on their cots.

Instead of climbing into her own bed, she shuffled around the room gathering her nightclothes and a fresh uniform for tomorrow. Milek hadn’t gotten a chance to speak with Commander Helos about sharing a room, but they’d decided to sneak a night together anyway.

She closed her trunk slowly, but the snick of the latch sounded loud in the silent room. One of the figures shifted in the bed and sighed. Hurriedly, Aris rolled her clothes into a bundle and slipped into the washroom for her toothbrush and face towel.

“Aris?”

Startled, Aris turned, expecting to see Dysis in the doorway, but it was Pallas.

“Everything okay?” Aris whispered.

“We heard there was an attack on Feln.” The blue safety lights that ran along the floor of the washroom gave Pallas’s face an unhealthy glow. “Did you get there in time?”

“Almost.” She hated the fear reflected in Pallas’s eyes. “We stopped the attack, but a bomb blew within the stationpoint, just like at Spiro. A few people died.”

Pallas drew into herself, and the dim light picked up tears against her cheek. “This is never going to end, is it? We’ll keep fighting until they kill us all.”

Aris gave the girl’s arm a squeeze. “No. We’ll keep fighting until Balias is dead. Until we’re all free.” The faces of the Safaran villagers—Samira, Alistar, Kori—flashed through her mind. “
All
of us.”

“I’m not sure the nightmares will ever let me go,” Pallas said, sorrow lining every word. Before Aris could answer, Pallas turned back and sank into her bed.

As Aris walked down the hall, her footsteps echoed the jerky beat of her heart. How long would the memories haunt them? Would the faces of the dead fade eventually? Did she want them to? Aris wouldn’t ask for those she’d lost to disappear from her mind completely. But she didn’t want her life to be defined by the ghosts that walked with her either.

By the time she reached Milek’s door, she was brittle with unshed tears, in danger of shattering.

Milek was waiting for her with a smile when the door slid open.

He faltered at her expression, but she didn’t pause. In the space of a breath, her arms were locked around his neck and her lips pressed hungrily to his. There was no need to talk. Their bodies knew what to say.

She pushed against him, forcing him away from the door, telling him with her wandering hands that she wanted him.
Needed
him. He was her safety. She craved his warmth, his breath, his beating heart.

He answered her with the desperate pressure of his mouth, the restlessness of his own fingers over her back, her waist, the zipper of her jacket.

Aris ripped his jacket off and threw it on the floor, reveling in the feel of his skin, the rough slide of his midnight stubble, the scent and taste of him. His hands smoothed over her skin as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip, asking for more.

Aris nudged him toward the bed. He twisted, arms around her, and then she was falling backward into a pile of sheets, the cot’s springs squeaking as they took her weight. Milek followed, easing onto her. She wrapped her legs around him, her hands skimming his naked back. His mouth trailed lines of fire along her collarbone, her throat, her ear.

“I want you,” Milek whispered, his breath tickling her sensitive skin. “When we’re together, everything else disappears.”

As their bodies moved together in the dark, Aris let her doubts and demons sleep.

***

“Tell me something about your past,” Aris whispered later, when they both hovered at the edge of sleep. “Something that has nothing to do with the war.”

Milek adjusted her head more comfortably on his chest. He didn’t answer right away, so she listened to the slow, steady beat of his heart.

“Daakon and I knew each other as kids, did I ever tell you that?” His voice rumbled under her ear.

At Daakon’s name, Aris’s heart lurched. Milek didn’t have the luxury of letting the war go. It had taken his father, his best friend, and it had scarred his mother nearly beyond recognition.

“No. I didn’t realize,” Aris murmured.

He shifted so they lay facing each other. She was surprised to see him smiling. He touched the thin pink scar that ran from the corner of his eye to his mouth. “See this? Makes me look very menacing, right?”

She nodded, curious at his amusement. “Like a warrior.”

“It happened when I was twelve.” At Aris’s widened eyes, he laughed. “Everyone assumes it’s a battle scar, which it kind of is, but not
this
kind of battle.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Daakon and I had the brilliant idea to use icicles for swords and practice fencing.”

Aris wrinkled her nose. “Icicles? How could an icicle leave a scar?”

