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  It might take her months to reach the tower. Even though the Bloodflower Gate was closer, she couldn’t risk it. The security would be high, and the area surrounded with Enforcers. At least, so the rumors went before she’d been shoved in her pod.

  If only she could find south. But the heavy storm clouds provided a constant barrier between her and the stars.

  Until tonight.

  She broke the mushroom off the tree and leaned against the trunk as darkness blanketed the cloudless sky. Maybe another hour and the first of the sister moons would rise, or at least the simulation of it.

  The bionet—Hàlon’s energy field. It shielded the moon from losing atmosphere and generated day and night cycles—complete with four suns and two moons to simulate the old Alliance worlds.

  Except the stars were gone.

  Jàden closed her eyes, using the mushroom’s wet dew to tap into the moon’s lifeblood. Water ran though this world’s oceans and rivers like a system of veins, and if she listened hard enough…

  There.

  The moon’s heart beat a faint rhythm alongside hers. There was a time no one believed her, that Sandaris was so sick it couldn’t hold any of the terraforming. Something plagued it like a bad virus, killing everything that tried to root in its soil. Unable to find a cause, or even proof of the sickness in her data, Jàden had offered herself as a final voice to ease its passing.

  But she opened her eyes once more to the scent of pine on the wind. This world hadn’t found death but life.

  “Let’s take a look at that shoulder.” Jon’s deep voice jolted her thoughts as he strode toward her, sweat glistening along his forehead. He untied the laces on her sleeve. “How’s it feel?”

  “Same.” The pain constant now, a deep ache blossomed from her neck to her elbow. As he towered over her, she fiddled with the bark mushroom to distract herself from the lonely ache in her heart.

  Jàden knew nothing of Jon except the black-uniformed soldiers wanted to hurt him, yet his energy was so intimate. Every step closer wrapped around her senses like a lover’s embrace.

  She missed Kale so much it hurt, and the stirring desire for another companion sliced her with guilt.

  Jàden traced her thumb across the fungus, its symbiotic relationship with the tree one of shared energy so both lifeforms could flourish. It’s what she’d become, the fungus on Jon so she could survive this world. As her guilt pushed to the surface, she tossed the tree fungus aside.

  “You’ve barely said anything the last few days. Is the language still hard?” Jon unwound the bandage from her arm. Stitches held her wound closed around a blood-crusted scar.

  “A little.” The Sandarin language worded everything backwards, but once she understood how some of the phrases morphed from common speech, it became easier to pick up patterns and flow. She tried to use their words but sometimes fell back on the ease of her own dialect.

  If it weren’t for her energy tie with Jon, she’d barely be able to string together a greeting. “Are you sure we’re headed south? I have to get to Ironstar.”

  She had no reason to distrust him, but now that the fog of pain had lifted a bit from her thoughts, she was eager to find a computer and start her search.

  Jon’s unreadable gaze met hers, a stubbornness rooted in its depths. “Ironstar can wait. We find my men first.”

  “No. I need to find Kale first. I can’t go tromping all over Sandaris waiting for you and Mather to listen.” At least if she was headed south, she wouldn’t be so anxious waiting for another base to appear on the horizon.

  Jon seemed almost irritated by her words. His eyes lost focus for a moment, as if recalling some inner turmoil. “My men are in danger. Them first, then Kale.”

  “He’s in danger too.” The words flew out of her mouth like a petulant child, even if Kale could take care of himself. But Jàden sensed the Flame’s hold on her growing stronger, the very thing Frank wanted to happen. And she’d already lost control the day Jon found her.

  If she lost control again, someone might get hurt. “If I don’t find Kale—”

  “He your husband?”

  The words had a bite that sent a chill through her.

  She could re-bandage her own arm without his help and pulled away. “Does it matter?”

  Jon leaned his shoulder against the tree and crossed his arms. “He’s important to you though. A lover perhaps, or a sibling.”