“In early spring in Ruslana, everything starts to melt, and then we have these hard, deep freezes. . . . The icicles hanging from roofs can be as long as I am tall. Every year a few people die from falling ice.” Milek ran a gentle hand up and down her bare arm as he spoke.

Aris studied him, jaw slack, wondering if he was teasing her. In Lux, nothing ever froze. Once, when she was small, a few snowflakes fell and the whole village went outside to watch. Some of her parents’ friends still talked about it.

“So you used icicles—big, giant icicles—as swords. What happened? Daakon cut you?”

Milek grinned. “We were dumb and didn’t realize how sharp they were. Or how slick the snow under our feet was. I slipped and he grabbed at me to help, but he forgot to drop his ‘sword’ first. So, you know . . .
slice
.”

Aris shuddered. “That’s horrible. You’re lucky you didn’t lose your eye.” She ran a finger down the thin line and along his lips.

“My mother wanted to rush me to the clinic—there was blood everywhere, bright against all the white snow, but I told her not to worry.” Milek bumped his forehead gently against Aris’s, where her own scar began. “Back then, I thought girls liked scars.”

“Well, this one does.” She kissed him softly, aware of the sadness that lurked beneath his lighthearted tone. His hand slipped to her back, drawing her closer for a tight hug, before he rolled over and fell quickly, easily to sleep.

Aris curled up against his back and listened to his even breathing for a long time, wishing their scars didn’t run quite so deep.

Dysis shoveled a spoonful of sticky porridge into her mouth, just as Otto belched loudly enough to be heard over the din of the cafeteria.

“Really? Could you be more disgusting?” she asked.

He grinned proudly and opened his mouth to reply. She rolled her eyes. “No, don’t say it. I know you can.”

Specialist Renz, one of the new recruits for Aris’s special team, snickered. He and Otto had become fast friends. As far as she could tell, they’d bonded over their mutual appreciation of food and poor attempts at humor. The guy was big and loud, with a talent for creating awkward moments.

“Are you sure, Latza?” Renz asked now, his eyes twinkling. “Perhaps a competition?”

“Deciding what?” she retorted. “Who can make the most horrible noises? No thank you.”

Next to her, Pallas kept her head down. She hadn’t eaten much. Baksen was just as serious. There was a strange tension between them; Dysis wondered if their relationship had moved beyond flyer and gunner. Or if one of them wanted it to.

On Dysis’s other side, Aris bolted down her breakfast. She wasn’t paying much attention to Otto and Renz’s shenanigans either. Her eyes were still sleepy, but there was an energy to her every movement. Dysis didn’t need help figuring out why; she’d seen Aris’s empty bed this morning.

“You sure look well rested, Lieutenant,” Dysis couldn’t resist pointing out.

Aris choked on her tea.

Specialist Mann, who happened to be walking by, pounded her helpfully on the back. Dysis smirked. But as she watched Mann continue to the cafeteria line, still limping slightly on his injured ankle, she was filled with a strange sense of something being
off
. Something about the way he walked . . .

“Dysis, you alright?” Aris asked. As she spoke, the rest of them turned their gaze on Dysis, their eyes filling with concern. Even Renz, whom she’d known for less than a week.

As calmly as she could, Dysis said, “Yeah. Just fine.”

But the moment had broken for her. Her porridge was an unappetizing mess, her comfort within this room, with these people, shattered. She was still the invalid, still the one they worried over.

She stood abruptly, ignoring the ache in her side. “My shift’s about to start. See you later.”

As she turned to leave, she saw regret flash across Aris’s face. She didn’t want to push Aris away. She didn’t
mean
to be so gruff and ungrateful. But there was nothing she hated more than pity.

At least she was out of the sick bay now and had some kind of job to go to.

At least—

She skidded to a halt. Another soldier bumped into her with an annoyed “Hey!” She ignored him. Calix stood in the doorway of the cafeteria, blocking her path.

“Hey, Dysis. You were just on your way to see me, right?”

Blighting hell.

“I have to get to work,” she said, balking.

“This won’t take long.” He took off down the hall, and she grudgingly followed. If she didn’t go, he’d find her later anyway.

“It’s been a week.” He turned back to glare reproachfully at her. There was something else in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite read. “I told you I needed to see you every day.”