  The pain of Kale’s death bled into her heart. Clenching her hands tight to stop the trembling, she gazed out over the valley.

  “Kale is everything.”

  Friend. Lover. The brightest light she’d ever encountered in another person. Even from the grave, his gentle voice rang strong in her mind.

  “I need you to be strong,” he’d whispered the last day she’d seen him alive.

  “I love you, baby, since the first time I saw you.” Tears slid down his cheeks as his fighter roared, the engines nearly drowning out his voice. An orange glow flickered across his features as the flames rose higher in the cockpit. “When you wake up, go back to the beginning. I’ll find you there.”

  “Kale knew he was going to die.” That awful explosion echoed through her head. “I have to find him. Get him home where we’ll both be safe.”

  Or at least closer to safety.

  Jon brushed her arm, tracing his fingers along her zankata birthmark as he checked the injury. “Hard to find a man who’s already dead.”

  She turned away to hide her tears. “I could find him if I had a computer.”

  Hàlon’s core systems kept records of every birth and death for thousands of generations, connecting energy signatures of each person from one life to the next. Some people chose to look through their previous lives and access lost memories, but most were content to live in the present.

  Sometimes accessing the past could cause emotional complications and family bonds to be broken. Jàden once considered digging into her past, but when she met Kale, nothing mattered anymore except him and their future.

  She couldn’t talk about Kale any more, not without breaking down into a sobbing mess, so she wiped her cheeks dry and turned the questions back on Jon. “Mather said those riders are after you.”

  Tying off the bandage, Jon kept his silence as the wind howled across the plain, bringing a cold chill to her exposed arm. Folding the two halves of her sleeve back together, he tightened the laces and tied them off near her elbow.

  She clutched his hand before he could release her. “Why were they chasing you? Who are those men?”

  “Ìdolön soldiers.” Jon tightened his jaw as if mulling over his words and how much to tell her. Small raindrops clung to the hairs on his thick beard. “I’m a deserter.”

  “You’re a soldier?” It made sense, with how quickly Jon killed his pursuers. Yet she sensed a deeper story behind his words, some terrible tragedy she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Can I ask why you left?”

  He gripped her hand as if needing a lifeline to hold onto. “They executed my family. Burned them alive.”

  Pain speared straight to her heart as she pulled away. What had she done, binding her energy to a man with a spouse? “You have a wife.”

  “Three sisters and a nephew. My parents too. All killed before I could save them.” Jon untied the laces of his leather gauntlet and pushed up his sleeve, exposing a red orb with four silver leaves inked into his skin. “Because of this.”

  “The bloodflower.” Jàden grabbed his arm and pushed the soft fabric higher, his skin warm and sweaty. “You’re an Enforcer?”

  Her hands trembled as she traced over the familiar mark. Shoot to kill—the order every Enforcer had received before Frank abducted her.

  “How long have you been awake?” she asked.

  “It’s my family’s mark, that’s all.” Something in Jon’s tone held a dangerous edge as he pulled away. He wrapped the bracer around his forearm and tied the ends. “I was born on Sand
aris, and when I die, I’ll go to the land of the Guardians, just like my sisters.”

  It was the second time he mentioned them, and his voice seemed to hang on the word. His sisters must have been the most important thing in his life.

  “This lover of yours, if he’s dead, you won’t find him here.” The edge in his voice sharpened as he met her gaze, the soil-rich eyes filled with a grief so deep it tugged at her own heartache.

  “There is no land of the Guardians,” Jàden whispered. “That’s a myth from the old world. Kale’s alive in a new life, and if I don’t find him—”

  “We’ll find your lover.” Jon’s voice was razor sharp this time, sending a shiver down her spine. “But I ain’t changin’ my mind. My men come first.”

  “Lighten up, Jon.” Mather rode into the clearing, a small pheasant tied to his saddle. “Ain’t her fault we haven’t found the others yet.”

  A dark cloud descended over Jon’s features as he lit a cigarette and trudged toward their makeshift camp. “Get some sleep, both of you. We leave in a few hours.”

  Jàden wrung her hands together, a painful knot tightening her chest. “I’ve angered him.”

  Mather chuckled and dropped from his horse. “Nah, that’s just Jon being Jon. You’ll know when he’s angry.”

  She furrowed her brow and tried to suppress the uneasiness in her gut. She hated confrontation or any kind of heated argument, and yet she itched to smooth things over. “How do you know? I must have said something wrong. He seems really upset.”

  “You see that sword on his back?” He lifted the saddle off his horse and held it across his shoulder. “When the sword comes out, he’s angry. It’s the only time he ever unsheathes it.”

  Jàden couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying than to have Jon aiming his weapons at her. As Mather’s stallion pressed his nose into her hands, she scratched along the velvety fur, content with some equine affection.

  “His name’s Agnar.” Mather set the saddle down and patted the rump of his mount. “He’s yours.”

  “What?” Her hands froze as the horse nudged her to get more attention. “You can’t give me your horse.”

  He scratched the back of his neck, his eyes clouded over. “I love Jon. He’s like the brother I never had, and I owe him my life. But I got a wife back home I never should have left. I’m going back, and I can’t take this old boy with me.”

  “Why not? He’s strong and surefooted with a gentle temperament.” And a desperate need for attention. She half-smiled as the stallion shoved his head into her chest like he wanted to climb onto her lap.

  “I ride home on a soldier’s horse, every Rakir in the city will know I’m a deserter. I’ll be killed or stuck in a cage the rest of my days.” Raw pain flashed across his features. “Tomorrow we’ll pass through the last village before Nelórath. I’d be honored if you’d find me a good horse, Herana. One with a strong spirit who will take me home to my wife and child.”

  Jàden nodded, not sure what else to say. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

  “I have one more favor to ask.” Mather laid a hand on her shoulder and looked deep into her eyes. “That dead lover of yours ain’t never gonna be the man you remember. He’ll have a different life with no clue who you are. If you really care for him, don’t go lookin’. You’ll just be draggin’ him back into the same mess.”

  A deep ache uncurled in her chest. She’d discovered the same truth about recycled lives long ago. Every child did. Of course he’d be different, but Hàlon possessed technology to help people remember their past. Memories were contained in the essence. With the right connections, their bodies could access lifetimes of data. Maybe Kale hadn’t been able to save her from the cages, but he’d told her to go back to the beginning.

  So that’s where she would go.

  Jàden refused to let the life they created together be gone, not when she loved and trusted Kale more than anyone else alive. Besides, he needed her, and she needed him. “I’m all he has.”

  Kale’s father sure didn’t want him, and his mother died long ago on the Alliance rim worlds.

  “Jon’s life ain’t been nothin’ but trouble since he first rode a horse, but he’s a good man with a kind heart and he’ll always have your back in a fight.” Mather stepped away and shouldered his saddle again. “All I’m sayin’ is I ain’t never seen a woman show him so much kindness. When I’m gone, it’ll be up to you to take care of him.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The Forbidden Mountains

  No land of the Guardians.

  Jon couldn’t shake Jàden’s words, the pain of his family’s loss deep in his gut. His older sister would have been devastated by such news.

  At some point Jàden had switched to her own dialect, the softer tongue rolling through her impassioned words.

  Kale is everything.

  Her revelation stung the deepest part of his soul, and he couldn’t push aside the thought of her with a lover. Jon would give up the bloodflower in a heartbeat to hear any woman say such a thing about him.

  He glanced over his shoulder to where Mather and Jàden lay curled in their blankets on either side of the fire pit. But he didn’t want those words spoken from any woman.

  Jon wanted to hear them from her.

  Clenching his jaw, he squashed down the ridiculous notion. He lit another cigarette and leaned against a tree trunk, scanning the woods for any movement. Normally he kept watch like a hawk, but tonight his thoughts boiled over with memories of his family, the old farm, and the last argument with his father.