“Sorry, I’ve been busy with my new job. They found a place for an invalid after all.” She stretched her gait, speeding up to draw alongside him. Following wasn’t her style.

Several white-clad menders passed them but no one in Military uniform. All of her comrades were still in the cafeteria or the rec room before morning formation.

Calix waited until they were alone again to speak. “I told you. You’re not an invalid.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved a hand. Why did he care so much, anyway?

Eventually, they reached the med wing. He gestured to an empty examination room. She climbed onto the cold metal table in the center, leaving her legs to dangle over the side.

When Calix closed the door, Dysis felt a little jump under her skin. He turned toward her but didn’t approach. The white tunic made his skin look darker, and his eyes more green. Her gaze flitted away to fix on the wall behind him. “Let’s get this over with.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, but he didn’t move closer.

“Fine,” she snapped automatically. Gods, she was tired of that question.

“That’s not good enough,” he replied, his own voice going hard. “I need you to tell me the truth.”

She sighed. Drumming her hands on her thighs, she elaborated. “I do feel fine, for the most part. Still weaker than I’d like, and it hurts when I sit up and when I twist.”

He came closer. His fingertips found the sensitive spot on the inside of her wrist, and for a few seconds, they were linked by warm skin and the steady thrum of her heart. When he let go, her hand fell back to her knee.

“A sharp pain or a dull ache?” He gestured to her jacket, and reluctantly, she unzipped and removed it.

“Dull,” she said. She lifted the edge of her shirt.

He removed the bandage that covered half of her back, and then pressed gently against her skin, testing the sutures, she knew, and looking for any indication of infection.

“How does this feel?” he asked, as his fingers slid across her lower back.

Good
. The thought shuddered through her like an earthquake, entirely unexpected. She forced her gaze to stay on the wall. This room didn’t have the scrolling vid strip. For once, she actually wished for it. She needed a distraction. “Nothing hurts. Not right now, anyway.”

“Were you avoiding me?” he asked, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “Is that why you didn’t come for your follow-ups?”

“No, I . . . I wouldn’t,” she stuttered, thrown off. “Why would I want to avoid you?”

He stepped back, so they were face-to-face. He waited until she looked at him. “The last time, I thought . . . never mind.”

He turned away and went to the monitor that sat on a desk in the corner. His fingers flew across its surface, presumably updating her chart. “The site of surgery is healing nicely. Come back next week for another check. I might be able to clear you for some light jogging, so find the time, okay?”

Dysis lowered her shirt and shrugged into her jacket, as she tried to work out what was going on. “Wait a second,” she said. She pushed off the table and followed him. “Why would I avoid you? And why would you care, Calix?”

He didn’t look at her. “Forget it. You’re all done. You can—”

“No. Tell me.” She pulled on his shoulder, forcing him to turn around, even as her brain shouted at her to get out of there. “What do you think happened last time?”

For a split second, he looked like a cornered animal, desperate to flee. And then he stepped
toward
her, invading her personal space, moving so close his tunic brushed her jacket and his breath fell softly against her face. “This. This happened.”

He stood there, so close, and his eyes locked onto her lips and her heart beat fast, fast, faster, and she waited for him to explain what
this
was, because she really wanted to blighting know. But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything else, or move, and she couldn’t breathe.

Oh, damn.

Dysis shattered the tension, her hands grabbing at his shoulders as her lips touched his.

Calix pulled back, and for a second Dysis thought she might cry. Of
course
he pulled away. They all did. There was always something wrong with her: wrong gender, wrong girl, wrong, wrong,
wrong
.

She opened her mouth to say something angry and cutting, something to hide her disappointment, but his hands slid up the sides of her neck to her cheeks, cupping her face. The words froze in her throat. He captured her gaze, his eyes serious, the pupils fully dilated.

And then slowly, he brought his lips to hers.

It wasn’t a kiss of desperation. It wasn’t the wild, reckless thing she started.

This was deliberate, his lips moving with purpose as he teased her tongue with his. He kissed her as if he
meant
to. The slow parting of lips, the pauses to be sure she was kissing him back . . . he was demanding that she be present. That she acknowledge what was happening.

This
kiss couldn’t be thrown aside as a mistake or random impulse.

Something inside Dysis melted. She told herself she didn’t want this, even as her arms snaked around his shoulders, even as her body fluttered and filled with heat.

His fingers threaded through her hair and the gentleness of his movements ceded to a new urgency. He pressed into her and she stepped backward, once, twice, drawing him with her, until her back touched the wall. Their bodies started moving together, his breath ragged against her lips.

She kissed him harder, excited by the knowledge that he was losing control. But when her hands slipped under his tunic, he groaned and drew away.

For a long moment, they stared at each other, their panting breath the only sound. Calix’s cheeks were flushed, his full lips parted. She was close enough that she could pick out the gold in the green of his eyes.

Dysis tried to think of something to say, but nothing seemed to be working right in her brain.

“This will be complicated,” Calix said softly. He put his hands on her waist, another deliberate movement.

“Oh Gods. Aris.” Already, the happy haze was clearing to reveal stark, bitter clarity. Had she just betrayed her best friend? “You two—”

“Are allowed to make our own choices.” He ran a thumb along her cheek as if wiping away a tear, though her eyes were dry. “She made hers.”

Her skin shivered in response. “I’m not like her. You can’t control me, or treat me like a child. I—”

“I
know
.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “I know you better than you think.” Before she could interrupt, he continued. “Better than you’d like maybe, but I know you.”

He leaned in and touched his lips to hers, gently, the kiss as slow and sweet as a compliment.

“Am I a substitute?” The words were out before she could think them through.

He drew away a little, his eyes turning sad. “We’ve both lost people we loved. There’s nothing we can do about that.”

Daakon still haunted her, and it didn’t matter that they wouldn’t have had a future if he were still alive. Her feelings for him still clung to her, shadowing her every move.

He smiled. “But I want to try to find some happiness. Even if . . .”

“Even if the world is going to burn?” The words fell between them like rocks.

Calix leaned closer, so their foreheads touched. “It might.”

“If it does, this won’t matter. Nothing will.” Dysis had no defenses left, not in that moment. Every breath left her more exposed, more raw. He had seen her at her most vulnerable, unconscious and bleeding. But that was nothing to this, to letting him see into her soul.

“At least we’ll have someone to hold onto at the end. We won’t be alone.” His arms slid around her, and her eyes closed, and the happiness, and the sorrow, and the fear collided as their lips joined once more.

***

Dysis was late for her shift. She swiped her card and hurriedly punched in the four-digit code, tapping her boot as the door slid open. Her lips still burned with the memory of Calix’s kisses; her brain still screamed what the hell do you think you’re doing?

“Sorry, Raven. I—” The words froze in her throat as he waved a frantic hand to shush her.

An unfamiliar voice filled the room. “—large package. I need you to retrieve it tonight. Take a full team. It is imperative that the item is transferred safely.”

Only it wasn’t an unfamiliar voice. Dysis had heard it plenty of times on news vids.

Ward Balias.

Alistar had made it in.

Yesterday, she’d listened to Alistar spend four hours torturing a prisoner, followed by three minutes of dry heaving and whispered
Gods forgive me
’s in the washroom.

But now, maybe all that was finally worth it.

She dropped into the chair beside Raven, all her attention pinned to the monitor. Her pulse skipped, sending tingles to her fingertips. Under her breath, she asked, “Is he talking about what I think he’s talking about?”

Raven nodded, eyes wide. Two bright blotches of pink darkened his normally pale cheeks. He was practically quivering with excitement.

Dysis couldn’t blame him.

“Of course, sir,” Alistar said, his voice a low rumble. “The Atalantans know about the weapon. Perhaps an extra safeguard—”

“Not necessary,” Balias replied. “If the Atalantans try to intercept the shipment, I’ll know.”

Dysis listened, breath held, as he identified an underground bunker near Pakan as the target. As soon as Ward Balias left the room and Alistar was alone, Raven clicked on the Mekia-wide intercom. “Commander Nyx, Dianthe, code 4-2. I repeat, code 4-2.”

Dysis jumped up to pace the room. She couldn’t just sit there, not when they were this close. Raven didn’t say anything, and neither did she. They just waited, hearts racing, listening to Alistar breathe.

We found it. Oh Gods, we found it.