  Both stubborn to the point of ridiculous, Jon and his father had battled all the time. But those final words between them ate at Jon. “Without a wife, the bloodline is lost, boy. You and your sisters will be the last of the Ayers name.”

  Jon became Rakir—soldiers forbidden to have wives—to right a wrong from his past. Except he’d made a mess of his family name and bungled the debt he’d set out to discharge.

  Now he had nothing but a broken legacy, an army desperate to possess the heirloom around his neck, and an old enemy who would kidnap Jàden just to enrage Jon.

  A whisper of wind alerted him to a presence at his side. As Jon grasped his dagger, Jàden wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Soft light from the largest of the sister moons glistened against her dark locks.

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” she said.

  “For what? You said your words, I said mine. Ain’t no harm done.” His little sister would have smacked him for speaking to Jàden like she was one of his soldiers.

  Jon released the grip on his weapon and bit back his frustration before he said something worse. The last thing Jàden needed was an earful about how she didn’t need to be chasing a dead man.

  Never mind that it made him a hypocrite. If he thought there was any chance his family still lived, Jon would do everything in his power to find them.

  She grasped his arm, right over his bloodflower tattoo, and his chest tightened.

  “Jon, tell me how to find south. I have no idea what direction to go without a datapad or a sky full of stars.” She’d switched to her own dialect again, but with the soft breath of her magic flowing through his veins, the words seamlessly translated in his head now.

  “Give me your hands.” Jon turned her around to face the tree trunk and gripped her hands in his. Their delicate warmth bled into his palms, and he stifled the ache to wrap her in his arms and pull her close. He placed her hands to either side of the trunk, the bark rough against his calloused skin.

  “I don’t know what stars are, but the trees will always lead the way.”

  “How will this—”

  “Just wait,” he whispered, the delicate scent of pine off her hair teasing him. “Every tree has two faces, one to the mountains and one to the sea. Feel the bark across your fingers, how it differs on one side of the trunk.”

  Fine hairs rose along the trunk, brushing against
his skin. “The mountain face sleeps while the sea calls to the thin fibers, like hair raising along your neck.”

  Jàden furrowed her brow and brushed each side of the tree, tracing the trunk’s deep lines with her bony fingers.

  Releasing her hands, he gazed across her soft features, so similar to the stone planes of Herana’s statue. Her cheeks weren’t quite so hollow anymore, but the similarities between Jàden and the Guardian couldn’t be doubted.

  “I feel it,” she whispered then pointed away from the valley. “That’s south.”

  “Almost.” He shifted her arm a little further. “This is south.”

  He traced his fingers along her hand, turning her wrist so her palm faced skyward. Flecks of light and shadow drifted upward.

  “Tell me what this means to you,” he said.

  She pressed her lips together as if she didn’t want to answer, but Jon needed to know. With one bit of magic, she’d forged a bond between them, made herself his everything.

  He’d spent years stifling his ache for a true companion, seeking out the company of both men and women with his need always suppressed in the back of his thoughts. Jàden’s breath on his skin cracked open all those old desires.

  “It’s an energy tie, something only Enforcers know about.” She bit her lip, clearly holding something back. “Kale taught me, though he wasn’t supposed to. Soldiers tie their energy in a crisis to help one another stay alive. Its practice is forbidden to outsiders.”

  Her eyes lost focus as she caressed her thumb across the lines in Jon’s palm, the same flecks of magic hovering over his hand.

  Jon clenched his jaw. She saw him as a soldier, someone who could keep her alive. Nothing more. Not that it should have been surprising. Most women only saw him for his sword arm.

  One day he’d find a way to tell her what the bond meant to him, but he suspected that revelation would only trap her between a dead lover and a bodyguard she’d discard the moment she found Kale.

  “Jon.” Mather’s voice sliced through his thoughts, an urgency to his tone. “Fire, next ridge.”